Fine things (24 page)

Chapter 28

“Get in the car” was all he said to her as they came down her front steps, and for a moment she was tempted to run back upstairs again. She didn't want to go anywhere with him, and she couldn't imagine how her mother could have loved him. He looked scary to her. He had mean eyes and dirty fingernails, and there was something about the way he talked to her that frightened her. He opened the car door and got in, and as soon as he did he told her again to get in, and with a last look up at the window where Bernie stood, she did.

The car sped away almost immediately, and Jane had to hold onto the door so as not to fall off the seat as he rounded turns and hurried south toward the freeway.

“Where are we going?”

“To pick up a friend at the airport.” He had the whole thing worked out, and he wasn't about to discuss it with her. It was none of her goddamn business.

She wanted to ask him not to go so fast, but she was afraid to say anything, and he didn't say anything to her at all. He put the car in the parking lot, and took a small tote bag out of the back seat, and grabbing her arm, he didn't even bother to lock the door, he just pulled her firmly down the path to the terminals.

“Where are we going?” She couldn't fight back the tears anymore. She didn't like him at all, and she wanted to go home. Now. Not later.

“I told you, kid. To the airport.”

“Where's your friend going?”

“You're my friend.” He turned and looked at her. “And we're going to San Diego.”

“For the day?” She knew there was a zoo there, but Daddy had said they would be home by seven. He was the kind of man your parents would have told you not to talk to on the street, but suddenly here she was with him, alone, and going to San Diego.

“Yeah. We'll be home by dinnertime.”

“Shouldn't I call Daddy and tell him?”

He laughed at her innocence. “No, sweetheart. I'm Daddy now. And you don't have to call him. I'll call him for you when we get there. Believe me, baby, I'll call him.” Everything about him was scary and he took a rough grip on her arm and hurried her along as they crossed the road into the terminal building. She had a sudden urge to run from him, but his grip on her arm was too hard and she sensed easily that he wouldn't have let her go.

“Why are we going to San Diego, Mr…. er …uh …Daddy?” He seemed to want her to call him that, and maybe if she did, he would be nicer to her.

“To visit friends of mine.”

“Oh.” She wondered why he couldn't have done that another day, and then thought she was stupid not to be enjoying the adventure. It would give her something exciting to talk about that night, but as they got to the security check, he grabbed her arm hard, and his face tightened as he told her to hurry up. And then she had a sudden idea. If she told him she had to go to the bathroom, maybe there would be a phone and she could call Bernie. She had this funny feeling that he would want to know she was going to San Diego with her “other” daddy. She pulled away from Chandler Scott when she saw the door with the familiar sign, and he made a lunge and grabbed her back, as she jumped with surprise. “No, no, cutie pie.”

“But I have to go to the bathroom.” There were tears in her eyes now. She knew he was doing something wrong. He wouldn't let her out of his sight. Not even to go to the bathroom.

“You can go on the plane.”

“I really think I should call Daddy and tell him where we're going.”

But he only laughed at her. “Don't worry. I told you. I'll call him.” And as he held her arm fast in his hand, he seemed to be looking around, and suddenly a woman with dyed blond hair and dark glasses approached them. She was wearing tight jeans and a purple parka and baseball cap, cowboy boots, and there was something very tough about her. “Got the tickets?” He asked her without a smile and she nodded. She handed them to Chandler without a word and they fell into step side by side, with Jane between them, wondering what was going on. “This her?” She finally asked. Scott only nodded, and Jane was filled with terror. They stopped at the photo machine, took four shots for a dollar, and much to Jane's amazement Chandler Scott pulled out a passport and glued one of the photographs into it. It was a counterfeit passport which would not have borne close inspection, but he knew that children's passports were rarely inspected. And at the gate she suddenly balked and tried to bolt, as Chandler Scott grabbed her arm so hard she almost cried out, and he told her exactly what he was doing.

“If you say one word, or try to run away from us again, your daddy, as you call him, and your baby brother will be dead by five o'clock. Got that, sunshine?” He was smiling evilly at her and speaking in a soft voice, as the woman lit a cigarette and looked around. She appeared to be very nervous.

“Where are you taking me?” She was afraid to speak up after what he had just said. Their lives were in her hands, and she would have done nothing to jeopardize Bernie or the baby. She wondered if they were going to kill her, and her only consolation was that, if they did, she would go to join her mommy. She felt sure of that, and it made it all a little bit less frightening.

“We're going on a little trip.”

“Can I go to the bathroom on the plane?”

“Maybe.” He looked at her noncommittally, and she wondered again how her mother could have thought him handsome. He looked vicious and dissipated and there was nothing handsome about him. “Whatever you do, sunshine,” he snarled at her through clenched teeth, “you're not going anywhere without us. You, my darling daughter, are our little gold mine.” She still didn't understand what they were doing and she was convinced they were going to kill her. He then went on to describe to his friend the enormity of Bernie's gold Rolex.

“Maybe he'll give you the watch, if you take me back,” she said hopefully as they both laughed and pushed her onto the plane ahead of them. The stewardesses seemed not to notice anything amiss and Jane would never have dared speak up, after the threat they'd made against Bernie and the baby. They never bothered answering her and they both ordered a beer once the plane took off. They got her a Coke but she didn't touch it. She wasn't hungry or thirsty. She just sat very still in her seat, wondering where they were going with the falsified passport, and if she would ever see Bernie or the baby or Mrs. Pippin again. For the moment, it seemed highly unlikely.

Chapter 29

It was after eight o'clock when Bernie finally called Grossman. For an hour he had told himself that maybe they were late. Maybe he'd had a flat tire on the way back, in that ramshackle car of his, maybe anything …but by eight o'clock they could have called, and suddenly he knew that something terrible had happened.

Grossman was home, having dinner with friends, and Bernie apologized for bothering him. “That's all right. How'd it go today?” He hoped it had gone without a hitch. It would be easier for all of them if they accepted the inevitable. His experience told him that Chandler Scott was going to be difficult to get rid of.

“That's why I called you, Bill. I'm sorry. They were supposed to be back over an hour ago, and they're not back yet. I'm getting worried. No, I'm getting
very
worried.” Grossman thought he was being premature, and he thought he overrated Scott as a villain.

“Maybe he had a flat tire.”

“He could have called. And when was the last time you had a flat tire?”

“When I was sixteen years old and stole my father's Mercedes.”

“Right. Try again. What do we do now?”

“First of all, you relax. He's probably just trying to be a big shot with her. They'll probably turn up at nine o'clock or something, having gone to a double feature, and had ten ice cream cones.” He was still convinced of that, and wouldn't let Bernie drag him into his paranoia. “Just relax for awhile.”

Bernie looked at his watch. “I'll give him another hour.”

“And then what? You hit the streets with your shot-gun?”

“I don't find this as amusing as you do, Bill. That's my daughter he's out with.”

“I know, I know, I'm sorry. But it's also his daughter. And he'd have to be a raving maniac to do something crazy, particularly the first time out. The man may be unpleasant, but I don't think he's stupid.”

“I hope you're right.”

“Look. Give it till nine o'clock, then call me back, and we'll see what comes to mind then.”

Bernie called him back at five minutes to nine, unwilling to be put off again. “I'm calling the police.”

“And what are you going to tell them?”

“For one thing, I wrote down his license plate, for another, I'm going to tell them I think he's kidnapped my child.”

“Let me tell you something, Bernie. I know that you're upset, but I want you to think this thing out. For one thing, she's not your child, she's his, legally anyway, and for another, if he did take her, which I sincerely doubt, it's considered child stealing and not kidnap.”

“What difference does that make?” Bernie didn't understand.

“Child stealing is a misdemeanor, and it is the removal of a child by a parent.”

“In this case, it would not be 'removal,' but kidnap. The guy is a common criminal. Christ, he didn't even say two words to her when he picked her up. He just looked around the house and walked out, expecting her to follow, then he drove off in that rattrap car, and God knows where they are now.” He felt hysterical just thinking about it, and he felt as though he had betrayed his promise to Liz. He knew he had. She had begged him not to let Chandler get his hands on Jane, and that was exactly what he had done.

Bernie called the police at ten o'clock, and they were sympathetic, but not overly worried. Like Bill, they felt sure that Chandler would eventually show up. “Maybe he had a few too many,” they suggested. But at eleven o'clock, when he was near tears, they finally agreed to come and take a report from him, and by then Grossman was getting worried.

“You still haven't heard?” The police were still there.

“No, I haven't. Do you believe me now?”

“Christ, I hope not.” He had been describing to the police what Jane had been wearing, and Nanny was quietly sitting in the living room with him in her dressing gown and slippers. She looked extremely proper and she had a calming effect on him, which was fortunate because half an hour later the police discovered that the license plate he'd taken down was of a car that had been stolen that morning. It was serious now. At least to Bernie. To the police it was exactly what Bill had predicted. Child stealing and no more, a misdemeanor and not a felony and they didn't even give a damn about the fact that he had a criminal record an arm long. They were more upset about the stolen car, and they put an APB out for it, but not for his daughter.

He called Grossman at midnight with that bit of news, and the moment he hung up, the phone rang. It was finally Chandler.

“Hi there, pal.” Bernie almost got hysterical when he heard his voice. The police were gone, and here he was, alone. And Scott had his daughter.

“Where the hell are you?”

“Janie and I are just fine.”

“I asked you where you were.”

“Out of town for a spell. And she's just fine, aren't you, sweetheart?” He chucked her under the chin a little roughly as she stood shivering in the phone booth with him. She had only brought a sweater and it was November.

“What do you mean out of town?”

“I wanted to give you enough time to get the money together, pal.”

“What money?”

“The five hundred thousand bucks you're going to give me to bring little Janie home. Right, sweetheart?” He looked down at her again, but he didn't really see her. “In fact, little Janie even thought you'd like to throw in that fancy watch you were wearing today, and I think that's a great idea. You might even want to throw in another one for my friend here.”

“What friend?” Bernie was frantically thinking and getting nowhere.

“Never mind. Let's talk about the money. How soon can you get it?”

“Are you serious?” Bernie's heart was pounding.

“Very.”

“Never…. My God, do you know how much money that is? It's a goddamn fortune. I can't get you that kind of money.” There were suddenly tears in his eyes. He had not only lost Liz. He had lost Jane. Possibly forever. And God only knew where she was or what they would do to her.

“You'd better get me that money, Fine, or you're not going to be seeing Janie. I can wait a long, long time. And I figure you want her back eventually.”

“You're a rotten sonofabitch.”

“And you're a rich one.”

“How do I find you?”

“I'll call you tomorrow. Stay off your phone and don't call the cops or I'll kill her.” She stood staring at Scott with terrified interest as he said that but he didn't notice. He was concentrating on his conversation with Bernie.

“How do I know you haven't killed her already?” The thought terrified him, it was more than he could bear as he said the words. He felt as though there were a hand squeezing his heart.

At his end, Chandler Scott shoved the phone into her face. “Here, talk to your old man.” She knew enough not to tell him where she was. She wasn't even sure herself. And she had seen their guns, and knew they meant business.

“Hi, Daddy.” Her voice sounded so little and she started to cry the minute she got on the phone. “I love you…. I'm okay. …”

“I'm going to bring you home, sweetheart…whatever it takes … I promise …” But Chandler Scott didn't let her answer. He ripped the phone away and promptly hung up on Bernie.

He dialed Grossman with trembling hands. It was twelve-thirty by then. “He's got her.”

“I know he's got her. Where is he?”

“He wouldn't tell me. And he wants half a million dollars.” Bernie sounded breathless, as though he'd been running, and there was an endless silence.

“He kidnapped her?” Grossman sounded stunned.

“Yes, you asshole. Isn't that what I told you …I'm sorry. What the hell do I do now? I don't have that kind of money.” He knew only one person who might, and he wasn't even sure he did, and certainly not available in cash, but he would try it.

“I'll call the police.”

“I already did that.”

“This is different.” But it wasn't. They were no more impressed than they had been an hour before. As far as they were concerned, it was a private matter, between two men, wrestling over one child they both felt they owned, and the police didn't want to get involved. He probably didn't mean it about the money.

And all through the night. Nanny Pippin sat there with Bernie, pouring tea, and eventually a brandy. He needed it. He was as white as a sheet. And at one point, between phone calls, she looked him directly in the eye and spoke to him as she would have a frightened child.

“We'll find them.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you're an intelligent man, and right is on your side.”

“I wish I were sure of that, Nanny.” She patted his hand, and he dialed Paul Berman in New York. It was almost five o'clock in the morning, and Berman said he didn't have the money. He was aghast at what had happened. But he explained that he didn't ever keep that much cash. He would have to sell stocks, and he owned them all jointly with his wife. He would need his wife's permission to sell and he would also lose a fortune if he sold because the market was rotten. He explained that it would take time if he could even do it. And Bernie knew he wasn't the answer.

“Did you call the police?”

“They don't give a damn. Apparently 'child stealing,' as they call it, is no big deal in this state. The child's natural father can do no wrong.”

“They ought to kill him.”

“I will if I find him.”

“Let me know what I can do to help.”

“Thanks, Paul.” And he hung up.

He called Grossman again after that. “I can't get the money. Now what?”

“I have an idea. I know an investigator I've worked with.”

“Can we call him now?”

There was only a fraction of a second of hesitation, but basically Bill Grossman was a decent guy, just a great deal too trusting. “I'll call him.” He called back five minutes later and promised that the investigator would be there in half an hour. And so would Grossman.

It was three o'clock in the morning as the group assembled in Bernie's living room. Bill Grossman, Bernie, the investigator, who was a heavyset, ordinary man in his late thirties, a woman he had brought whom Bernie couldn't figure out, and Nanny in her dressing gown and slippers. She served tea and coffee to everyone. And she brought Bernie another brandy. She decided that the others didn't need one. They were going to have to stay sober, if they were going to find Jane for them.

The investigator's name was Jack Winters, his associate, the woman, was his wife and her name was Gertie. They were both ex-narcs, and after years of working underground for the San Francisco police, they had decided to open their own business. And Bill Grossman swore that they were terrific.

Bernie told them everything he knew about Chandler Scott's past, his relationship with Liz, his arrests, his time in prison, and his relationship, or lack of it, with Jane. And then he gave them the license plate of the stolen car, and sat back looking at them in terror.

“Can you find her?”

“Maybe.” The investigator had a drooping mustache and a manner which suggested that he wasn't very bright, but his eyes were as sharp as any Bernie had ever seen. And the woman seemed to have the same interesting combination. She was plain but she wasn't stupid. “I suspect he went to Mexico or some place like that.”

“Why?”

His eyes bore into Bernie's. “Just a feeling. Give me a few hours and I'll put some possibilities together for you. You don't have any pictures of him, do you?” Bernie shook his head, and he didn't think Liz had any either, and if she did, he had never seen them.

“What'll I tell him when he calls?”

“That you're getting the money together for him. Keep him busy …keep him waiting …and don't sound too scared. It'll make him think you've got the money.”

Bernie looked worried. “I already told him I didn't.”

“That's all right. He probably doesn't believe you.”

They promised to contact him by the end of the day, and suggested he try to relax while he waited. But he had to ask them something before they left. He hated to ask the question, but he had to.

“Do you think …could he … do you think he might hurt her?” He couldn't say the word kill. It was too much for him by five o'clock that morning. And Gertie spoke to him in a soft voice, as she looked at him with wise eyes. She was a woman who had seen a lot, and he knew it.

“We hope not. We're going to do everything we can to find him before he does. Trust us.”

He did, and they were back twelve hours later. It had been an interminable wait for Bernie. He had paced the floor, drunk more coffee, more brandy, more tea, and finally fallen into bed at ten o'clock the next morning, hysterical and exhausted. Nanny had never gone to bed at all but had taken care of Alexander all day, and was feeding him dinner when the doorbell rang and the investigators returned. Bernie didn't know how, but they had collected a fascinating portfolio of information, and they couldn't have had much sleep either.

They had all of Scott's mug shots and prison records. He had done time in seven states, always for theft or burglary or con games or bunko. He had lots of arrests for bad checks as well, but most of those had been dropped, maybe he had made up the money to the people involved, but they weren't sure and it didn't matter.

“The interesting pattern here is that everything this man does is for money. Not drugs, not sex, not passion …but money. You might say it's his hobby.”

Bernie looked at them mournfully. “I wouldn't call half a million dollars a hobby.”

Winters nodded. “Now he's hit the big time.”

They had checked with his parole officer, because he was an old friend of Jack's, it turned out, and they had hit on the right one the first time around, which was good luck on a Sunday, and they knew where Scott had been staying. He had checked out the day before, and he had said something to someone about going to Mexico. The stolen car had been located at the airport. And three stolen tickets had turned up on a flight to San Diego, and the threesome had been long gone by then, and the stewardess whom Gertie had talked to between flights that day thought she remembered a little girl, but she wasn't certain.

“My guess is that they've gone to Mexico. And they're going to sit on Jane till you come up with the money. And to tell you the truth, I feel better now looking at this guy's record. There's not a single act of violence here. That's something at least. If we're lucky, he won't hurt her.”