Fear Familiar Bundle (149 page)

Eugene didn't move, but he spoke directly to the little girl. "I didn't do that, Daisy. I was sitting on the bench. When you wandered off, I came into the house for a glass of wine."

Daisy ducked back against her mother's leg. "He hurt me."

"Someone hurt you," Jennifer corrected. "But it wasn't Eugene."

"We should go," Eugene said, touching Jennifer's arm. He glanced at Eleanor, his blue eyes sad. "What a terrible ending to a fine day," he whispered to her as he kissed her cheek. "I'm so sorry your visit to Mobile was ruined by this."

Eleanor, holding Jordan in one arm, hugged the author. "Hardly ruined. You know excitement is my middle name. I'm sure this will all be straightened out by dinnertime. I'll speak with Amanda after Daisy has had a bath and rested."

"Thank you, darling," Eugene whispered. "And take care of the lovely black cat. A handsome rascal."

"Handsome and very fond of trouble." Eleanor finally caught sight of Familiar as he sat on the top step eating something he'd stolen from the buffet tables. "And he's going to die of cholesterol if he doesn't quit stealing party food."

"Posh. Cholesterol makes his coat shiny," Eugene said, something of his spirit returning at Eleanor's promises. "Call me later," he said as he took Jennifer's arm.

He kissed Amanda's cool cheek and left as discreetly as possible.

At the door, Jennifer found James Tenet waiting to walk out with them.

"Headed for the newsroom to crank out a story?" She could have bitten her tongue, but it was too late to take back the words.

"Exactly my game plan." He smiled down at her.

"It was a lovely party," Eugene said, a sigh escaping. "What a terrible way for it to end."

"Indeed," James said, ignoring the blue fork of lightning Jennifer shot at him with her gaze. "I don't believe the little girl was hurt. I think she was more upset at being locked in that shed. I went out and took a look. She finally managed to knock the door off its rusty hinges. There's no doubt she was locked in there."

"I wonder which of the children did that to her," Jennifer mused as they made their way to her car. "Tommy Franklin and Chris Estis were both there. Either one of them is capable of playing such a trick, but I can't think they'd pinch her so hard." Jennifer knew all of the children who attended Eugene's very popular story hour readings at the local library. Many of the children also made Eugene's house a regular visiting place. He enjoyed their company and they helped him in his gardens— and with his adventures.

Eugene shook his head emphatically. "Those children are mischievous, but they aren't mean. They wouldn't do that to Daisy. I mean, they might lock her in the shed, but they would
not
have left her in there crying. And they wouldn't have pinched her like that."

James looked past Eugene to catch Jennifer's eye. "I'm sure it will sort itself out," he said calmly. He stopped at Jennifer's car and opened the driver's door for her. As she slid behind the wheel, he leaned down. "Don't coerce any confessions out of those children just yet."

"I would not force— " She stopped as she saw that he was deliberately provoking her. "If I decide to do any arm-twisting, it will be directed at the press," she said as Eugene settled himself in the passenger seat beside her.

James laughed as he shut her door and waved as she pulled away from the curb.

"That man is awful," Jennifer said, watching him in the rearview mirror.

"Awful. Now that's an interesting way to describe him." Eugene nodded. "Awful can be very intriguing."

"Eugene." Jennifer had a warning note in her voice.

"I once knew an
awful
woman in Rome. She could provoke me into a terrible temper with just the arch of her eyebrow. Strangely enough, whenever I got the chance, I spent every moment I could in her company."

"Eugene…"

"Don't sound so awfully threatening," he said, completely ignoring her as they pulled into his driveway. "I think I need a nap, Jennifer. Just drop me off at the front door."

Knowing there was no point in arguing with Eugene, Jennifer sighed. She had a little running around to do— regarding the disappearance of Mimi Frost.

As soon as Eugene was out of the car, Jennifer turned on the radio and tuned into Crush Bonbon's afternoon talk show.

"Mrs. Sharon Frost is still in tears with no sign of her daughter on the horizon. Police have been notified, but as usual, our local blackjack carriers are slow to respond. Maybe if little Mimi had been snatched from a doughnut shop they'd be all over the scene."

Jennifer gritted her teeth at the sound of Crush's know-it-all voice. If she had a car telephone, she'd disguise her voice, call in and point out that Crush looked like he ate three meals a day, plus at least eight snacks, in a doughnut shop. He sure as hell wasn't missing any Twinkies. Lucky for Crush she hadn't given in to the craze of trying to drive and carry on a sensible conversation.

She put a lid on her ire and listened to Crush again.

"I'm not casting any aspersions on poor Mrs. Frost. I know she's beside herself with worry about nine-year-old Mimi. But I must point out that Mrs. Frost
allowed
her beloved child to play in the park with a very disturbed individual."

Jennifer turned the dial up as she made the corner in front of the local police station. She was going to see if there was any "official" word on Mimi Frost. And then she was going to—

"Part of the problem facing this great country is the fact that women are shirking their duties as mothers. It seems harmless enough, sending little Mimi out to the park to play with…this person. But why didn't she accompany her daughter? Was she too busy painting her nails or watching some feminist talk show? Why trust our most precious possessions to a solitary figure— a man who makes his livelihood imagining the destruction of our children? What were you thinking, Mrs. Frost? Or were you thinking of anyone except yourself?"

As mad as Jennifer was at Crush's innuendos regarding Eugene, she was furious at his remarks about Mrs. Frost. The woman was probably tearing her hair out trying to think where Mimi had gone— and Crush was double-loading the guilt right on top of her. What an ass! What a total chauvinist!

The ringing of the on-air telephone made Jennifer take notice.

"Crush, this is Jasmine Finley. Stop this foolishness right now. I know Mrs. Frost, and I'm sure she felt certain Mimi was in good hands. It's a sad day when we can't let our children play in the park for an hour. What are we supposed to do, chain them in their rooms and let them rot their brains with television and radio? Why don't you get off your big duff and go and patrol the parks on Saturday morning? Lend some support to mothers who want their children to get a little sunshine rather than mold in the house."

"Thank you, Mrs. Finley." Crush cut her off. "But it isn't my place to guard someone else's child. It's the mother's responsibility. Fathers bring home the bacon, and mothers cook it and rear the children. That's the way it's always been, and the way it should be. This show is meant simply to alert parents to the dangers of allowing their children to go unprotected, even with someone they think is harmless. I predict that other children will disappear. Mobile is in for a time of great sadness. And it's going to fall at the feet of women too busy to attend to their duties."

The telephone was ringing in the background, but Crush ignored it. "Now, on to another topic. Cats in the house. I wouldn't have believed it could be true, but I saw it with my own eyes today— a very exclusive party where a nasty, hairy cat was allowed to roam the premises. Yes, that's right. Cat hair in the food. Cat hair on the sofas. It was disgusting. And what's even more troubling, no one in the room seemed to notice but me.

"As we all know, cats are filthy, disagreeable animals that eat rodents. And that may be their only redeeming quality. They do eat rodents. But the cat isn't my topic of interest. It's the women who find it necessary to have cats. Do you see the link? Cats are feline power, feminine power. And women who view themselves as powerless like to pretend to have more power by owning cats. Now let's take this one step further and talk about men who own cats. Wow! Did you know that the author, Uncle Eugene, owns eight cats! Eight! And they live in the house with him. I've heard they eat at the table with him. He
actually
sets places for them."

Jennifer found her heart pounding with fury. She was tempted to turn the car around and drive straight to the radio station. Crush would be far more appealing with part of the antenna tower stuck through his black and evil heart. And she was just the woman to do it!

Just as she reached to turn off the car, she heard Crush pick up the telephone.

"Hello, Crush. This is Marvella Mayhem. I want to tell you that cats are superior creatures. I believe you dislike them because you realize they're much, much smarter than you are. You fear their feline abilities, their discriminating natures. As a fat little boy I imagine cats clawed you. See, cats don't care for sweaty, fat little hands."

Jennifer closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat. She recognized Eugene Legander's voice— as, undoubtedly, did Crush. Eugene was only making matters worse, but it was just like him to call in and defend cats instead of himself.

"What kind of kook are you?" Crush asked. "You sound like a woman with a hormone imbalance. Maybe you should get a shot, or a patch, or maybe just go shave." He laughed and picked up the next telephone call.

Jennifer opened her eyes and had a feeling of trouble to come as she saw Mrs. Sharon Frost coming out of the police station in tears. She was being supported by two other women while her ex-husband trailed behind.

Obviously, Charles "J.P." Frost had not taken Mimi for the afternoon. She was actually missing.

Jennifer sat at the wheel of the car as Mrs. Frost and her entourage, still trailed by Mr. Frost, passed by her car. The women were distraught, concern for Mimi evident in every utterance. Mr. Frost was grimly concerned and visibly angry.

"How could you allow her to ramble around the park alone?" he demanded of his wife's back.

"She wasn't alone. She was with Uncle Eugene," one of the women responded. "He loves Mimi. He'd never allow anything to happen to her."

"Then why isn't she at home? Or better yet, with me?"

"He said she told him she was going home," the woman responded, her own anger showing.

"The police should pick Eugene Legander up and bring him in for questioning," Mr. Frost continued.

"He's a kind man and he loves children." Sharon Frost turned to confront her ex-husband. "There's no evidence that he knows anything more about this."

"You were perfectly willing to tell the police that I'd kidnapped Mimi— without any evidence." J.P.'s anger was at the boiling point. "They came to my business and none-too gently brought me down here for questioning. Why is this writer person so different from me?"

"Because he's never been cruel to me, or anyone else," Sharon Frost pointed out before she turned and marched toward her car, her friends hustling to keep up. She turned back to fire another volley. "You threatened repeatedly to take her from me. You even said it in the courtroom. That's why you were picked up for questioning, Charles." She got in the car.

Jennifer sat, a silent witness to the painful domestic scene. Divorces were often difficult, especially where children were involved. The Frosts were no exception, apparently. Was it possible that Mimi had grown tired of having her parents fight over her and had hidden out somewhere? The little girl was a regular at Uncle Eugene's story hour, and Jennifer remembered her as a shy, retiring child with big blue eyes that were always too wide, always a little upset.

The idea that the little girl might be tucked away somewhere, frightened and alone, made Jennifer desperate to figure out a course of action, but there was really nothing she could do. The police had been notified. Wheels had been set in motion. Surely the child would turn up unharmed in the next few hours.

She got out of her car and went into the police station. A helpful sergeant explained that since Mimi had been missing only a few hours, the police had taken no official action, but unofficially the park and surrounding area had been thoroughly searched, and now officers were going door-to-door to question Mimi's friends. The hope was that she'd decided to visit a friend and had forgotten to tell her mother.

Although Jennifer was normally good at reading people's faces, the young sergeant kept his opinions carefully hidden. He was smooth, professional, and very reassuring.

"Could I see the page from Eugene Legander's book that was left with her ribbon?" Jennifer smiled, knowing that many times in the past her simple smile had worked wonders. It wasn't that she was flirtatious. Men simply liked her smile.

He hesitated, then shrugged. He got a plastic bag that contained a page torn from what Jennifer quickly identified as Uncle Eugene's latest book. She scanned the paragraphs of type. It was the part of the story where the unhappy young children had begun to sneak out of their windows at night to meet in the park. They'd realized that the adults in their lives were no longer fulfilling their parental duties and were deciding, for the first time, to band together in the trees. But first they had to rescue a little girl who'd been terribly unhappy. The "monkey" children had lured the little girl away from her mother and were swinging with her through the trees to a hiding place.

As she read the passage, Jennifer felt distinct uneasiness. The parallels were obvious to anyone who knew Mimi Frost's family situation. She was an unhappy little girl. Perhaps she'd gone to hunt the monkey children for herself.

She handed the page back.

"Did you think of something?" The sergeant watched her, his face eager now and his gaze lingering on the low-cut bodice of her party dress.

"It's a sad part of the book," Jennifer said carefully.

"I heard the chief is going to question that writer," he offered. "He does write some very unusual stuff. Might be he has an odd relationship with children."