Good Deed Bad Deed : A Novel Mystery

by Marcia Morgan

  Without further response Paris unlocked the door, making a quick escape inside. When he didn’t follow, she sighed with relief and scanned her desk to assess the day’s workload. There’s not enough money in the Bank of London to get me to stay late today, she thought. Ben was coming, and she had preparations to make for his favorite foods … and she must invite a few of his old school chums to dinner … make it a festive visit. It had been too long since she had wrapped her arms around her son. She wondered if Olivia would give up a couple of days of her overly-active social life to come home—so they all could be together, just like it used to be. She shook her head away from reverie and began to sort the mess on her desk.

  A couple of hours later she was still opening assorted envelopes and trying to put everything into piles based on subject. The next small padded envelope she picked up had something inside. She tore it open and found a cassette tape labeled with her name. Rather old-fashioned, she thought. Shoved into the back of her desk drawer was a small cassette player she sometimes used for meetings. She had learned from experience that it was the best way to avoid confusion about who said what.

  The tape was blank at the beginning, but soon there was a heavily accented male voice telling her to pay close attention. “We have your son. If you do not do exactly as you are told we will kill him. We do not want a ransom. Only you can save his life. You will be contacted about your task.” Then there was no further sound other than the static whirring of the tape.

  Paris rolled her chair backward, seemingly in an effort to distance herself from the threat within her cassette player. Besides the sudden and extreme tightness in the pit of her stomach, she was confused. She wondered what power she had to do anything significant, and what in the world they could want. Her first instinct was to call Hugh, but thought better of that choice and decided to call Ben first, to hear his voice and know he was safe. His phone went straight to voicemail, causing Paris to feel panic rising in her chest. She then called Olivia to see if she had been in contact with her brother during the last twenty-four hours. “What good are these damn things? No one ever answers!” she said aloud. Paris fetched her coat and purse, ran out of her office and went across the hall, where she knocked loudly on Lyle Brett’s door.

  “Enter!“ he called out in his usual haughty tone.

  Paris burst into his office, her words flying. “I still haven’t come across the paperwork for the exhibit, but you know what’s coming, don’t you? What is it?”

  “You seem in quite a tizzy,” he said, clasping his hands in front of his chest and seeming determined to make her wait.

  “Please just answer the question. You mentioned the exhibit’s value, so you must know something about it.”

  Lyle leaned back in his chair, casually put his hands behind his head and said, “I can’t be exact about the value until you unearth the paperwork on it. The rumor-mill has it that there’s even concern for the transport from the exhibit’s last location.” His tone carried a tinge of excitement at the thought.

  Paris said nothing while she considered what to do next. The exhibit was of no consequence to her in light of what she had just heard on tape. Eventually she said, “I have to leave for a while. When I get back I really need you to help me finish sorting documents. Between the two of us we’ll find the paperwork faster.” Lyle frowned, and Paris could see that he was curious as to why she would dare to ask him a favor. Sensing his need for further explanation, she said, “And please don’t ask me a lot of questions right now. I know that we aren’t what you would call friends, only co-workers, but trust me when I tell you that this is important.” Lyle paused and stared straight at her. She could see the wheels turning, could read his face as he mulled over what he could get out of helping her. What a supercilious little prat, she thought. But she needed his help, so said nothing.

  He stood and leaned forward, hands now on his desk. “I’ll help you ferret through the rest, but I may need a favor someday, and I’ll expect you to reciprocate.

  Paris wanted so badly to take that opportunity to tell him why he had no friends at the museum. She suspected the same of his outside life. What she really wanted was to be able to call him a supercilious prat out loud and then proceed to tell him that his suit was too tight. Maybe someday, she thought, and walked swiftly down the hall to the exit. She was thankful for having worn flat shoes and all but ran to the curb, where fortune smiled and a taxi appeared immediately. She got in and gave the driver Ben’s address. The morning commuter traffic had thinned out, and although for her the time seemed to drag, they reached his building in quite good time.

  Paris paused before the stairs leading to the entrance and thought about how she had promised both of her children that she would never just drop in unannounced. She wanted to give them the privacy due an adult, her promise based on the incident long ago when Hugh’s mother had walked in on them at an intimate moment being taken on their living room sofa. The woman’s expression had been burned into Paris’ memory. But this was different. It could be a matter of life or death. She punched in the security code that Ben had given her some time back and heard the door click open. While in the elevator she was struck by a shot of adrenaline coursing through her chest. The doors creaked open and she stepped out into the hallway. It had been so long since visiting Ben’s flat that she wasn’t sure if it was located to the right or the left. The first guess was correct and soon she stood in front of his door, hesitating before she knocked.

  Ben had been reading yesterday’s newspaper when he heard the knock. A bolt of fear shot through him when he considered that it might be another attempt to abduct him. He got up slowly and placed the paper on the sofa before walking quietly to the door and looking through the peephole. He couldn’t believe it was his mother standing there and opened the door immediately. She ran into his arms and began to sob.

  “For God’s sake, Mum, what’s wrong? Is it Dad? Olivia?”

  She continued to sob, but she shook her head no. He gently broke away from her embrace and led her to the sofa. Then he closed and locked the door before joining her. Words spilled from her mouth, rambling, with short pauses to regain her composure.

  “Okay Mum. Calm down now and tell me what has you so upset,” he said, taking his mother’s hand in his.

  She regained her focus and looked squarely at Ben, noticing as he lifted his left arm gently and placed it across his stomach. Then she saw the sling lying on the coffee table. “What’s all this then?” she asked, gesturing toward the table. Without conscious thought Ben reached up to rub his shoulder. It was obvious that Paris was becoming agitated again. She began to shake her head and said, “This is all too much. I want an explanation. Did someone try to hurt you?”

  “What would make you ask that? How do you know I didn’t fall … or get into it with some jerk in a pub?” He didn’t want to upset his mother further, so tried to make light of the injury.

  Paris would not be placated and informed him that she had good reason to think that someone might have tried to cause him harm. She launched into an account of what had happened in the office, the backlog of work, and about coming across the tape, almost by accident. “I panicked,” she said. “It could have been lying there for over a week. I hadn’t talked to you since before your father and I went away.” She paused to take a breath, then continued, “You could easily have been held captive for almost that long. And I had no idea what it was that I was supposed to do to get you back. I had to rush over here to see if you were all right, that no one had taken you away.”

  “The fog is clearing on this thing,” he said. “I know this will upset you, but you have to know. Last night, then again early this afternoon, two men made attempts to kidnap me. I can see now that I was being followed. Who knows for how long.” Paris gasped and covered her face with both hands while Ben continued to explain. “It was a very close call both times, but I had luck on my side with the timing of the attacks. Both times some young men, different men, interv
ened and drove them off.”

  Paris wrapped her arms around herself and leaned back against the cushions. Her voice shook as she asked, “Ben, what are the police doing about this?”

  He explained that he had yet to go to Scotland Yard to make a complaint, and that there was more to tell. The rest of the story, including the part Lilith Ward-Thomas had played, served to put even more worry on his mother’s face. “Don’t you see?” he said. “When they mailed the tape they figured that by the time you received it, they’d have me stashed away somewhere. It was probably sent just a few days ago at most, because last night was their first try.”

  “I’m so glad your elderly neighbor wasn’t hurt. She was quite spunky to come back with the golf club.” Her worried face took on a tender expression. “Bless her heart. I must meet her, thank her for helping my son.”

  “Sure, but not now. Her daughter is with her and she’s very protective. I’ll bet she’s tried to put her to bed—without any luck.” Ben’s tone turned serious. ”We have to figure out what they want from you. They’ll probably try for me again, but we don’t know if they’re aware of Olivia. She could be in danger too. They seem to have done their homework about our family.”

  “I tried Olivia, but with no joy. Of course, she rarely answers. I left a message asking if she’d talked to you in the last twenty-four hours.” Paris reached for her purse and checked her phone, hoping for a message from Olivia. “She knows better than to just text me when it comes to family, and there’s no voicemail.” Her brow furrowed and she closed her eyes. Now she was in fear for her daughter as well.

  It was time for Ben to tell her about Ana. She had been drawn into the drama unwillingly and also had need of protection. Ben took his mother’s hands in his and fixed his eyes on hers. “There’s someone else in this mess.” He paused to be sure that Paris was focused on what he was saying, then continued, “The pub I was in last night … I was there to meet a journalist, Ana Doherty. She’s a freelancer from America and is supposed to get an interview with me, because of the new book.” His mother nodded in understanding. “She was with me on the street when the first attack happened. She screamed for help while a big tattooed bloke was trying to subdue me. He twisted my arm so hard that he dislocated my shoulder. That’s the reason for the sling. Just then, three footballer-types, a bit in their cups, came up the alley from the pub and jumped on the first guy. Then they grabbed at his partner, who had gotten out of the old sedan to even up the fight. But he was no help… just got himself punched up. The young guys were too much for them and got in some good blows before pinning the big one on the ground.

  “The lads made the point that it would take a while for the police to come, and they couldn’t keep them face down on the pavement that long. If I’d known it wasn’t just an isolated mugging, I’d have asked that they sit on the two of them and wait for the police. I had been punched in the face a couple of times, shoved hard against their car, and I could barely move my arm. I couldn’t help them or myself.”

  Paris kept a stoic expression, but there were tears streaming down her face as she listened to what Ben had been through. Ben handed her the wet towel used to ice his shoulder and said, “It’s okay, Mum. I’m fine now, thanks to Ana.” When Paris had wiped her tears, he continued, “I think the lads had had enough and wanted to get on to the next pub. So they released the two of them and they made a quick getaway. I had seen the driver when I was in the pub. He had pushed his way in to stand next to me at the bar while I was waiting for the journalist to arrive. It was Ana. Then I saw him again, talking at a table to some man who seemed mad as hell.”

  “There are more details, especially about the rest of the night, but they aren’t relevant right now. The point is that I have to do something about Ana. If they think we’re a couple, they could resort to taking her. That would still be a way to apply pressure on you.”

  “This is beyond belief, Ben. Things like this don’t happen to run-of-the-mill families like ours.”

  “Seems they do. So, we need a plan. Is Dad in the city today?”

  “No, he stayed home … something to do with a carpenter coming.”

  “Then I think the best thing is for you to get on with your day as you normally would. You’ve been gone for over a week so there must be a lot to catch up on. Maybe you’ll be lucky and come across something that sheds light on the situation.”

  Paris became agitated, and worry masked her attractive features as she considered her son’s suggestion. “I agree that the key to this has to involve work, but I’m not comfortable with letting you out of my sight,” she said, adopting a stern maternal expression.

  Ben told her that she would be most useful trying to figure out, well in advance of the next contact, what it is they wanted from her. That would require time spent in the office. Ana was his immediate concern, and he explained to Paris that he had to find her quickly. He provided reassurance that he would be aware of his surroundings at all times and take every possible precaution. She reluctantly agreed to do as he asked and got up from the sofa. She put her arms around Ben again and held him as if a fierce wind were about to rip him away.

  Then she let him go and walked toward the door. “Please, please, check in with me as much as you can this afternoon, while I’m in the office. I’ll leave my mobile within reach. I won’t accomplish anything unless I have hourly reassurance.”

  “Just take the train home on your regular schedule. Bring Dad into the loop and try to keep him from starting calls to all his contacts. It’s not time for that.”

  He opened the door and Paris stepped out into the hallway. She turned back and pleaded, “Ben, I really think you should come home right away, not in a couple of days. Keeping an eye on you would be so much easier there, and when you find Ana, ask her to come too. Your father will keep you both safe.”

  “That’s not Dad’s job anymore. I feel more like I need to keep the two of you safe. I hate the unpredictability of this whole thing,” Ben said, shaking his head in frustration. He walked Paris to the lift and pressed the call button. The doors opened and he reminded her to call immediately if she found something relevant. Then she was gone, and he hurried back to his flat to plan a way to find Ana. He threw a few things into a valise in preparation for escaping to the country house, figuring that he wouldn’t have to come back to the flat and risk another encounter. His focus had to be on finding Ana and talking her into joining him in the country. The ruse of a shoulder too sore for driving was about to be tested, and he hoped he could pull it off.

  Ben remembered that Ana was going to do some sightseeing, starting with the Tower of London. Surely she would have moved on from there by now. If she hadn’t returned to the hotel already, she might be urged back by residual fatigue from the previous night’s events. The best bet was to wait for her there. His car was parked at the end of the block. He all but ran up the street and then hurriedly tossed the valise in the back seat. It had been at least a week since he had driven the classic Jaguar, the purchase of which was his one indulgence after the success of his first book. The engine turned over and assumed a low growl that turned to a purr. After a short warm up he pulled into traffic and headed for Ana’s hotel.

  When Ben reached the location, he pulled into an underground garage and paid the attendant for the first few hours. He emerged into the light and shadows of the fading afternoon, walking quickly toward the hotel, with a brief stop to purchase a London Times. As soon as he walked through the entrance, he noticed the concierge following him with her eyes as he looked for a comfortable place to wait. He picked a chair with a clear view of the entrance.

  The young woman approached him and asked, “Are you waiting for a guest, sir? I don’t believe you’re staying with us, are you?” She tossed her hair and smiled, clearly having looked for an excuse to talk to a man she found attractive, even to flirt a bit.

  “Yes, I’m waiting for Ms. Doherty. She’s expecting me, but I believe she’s been held up. I’ll j
ust wait here and read the Times.”

  “But sir, I think I saw her come in a short while ago. We were just changing shifts and I only caught a glimpse, but I’m quite sure it was she. Let me see if her key has been picked up.” She hurried back to her station and checked the numbered cubbyholes, running her finger along the row, stopping at number 438. It was empty.

  Ben watched her turn and start back to where he was sitting. She spoke before she reached him. “I was right. Her key is gone, so she must be in her room. Would you like me to call up to announce you? It’s protocol, really. I’m required … it’s an extra protection for our guests.”

  Ben agreed that she should call, and he followed her to the desk. He could tell that the phone was continuing to ring without being answered, and he became disturbed. The concierge shrugged her shoulders, but kept the phone to her ear. After a few more seconds Ana answered. He was announced, approved, and the young woman hung up. Not having taken notice of the room number the night before, he inquired and was soon on the elevator. The doors opened at the fourth floor and he proceeded down the hall to number 438. He knocked somewhat softly and waited.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  “It’s Ben. And you were smart not to open the door, even if you did think it was me on the way up.”

  The door opened slowly, revealing only Ana’s head, wrapped in a fluffy towel. She opened it just far enough for Ben to enter then explained that she had been in the shower. She felt quite unfit to be seen but hadn’t wanted to leave him sitting in the lobby. He stepped sideways through the doorway, turned, and saw that the rest of her was also wrapped in a towel— only a towel. She clutched at it tightly and backed slightly away from him. This unexpected situation caused Ben to swallow hard, his intention to lure her to the country suddenly taking a back seat to an attack of desire. Her graceful neck, feminine shoulders and shapely legs were a feast for his eyes and he could feel his heart beat faster. He stepped back, putting her at more than arm’s length while he tried to summon his self-control. When is the time going to be right? Ben thought.