“He’s probably a girl anyway.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I saw a movie once. The guy in the chat room was a girl pretending to be a guy. It makes you wonder, you know.”
Jim wrinkled his brow. “Hum, a girl pretending to be a guy axe-murderer. Now that’s scary!”
CHAPTER 4
Austin was exhausted when he returned to his spacious two-bedroom penthouse apartment on the top floor of the Gladstone Building. Living right upstairs from his office made it easy to get to work in the mornings and home at night. As it always was, the suite was immaculately clean, but then he had a cleaning woman who came in twice a week, did the shopping, cooked enough meals for a few days, and left them in the freezer for him to heat up.
His apartment took up half of the top floor, faced the front of the building, and had large, floor-to-ceiling windows. It held the usual living room furnishings with the exception of the large oak desk that faced his bedroom wall. The desk was a graduation present from Nick, as was the apartment, and Austin had added little in the way of decoration except for the life-size portrait of Nick that hung on the wall. It also came with piped-in classical music that went a long way toward relaxing him in the evenings.
The task of taking over the corporation without Nick’s direction was overwhelming, especially at first, and Austin tried not to bring his work home. Yet, there was always something that needed his attention, even after he hired two more corporate lawyers to help him.
He didn’t have much of a social life either, aside from riding his horse on Saturday mornings. He didn’t go to bars, even the one downstairs, and had few single friends. He tried a dating service for a couple of months, which produced a disaster he would rather forget.
No social life, that is, until he happened to come across Sissy3211 on the internet.
He met her in a forum and he didn’t remember why, but they struck up a conversation about horses. Sissy3211 had never seen a horse up close, but that wasn’t unusual – there were lots of city people who hadn’t. She asked questions and he enjoyed answering them. Eventually, their method of communication moved to emails, and then to a private chat room. Before long, he found himself talking to her every night.
Sissy3211 was intelligent, funny, and didn’t type single letters instead of actual words, like most did in text messages. She didn’t use profanity either, although some of the stories she told about the people she worked with deserved a few choice words. All in all, she had qualities he found refreshing in a woman. Hopefully, she was a woman…she seemed to talk like one anyway.
She had one very strict rule – no personal information, which made him believe she truly was a woman. Her rule worked in his favor too. Some women would do anything to sink their hooks into a lawyer, especially one in control of such a huge estate. On the other hand, taking Sissy3211 out to dinner sure sounded better than another microwave meal. He opened his laptop, clicked on his personal email icon and scanned the list. None of the emails were from Sissy, but that wasn’t unusual.
Austin answered an email from his mother, and then opened their chat room and signed in.
Bronco8881: I’m here, where are you?
He strummed his fingers on the table and was about to give up when she signed in.
Sissy3211: Just got home. How was your day?
Bronco8881: Busy, and yours?
Sissy3211: Bad day, a friend got fired. Well, she wasn’t really a friend, just a co-worker. She got fired for not going to the company picnic.
The lawyer in him perked right up.
Bronco8881: What? That’s illegal. Your friend should file a complaint with L&I.
Sissy3211: What is L&I?
Bronco8881: Labor and Industries. What state are you in?
Sissy3211: Very sneaky.
Austin smiled.
Bronco8881: I’m not being sneaky; I wanted to look up the laws in your state.
Sissy3211: Providing I am in a state.
Austin rolled his eyes. It was pretty obvious they were in the same time zone or close too it, but she could live south of the border.
Bronco8881: Are you in the US at least?
Maggie paused for a moment before she answered. His question wasn’t too invasive, so she decided on an honest answer.
Sissy3211: At least.
Bronco8881: East coast or West?
Sissy3211: Yes and no.
The middle of the country was just what he suspected.
Bronco8881: Okay, I’ll stop asking. My offer to take you to dinner still stands, just say the word.
Sissy3211: I don’t go out with axe-murderers.
Bronco8881: Neither do I. How is your particular friend, as you call him?
Sissy3211: The one who snorts when he laughs.
Bronco8881: That’s the one.
Sissy3211: I have come to believe he does that on purpose. He got his hair cut in a Mohawk. I think that’s what it’s called, and still keeps a pipe in his mouth, although he never lights it.
Bronco8881: I have got to see this guy.
Sissy3211: He says he doesn’t smoke; he just likes the smell of cherry tobacco. I think he likes waving the pipe around when he talks, more than he likes the smell. He wants us to think he is…I don’t know, highly educated? I have a hard time not laughing at him.
Bronco8881: I would probably laugh too.
Sissy3211: He’s a nice guy, though.
Bronco8881: I have something for you.
Austin chose a picture of himself dressed in street clothes instead of a business suit, and attached it. He waited and waited, but she didn’t say anything.
Bronco8881: I’m just trying to show you I’m not an axe-murderer.
She thought about accusing him of breaking the rules, but decided against it. At length she answered:
Sissy3211: Nice shirt.
Bronco8881: Thanks. My mother gave it to me for Christmas last year.
Sissy3211: Lucky you.
Bronco8881: I’m waiting.
Sissy3211: For what?
Bronco8881: A picture of you.
Sissy3211: Oh. Do you like blondes, brunettes, blue, green or pink hair? I’ve got a great magazine here, take your choice.
Bronco8881: You’re a hairdresser?
Sissy3211: Don’t I wish. It would save me a fortune if I were. My hair grows like a weed. Wait, someone’s calling.
He waited and waited…
Sissy3211: “Old school chum on the phone, catch you later.”
---Sissy3211 has signed off---
It wasn’t true. She rarely got a phone call and there was no one calling now. Instead, she enlarged his picture and examined it more closely. Behind the man she thought was more than a little attractive, was a building she recognized – a building in downtown Denver, with a one-of-a-kind, seven tier fountain in front of it. She had probably walked past that fountain a hundred times. Never had she imagined they lived in the same city. On the other hand, he might have just been visiting Denver.
Sissy3211: I’m back. Do you travel much?
Bronco8881: Not much, you?
Sissy3211: I would like to someday.
Bronco8881: Where would you like to go?
Sissy3211: Canada, Alaska maybe. I would love to see the glaciers.
Bronco8881: When would you like to go? I’ll buy the tickets.
Sissy3211: Tickets plural?
Bronco8881: They have fantastic cruise ships that go up the west coast to Alaska. Don’t worry, I’ll get separate rooms.
Sissy3211: Are you rich or do you just run up your credit cards?
Austin paused for a moment before he answered that.
Bronco8881: I do okay. No family to support so what I make is mine to spend.
Sissy3211: Same here. Is that picture really you?
Bronco8881: It would be pretty stupid of me to lie. I wouldn’t want you to turn around and walk away when we finally meet.
Sissy3211: I wouldn’t walk – I would run!<
br />
Austin chuckled.
Bronco8881: I do want to meet you.
Sissy3211: Someday, maybe. Sweet dreams.
---Sissy3211 has signed off---
She was always abruptly signing off that way. At first, he found it annoying, but it was just her way and he accepted it. When Sissy was done talking, she was done talking! He liked that about her too.
*
Maggie lived in a flat that the Americans called a studio apartment. In truth, it was a converted hotel room and not a very nice one. It came furnished with the utilities paid, and for now, it would have to do.
The room was hot in summer and cold in winter. To save money, she washed her clothes in the small kitchen sink, and spread them on her furniture to dry. Colorado wasn’t humid like England, and with the help of a small fan, her clothes dried without getting moldy. That was one thing she liked about Colorado. The sofa was disgusting, the small table came with only one chair, the bed sagged in the middle, and more often than not, she woke up with a sore back. That too, she learned to live with.
What bothered her most was the lack of security. Her door opened to a second floor balcony with an outside flight of stairs, and there was nothing to prevent someone from breaking in. That was the main reason she wouldn’t give Bronco any personal information – not until she knew she could trust him, if ever.
The apartment came with just a few dishes and pans, but no television or radio. The oven only worked half the time. The refrigerator froze almost everything, even on the lower shelves, and her only other appliance was a toaster she bought at a garage sale for a dollar. Therefore, she usually picked up just a few things at a time from the store across the street – things that didn’t require much preparation or preservation.
What she had in the way of entertainment was a GSTS company provided phone, and her own laptop with company provided internet access. Afraid of being robbed while she was at work, she was careful to hide her laptop behind her stove each morning before she went to work. Without that and her friend, Bronco, her seclusion would have been unbearable.
She stared at Bronco’s picture for a few minutes more before she turned her laptop off, strategically wedged her chair under the doorknob of her front door, and got into bed. She still couldn’t get over it. He had been right there in Denver the whole time.
*
Laura was still asleep, and the cook and the chauffer were otherwise occupied, when Teresa went to the Connellys office. It held several bookcases filled to the brim with novels, a couple of brown leather chairs, and a television set that looked older than she was.
She sat at the desk and lifted the lid on her employer’s laptop. There wasn’t much on the social calendar and when she looked back at some of the events in past weeks, Laura had cancelled almost all of them.
“Probably too drunk,” Teresa whispered.
She scrolled forward and found nothing but empty pages, until she got to an entry scheduled for the Saturday after next.
The notation read:
Gladstone Charity Ball – Fillmore Country Club
For a long moment, she stared at the entry. Off the top of her head, she could think of a dozen reasons to attend the ball, especially if Laura and Mathew were going to be there. The ball would mark her last night in America, and by then, what she came to do would be accomplished.
It was perfect.
Teresa opened the top drawer and as she hoped, the engraved invitation was there. She picked up the house telephone and entered the RSVP number.
“This is Laura Connelly’s maid. She would like to bring a friend to the Gladstone Charity Ball. Could you send another invitation?”
The woman on the other end sounded skeptical. “Laura Connelly intends to come?”
“Well, yes, you sent the Connellys an invitation.”
“Did we? Yes, yes, I see both Mr. and Mrs. Connelly listed now. That’s odd.” The woman was silent for a moment before she spoke again. “I’ll have another invitation sent right away. What is the name?”
“Teresa Gregory.”
“The address?”
“Just send it to Mrs. Connelly; it is to be a surprise.”
“I see, and will Mrs. Gregory be bringing an escort?”
“No.”
“Very well, I’ll put her on the list and send the invitation out right away. Tell Laura I look forward to seeing her. It has been ages.”
“Thank you, I’ll tell her.” Teresa grinned and hung up the phone. “Thank you indeed,” she muttered. She put the laptop lid down, placed the invitation back in the drawer and closed it. With a grin on her face, she grabbed her feather duster and happily started her work for the day.
*
With only two weeks to find the missing granddaughter, and even after staying up until midnight, the team of detectives got an early start the next morning. Three pictures of Georgia were taped to the wall – one when she was little, the aged progressed picture Austin’s PI made, and the one Michael composed the night before. The last two looked similar, but in Michael’s picture, her face was not so thin. Printouts and used coffee cups were just beginning to clutter the table.
Seated across from Michael, Carl chewed his lower lip. “For rich people, there isn’t much online about the Connellys. I haven’t found anything recent with the two of them together. There’s an old article about a trip they took to Europe. They went to Paris, London, Frankfort, Geneva, Madrid, Lisbon, Rome, Amsterdam Copenhagen, and Jerusalem – the grand tour.”
“What year was that?” Jackie asked.
“Four years after Georgia was born. Mathew is more socially active,” Carl continued. “There are six or seven recent pictures of him. The latest picture of Laura is at a country club luncheon last year. She doesn’t look very well.”
“Too much booze,” said Michael.
Seated at the end of the table, Jackie asked, “Why was Mathew in the papers?”
Carl kept his eyes on the monitor as he scrolled down a list of entries. “He plays handball at the country club when he’s home, and he’s good at it.”
“That’s interesting,” said Michael. “He looks too thin to do much of anything, let alone be good at handball.”
Carl stroked his beard. “Maybe the clothes he wore to the reading of the will were too large.”
“Maybe he’s sick,” Michael muttered. He glanced at the first of his two laptops and then turned his attention to the second.
“We can only hope,” said Carl. He made another entry in his search engine and began again. “Any luck yet, Jackie?”
Jackie frowned. “Not yet. Like Austin said, there is nothing in the credit card statements that tell us where in France they went the year Georgia was born. They flew to Paris and then the trail goes cold. Mathew flew to London a couple of times during those six months, but neither of them used the credit cards for anything else.”
“They knew Nick could see what they were doing,” said Michael.
Carl frowned. “They paid cash for the hospital bill? I wonder what it cost to have a baby twenty years ago.”
“Maybe Mathew got lucky in the casinos that year,” Michael suggested.
“Must have,” Jackie muttered. “Still nothing on the nanny?”
“Nothing here so far,” Michael answered.
“Austin is right,” said Carl. “Adelaide Bertrand doesn’t exist, at least not publicly. I looked for obituaries and found nothing, so hopefully she is still alive.”
“She said she wanted to clear her conscience,” Jackie thoughtfully said. “People don’t usually do that until they think they are dying. Check the hospitals.”
“You mean hack in? You’ve got the wrong guy for that,” said Carl.
“Oh, I’ll do it,” Michael muttered.
“Great,” said Carl. “I think I’ll take a little nap.”
“Not until we find the Nanny,” Jackie said.
*
The fight between the Connellys didn’t end the night before. It p
icked up early the next day with Mathew following Laura all over the house. He pestered her until she finally gave in and signed the lawsuit. Once that was accomplished, he took off in his bright red car, squealing his tires as he drove out the gate and turned down the street.
During the argument, Laura repeatedly called for Teresa, but as soon as she answered, Mathew sent her away. That was okay with her. Mathew’s demeanor made Teresa uneasy. She waited in the hallway and as soon as he was gone, she went to Laura.
“You look terrified,” Laura said when Teresa entered the living room. “You need not be. He is gone and all is well.”
“You are not upset?”
Laura came away from the window, looked at the wall clock, and counted the hours. “We set a record this time. My husband just spent twelve straight hours in my presence. I held out longer than usual. Make me a drink, will you?”
Teresa went to the liquor cabinet, opened the cupboard door and got a fresh bottle of vodka. “You intended to sign the papers all along?”
“I have no choice. I know it and he knows it. How long it takes me to sign is just a little game we play. I do believe Mathew likes the game as much as I. He pretends he is going to kiss me and I pretend I am going to let him. We are both equally demented, you see.”
“I thought… I feared he might hurt you.”
“Hurt me? Oh no, he is too clever for that. Daddy would have…” she paused long enough for Teresa to hand her the drink and then take a sip. “Well, now that Daddy is gone, perhaps I should be a little more careful.”
“Perhaps you should.”
Laura brushed a piece of lint off of Teresa’s sleeve. “Don’t worry; he won’t be back until he wants something else. Find me a movie to watch, will you? Something where everything blows up.”
Teresa giggled. “I know just the one…if you have it.”
“There are hundreds, maybe thousands in the family room. I belong to a club that sends me every movie ever made. Some are truly dreadful. And Teresa, will you stay and watch it with me?”
“What about my duties?”
“I’m sure the dusting will still need doing later.”
Missing Heiress (A Jackie Harlan Mystery Book 2) Page 5
