“It’s possible,” Leo offered. “Find me Pavel.”
“Leo, let’s go back to the no-connection theory,” I said. “Anna has no family but an immigrant mother. She’s a perfect victim. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Pretty. The kidnapper thinks her case will not be pursued. It will in time just go away. From the first kidnapper’s point of view, it might be just bad luck that the Keating baby was taken. Because now there is a connection. Now a child has been taken from a prominent family who have the resources, and now it won’t go away.”
“We investigate a missing child no matter who the parents are.” Leo bristled a little.
“I know that, Leo, but I’m just saying that from a kidnapper’s point of view—”
Feeney jumped in, “And, from the second kidnapper’s point of view, it is just good luck Anna was taken because now the real motive for taking Charlotte is less clear.”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
“You don’t think what, that the second—”
Leo and I were running around a cul de sac.
“Out of the box, Leo! Out of the box! You are following leads in a specified order. Things aren’t connected like this.”
“Hey, Hester.” Leo grinned in spite of himself. “Breathe, Feeney.”
“Training a new puppy, Leo?”
Feeney blushed pink.
“And a cute little puppy he is, too. If you ever slip your collar, let’s go for a walk sometime.”
He was now purple.
“Feeney’s married, Hester.”
“Puppy lost his tongue?”
“I better go check on that…that thing.” Feeney rose and left the room with even more speed than when he went to get us coffee.
“You nearly made puppy wet his papers, Hester. We’re following all the angles. What have we missed?”
“Well, obviously, you missed something since you have nothing. Am I right?”
“I assume that you are…there…when Isadora does her interviews. Did you think anyone you talked to was lying?”
“No. But, that only means we’ve been asking the wrong questions.”
“Give me some new questions then.”
Hester thought for a minute. I hoped she might relax and I could slip back, but she didn’t. Her thought patterns were hard and strong.
Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Feeney stuck his head in. “Lieutenant, they’ve found the body of a little girl.”
“Where?”
“Central Park.”
“Forensics there?”
“On their way.”
“Okay. Shiloh, we’ll have to continue this later.”
Hester let me have the floor. “Leo, can you keep this out of the news for awhile? Let me talk to Miriam first. They shouldn’t hear about this on TV before they hear it from you or me. Not even a report about an unidentified child.”
“I’ll do my best. But somebody probably already has it. You better get up there.”
The junior detective scrambled madly to gather up the files and throw back his tea.
“Feeney, you don’t have to bust a gasket. We can’t do anything till forensics is done with the scene.”
Jimmy Stokes was alone now with the straw-haired woman. His partner was nowhere in sight. As we crossed the room to the stairwell, she stood up and, Jimmy yelled, “I said sit down!” and shoved her back into her chair. She landed hard enough to snap her head back and force her to grab the side of the desk as her chair started tipping backward.
Oh no, I thought as I felt myself overpowered by Hawk, who came out and took a step sideways, placing her hand on the back of the woman’s chair to stop it from going over. “You didn’t have to be so rough.”
All heads in the room looked up, and Jimmy, alone and on the spot, said, “She was told to sit down. You’re interfering with…” he stared into Hawk’s black eyes and didn’t finish his sentence, but he was spoiling for a fight. With someone.
Hawk smiled. “Oooohh, Jimmy, take me on.” It is never a good thing, Hawk smiling. Hers is the smile of a famished wolf gazing at a wounded deer. There is no malice in it, just pleasure at an opportunity.
The room was silent, then Leo said in a low voice, “Jimmy.”
Jimmy stood fixed in Hawk’s gaze and couldn’t or wouldn’t back down.
“Jimmy,” Leo said, not louder, but with more intensity. “Stop messing around. Book her or let her go.”
The tension ebbed slightly. “This is my collar!” Stokes spat in defiance.
Is she the mother? Is she the mother?
The mother is gone. She won’t come back. Hush, baby.
The glass door to the captain’s office opened and Captain Calafano, small in stature, thin and straight as a nail, strolled over to where Hawk stood facing Officer Stokes. “Is there a problem?”
“Nope,” said Leo. “There a problem, Jimmy?”
“No sir. Just finishing the paperwork and then she can go.” He sat.
I came back, feeling a little dizzy. I focused on the woman. “You all right?”
“Sure.” Hearing that she was being let go, she took the wise course of saying no more.
When I looked back at Officer Stokes, he was an odd shade of pale and Leo, grinning, kicked the leg of his chair, “Breathe, Jimmy. Just breathe. We gotta go.”
I turned to Captain Calafano. “Hello, Captain.”
“Shiloh. Hear you’re helping out on the Keating case.”
“If I can,” I said.
He nodded, turned, and strolled back to his office.
As we walked away, I heard Jimmy Stokes mutter, “Freak bitch.”
Outside, Feeney headed around back to the parking lot, and Leo put his hands in his pockets. “Helping fallen women, now, Shiloh?”
“I doubt she fell. She was probably pushed. A long time ago.”
Leo snorted his agreement. “Who was that?”
“Hawk.”
“I thought it might be.”
“Call me at Keating’s,” I said. “Leo.”
“Yeah.”
“Jimmy Stokes is a lawsuit waiting to happen.”
“I know. The captain knows it. He’s watching him.” Feeney backed out of the lot and stopped to let Leo get in the front seat. Leo slammed the door, and the car squealed off.
The straw-haired woman stepped out of the station and blinked in the bright sun. When she saw me, she approached me, a little shyly. “Thanks,” she said. “I just wanted to go for a pee. I been sitting there and told him I said nice, ‘look, I have to go to the little girls’ room.’ He was being an asshole.” She started to cry. Her cheap mascara formed muddy rivulets down her face.
Give her some money.
While Olive was raising her usual objections to Hester’s compulsive philanthropy, I reached into my jacket pocket. I took three twenties and two tens out of my wallet and handed them to the woman, feeling light-headed and strange. Not sure if it was me or Hester speaking, “Look, I don’t know how much you make, but—give yourself the night off.”
She took the money quickly, slipped it into her purse and snapped it shut. “I have a place. I’m not homeless.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that you were. Just get some rest.”
She cried harder. “Are you a cop?”
“No.”
“I can’t pay this back.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes and smeared the mascara across her cheek, which was sunken in one place. One or two back teeth missing. I wondered how this wreck of a woman earned any money at all.
“Who would you pay it back to? You don’t know me.”
She nodded and turned and walked away from me, her ankles wobbling on spindly high heels, as fast as her precarious balance would allow, as if she were afraid I’d change my mind and want the money back.
Is she the mother? Why did we give her money? Isn’t she the mother?
Isadora just wanted to help her. She is not the mother.
I headed in the opposite direction hoping that the first th
ing the woman did was buy herself a good meal, which reminded me that I was hungry. There was no time to eat.
On the way to the subway,I stopped to use a public telephone. I needed to talk to Ray, tell her about Hawk, but there was no time for that either. This was more important. I found Vin’s card in the pocket of my jacket and dialed his number.
“Vin, are you at the Keatings? Do you have the televisions on?”
“Nope. Should we?”
“No. Don’t turn them on. Is Miriam there?”
“Yep. What’s going on?”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes. I need to talk to her. Nothing’s going on, but…just keep the televisions off till after I get there.”
Chapter 13
Victor greeted me at the door with a two-finger salute to his cap. “Go on up. They’re waiting for you.”
A warm wind drifted in behind me as I made for the stairwell. I couldn’t risk somebody coming out in the elevator and not leaving. I had no time for Hester’s act or Cootie’s attitude.
I sprinted up the stairs. On the tenth floor landing I paused a moment to let my breathing slow to normal and went to 10C.
Vin answered my light knock. Fear of the news I might be carrying lay silently in his eyes as he welcomed me with Southern friendliness, “Come on in. You want a glass of something?” I heard a couple staccato barks from behind the closed door of the family room.
“Miriam?”
He made a large, open-handed gesture toward the living room below, where Miriam sat, hunched, on the sofa.
I took the big chair across from her, the one occupied by Michael Keating during my first visit. I could see why people gravitated to this area of the living room. Green plants overflowed the well beneath the windows whose sheer curtains softened the sunlight that poured into the room.
Ray tells me I am too abrupt. I tried to soften what was to come by saying, “Hello, Miriam. I just have a few more questions, if you don’t mind.”
She shook her head, not meeting my eyes. She was in a plain white blouse and black capris, with only white socks on her feet. Her hair was in its limp ponytail, her skin still mottled with grief and fatigue.
“What classes are you taking?”
Once again, I surprised her by my question. She answered readily. “English. American history. And American literature.”
“Three classes. That’s a lot of work.”
She nodded, rather innocently. Now she was looking right at me.
“Are your grades good?”
“Yes. They are very good.”
I heard a rise of children’s voices from the family room and some quick yelps from Bungee.
“You have a scholarship, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“So you have to keep your grades very high to keep it.”
“Yes, but I get As. Only As.” She was earnest in telling me this. Her visa might depend as much on her keeping her scholarship as on her job with the Keatings.
“Do you stay up late to study?”
“No…not always. Anna goes to bed early, and the boys are in bed by nine o’clock, usually.”
“Were you up late the night before Anna was taken?”
Her eyes widened. She said yes.
“Did you have an exam or a paper due that morning?”
“A paper, for my American literature class.” Her voice got smaller.
“What was the paper on?”
“A book. Moby Dick.”
“That is a difficult book. Even for someone who is not studying English at the same time. You must have worked very hard on it.”
“Vin helped me. He explains many things to me.”
“How long did you work on that paper?”
“Many weeks.”
Ray says my habit of absolute stillness drives people nuts, so I shifted my weight in the chair and leaned forward. “Miriam, I went to the playground this morning. I saw the bench where you sat. At the time of the day that you were there, the sun doesn’t hit that bench. Not directly. The sun couldn’t have been in your eyes.”
Miriam’s face crumpled and she cried, silently, holding the sides of her head in her hands.
“You weren’t watching your daughter.”
She just shook her head, her face a rictus of grief.
“You were exhausted. You fell asleep. And you don’t know for how long.”
Her wail brought Claudia running out of the family room. I heard her tell the boys to stay put. Bungee yipped at her heels. Vin charged out of the kitchen. All three of them eyed me accusingly. Claudia sat beside Miriam and put an arm around her shoulders. The Company was silent, but I felt them all there, like an audience at a Greek tragedy on the edge of their stone seats.
When Miriam had quieted a little I continued. “There aren’t many people in the park at that time of the day. You didn’t make friends with other nannies or mothers because you used that time to study. While Anna played, you sometimes read, didn’t you? And sometimes, you dozed off. This day, you were exhausted and you did more than doze. You fell asleep. The other people who were there were only watching their own kids.”
Claudia gazed at her with maternal compassion. So did Vin. Miriam sat with lowered head. Vin pulled a wad of tissues from the box on the side table and handed it to her. She sobbed quietly into it.
The family room door banged open, Bungee barked afresh, and Joey hurtled himself down the stairs. “Mom. They found a dead kid in the park! I just heard it on TV. They found a dead kid!”
Danny was right behind him. “You stupid moron! I said shut up!”
Miriam started screaming. Claudia and Vin both tried to put their arms around her.
Danny kept shouting, “You moron! See what you did? I told you to shut up.”
“Well they did! Find a dead kid. They did!” Joey yelled back and then started to bawl.
Claudia spoke a sharp word to Bungee and he stopped barking. Vin left Miriam to pick up Joey. “That’s enough, boys. All right, buddy, it’s all right. Nobody likes the messenger, that’s all. Not your fault.” Joey sniffled into Vin’s black T-shirt and Danny flopped into a chair.
I caught Vin’s eye. He said, “All the sets were off. I checked. I didn’t hear the TV come on.”
Neither had I. We had been absorbed in Miriam’s crying.
The phone rang and Vin carried Joey to the phone set on the end table. “Keating residence. Yep.” He handed the receiver to me.
“Leo?”
“It’s not her,” was all he said.
“Thanks.” I hung up. “It’s not Anna. That was Lieutenant Gianetti. He is there in the park and the child they found is not your daughter. I’m sorry. I got here as soon as I could. I didn’t want you to hear the news till after we knew if the child they found was Anna or not.”
Claudia acknowledged me with some gratitude and helped Miriam to stand. Together they went upstairs to the nanny’s room. Vin, still carrying Joey, motioned Danny out of his chair to follow him. “I’ll fix us all strawberry malts in a minute. And we’ll watch the new video I just rented for y’all.”
“What video?” Joey sniffled.
“Something about a basketball team. And Olympics and stuff. You little jocks’ll just luuuv it. Now let me talk to Ms. Shiloh for a minute and then I’ll be up. Now scoot.”
He put Joey down and the boy followed his older brother back up to the family room. I heard Danny say, “Moron” and Vin heard it too. He said, “Daniel, knock it off.”
He turned to me, “Well, that was a heap a fun. When I looked in on ’em they were playing a video game. I thought we were safe. It’s not Anna. But it’s somebody’s little girl. I need a smoke.” He sighed. “So how did you know Miriam fell asleep?”
“I knew she was lying, and that was the only logical explanation. I didn’t believe she had anything to do with kidnappings. When I saw the park, I was sure. I think she was lying to herself as much as anything.”
“So you know how they got Anna out of t
he playground?”
“We think it was a park worker or somebody dressed like one. They probably took her out in a garbage bag.”
He shivered in revulsion at the idea of putting a child into a garbage bag. “How did they get her in the bag? Wouldn’t she—”
“It wouldn’t take much to put a little chloroform over her face and tuck her in the bag. It could be done in seconds.”
“I better get at those strawberry malts before the howlin’ starts again. What now?”
“I’m going to talk to the Burkes again.”
“Good luck with that,” he said.
I could still hear Miriam weeping in her bedroom, but it was no longer a gut-wrenching wail. Claudia was speaking in soothing tones. I went up the stairs and looked into the room. “Mrs. Keating. I need to ask you one more question.”
“Yes?”
“Alone.”
She patted Miriam on the shoulder and came to the door. We hovered in the hall a moment, and then I escorted her and Bungee down to her own bedroom. “Sit down. Please.”
She sat on the edge of her bed. I stood by the dresser. Bungee sat,leaning against her leg,his ears pricked,every muscle ready to spring into action at the next sign of crisis. I picked up Claudia’s wedding picture. She and Dan looked so young. Happy babes in the woods. I placed the picture back carefully. When I spoke to her I felt there was someone else present. A third person. Maybe it was Dan. Especially here in their bedroom. I didn’t believe in ghosts. But, her feelings, her memories were so strong, he would be present in her mind so distinctly, that I would be able to feel it.
“Claudia.” I hadn’t called her by her first name before. “I have to ask you this. I will know if you tell me anything but the truth. You understand?”
“Vin and I talked about that. He says you are like a radio receiver. You pick everything up. That’s how you knew about Miriam, isn’t it? That she never had sun in her eyes. I understand. What’s your question?” The priest O’Hagan was right. And Vin was right. She was tough. She was fragile. Like porcelain.
“Did your uncle or your father ever molest you?”
She flashed me a bright hot look, like a mirror catching the sun. If I hadn’t been watching her closely I’d have missed it. She didn’t hesitate. “Neither one of them ever put a hand on me.”
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