Fear Familiar Bundle

by Caroline Burnes

  For all of his joviality, Jennifer saw the dark circles under his eyes, which meant he wasn't sleeping. If he wasn't sleeping, then he wasn't working. He was worrying.

  "That black rascal has been up to something," Eugene said as he followed Familiar into the kitchen. "He's worked up an appetite. Just as Judy Luno did last night. She was by here earlier, about to pop with some secret information. And as hungry as a tigress." He cut a look first at Jennifer and then at James. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

  "Not a thing," Jennifer assured him. "We have a few theories, Eugene, but the less you know, the better. Especially since the police are doing their level best to find some excuse to make an arrest."

  "That's not unexpected, after last evening's Crush Bonbon show." Eugene served up two plates of steaming food and put them on the table with flatware. "Dig in, you two. I'm going to make Familiar a plate."

  James bent down to stroke the cat. "Yes, I'm sure Familiar has earned some chow."

  Eugene sat down at the table with them. "Jennifer, I don't want you to be shocked or dismayed, but I'm withdrawing The Lizard King from publication."

  Jennifer almost choked on a piece of the crisply fried fish that was known along the Gulf Coast as Biloxi bacon. "What?"

  "I have my own theories about what's going on with these children, and I believe the only way that they'll ever be returned is if I retire from writing." He got up and paced to the front door, where he stood and composed himself. "I've decided to do that."

  "Eugene! You can't let this maniac drive you from the thing you love the most."

  Eugene's smile was sad. "No. I love my work. But I don't love it more than these children. I've spent the last few days and nights trying to figure out what I have that this person might want. Not the cats. As fine as they are, there are plenty of cats to be had. Not my home. My garden is lovely, but anyone who loves plants can have one as fine or better. Not my savings. As handsomely as I've been paid in some cases, I've been as extravagant in others." He shrugged. "It has to be my writing. That's all I have that anyone could covet at all."

  James put down his fork and stilled Jennifer's protest with one hand. "Wait," he said.

  "Wait, my foot. This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Eugene is a writer. He can't quit being what he is. It would kill him. And we can't let this low-life, conniving, sneak-thief, child-snatching, roach-kissing, vermin-infested coward force Eugene into retirement."

  "I couldn't have said it better myself," James said. He watched her face go from red anger to white-hot fury.

  "This isn't the time to mock me," she warned. "I'll cut off your tongue and serve it to you on a bed of watercress."

  James held his laughter, but just barely. "Hear me out, oh, violent one."

  Eugene had come closer to the table, intrigued by the expression of delight on James's face. "What is it?" he asked. "What are you thinking?"

  "A retirement announcement."

  "Like a fake press stunt?" Jennifer's temper evaporated. She was immediately caught with the possibilities.

  "Exactly. We do a big story in the newspaper, with a picture, and how sad it all is, but that some health problem has forced you into retirement. We'll draw the son of a gun out of the woodwork if it's your talent that he's trying to destroy."

  "You think maybe he'll give the children back?" Eugene asked. For the first time in a week there was a burning light in his blue eyes.

  "It might work." Jennifer was trying to hold her enthusiasm down. But the idea seemed brilliant. If Eugene's logic was correct, and the attacks on the children were directed at him, then it might be that his retirement would push the kidnapper into releasing Mimi and Tommy. "It's worth a try." She stood, too excited to finish eating. "I'll have to call Maji and prepare her. If she reads this without warning, she'll probably have a heart attack. As long as she understands this is a hoax, she'll be fine."

  Eugene smiled at her. "The truth is, darling, I can't write as long as I'm worried about those children. I've tried and tried. Everything I've done to The Lizard King since Tommy was taken is pure drivel. Worthless." He shrugged one shoulder as he looked out his back door. "So you see, it doesn't matter if I retire or not. I simply don't have what it takes to create until those children are safe and sound."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jennifer tapped on the beveled glass door of the McNair residence and held her breath. James stood a discreet four steps behind her, there but not intrusively so. Footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor and then the door opened.

  Zelda McNair gave Jennifer a warm smile before a look of perplexity touched her face. "Is something wrong with Mr. Legander?" she asked before Jennifer could say a word.

  "This is going to be more difficult than I thought," Jennifer said as she cast a despairing look at James. "We may be crazy, Mrs. McNair, but we believe that either Charlie or Patti may be in danger."

  She knew instantly that her words were too brash. Mrs. McNair's fair skin flushed with emotion. "How? They're in the backyard. They're— " She broke off as she turned from the door and started to run through the house.

  Jennifer and James followed, knowing that it would do no good to try to calm her until she was certain her children were safe. Zelda stopped at the back door and looked out. Charlie and Patti were industriously setting up toy soldiers in what looked to be a battle zone. They never even bothered to glance up at the adults who watched them.

  "I've kept them in the backyard ever since Mimi Frost disappeared," Zelda said, relief making her face go red, then white.

  "We didn't mean to upset you, and we have no concrete proof." Jennifer realized how foolish she sounded. Only the slight pressure of James's hand on the small of her back gave her the courage to go on. "We have a hunch— "

  "We have reason to believe that the kidnappings of the children are directed at Eugene Legander," James deftly overrode Jennifer's halting attempts to explain. "Jennifer and I have stumbled on what we think may be a clue. And we believe the next child scheduled to be kidnapped will be redheaded."

  "How in the world did you ever come to that conclusion?" Mrs. McNair, now that she knew her children were safe, was curious, and a little dubious of her guests. "How could you know that, unless you know who's taken those children?" Her voice sharpened.

  "We don't know the kidnapper," James assured her. "This is a guess. But if it's true, we wanted to warn you, and we're on the way to the Ralstons to warn them. I understand they have a girl— "

  "Julie." Mrs. McNair nodded. "Strawberry blond. Lovely child. So unusual. She makes things from paper. Beautiful things." She looked out the back door again, making certain her children were safe. "This has been a nightmare for all of us parents. I don't know how Mrs. Frost is surviving. And now Mrs. Franklin." She clutched her hands together. "It's horrible, but I keep thinking that it could be my children, and I'm so glad that it was someone else's. That's unforgivable of me, I know, but I can't help it."

  Jennifer put her hand on the woman's arm. "Not terrible, just very human. All of the mothers feel the same way, I'm sure. But just keep Charlie and Patti safe. In fact, if I had relatives I could visit, I think I might take a trip."

  "They're both A students. It wouldn't hurt them to miss a few days of school, and I've been promising my sister that we'd come for a visit." She went to the sink and began to run dishwater. "I'll just clean up this kitchen, pack a few things, and we'll load up and go to Jackson."

  James nodded at Jennifer, indicating they should leave. "Thanks for your time," Jennifer said. "We'd better check in with the Ralstons."

  "Thank you for coming by." Mrs. McNair wiped her hands on a towel and walked with them to the door. "There's so much to do to get ready for a trip. But it would do us all a world of good. The children are sick of my watching them like a hawk, and I'm sick of the worry." She stood in the doorway. "I hope they catch whoever is doing this and make them pay a heavy price."

  "Thanks."

  James took Jennifer
's elbow as they hurried down the drive. "She was pretty shaken, but I think getting out of town is an excellent idea. At first I thought she was going to call the cops, but thank goodness she didn't."

  "What about the Ralstons?" Jennifer knew the risk James was taking. He needed to be at work, and he had no business being caught in the middle of her big, boiling pot of troubles.

  "Let's do it, and then I have to get to the office."

  "And I have a retirement announcement to write and a press conference to put together. I want Eugene to go out with some style, even if it is a fake retirement."

  Bonnie Ralston reacted in much the same manner as Zelda McNair. She gathered her two children close and decided to leave town. The pressure had become too much, and she thanked James and Jennifer for their warning.

  On the short drive to Jennifer's house, James reached across the seat and picked up her hand. It was cool, fragile-looking. He wrapped his fingers around it. "We'll get through this," he said, kissing the tips of her fingers as he drove. "I promise."

  "I just hope it's before something terrible happens to Mimi and Tommy."

  "If we've thwarted Crush's plans, we may have bought them more time." He shook his head. "It just doesn't make sense. Why would a radio personality on the brink of going into national syndication do such a crazy thing?"

  "I've been thinking about that myself," Jennifer said. "Why does he hate Eugene so much? I can't seem to find an answer, but maybe I haven't asked Eugene in the right way." There was an edge of steel in her voice.

  "I don't think you can threaten Eugene into telling you a single thing."

  "Maybe not, but Familiar may be able to help me out."

  James pulled the car to the curb and stopped. "I don't even want to hear a plan that involves you and that cat. The fur will fly, is all I can say."

  "I'll call you and let you know when I schedule the press conference."

  "Make it early afternoon," he said. "Better for my deadline." He grinned, and blew her a kiss as he drove away.

  Two hours later Jennifer examined the printed copy of her release. It was brief, simple, to the point, stating that due to health reasons Eugene Legander was hanging up his pen. It stated that no future Legander books would be issued by Grand Street Press. Due to Eugene's illness, there would be no retirement party at this time. The writer was going into seclusion.

  On the one hand, it made Eugene look as guilty as sin. On the other, it added an element of sympathy to his side— if the reader believed that his worry about the children had driven him to retire. That was what Jennifer was hoping without being able to state it clearly. The idea was to manipulate the public. Not always the easiest thing to do.

  She tapped her pen against her coffee cup and read it again. She wanted it to be perfect before she faxed a copy to Maji— after she called and told her of the plan.

  But first she'd have to call Eugene, to check it out with him. She continued to tap a staccato beat on the coffee cup with her pen as the phone rang and rang. Jennifer's forehead wrinkled in thought. Why didn't Eugene answer? Where could he have gone? It was a small, niggling worry, but one that she knew would bother her until she spoke with him. He was so adventurous— and unpredictable. And he was also very worried about his young friends.

  Jennifer replaced the receiver and dialed J. P. Frost. It was time to tell him what she'd found. She didn't completely trust the man, but it was his daughter, and his telephone. And with a little bit of luck, Frost might be the perfect foil for a scheme she was hatching. One that not even James knew about yet.

  * * *

  EUGENE'S HOUSE is a pack rat's haven. I mean there's stuff here that probably belongs in King Tut's tomb! The most amazing assortment of odds and ends, art and tinsel, expensive and junky. It's heaven! There's something to tickle any cat's curiosity, not to mention those wonderful peacock feathers that he uses to make AnnaLoulou dance and leap. What a gazelle she is. I do believe that I could abandon my heart to her if it were not already given to another.

  Speaking of Clotilde, that brings to mind the Washington scene and the trials and tribulations of The Dame. Eugene got a call from her this morning with good news. Peter is out of jail and he has videotape on the atrocities of one of those canned hunts that should put several of those butchers in jail for a long time. Eugene was near tears as he spoke to Eleanor, so it must be some pretty gruesome stuff. I'm glad I didn't have to hear it. I just want to be in Texas so I can show those fake big game murderers what a small fifteen-pound feline with full claws and teeth can do.

  Enough of that! My blood pressure is at the boiling point and I have my own set of troubles here in Mobile.

  I've been looking at Eugene's manuscript, and the more I look at it, the more certain I am that the numeral 98 is sig nificant. I'm certain Jennifer figured out the redheaded child angle, so that's one clue that was left and used. This is one smart kidnapper, and one that likes to play with us. It's almost as if he were deliberately tweaking our noses with the clues. He's telling us every step he's going to take before he takes it.

  In Crush's house there were stuffed dolls and toys, and a computer. And in the backyard, an impressive swing set. It has occurred to me that perhaps Crush is not establishing a kingdom for a child, but a place to imagine things like a child— i.e., a writer of children's stories. That would give him a reason to hate Eugene. It's only a theory, but it seems to work better than the one where he hates the books that Eugene writes. Even a human has more sense than that— what's to hate about wonderful stories? Even someone with the literary IQ of a Bonbon should be able to appreciate a well told tale. But I forget, you can't really generalize about such an undeveloped species.

  For certain, though, Crush is not stupid. Not by a long shot. He's annoying and malicious and conniving, but he isn't dumb.

  So if he wants to write children's books, maybe he views Uncle Eugene as too much competition. If the great Uncle Eugene were to step down as an author, it would leave a void that Crush would be only too glad to fill. It's a hypothesis, but one that has some substance.

  Well, I need to get back inside the Bonbon house to see if there are some diaries, or some records of how to get that computer up and running. I don't think Miss Spitfire has any computer talent, and I know Eugene can't even use an electric typewriter. So maybe James?

  Or even better— Mademoiselle Luno. Now she's the kind of kid who could turn a computer inside out. And I don't think she'd object to an evening of scampering around the Bonbon estate. No, I think that would be right up her alley.

  First a snack, then a nap, and then some very serious catastrophic breaking and entering!

  * * *

  SUNLIGHT WARMED the lavender azaleas around Eugene's house to a vibrant glow as Jennifer pulled up and stopped at the front of his house. She'd called him seven times in the last hour— to no avail. If he was home, he was dodging the telephone.

  She used her key to open the front door, and the silence of the house told her that she was alone with the cats.

  Outside she heard a cheery whistle and went back to the porch. Eugene was coming down the sidewalk, two large bags clutched in his arms and a forced smile on his face.

  "Welcome, darling. What are you doing in my neck of the woods?"

  She gave him a critical inspection, noting the haggard look and the fake cheerfulness. "Checking on you. I have your retirement announcement. Want to take a look at it?"

  "Excellent. Let me put these things away." He went into the kitchen. "I had the most delightful chat with little Bobby Fornaro in the parking lot at the grocery store. That child is a whirlwind of mischief."

  Jennifer couldn't immediately place the youngster. There were at least fifty kids that Eugene knew well.

  "His mother was buying groceries and left him in the car to play with one of those hideous video game things. She had warned him against talking to strangers, and what was Bobby doing but sneaking out of the car and using the tip of an umbrella to tickle women on th
eir rumps when they bent over to put their groceries in the trunk." Eugene laughed. "That youngster is going to end up in prison."

  "If some woman doesn't kill him before he has a chance to make it to puberty." Jennifer had a memory flash of the child. He was a devil, but he was also pretty funny. No matter what trouble he got into, he often got out of it unscathed because he could make people laugh. "He may be a comedian."

  "Well, I caught him good and proper and put him back in the car before he gave poor old Mrs. Edison a heart attack. She thought something was in her pants." Eugene started laughing and stopped with a can of soup in his hand. "It was funny. Every time she bent over to try to straighten the groceries in the trunk, Bobby would lean out from behind the tail of the car and goose her with the umbrella."

  Jennifer laughed, too. "Well, I hope you made him apologize."

  "Of course, and she forgave him and gave him a cookie."

  Jennifer rolled her eyes and grinned. Mrs. Edison had been a neighbor of Eugene's for the past thirty years. There was hardly a night when one of her grandchildren wasn't staying over with her. It did Jennifer good to see Eugene laughing at anything, even if it was the antics of a nine-year-old gangster-in-training.

  "So what did Mrs. Fornaro say?"

  "Oh, darling, I didn't wait and report Bobby. I took him to the car, made him promise to lock the doors, and I came on home. You know how his mother likes to squeeze all of the tomatoes in the store. She would have been in there all morning, and I had business to do." He shook his head. "How a couple with southern Italian backgrounds ever produced a redheaded child is beyond me— Jennifer?" Eugene hurried toward her. "What is it?"

  "Bobby is redheaded?"

  "Deep auburn. But it shouldn't concern you if it doesn't concern Mr. Fornaro."

  "What store?"

  "What store what?" Eugene looked at her as if she'd gone mad.

  "What store were you shopping at?"

  "The Delliwag over on Pinkham Street."

  "Let's go." She snatched at his shirtsleeve in an effort to hurry him along. Just in time, she saw Familiar rise from the sofa and stretch, his pink mouth open wide in a yawn. "And you, too." She pointed at the cat. "Now!"