by Jesse Reiss
Chapter 11
Paula picked up her phone and called her daughter’s cell. It went straight to voice mail. Damn! They had agreed she would leave it on and be available. She called the house number and after several rings and no answer, she hung up. She was feeling panicky.
She thought about whom else to call or who could help her. She didn’t know whom to trust. Officer Stanley’s face came into her mind and she thought she could trust him. But he was a cop! The mysterious note specifically told her not to call the cops. He had given her his personal cell number and she had gotten a hint from him that he had given it to her for more than just cop business. She pulled the card from her purse and flipped open her cell phone to dial the number. She stopped. What if they have bugged my cell phone? What if they are watching me, listening to me right now? She had seen too many Hollywood movies to know how inventive and crazy some people can get and the line between fiction and reality had blurred long ago, leaving her unsure what Internet conspiracy theories to believe and what was just nonsense. For all she knew maybe the Democrats were seeking totalitarianism and the Republicans were seeking anarchy and the tremendous strain between the two somehow kept US democracy afloat. She shut the phone and grabbed her purse. She had to get out and do something.
As Paula headed out the back door Jacqueline shook Mr. Banks’ hand, saying goodbye and glanced over, catching her bosses’ face and not liking what she saw. She followed after her, running as best she could in her mini skirt and pumps.
Paula was reaching for the car door when Jacqueline placed her hand on the handle and looked intently into her face. She had worked for Paula for several years now and though she was her employee, she felt like she understood her and could tell something disturbing was going on. At the risk of getting chewed out for the umpteenth time, she decided she would intrude.
“Paula — what is happening?”
Paula looked at her surprised, not used to having her employee confront her so directly. At work she maintained an image of strict professionalism and had policies about shielding things from associates and the leeway she gave close friends. Her impulsive response was a look of disgust with a sharp “nothing” and to “get back to work”. She couldn’t muster the courage to get it out. Nothing was working and her mind was frozen. A shaking lip and tearing eyes were the only response she could give.
Other pedestrians were near and a parking attendant was standing within earshot. Paula glanced over at them and back to Jacqueline. She didn’t know what to do. Her hands were shaking and she was in no shape to drive and in no place to talk.
Jacqueline acted instinctively. “Give me the keys. I’ll drive.”
Paula didn’t even remember giving her the keys, but they were now driving down Wilshire Boulevard, passing glass buildings and palm trees. Paula buried her face in her hands on her lap in the passenger seat and let herself cry — a good no-holds-barred-no-shame-cry. The tears flowed. They were the only comforting things right now.
Jacqueline looked over at her boss, worried. She kept slowly driving and looking down at her. After a few minutes, when the tears seemed to subside a little, she opened her mouth and quietly spoke, “Where are we going?”
Paula reached into the glove box and pulled out half a Kleenex box and held them against her face, absorbing the moisture that seemed to be flowing from every orifice. After they passed another block she quietly muttered, “I don’t know.”
“Okay, I’ll just drive,” Jacqueline said, trying to sound reassuring.
Paula wiped the smeared makeup off her face and stared out the window at the passing pedestrians, cars, billboards and buildings. Something was raging inside her and she couldn’t direct it anywhere. She wanted a target and she wanted some answers.
A large yellow Plexiglas sign read Beverly Hills Coins and Precious Metals. It took a moment, but an alarm went off in her mind and she yelled out, “STOP! Pull over right now. Pull over!” Jacqueline fought to get over, cutting off a honking car and pulled to a stop in a Loading Only Zone.
“Stay here!” Paula said and leapt from the car with her purse.
She entered the establishment with force, the glass almost falling from its metal frame as it clanged against the sidewall. Two large glass display counters wrapped themselves around the room, while tacky posters adorned every spare inch of wall space with various pictures of ingots and coins, each one claiming to be the one the dubious investor should buy. An elderly employee, hunched over a thick record book, looked up above his bifocals in surprise.
Paula strode into the room, her eyes fixed on him. Her sudden entry and red distraught face with make-up smears must have been a frightening sight. “Where is Samuel?” she demanded.
The man shirked back and pointed to the back offices without taking his eyes off her. As soon as he raised his hand she stormed to the rear.
The plastic sign said manager on the door and through the blinds she saw movement. As she reached for the handle the door opened and a short balding man in a polo shirt and dress slacks was standing before her with a surprised look on his face.
“You Samuel?” she asked.
“Why yes,” the man replied pleasantly.
“I’m Paula Russell.”
“Oh, you must have gotten our message.”
“Damn right I got your message!” Paula shoved him hard and he fell backwards into the office, landing on his rear. She stepped into the room and a second man stood up quickly. Detective Crunder! She strode over to him with hatred in her eyes and slapped him hard across the face. “Don’t you ever threaten me or my daughter!” The man stumbled to the side, his hand going to his stinging cheek.
She was in a rage. She turned to face the two men together. “This coin means that much to you? You want to ruin our lives over it? I didn’t ask for this thing! You can damn well have it!”
Samuel got up gingerly, putting a palm up in the air. “Hang on! Hang on! I sent you an email asking you to come by. Not a threat!”
Paula pulled the piece of paper from her bag and shoved it before Detective Crunder. “Then who searched my house and who is this from?”
Crunder read the note slowly and slumped into his chair, still rubbing his face. His eyes widened and he exhaled slowly, “Jesus!”
Samuel hobbled around the desk to read it over his shoulder, nursing his back. They raised their eyes to Paula, looks of pity and sorrow on their faces. She could see by the shock in their eyes that this wasn’t something they were involved in. It was still all a mystery. She wanted to cry again.
Crunder spoke, “Look lady, I realize I was a little rude to you earlier because you sure were acting suspicious, but I’ve got nothing to do with this, believe me.”
“This is serious,” Samuel added, stroking his bald head.
“Anderson and I are local artifact detectives. Boring job. We deal with pawnshops and paperwork. This is crime ring stuff — out of our territory entirely. You gotta believe me. I don’t even have a license for a gun. We wanted to do the necessary testing and paperwork to verify the coin’s authenticity and then leave it to you. Simple. Nothing complex.” He was almost begging her to believe him.
“Who else knows about this coin?” Paula asked.
“There were four employees in the shop that day and maybe about five customers were in and out while we were inspecting the coin. I doubt they overheard us, but it’s possible,” Samuel said with a shrug. “Otherwise it is just Detective Crunder and Anderson whom work with us regularly and who I called. Crunder happened to be here today to discuss some other work they are doing with us.”
Paula’s heart was beating loudly and she was sweating. “What do I do?”
Crunder stood up and swallowed hard, combing his fingers through his greasy hair. He seemed to be holding his breath, thinking way to hard. “You gotta call someone. What if they mean actual harm? I mean, this isn’t some light threat. This is serious.”
That wasn’t helpful. “I know it’s serious!” she yelled.
“Right,” he said, wishing he hadn’t spoken.
“You went to my daughter’s school on Friday without my permission, you asshole!”
“Yeah, sorry about that. Really. I didn’t think it was a big deal. They told me to leave each time and I left. I was even back here right afterwards, right Samuel?”
Samuel nodded. “Where is your daughter now?” he asked casually.
Paula’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t know the answer to that question. She pulled out her cell phone and hit the resend button. Straight to voice mail again. Panic started to rise up in her. What if they already have her? Pictures flashed through her mind of her daughter being thrown in the trunk of a car or being gagged and bound or being forced against her will and she steadied herself to get them out of her head. “She was home this morning, but her phone isn’t picking up. I don’t know where she is.”
“We gotta call the cops on this. It’s already 2:10. You have at least a twenty minute drive to the Metro station,” Crunder decided, reaching for the phone.
“No! They said don’t call the cops. Haven’t you guys seen Speed or Ransom? What if the cops are behind it?” Her thoughts went to Officer Stanley, the one cop who knew about the coin. Could he be behind this? The thought was too much — he seemed caring and helpful.
“You’ve seen too many movies ma’am,” Crunder responded. “This might be Hollywood, but come on, that’s ridiculous.”
“I would rather give this coin to some mobster and never see the man ever again than risk getting the cops involved and thereby risk my daughter’s life. Just me talking here to you guys might be too much. I’ll go give them the coin and you guys can track it down when they try to sell it.”
“They’ll sell it on the black market,” Samuel said. “And it’ll change hands a dozen times making it impossible to track. It’ll show up in some billionaire’s investment portfolio in fifty years and no one, including him, will have any idea who he got it from.”
Paula’s cell phone rang, startling her. She looked at the caller ID. Angelina! She pushed the receive button.
“Hi Mom! You trying to call me?”
“Angelina! Where are you? Are you okay?” Paula was in a panic.
“Yeah, I’m fine Mom. What’s going on?”
“Where are you?”
“I went on a hike in the park. I’m on a trail heading home right now.”
“Are you alone Honey?”
“Yeah. Mom why are you so panicky? What’s going on?”
Paula felt a huge relief to know her daughter was safe. At least for the moment she was. “Honey, you can’t go home. Remember how our house was broken into? Well, something worse has happened and I need you to get to safety right now. I’m really worried about you. Do you understand?”
The silence told her Angelina was now also scared. Her voice came over shaky. “Mom, I’m really sorry all this is happening. I’m really sorry.”
“I’m sorry too Honey. It’s not your fault. I’m going to come get you.” She looked at her watch. She was almost out of time. “I have to do one thing first. Where can I get you? Where in the park are you?”
“I’ll go back to the tree. You can find me there. It’s safe. No one else around.”
“Okay Hun, I’ll find you there.”
“If you call me and don’t get through its because I get no reception in the tree.”
“Okay, see you shortly.” Paula hung up the phone and thought for a moment about what Angelina had told her. She knew cell phones cut out in basements and hospitals and department stores, but trees? She ignored it. She leaned back on the door and breathed a deep sigh.
“Well, that’s a relief,” Samuel said, still grimacing and rubbing his temples.
“Sorry I reacted on you like that.”
“No problem. I understand the stress you are under. I don’t envy your position, coin or no coin.”
“And sorry I slapped you so hard.”
“That’s okay. You’re not the first women to slap me,” Crunder said. Paula nodded politely and thought she wouldn’t be the last either.
“By the way,” Samuel asked, “do you have the coin on you? Can I see it one last time before you give it away to some Mafia don? Just for my own gratification.”
“Sure,” Paula said, raising one eyebrow. She pulled it from her purse as his eyes widened in anticipation.
This guy gets off sexually on this stuff, she thought.
