by Wendy Tyson
By the time Allison and Brutus returned, Jason and Vaughn were installed in her kitchen, tea mugs in hand. Allison noticed the bottle of rum on the table. In times of real crisis, Mia felt tea deserved rum.
“How did it go?” Mia asked.
Jason looked at Vaughn, who nodded his permission for Jason to continue.
“Obviously they didn’t hold him, but he is on the watch list.”
Mia rose from her chair. “But—”
Jason held up one hand. “But is right, Mom. There is no indication of foul play in either instance. Tammy is outside Razinski’s jurisdiction, but he’s cooperating with the Scranton police in case there’s something larger going on here. But for now, all they have are two missing adults who could have very well left of their own volition. But no one seems inclined to investigate the disappearances.” Jason paused. “My opinion? The police are papering their files.”
“Which is in line with what Mia and I learned today.” Allison turned to Vaughn. “Tammy’s mom doesn’t even want the police involved. How strange is that? If it were my daughter and she was truly missing, I would be looking for help from anyone who was willing. And if the police weren’t onboard, I’d be screaming my head off.”
“If your daughter was truly missing,” Vaughn said.
“Are you saying she’s not?”
Vaughn stood up, walked to the window overlooking Allison’s backyard. “I’m saying that’s how a typical parent would react if they didn’t know where their kid was. What if this kid has done it before? If the mother has reason to believe—or even knows—she’s run away.”
Jason nodded. “Vaughn has a point. I’m actually more worried about the Benini woman.”
“I don’t know,” Allison said. “Tammy didn’t seem like the type to run away.”
“But she did have a conflict with her parents,” Jason said.
“Not really. There was no actual conflict. Tammy did what was expected of her. Even when it wasn’t what was best for her. She wanted to please her parents.” Allison wasn’t buying the runaway theory, at least not for the normal teen reasons. After their initial conversation, Tammy never brought up opera or Juilliard again. She didn’t seem to be scheming, sullen, or upset. Allison had been surprised that she ran. Could it have been anxiety and turmoil over California? Sure. But Allison’s gut said that wasn’t the reason...as easy as it would have been to just accept that premise and stop worrying.
“How about Paolo?” Mia asked.
Vaughn remained standing with his back to the table, still staring out the window. Allison watched him, concerned. His spine was rigid, his shoulders tight. She waited for him to answer.
But it was Jason who spoke. “After Paolo died, the nurse in charge called Simone. She mentioned a visit by Paolo’s niece and her husband. She told them the husband was black.”
“So knowing that Paolo had no niece, that I was in Ithaca, and that I am black, the family put two and two together.” Vaughn’s voice was as tight as his spine. “They watched the security tapes and there we were.”
“I’m so sorry, Vaughn,” Allison said. “It was my idea to go there in the first place.”
Jason held up a hand. “There was no evidence of foul play. If there had been, you’d have been hauled in, too, Allison.”
Allison remembered the sudden feeling of dread, the urgent need to escape the hospital. “Is it possible Paolo was drugged? Or suffocated?”
Jason chewed at his bottom lip. His eyes darted to Vaughn. “Either of those scenarios is possible. Paolo died without regaining consciousness. The family has refused an autopsy, so frankly, we may never know.”
“Then why question Vaughn?”
Vaughn spun around. “Isn’t it obvious, Allison?”
“Stop.” Jason held his hand up to Vaughn. “Thinking that way isn’t productive. You were the last to see all three people. Like I said at the outset, the police are papering their file at this point, in case something goes down. They couldn’t very well ignore the connection. But they haven’t charged you.”
“Yet.” Vaughn rubbed his eyes. “Paolo died within forty-five minutes of our arrival, Allison. You knew something was going down, you had that damn premonition.”
“I did.” Allison relayed her reaction to Mia and Jason. “But how could someone else have snuck in after we left? And if it was a family member, he—or she—would have been noticed by the nursing staff.”
“Unless that someone was impersonating a doctor or nurse. Or an orderly,” Mia said. “Hospital staff might not be noticed by the nurses or stand out on the tape.”
Jason nodded. “Good point. The security tape doesn’t record patient rooms. They caught Allison and Vaughn on the elevator. It’s possible someone had his or her face covered. Dressed like a hospital employee, a nun, a priest. Who the hell knows?” He stood. “If the old guy was even murdered. He’d just had a stroke. He was already on borrowed time.”
Jason bent down and kissed Allison on the lips. He waved to his mother and Vaughn. “I have to head back to work for a while.” Looking at Allison, he said, “Dinner tonight?”
She almost said yes and then remembered her promise to meet Alex Benini. “Not tonight. I have dinner plans. I’m sorry.”
Jason nodded. He didn’t look happy.
When Jason had gone, Vaughn said, “Thanks for calling Jason. I felt a hell of a lot better having him there.”
“No problem.” Allison forced a smile. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Hey, I’m a survivor, right? And like Jason said, they have nothing at this point.” But the look on Vaughn’s face didn’t match the bravado in his voice. “I asked Jason to meet here instead of my house because I’d rather Jamie not know too much. Not now. It will only make him feel frustrated that he can’t do more to help.”
“You shouldn’t keep this from him,” Mia said. “Let him help.”
“The less he knows, the better.”
But Mia held her ground. “He’s your identical twin, Vaughn. He’ll sense something is wrong. Don’t do that to him. Tell him. Let him help.”
Vaughn and Mia looked at each other, the language of lovers and friends spoken without the utterance of a single syllable. Finally, Vaughn relented. “What do we need him to do?”
Allison gave him the names of the people they had met today along with a rundown of the conversations they’d had. “Anything he can find out about Tammy’s boyfriend, Kai or Kai’s family would be helpful. And I’d like to know more about the Benini finances. How in the red are they?” She also wondered who served to profit upon Paolo’s death, but decided she’d try to get that information from Alex later tonight.
“Anything else?”
“That’s enough.” Lists of issues were collating in her mind, but she didn’t want to overwhelm Vaughn, not until she had a better sense of the direction she was headed. “For a start.”
Seventeen
It was 8:14 when Allison finally arrived at The Village Pub, a large, noisy restaurant near her house. She wanted noisy and casual. What she did not want was any intimation that her dinner with Alex Benini was to be anything other than an informational exchange. She didn’t trust him, pure and simple.
Alex sat across from her looking elegant in a dark gray European-cut suit, no tie and a collared white shirt, unbuttoned at the throat. The suit’s tailoring was impeccable, and it paired nicely with his slightly ruffled hair and the five o’clock shadow on his face. If he was aiming for European model/playboy, he was spot on. If the image he wanted to portray was grieving son/worried nephew, not so much.
They occupied a booth at the back of the restaurant, attended to by a twenty-something waitress with a surly attitude, too-short bangs and buck teeth. Like all of the wait staff, she wore a yellow and red striped rugby shirt. A three-person band played music in the far corner of the restaurant. In the
span of five minutes, they covered Springsteen, the Clash, and Van Halen.
“Eclectic bunch,” Alex said. His smile, for once, did not reach his eyes. Allison wondered if perhaps she’d been wrong. That he was in mourning. And trying to hide it.
The waitress took their orders—Caesar salad and iced tea for Allison, a burger and a beer for Alex. After a few moments of informal chit-chat, Alex said, “I won’t beat around the bush, Allison. I had a reason for driving down here.”
“I’m sure you did.”
The corners of his mouth pulled up in a half smile. “But it’s still nice to see you. Even under these circumstances.”
“I would think, considering the circumstances, it wouldn’t be so nice.” She kept her voice light, but she meant what she said. His aunt disappeared while traveling with her employee. By now, he had to know they visited Paolo before his death. How could he be so nonchalant? Even if she knew there were no connections between events, he didn’t.
“Allison, I don’t hold you or your assistant to blame. Francesca will turn up, I’m sure of it. As for my father…his time was coming. He smoked, ate rich food, and drank much too much grappa. He was a time bomb, ready to explode.”
“Perhaps, but I don’t imagine all of you are so willing to forgo blame, deserved or not.”
“If by that you mean Dominic, true. To Dom this all looks very bad, I’m afraid.”
Allison took a long sip of water, eyeing him over the glass. “If I may be blunt, you don’t look worried, Alex. Or particularly grief-stricken. Why is that?”
He spoke without hesitation. “In my line of work, you have to look good. Play the part. Always. Regardless of the circumstances.” He shrugged. “Maybe I’m too used to hiding how I really feel.”
Confused, Allison said, “I thought you worked for your father’s company?”
“I’m on the books, of course—we all are. But I’m a musician, too. Sax player.”
“Professional?”
“Well, I try. But the truth is, I mainly play for fun.”
Allison looked at him with heightened suspicion. Musician? Could that be the connection to Tammy? Would a singer from Scranton and a sax player from Ithaca travel in the same music circles?
The waitress came with their drinks. Alex thanked her and took a long swallow of beer. Putting the mug down, he let his head fall to the side and gave Allison a wry smile. “You look surprised.”
“I’m just surprised no one mentioned it before now.”
“Why would we? What does it matter?” He looked over at the band in the corner, now playing Eric Clapton’s Layla, and said, “I still have a role in Benini Enterprises. I’m the so-called resource manager.” He shrugged. “It keeps me on the payroll and gave my father a reason to include me in the succession plan. I show up at the office, review our only HR person’s reports, make a few recommendations. It’s all good.”
Alex smiled, but his smile had that same wistful quality that Allison had seen back at the estate, when she’d first broached the subject of Alex and Benini Enterprises.
She wondered whether it really was “all good,” or whether Son Number Two had gotten the short end of the stick and resented it. A musician and a human resources manager? Not what she would have picked for Alex Benini.
Allison said, “Speaking of the business, Francesca mentioned that it’s not been doing well. She seemed hopeful that she could turn that around, but I never did understand the reason for the decline.”
He sat back in his chair. “Simple. The company had been declining for some time. When the market tanked, it led to even less demand for our products, especially the specialty food goods. They tend to be higher-end and expensive. As consumer discretionary income decreases, so does the demand for luxury foods. But my father was an optimist. He refused to cut expenses and overhead in line with the decline. And he was stuck in his old ways. Dom and I had ideas for new lines that could perhaps have increased sales, but he would hear none of it.”
“What kind of ideas?”
“Products that would seem a better bargain, more accessible. Sold under a subsidiary, if Father didn’t want to change the perception about Benini. And maybe some higher end products marketed to the very rich, people whose discretionary income didn’t change when the market fell.” He searched Allison’s eyes for understanding. “And we considered branching out into other avenues all together.”
“Such as?”
“I don’t want to bore you with all this business talk.”
“You’re not boring me at all. In fact, for a sax player, you sound pretty knowledgeable about the inner workings of Benini Enterprises.”
“You can’t grow up in our household and not be.”
“So why not dive head first into business? Why music?”
Alex stroked the handle of his beer mug and watched the waitress as she placed their food in front of them.”Anything else?” she said.
“Another beer,” Alex said. “You, Allison?”
“Another iced tea would be great. Thank you.”
A few minutes later, the waitress arrived with their drinks. Alex waited while she placed the glasses in front of them. When she was out of earshot, he said, “Dom was always the golden child. I guess I didn’t want to compete with that. Maybe a psychologist would say I couldn’t compete, so I went a different way all together. But you can’t really escape Benini Enterprises, so I have my music, and I have a piece of the action, so to speak. Albeit a small piece.”
Mulling this over, Allison asked, “And Francesca, was she involved, too?”
“Francesca’s not directly involved in the business.”
“Directly—or at all?”
“She doesn’t participate in the decision making.”
“Francesca told me that she often counseled your father.”
Alex smiled. “There you have it, then. If she was counseling him, she had no more business savvy than he did. Or we wouldn’t be in the predicament we are today.” He leaned in closer to the table. “Which brings me to the reason I wanted to see you.”
“And here I thought it was for the pleasure of my company,” Allison joked.
Alex didn’t react. “Did my aunt give you anything at all, Allison? Anything that may give us some indication of her whereabouts?”
“Such as?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a bit broad.”
He sat back, gestured with open hands. “I’m sorry, but I’m being honest with you. I just don’t know. And if you do have something, and it’s something related to her disappearance, then you could be in danger, too.”
“But I thought your family believes Francesca bolted.”
Alex regarded Allison, as though deciding what to say next. “We don’t know what to think. We haven’t received a ransom note. And even you must admit that staying locked up in a house for forty years is very odd behavior. So no one would be surprised if she ran.”
“But something is making you question that. And you have reason to believe there is information out there, information that could lead to finding her.” Allison met his stare with a direct one of her own. “Something you seem to believe I have.”
The waitress returned with their check. She looked from Allison to Alex before tossing the check in front of Alex’s half-finished plate. She walked away without another word.
Alex’s eyes followed the waitress before returning to Allison, his expression pained. Play acting? Allison wondered. What the hell did he think she had?
Allison thought of the white Honda the night before. Maybe she wasn’t imagining things. Maybe she was being followed. And maybe things were worse than she’d considered. She studied the man in front of her. Should she tell him about the Accord, about Tammy? Could she trust him?
She remembered her night in Ithaca, at the estate, and the odd fam
ily dynamics. While she had chalked it all up to the tension of the night and the haunting atmosphere of the Benini household, she decided to be her own best counsel and keep these details to herself.
She said, “We brought you her suitcases. Maybe whatever you were looking for is inside?”
“We searched. Clothes. Only clothes.” He gave Allison a sideways glance. “But I’m sure you know that already.”
Allison took a drink of iced tea and tried to ignore the flush creeping up her neck. Of course they had looked through the bags. But she and Vaughn hadn’t found anything, either. “You must have some reason to believe there’s something else out there, or you wouldn’t have bothered driving down here.”
“Her safe.”
“Francesca had a safe?”
Alex nodded, looking suddenly exhausted. “It was left open and empty. We noticed after you called last Friday night, after Francesca…left.”
“Do you know what she kept in there?”
Alex shook his head. “But if it had been locked in her safe, we’re assuming it was important.”
“She didn’t give anything of importance to me.”
“Check with your colleague, Vaughn, please?”
“He’d have mentioned it, but I will. What about Maria? Or Simone? Could one of them have accessed the safe and taken its contents?”
“No one at our home had access to that safe.”
“The man you’ve hired to investigate Francesca’s disappearance? Reginald Burr. Has he had any luck?”
“Not so far.” Alex speared a French fry with a fork, examined it, and put it back down on the plate. Eyebrows gathered, he said, “So you have nothing, Allison? I’m sorry, then, to have wasted your time.”
Allison thought about the file folder of papers Francesca had handed her the day Allison left Ithaca. Francesca hadn’t said a word about safekeeping or privacy, and a cursory glance had shown some marketing brochures and Internet print-outs about the company. There were a lot of documents, but nothing that seemed controversial. Certainly nothing that would raise an eyebrow, much less cause a kidnapping.
