Mercy Street (20 page)

“I’ll be here all week. Just give me a call when you’re on your way. I’m sure I’ll be here. I have no plans to travel until Friday.”

“Oh? You’re taking a trip?”

“What?”

“You said you wouldn’t be traveling until Friday, so I assumed you meant that you were going somewhere then.”

“Oh. No real trip. Just weekend stuff. You know.”

“Sure.”

“So, will you be bringing me a bill for your time?”

“Not until I get my license,” Mallory told her. Remembering she hadn’t checked the mail when she’d arrived home earlier, she went to the front of the house and walked outside.

“Are you sure that’s necessary?” Susanna was asking.

“It’s the law.” Mallory peeked inside the mailbox, spotting several envelopes and a magazine or two.

“Well, you are keeping track of your hours, your mileage, that sort of thing, aren’t you?”

“Pretty much.” She lifted the lid and brought the stack inside.

“How much longer do you think before you have your license?”

“Maybe another week or so. There shouldn’t be a problem with it. I had some excellent references.”

“I’m sure you did. Well, give me a call and let me know when you’ll be coming in. Even if I can’t pay you yet, I’d like to see your preliminary reports.”

“That might be a problem.” Mallory placed the mail on the coffee table. “My house was broken into last night and my laptop was stolen. All my notes were on the laptop.”

“Good Lord, are you all right? You weren’t home at the time, were you?” Susanna sounded genuinely alarmed.

“No. Actually, I came in right as the person or persons were leaving, I guess. I took a good crack to the back of my head, but I don’t think there’s any permanent damage.”

“Was this a random attack? I mean, you don’t suppose this has anything to do with this investigation, do you?”

“No, no, I’m sure.” She wasn’t, but she didn’t want to discuss that with Robert Magellan’s right hand. If she couldn’t even defend herself or her home, what the hell kind of private investigator was she?

She began to flip through the mail, then stopped at the white envelope bearing an official-looking seal as the return address. She slit the back of the envelope open with a fingernail and slid out the contents.

Her permit to carry a concealed weapon.

She concluded her conversation with Susanna, then hung up. Gleefully, she went upstairs and into her bedroom closet. From inside a box on the shelf, hidden behind her sweaters, she retrieved a small handgun and its holster.

“Come to Mama,” she crooned.

She fastened the holster around her waist and tucked the gun into the small of her back, then patted it.

“Welcome back.” She grinned as she stood before the mirror and turned so she could see the reflection of the small bulge beneath her waistband. “Mama’s missed you.”

She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed that weight, that slight pressure at the back of her waist. Wearing it felt like fitting in that last piece of a puzzle, and she was unexpectedly grateful to have it there. She couldn’t help but wonder: If she’d had the gun strapped on last night, would she still have been attacked? Would her home have been robbed?

Probably, she admitted. For one thing, she’d never seen it coming, and so wouldn’t have had time to reach for it before she was knocked out. For another, as much as she genuinely loved guns, as much as she liked target shooting, she knew that once you pulled the gun, you had to be prepared to use it. As a cop, she’d fired warning shots at suspects before, but she’d never shot another human being. Way different from shooting at an inanimate target, she knew.

Maybe just as well. If she’d had the gun last night, she might have shot someone. While she didn’t like the fact that she’d been a victim, that someone had come into her house and helped himself to her things and made her feel vulnerable for the first time in a very long time, she didn’t relish the thought of possibly ruining someone’s life for the sake of saving a laptop.

Leaving the gun in its holster, she went back downstairs and replayed Ryan’s DVD one more time.

TWENTY

Y
ou look happy.” Robert came into Susanna’s office and dropped a few envelopes on her desk. “Today’s bills,” he told her.

She stacked the bills into a neat pile and placed them on the right side of her desk.

“I am happy,” she replied, giving him a huge bright smile as proof.

“Want to share the joy?” He sat on the edge of her desk.

“Actually, you will be sharing.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Remember the bet we made about Mallory Russo?”

“Mallory Rus…the PI?”

“Yes. I’m impressed. You remembered her name.”

“What was the bet?”

“The bet was that she’d add her hours on from last week to this week’s, and in essence, pad the bill.”

“What makes you think she won’t?”

“Because she isn’t billing this week.”

“She take the week off?”

“No. She isn’t billing until she gets her license. Which is the concept that started that conversation about her billing or not billing.”

“So you’re saying you think you’re going to win the bet.”

“I’m definitely winning this one. All I have to do is decide what to pack.”

“Pack for what?” He frowned.

“Ah, so you not only don’t recall making the bet, you’ve forgotten the wager.”

“What was the wager?”

“Loser buys dinner.”

“That’s not so big a deal. We’ve bought each other dinner before.”

“In Paris.”

“Ah. Transportation provided, I’m assuming.”

“You volunteered your plane, win or lose.”

“Did I now?”

“You did. And I will hold you to that. I hate commercial flying these days. It’s a big pain in the ass.”

“I agree. Which is why I don’t do it.” He got off the desk. “And how clever of you to have stipulated that use of my plane was included, regardless of who was buying dinner.”

“You don’t recall that conversation at all, do you?”

“Not really. But I believe you when you tell me we had it.”

He went to the window and gazed out.

“It looks like there are eggs in the mockingbird nest again,” he told her.

“I know. I’m not sure what laid them, though. I think I read somewhere that sometimes some birds will take over an existing nest once the previous tenants have moved on. Maybe that’s what happened there.”

“What happens if the first bird comes back and decides she wants her nest back?”

“I don’t know.” Because it was a question she’d asked herself many times in one form or another, Susanna moved on. “Her house was broken into and she was knocked out cold.”

“Who?”

“Mallory Russo.”

“Great choice of a detective.”

“I think she was. She’s really caught up in this investigation.”

“She should be. She’s being paid to be.” Robert stood halfway to the door, his hands in his pant pockets. “Was she hurt?”

“I suspect she has a good-sized lump on her head, and she was probably seeing stars there for a time, but she seemed to be okay on the phone.”

“I think I need to see what her bills look like before I admit defeat.”

Susanna laughed. “Fine with me. I still think I’m going to win this one.”

He glanced at his watch. “I think I’ll go see what Trula has cooked up for dinner. Want to join us?”

“I’ll be down in a minute. I have one more call to make.”

“I’ll tell Trula to set an extra plate.”

He was almost through the door when she called to him, “Robert, I think this is a very good thing you’re doing.”

“What thing is that?” He turned in the doorway.

“Hiring Mallory to look for Ryan Corcoran and the Bauer girl. I was speaking with Kevin earlier. He believes in her. He thinks she’s going to find them.”

“What do you think?”

“I think if anyone finds them, it will be Mallory.”

“Is anyone else even looking for them?”

“Not the police, apparently. They’re all tied up with this sniper. Oh, there is one detective who’s been sort of working with Mallory—someone new—but other than that, she’s pretty much alone in this, I think.”

“Then you’re right. If anyone finds the kids, it’s probably going to be her.”

“Cynic.”

He shrugged.

“Anyway, I think it’s a wonderful thing you’re doing for Mary Corcoran.”

“I’m doing it for Kevin.”

“Still, it’s a great idea, you know, using your resources to help people who don’t have any. Helping people who are running out of hope.”

“Did Kevin tell you to say that?”

“No, why?”

“It just sounds like something he’d say. Actually, it was something he said.”

“Just think how good you’ll feel when those two kids are found alive and returned to their families.”

He stared at her for a moment, then left the room, saying, “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Oh, shit,” she muttered, her face flushing red as she realized what she’d said. “Of all the thoughtless, stupid things to say…”

Her phone rang and she took the call, still slightly flustered. She finished the arrangements for the meeting she was setting up between Robert and his Realtor to discuss the offer they’d received on the beach house, made some notes for him, and hung up. She had no doubt that he was going to accept the offer, even though it was lower by far than the asking price, and she wondered how he was going to feel once the house was sold. She saw it as a first step for him to accept the inevitable, and hoped in time he’d be relieved to be rid of it. As well as she knew him, she sometimes wondered these days if she knew him at all. He was becoming more withdrawn, more sarcastic, more cynical, than he’d ever been.

Sooner or later, she knew, something would have to give.

TWENTY-ONE

I
’m seeing a pattern in Ryan’s film—there are a couple of places he’s shot from several angles and obviously on different days, judging from the weather and the season,” Mallory told Charlie when he returned her call early that evening. “But I don’t recognize any of them. Well, one I might recognize. The barn at one property reminds me of an old barn that is out on Josephine Road, but in the film, you only see it from the back.” The teakettle shrieked from the stove, and she walked into the kitchen to turn off the burner. “Then again, so much of the architecture around here is similar, it’s tough to know for certain.”

“But you think there’s enough repetition that maybe one of these spots could be their hiding place?”

“Right now, it’s the only possibility we have, so I think we have to take it as far as we can.”

“I agree.”

“I’d like you to take a look at the film as soon as possible. Think you can fit in a quick trip to my place?”

“Not until tomorrow at the earliest, I’m afraid. We take Jilly to Riverside first thing in the morning, and we need to pack for her tonight. My mother was afraid if she packed too early, Jilly would get upset.”

“I thought Jilly liked it there.”

“She did, but I don’t know if she remembers liking it. She might when she gets there.” He paused, and in the pause, she could feel the tension deepening. “Getting her there will be a battle. I hope this was the right thing to do.”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

He hesitated, and she sensed he was debating with himself. Finally, he said, “Not really. I know it’s the best thing for her. I think my mom feels she’s bailing on her daughter, but Jilly really needs to be in a residential setting. Regardless of how it affects us, this is what Jilly needs.”

“Then I guess you need to remember that. You’re doing this for her.”

“You’re right, and I know that. I should remind my mom of that when she starts feeling weepy.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s hanging in there. We’ll see how things go on Saturday.”

“What happens on Saturday?”

“She goes into rehab.”

“Good for her. I wish her all the best.”

“Thanks, Mal.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I guess I’ll catch up with you tomorrow. I’ll give you a call when I get back from Riverside.”

“Hey, if you feel you need to talk…”

“Yeah. Thanks. I appreciate that.”

They ended the call, and she set the phone on the counter while she poured hot water over the tea bags she’d placed in a pitcher to make iced tea. She’d envisioned him dropping everything to come over on his way home to watch Ryan’s film—it was that important. But she totally understood that his obligations had to take precedence. It was apparent that he was conflicted about both his sister and his mother, and she respected that. Not ever having had either, however, she didn’t really understand the emotion. She knew it was the right way to feel; she just hadn’t ever experienced it herself. She couldn’t help but wonder what it was like, to have a mother who loved you. To have a sibling you cared for so much, you’d put everything on hold—your job, your life—for their sake.

Then again, Mallory didn’t know for certain that she didn’t have a sister or a brother somewhere. Maybe someday she’d try to find out. Maybe.

It was, she told herself, something she might want to think about some other day. Today she had a job to do, and it was easier to focus her thoughts on someone else than to turn them inward. She knew this was avoidance in its purest form—something she’d practiced most of her life—but so far it had worked for her. Focus on doing good—on saving a life, on solving a crime, on comforting a victim—and she wouldn’t have to focus on herself.

She sliced a lemon and filled a tall, thick plastic glass with ice, then poured herself some tea. The ice crackled under the hot liquid, and a spire of steam rose. She locked the back door, took her tea into the living room, and prepared to watch Ryan’s film one more time.

“Hey, Wanamaker, the chief’s looking for you.” Frank Toricelli appeared in Charlie’s office at almost the same time Charlie did.

“Thanks.” Charlie was in no mood for conversation. He’d just dropped off his sobbing mother at home after taking a frightened Jilly back to Riverside, this time to stay. The last person he felt like dealing with was Toricelli. He had no patience left; his last nerve had been worn down to the quick.

Toricelli opened his mouth and began to say something, but Charlie walked around him and into the hall. At the chief’s doorway, Charlie paused and looked in. Drabyak looked up and motioned for him to enter.

“How’d it go this morning?” the chief asked.

“It went, sir. Thank you.”

The chief nodded as if he understood. Rather than belabor the issue, he said, “There’s a present waiting for you downstairs in one of the holding cells.”

Charlie looked at him quizzically.

Drabyak smiled. “Malcolm Wilson was brought in last night around eleven after blowing a red light and then deciding he’d rather outrun the patrol car that was following him than pull over. A number of stolen items were found in the car. Including a laptop with a smashed screen. Malcolm had an interesting story explaining where it came from and how it got smashed.” Drabyak smiled. “You might want to hear the story directly from him. It’s a doozy.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Malcolm Wilson still inside?” Charlie asked at the desk outside the holding cells.

“He’s the only one we have right now.” The woman looked up to inspect Charlie’s badge, then buzzed him through.

“Hello, Malcolm.” Charlie stopped in front of the occupied cell.

The man inside barely looked at him.

“I’m Detective Wanamaker. I hear you had a bad night.”

There was a folding chair next to the door, and Charlie brought it to the front of the cell and opened it.

“I hear they found some interesting items in your car, Malcolm. I’m guessing you were on your way to unloading some of it when you ran that red light. Not a good idea to do that when a cop’s sitting right there at the intersection.”

“I never saw that cop car,” Malcolm muttered, shaking his head. “Fucker came out of nowhere.”

“Yeah, well, cops have a way of doing that sometimes.” Charlie nodded, turned the chair around, and straddled it. He rested both arms on the back. “There’s one thing I’m real curious about.”

“What’s that?” Malcolm remained slumped on the mattress.

“The laptop. How the hell were you going to fence a laptop with a broken screen?”

“Wasn’t going to fence that. A friend asked me to get rid of it for her.”

“Oh? I suppose it belonged to her and she dropped it accidentally.”

“Something like that.”

“I guess Gigi must have picked up some computer skills when she was away, huh?”

Malcolm’s head shot up. “Don’t know no Gigi.”

“Oh, give me a break.” Charlie laughed. “Three sets of prints were lifted from that laptop, Malcolm. Yours, Regina Girard’s, and the ex-cop’s who owned the laptop.” It wasn’t true, but Charlie bet it would turn out to be.

“Ex-cop?”

“Yep. I guess Gigi didn’t tell you that the house she had you break into belonged to an ex-cop?”

“I didn’t break into the house, she just asked me to come with her to this house over on Essex in case…” He realized what he’d said and shut up fast.

“The house over on Essex is owned by a former Conroy detective. Now, how do you think the police department feels about one of their former fellow cops being burglarized and brutally attacked?” Charlie left out the fact that there would probably be applause in the squad room once it got around.

“There wasn’t no brutal attack, man. I just…” Malcolm got up and began to pace. “Shit. She didn’t say nothing about no ex-cop.”

“This your first arrest for burglary, Malcolm?”

The young man shook his head. “No.”

“Guess it isn’t going to go so well for you, is it?”

“I do not want to go back inside, man.” He spoke more to himself than Charlie.

“Why don’t you tell me what your involvement was? We know you weren’t behind the break-in, Malcolm.”

Malcolm continued to pace.

“I’m guessing that Gigi asked you to come with her to serve as a lookout while she went through the house.” Charlie offered him an opening.

“That was all it was supposed to be. Gigi said she needed something in this house, all I had to do was stand at the front door and keep an eye out in case someone came home while she searched the place. That’s all.”

“She tell you what she was looking for?”

“No. She looked around the first floor for a while, then she went upstairs. She was up there when the woman came home. I called up to her, told her someone was coming, she told me to take care of her. Gigi was going out the back door when the woman was unlocking the door.”

“By ‘take care of her’ she meant…?”

“I don’t know what she meant. This woman unlocked the door and came inside, she was closing the door and I clocked her from behind. She went down. Gigi hollered from the back of the house for me to do her, I didn’t see no need for that, she was already out cold, she hadn’t seen me, so I left her there.”

“What did you take from the house?”

“I didn’t take nothing, I swear. Gigi had the laptop and a bunch of papers in her hand, that’s all I seen her take.”

“What happened next?”

“We went back to this place Gigi’s staying over on Hawthorne. She turned on the computer, but she got real pissed when she couldn’t get any information out of it. She didn’t have the password and she couldn’t get into it no how. She smashed the screen with the heel of her shoe and told me to get rid of it.”

“What about the papers she took. You see them? Any idea what was on them?”

“Nah, didn’t see ’em. She sat at the table reading them for a while. Must have been something, though, ’cause she got real mad and started cursing. Then she asked me to drive her to Academy Street. Said she wanted to check out an address.”

“She say whose?”

“Some hooker, she said.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who the hooker was and what had set Gigi off.

“Did she find the house?”

“Yeah, but no one was home, so we left. I took Gigi back to Hawthorne and dropped her off. I haven’t seen her since.”

“Thanks, Malcolm.” Charlie folded the chair and leaned it against the wall where he’d found it. “I’ll tell the chief you were very cooperative. Maybe we can do something about reducing the charges, maybe get you out a little early.”

“You goin’ after Gigi?”

“Yeah. We’re going after Gigi.”

“You going to let her know I talked about her?” Malcolm sat back on the mattress. “Because if you do, I may be better off right here, where I am. At least, until you bring her in. She’s one crazy bitch, man.”

“So I’ve heard.” Charlie buzzed to get out.

On his way back upstairs, Charlie called Mallory and left a message.

“It’s important that you call me as soon as you get this message, Mal.” He briefly related what he’d learned from Malcolm Wilson. “Depending on which notes Regina Girard lifted from your house and how much you’d written down, she may know everything that you know right now. And if that’s true, she knows you’ve connected the dots between the shooting at Hazel’s and the shooting in the playground. And to my mind, that makes you a real big target. This is one irrational woman, Mal. If you’re on her list, we’ve got a big problem.” He’d taken the steps two at a time, and he stopped at the top of the stairs to catch his breath. “And that’s not the only problem we have. Malcolm mentioned that after Gigi read your notes, she got really pissed off—something about a hooker, he said—and she had him drive her to a house on Academy Street. I’m hoping that your CI doesn’t live on Academy, because if she does, Gigi’s going after her. I’m on my way in to talk to the chief right now, see if we can get a car over there. In the meantime, if you can get in touch with her, you need to warn her that she could be in danger. Please call me so that I know you got the message. I have a really bad feeling that this is about to blow up, and you and your friend Sally are going to be right in the middle of it when it does.”