While Everyone Was Sleeping

by Donald Collins

  “There’s something else I wanted to run by you,” Danski said. “Susan told us she discarded all of Martin’s belongings. She said gave his clothes to charity and sold his rifles and hunting gear through the classified ads.”

  “Yes, she told me the same thing, and we had no reason to contradict the story.”

  “We learned differently,” Danski said. “She might have tossed out his suits and everyday clothes or donated them to charity like she said, but we discovered that she leased a storage space downtown. We accessed her unit yesterday and found some very high-quality rifles and hunting gear in there.”

  “Interesting,” Latimer said. “Very interesting.”

  Latimer fell silent for several seconds before speaking again. “There were no pictures of Martin anywhere in the apartment, which I thought was strange, but Susan assured me that she and Martin were a devoted couple.”

  “She told us the same thing, which we discovered was a lie,” Danski said. “And her greatest lie of all was saying that Martin was killed in a hunting accident. The truth is that Martin Whitlock is alive.”

  “What?” Latimer gasped. “Susan told me he died a year and a half before Jake disappeared.”

  “A blatant lie,” Danski said. “Martin lives in the Catskill Mountains, about two hours from Manhattan. He’s got a big house on twelve acres in a town called Wilson Corners. He inherited the property from his parents. My partner and I went up there this morning and interviewed him. He claims he suspected Susan was cheating on him and he brought Jake to a diagnostic center to be tested. It turned out that Jake was not Martin’s son. Knowing that, Martin left Susan immediately, but he claims he pays her a very sizeable amount every month. Interestingly, he said he didn’t change the amount when Jake was kidnapped. We thought that was odd, too.”

  “Rich people do a lot of odd things.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Danski said. “I don’t know too many really rich people.”

  “So, Martin’s alive, but you don’t consider him a suspect.”

  “Everyone’s a suspect,” Danski said. “Discovering that he was alive moved him into the number one position on our suspect list, but after hearing his story about Susan cheating on him and Jake not being his son, we saw no reason for him to kidnap the boy. The sheriff in Wilson Corners told us he knows Martin well and had been to Martin’s home several times. We also spoke with a former girlfriend of Martin’s. Both told us they never saw a young boy at his house when they stopped by, even unexpectedly.”

  “One question before we hang up,” Latimer said. “If Martin isn’t Jake’s father who is?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question,” Danski said. “We haven’t confronted Susan with this new information. Maybe she’ll open up when we do.”

  “Please get back with me when you find out,” Latimer said.

  “I will,” Danski said. “I appreciate your time. It was good to talk the case over with someone who has first-hand knowledge of the case.”

  Danski gave Latimer his work and cell numbers and asked him to call if anything came to mind that he considers worth looking into.

  “Sorry I woke you. I’ll let you get back to sleep,” Danski said.

  “What makes you think I’ll be able to go back to sleep now?” Latimer groaned.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Susan slid aside the metal shield covering the peephole, allowing a quick blink of light to show before opening the door.

  “Good morning, Detectives.”

  “You don’t look happy to see us,” Litchfield said as he took in her dejected look.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect you back so soon, is all. Please come in.”

  “We need to clear up a few things,” Danski said. “I have a few questions to ask you.”

  “Certainly, ask away.”

  “My partner and I drove to Wilson Corners yesterday.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Wilson Corners?”

  “Yes, Wilson Corners. it’s a quiet little town in the Catskill Mountains. Do you know anyone in that area, Susan?”

  Susan twisted her mouth as she stared back.

  “Let me save you the trouble of lying. You committed a felony when you provided false information to Detective Latimer five years ago, and you compounded the crime by lying to me and Detective Litchfield. Martin did not die in a hunting accident as you reported, Susan. In fact, he didn’t die at all. He’s alive and well and living in a large home about two hours from here.”

  “I can explain, Detective.”

  “I’m sure you can,” Danski said. “I’ll tell you something, though. I’ve found that if someone lies to me once I can never again believe what they tell me. I already know the answers to many of the questions I’m about to ask you, so I want you to be very careful when you respond to them.” He stared at her coldly. “Did you have anything to do with Jake’s disappearance?”

  “No,” she answered, suddenly becoming emotional. “Absolutely not. I love Jake. I swear to God, I had nothing to do with his disappearance.”

  Danski stared into her eyes for several seconds, and she did not turn away. “Did he disappear on Thursday morning as you told Detective Latimer or did he disappear the previous week?”

  “He disappeared on Thursday morning, just as I’ve said all along.”

  “Martin told us the two of you were not the loving and devoted couple you claimed to be,” Danski said and then studied her body language. “He said you had several affairs.”

  Danski held up his hand when Susan appeared annoyed by the accusation. “We need the truth here. We don’t have time for you to deny the things he told us if they’re in fact true.”

  “There were only two affairs, not several,” Susan protested. “You have to understand my side of the story.”

  “I can’t wait to hear it.” Danski took out his notepad and clicked his pen.

  Susan sighed heavily before continuing. “Martin’s business was all he ever thought about. He wanted to be the richest man alive, or at least richer than his brother. He was putting in more and more hours at the office and didn’t have time for me. He expected me to sit here alone in this apartment day after day without as much as a phone call to ask how I was doing.”

  “So you had an affair,” Danski said when Susan fell silent.

  “You make it sound like I did it to hurt him. It wasn’t that at all. I became lonesome. I felt neglected. I had a brief affair with a man named Aaron, Aaron Cooper. He was the manager of a mini-market two blocks from here on Second Avenue. The store was originally called The Second Avenue Market, but it’s now known as Oscars. When the store wasn’t too busy Aaron delivered my groceries to my apartment and after a while, we became intimate.” Susan let out another heavy sigh. “I wasn’t really interested in Aaron, but I had become terribly bored and lonely.”

  “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? But that was only one affair. Martin told us there were several. I need the names of the other men you were involved with and I need to know the last time you saw them.”

  “Martin was wrong. As I said before, there were only two affairs. My affair with Aaron was short-lived – a few months maybe. When the store changed hands, the new owner let Aaron go and I haven’t seen him in quite some time.”

  “Did Aaron have a key to your apartment?” Danski asked.

  Susan shook her head.

  “The last time we were here I noticed an empty medicine vial on Jake’s dresser,” Litchfield said.

  “Yes, Jake’s a type-one diabetic,” Susan responded. “The vial you saw contained his insulin. I’m sure Detective Latimer mentioned that in his report. He told me he wanted to make sure the reporters included that information in their newspaper articles and television accounts, so that whoever took Jake would realize Jake needed special care and medication. Detective Latimer said he hoped when the kidnapper read the story he would make arrangements to get Jake back to me before he needed his next dose of insulin.”

  Danski nodded,
“Yes, I saw that information in Detective Latimer’s report. My next question concerns Aaron Cooper. Is he a diabetic?”

  Susan raised and lowered her shoulders. “He never mentioned that he was.”

  “Are you diabetic?”

  Susan shook her head.

  “You said there was another man. Tell us about him.”

  “Adam Matthews,” Susan said. “He was a handyman in this building at the time.”

  “At the time, you said. Does that mean he’s no longer here?”

  “Yes,” Susan said. “As far as I know he hasn’t done work in this building for a few years.”

  “How did you and Adam get together?”

  “Martin hired Adam to do a few things around here. He installed a ceiling light in the living room. Martin was pleased with his work so he had him come back to run a new line for his computer. One thing led to another and . . . well, you know.”

  “Was Adam employed by the building management or was he hired on a day-to-day or job-to-job basis by the tenants themselves?”

  “The latter,” Susan said. “By the tenants themselves. He did nice work and he didn’t overcharge. He would do a repair or installation for one tenant who would then recommend him to others. It was all word of mouth.”

  “Describe Adam for me.”

  “Oh, where should I begin,” Susan said. “He’s tall, about your height, maybe an inch taller, a rugged build, fair-skin, nice even teeth and a neatly trimmed mustache.”

  “Any tattoos?”

  Susan shook her head.

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  Susan let her head fall back and then exhaled a long stream of breath as she thought. “It was about three months before Jake was taken. I was on Lexington Avenue and Adam was coming out of a luncheonette.” She quickly covered a smile. “I wouldn’t have seen him but he called out my name.”

  “Was Jake with you at the time?”

  “Yes, we were on our way to Central Park. We were in a hurry to get there and Adam was in a rush to get wherever he were going, so we didn’t get to talk long. I thought it was nice how he fussed with Jake.”

  “Fussed with him in what way?” Danski asked.

  “Adam has a great smile. He squatted down, ruffled Jake’s hair and asked him how old he was, things like that. I didn’t realize Adam liked kids so much. He told me he had a son who was born around the same time I had Jake. I think he said his son’s name was Jason. When I told him Jake was diabetic, he said, ‘Oh, what a coincidence.’ He said his son was also diabetic.”

  “Obviously my next question concerns Adam. Is he a diabetic?”

  “I suppose.”

  “You suppose?” Danski jeered.

  “He wore a medical-alert bracelet,” she answered.” I’m not sure what it said.”

  Danski and Litchfield exchanged glances. “In that case we’ll assume Adam is diabetic. My next question is very important too, Susan. Did Adam have a key to your apartment?”

  “Yes. I asked him to return it, but he told me he lost it.” Susan said and then shrugged. “Our relationship was already over by then, so it really didn’t matter anyway.”

  Danski tapped his pen against his notepad. “Can you explain why, after all this time, you don’t know positively who Jake’s biological father is?”

  Susan twisted her mouth. “I never liked to think about it. I had my suspicions of course, but I saw no point in having Jake tested as long as Martin believed he was the father. And when Martin learned that he wasn’t Jake’s father he still supported us very generously, so there was no reason to go through all that trouble.”

  “Obviously one of those men is Jake’s father,” Litchfield said. “Unless there were other men you haven’t told us about.”

  “No,” Susan responded quickly. “There were no other men, just those two.”

  “Would you say there’s a greater chance that Adam is Jake’s father or Aaron?”

  “Adam, definitely,” she said flippantly. “I’m ninety-nine-point nine percent sure that Adam is Jake’s father.”

  Danski nodded as he wrote. “And a zero-point one percent chance that Aaron’s the father.” He pinched his lips together as he waited for her answer.

  “Yes, exactly,” Susan responded.

  “That point one percent still keeps Aaron in the pool,” Litchfield said.

  “Are both of these men aware that they may be Jake’s father?” Litchfield asked.

  “They both realize there’s a possibility, of course. I mean I had sex with both of them around the same time and they both knew I had a baby, so obviously, both knew there was a possibility.”

  “I appreciate your new-found candor,” Danski said. “I can understand how your affairs would be a source of embarrassment and you were reluctant to talk about them. At least I assume that’s the reason you lied to us as well as Detective Latimer.”

  “I didn’t lie about that. The subject never came up when Detective Latimer questioned me and this is the first time you brought it up.”

  “You lied by omission,” Danski said. “You had an obligation to tell Detective Latimer everything he needed to know. At that point, your life should have been an open book.”

  “As far as I was concerned there was no need to bring up the subject as long as I knew down deep who Jake’s father was,” she said with a demure smile.

  “Yes, I understand that,” Danski said. “Can I believe that Adam Matthews and Aaron Cooper are the only possibilities and Matthews is more than likely the father?”

  Susan lowered her head and nodded. “Yes, that’s the truth, so help me God.”

  “I’m surprised you weren’t able to connect the dots,” Danski said. “You have an affair with Adam, you have a baby, you meet Adam on the street, he makes a fuss over Jake, and three months later Jake disappears. I think it’s obvious that Adam took Jake.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “If Adam Matthews is Jake’s father and he has another son who is diabetic, it stands to reason that Matthews is a diabetic, himself.” Danski said as they drove back to the office.

  “Yes, I agree,” Litchfield grunted. “The medical alert bracelet Susan mentioned pretty much confirms that. I’m just surprised she didn’t know his address or phone number.”

  “She didn’t know his address, but she told us he once mentioned that he had an apartment in Astoria. That’s your old bailiwick isn’t it?”

  “You bet,” Litchfield responded. “Astoria is my wheel-house.” He pulled his department IPOD from his briefcase and googled: Adam Matthews, Astoria. Seconds later he shook his head. “No hits.”

  “Add Handyman to your search,” Danski said.

  Litchfield tried that and again shook his head. “Maybe one of the other tenants in Susan’s building has his telephone number.”

  “It’s possible but I’m afraid not likely. Apparently, Matthews likes to keep a low profile. Susan said all the work he did in her building was word of mouth. Tenants saw him doing an odd job for someone in the building and they asked him to stop by their place when he has time. It’s a good way to do business if he’s afraid the IRS or the License Bureau will catch him.”

  “He might have pinned a flyer on the board next to the mailboxes back then, but it would be long gone by now,” Litchfield said. “We can check that out with Fischer.”

  “Maybe we should canvas all the pharmacies in Astoria and see if we get a hit,” Danski suggested.”

  Litchfield shook his head. “That would be a long and tedious job.”

  “Maybe not as tedious as you’d think,” Danski said. “Corporate records are computerized these days. All the CVS stores are able to pull up information on any customer that has a prescription filled at any of their stores. Walgreens can do the same.”

  Danski found no open parking spots in front of their office building and had to settle for one on the next street. Before getting out he reached to the back seat for his case folder. “Susan said Adam’s son’s name i
s Jason, right?

  “Uh huh,” Litchfield grunted.

  “When we get upstairs, I’ll start with Walgreens and ask them to check the records for all their stores for prescriptions for Adam Matthews or Jason Matthews.”

  “I’ll check with CVS,” Litchfield said.

  “I can call both,” Danski said. “You can take off. You said Gavin has a game tonight.”

  “You sure you don’t mind?” Litchfield asked.

  Danski shook his head. “No problem. I’m sure Gavin appreciates looking into the bleachers and seeing you and Sandra cheering him on.”

  “It’s a summer league so it’s just about over. This is our second to last game. Gavin’s starting to get more playing time lately and he’s making the most of it. He scored eight points against St. Rafael’s last week. We’re playing Sacred Heart tonight. They’ve got a tough team.”

  ***

  Gregory and Sandra were sitting in the bleachers at Sacred Heart’s gymnasium when Danski called. “How was Gavin’s game?”

  “It’s not over yet; we’re still here,” Gregory said and quickly covered his open ear and turned away from the court, trying to hear Danski’s voice over the noise of the crowd. “They’re in the fourth quarter and we’re down by four points.”

  “In that case I’ll let you go. I just wanted to fill you in and let you know I got in touch with the security chiefs from Walgreens and CVS. They went through their computerized records and neither of them found a reference to Adam Matthews or Jason Matthews residing in Astoria.”

  “I can’t believe you’re still in the office working on this,” Litchfield said. “Give it a rest, Steve. Go home, man; get some rest. Save some work for tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, I will. I’m just about done here. But listen to this. I called a diabetes research group that gets figures and statistics from the major pharmaceutical companies. I spoke with a regional manager and told him we were looking for two nine-year-old boys who have Type 1 diabetes. He said that if Adam’s sons are type one, it means Adam would also be type one. He called it autoimmune diabetes. I gave him some background on the case and told him we believe our suspect might have taken the boys out of state and registered them in school as brothers. He told me he’d do whatever he could to help, but he wasn’t optimistic because there’s no national data bank with the names of people with type one or two diabetes. He said he’ll get back with me one way or the other. Tomorrow I’ll check with the Board of Ed and see if they can help.”