by Parker, Ava
“Guaranteed. I’ll call her.” While Carlisle called Clara, Kincaid looked through the file until he found Michelle’s phone number and dialed it from his desk phone.
While it rang, his partner hung up and said, “She’ll meet us there in half an hour.”
He raised a finger. “Michelle Perkins? Detective Jerome Kincaid from Seattle Missing Persons. My partner and I would like to talk to you this morning about Madeline Gardner.”
A minute later he hung up. “She’ll be in the restaurant by nine-thirty doing paperwork. We can go by anytime.”
“We have a plan, and we have time to grab a cup of coffee. Let’s go.”
“I like the way you think, Detective Carlisle.”
Friday morning Clara was already dressed and ready to go when the detective called her. She planned on moving her things to Madeline’s apartment that day, but didn’t want to take the time to pack right now. Actually, boarding the plane at Logan Airport in Boston, her hope had been that she would fly to Seattle, spend a few hours figuring out where her sister was, half an hour berating her for scaring the shit out of everyone, and the rest of the weekend eating good food and drinking good wine with Maddy before flying back home on Sunday.
Instead, she had awoken this morning with an ache in the pit of her stomach. This was really happening. Maddy was gone.
The call from Detective Carlisle had been reassuring and she was eager to let the detectives look around her sister’s apartment, figuring they would have a better chance of finding relevant information since they knew what to look for. Besides, Ben Radcliffe hadn’t responded to her friend request yet and she wanted to get to Maddy’s computer before the detectives arrived.
She found a cab right outside the hotel and in fifteen minutes, she was unlocking the front door and scratching Bea’s ears. She made a beeline for the laptop and prayed that it wasn’t password-protected. The cops would be there soon and she didn’t want to give up her best clue until she had a chance to talk to one of the last people to see Maddy before she disappeared into the mist.
Turning on the old flat black ten-pound MacBook, she rifled through the desk drawer while she waited for it to boot up and found a sheet of paper with a catalogued list of letters and numbers. She looked at it incredulously. Everything from Twitter to bank account log-ins was listed. The screen lit up before she could dwell on how careless Maddy was to keep such a record. As it turned out, she didn’t need to use it. The desktop opened and she clicked on Safari, finding a bookmark that took her straight to Maddy’s Facebook page. Easy.
She found Ben and started looking through his profile information, but a quick check of the time made her change tactics. She clicked on the message icon and typed quickly.
Ben, give me a call at this number.
She added her own cell phone number and hoped that Ben Radcliffe wouldn’t be too suspicious of the unfamiliar phone number, thinking it was Madeline who wrote the message. Of course, if he was involved in her disappearance, he would probably panic. Before she could think too much about it she hit send and went back to searching through his profile and newsfeed until the doorbell chimed.
The sister was standing in the open door to apartment 6A when Carlisle and Kincaid got off the elevator. Carlisle made the introductions and they went in.
“This is Bea,” Clara said as a fat black cat approached and gave them a plaintive cry.
Kincaid studied Clara for a few seconds before she turned her attention back from the cat. In spite of her obvious distress, she was attractive and her face was remarkably similar to the photo he’d seen of her sister. Different hair color, a little skinnier, but same features and she looked like she could use a good night’s sleep.
“I’m going to make some coffee. Do either of you need a refill?” She indicated the paper cups each detective held.
“We’re good,” Carlisle answered for both of them, looking around the apartment. It was a comfortable size for one person, but nothing luxurious. Open concept, as they said on HGTV, with a hall at the back end that probably led to the bedroom and bathroom. A door to a half-bath stood ajar next to the living area and another closed door by the entrance was probably a coat closet. She could see the steel railing of a tiny balcony at the far end of the living room. “Nice place,” she concluded over the hissing of an espresso machine.
“I haven’t really touched anything,” Clara said with just enough defensiveness in her voice to let the two detectives know that she had probably touched everything. “Nothing looked odd or out of place when I got here yesterday, but feel free to look around.” Pointing to the kitchen counter, she said, “Here’s her wall calendar. Looks like she just notes her social events on it — business stuff is probably all on her phone, which I didn’t find.”
Raising his eyebrows skeptically, Kincaid studied the mostly blank calendar. “Not much time for socializing.”
“Running a restaurant must be a lot of work,” said Carlisle thoughtfully.
Clara drank her coffee and looked at them glumly. “Should I show you around?”
“Why don’t you show me around and show Kincaid to Madeline’s computer,” she said, nodding her head toward the small desk by the window.
“If she has a cloud program, I might be able to see what she’s been doing with her phone. Find a calendar, find her friends.”
Clara assented and showed him the laptop, but before she could begin the short tour of her sister’s apartment, Carlisle said, “You know, my partner could move a lot faster if you tell him the name of the guy she had dinner with on Monday.”
She looked at the detective’s face and gave up without a fight. “Ben Radcliffe.”
Kincaid scribbled the name in a leather-bound notebook and thanked her. At Detective Carlisle’s suggestion, they started in the bedroom. It was a pleasant space with a queen-size bed, one big window, a walk-in closet and a bathroom with a tub. Bea followed them into the room and jumped onto the neatly-made bed, curling up against the stack of pillows by the headboard.
Carlisle went straight to the nightstand and opened the drawer, rifling through its contents with impunity. “Condoms, lube, a romance novel, aspirin, lip balm. Was your sister sleeping with someone?”
Clara was aghast. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for clues, Miss Gardner.”
“In her private things?”
“Where else?”
“I don’t know. I thought you would look for signs of a struggle or fingerprints.”
Carlisle sighed. “There’s no indication that Madeline was forcibly removed from her home. We’re going to start by looking for a romantic interest, an angry friend or business partner, a weird neighbor. The usual suspects, because the usual suspects are the most likely ones. Let me give you the lowdown so that you know where we’re at in this investigation. Another patrol officer stopped by here last night and knocked on the door” – when Clara’s mouth opened to protest the detective lifted a finger to stop her – “it’s procedure and it’s a good one, Miss Gardner. No answer, obviously. Neighbors didn’t know anything. The first thing I did this morning was call local hospitals and put a BOLO out for her.”
“As in, ‘Be on the lookout?’”
“That’s right. They’re not just for criminals anymore. I ran her driver’s license, and didn’t get any recent hits. No tickets or accidents reported in the last few days. After we look around here we’re going to speak with Madeline’s business partner before Dovetail opens, then we’re going to speak with the staff at Dovetail. Then we’re going to Gigi’s Bistro to speak with the staff. Then we’re going to find Ben Radcliffe. And then we’re going to come back here and knock on doors after everybody’s home from work and ask some pointed questions. Did they notice a guy hanging around with Madeline, any unusual behavior, et cetera. Any leads we find along the way we will follow
up accordingly.
“Giving us permission to search the premises without a warrant is a big help. Big, Miss Gardner. We need as many details about the days before Madeline went missing as we can get in order to find her. You have been a great help and I encourage you to keep looking around the apartment while you’re staying here, and if you find something, or one of her friends or colleagues says something to you that may be helpful, pass it along to us and we’ll follow up on it.
“What I don’t encourage you to do, in fact I really discourage it, is to seek out anyone who may be involved. For instance, Ben Radcliffe. We don’t need you stirring the pot with a potential suspect. Hear me, Miss Gardner?”
“Loud and clear.” Clara kept her head high and her back straight when she added, “But I’m going to do anything it takes to get my sister home safe. Hear me, Detective Carlisle?”
The two women regarded each other for a few seconds. Finally, Carlisle shrugged. “So, was your sister sleeping with someone?”
“Not that I know of. Don’t all single women keep condoms in their nightstands?”
With a grimace, Judy Carlisle replied, “I wouldn’t know, I’ve been married for twenty years. Look through the closet and see if anything’s missing – clothes, shoes, luggage, anything at all.”
Clara did as directed and when she emerged, found the detective on the floor with a flashlight. “Anything good under the bed?”
“Just dust and a few used tissues.” She got up nimbly and went into the bathroom, opening drawers and sorting through make-up and hair products. From the medicine cabinet she pulled out a package of birth control pills and opened it. “Last one she took was Monday.”
This fact, more than anything, crushed Clara. She sat down on the toilet seat and pressed her fists to her eyes until she saw stars. Some part of her, despite all indications to the contrary, had still held out hope that Maddy had taken off for a few days because she met a guy, or because she was mentally or physically exhausted, or because Michelle or Eddie had done something to upset her and she just wanted to get away. Anything voluntary could be forgiven. But suddenly, looking at the pill packet in Detective Carlisle’s hand, she knew without a doubt that someone bad had taken her sister away from her. She a felt hand on her shoulder and squinted up at Carlisle. “She’s my best friend,” she said, and then she could feel tears running down her cheeks.
Carlisle awkwardly pulled a handful of toilet paper off the roll and handed it to Clara. “We’re going to do everything we know how to find Maddy. I promise you that, Miss Gardner.”
And Clara believed her. But even as her tears subsided she knew that it might not be enough and she wouldn’t stop her own search. Friend or foe, she was determined to get to Ben Radcliffe before the cops scared him off.
Chapter Five
Before Carlisle and Kincaid left Maddy’s apartment, the redheaded detective asked if they could take Maddy’s laptop. Refusing, Clara told him she wanted to keep looking through it. The detective hadn’t argued, but she could tell he didn’t approve and after impatiently watching the elevator door close, she went straight to the computer to check Maddy’s email. But a ping from her phone got her attention first.
Hey! Got your message on FB. What’s with the East Coast number? I’m tied up with work stuff until noon. I’ll call then unless you have time for a quick coffee downtown?
Hell yeah, she had time for coffee. Would Maddy have time for coffee at noon on a Friday? Probably. This guy was either a gambler or he had no idea that Madeline had vanished. Maybe she should just tell him who she was.
Nah, she thought. Not yet. The last time she was in town, there had been a little bar half a block from Dovetail that had local beer and good coffee. Manny’s? She looked it up on her phone to make sure it was still there before she asked Ben to meet her there. Lying would require some fact-checking. Hopefully she could give up the subterfuge when they met. She wrote back.
Sure. Noon at Manny’s?
His response didn’t come right away so Clara distracted herself by scanning her sister’s email. Nothing popped out at her. None of the subject lines said, Send five million dollars by five o’clock tonight or else. She closed the computer and fed Bea, changing her water dish while she was at it. Strange, satisfied snarls and snorts emanated from the cat as she started eating almost before the kibbles hit the dish. “Were you starving, Bea? I’m sorry I didn’t feed you right away. I was busy dealing with the fuzz.”
A few minutes later Bea followed Clara onto the balcony. It was another stunning day in Seattle. The sky was solid blue and sunshine glittered on Elliott Bay like it was made of diamond dust. Clara leaned on the steel and glass railing and looked down at the steady streams of pedestrians moving around Second Avenue, the smell of baking bread catching her attention and making her stomach growl. With a heavy feeling in her heart, she pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. Time to check in with her parents.
Clara dialed their landline and hoped her dad would pick up. She knew that no matter how scared he was, he would tone it down for her sake. No such luck. Her mom was in full panic mode when she answered.
“Why hasn’t anyone found her?” she demanded after Clara had delivered a synopsis of the police investigation. “You have to talk to all of Maddy’s friends. Everyone. Because someone knows where my daughter is. I don’t understand what the police want in her apartment when it’s one place you know for certain that she is not!” And later, when they were getting off the phone because Clara couldn’t tell her anything else, “Keep on those detectives, Clara. I don’t care if you have to ride their asses to hell and back, Maddy has got to be their priority!”
You had to give it to her: Clara’s mom meant business. At least she had promised not to call the detectives and hound them herself. Not yet.
Ending the call, she checked her messages again. Nothing from Ben. Feeling discouraged, she dragged her feet to the sofa, sat down and closed her eyes.
And then her cell phone chirped.
Clara grabbed it and looked at the screen.
12 at Manny’s. See you then.
She smiled for the first time that day. Before she had let Kincaid look through her sister’s computer, she had deliberately logged out of Maddy’s Facebook and Twitter accounts so that he couldn’t poke around without a password. Now that he had agreed to meet her, there was still a chance she’d get to Ben Radcliffe before the police.
On their way to meet Michelle, Kincaid called the DMV from the passenger seat, requesting the driver’s license information for Michelle Perkins and Benjamin Radcliffe in Seattle.
Then he made another call and asked for a criminal history of Benjamin Radcliffe and Michelle Perkins. “Can you get some information on her family too? Husband, kids. And find out who owns a restaurant called Dovetail and any public info about the place.” He hadn’t forgotten that Clara had told him who owned the restaurant, but he wouldn’t be much of a detective if he took her word for it. “Email it all to me. Thanks.” He hung up and turned to his partner. “Someone somewhere in the mix has a record. That’s as good a place as any to start if nothing else pans out.”
“What do you think about the sister?”
Kincaid thought for a second. “She’s scared, but she’s got her own agenda. There’s no way to keep her away from this investigation. I just hope she doesn’t get in the way.” Then he added, “If you’re asking whether I think she could have anything to do with her sister’s disappearance, eventually we’ll have to look into it if we don’t get any leads, but I don’t see it.”
Two blocks from Dovetail, Carlisle found a place to park the unmarked. “Me neither, but she’s gonna end up pissing me off somewhere along the way.”
Kincaid didn’t disagree. For one thing, it was unusual for a person to actually log out of their Facebook and Twitter accounts on a person
al computer locked up in a private residence. He would have expected to get into those accounts when Clara gave him permission to look through Madeline’s computer, but he hadn’t been able to. Plus, when he’d checked Instagram, it opened immediately, making him certain that Clara had manually logged out of the other two social networks. A lot of people forgot about Instagram and apparently Clara was one of them. Unfortunately when he’d looked through Maddy’s photos there were a lot of pictures of delicious-looking plates of food, but not many with friends or colleagues. He explained all of this to his partner as they walked.
“We should pressure Clara to let us take the computer into the lab,” replied Carlisle. “Tell her we may be able to get into Madeline’s accounts.”
“To crack the passwords? She doesn’t need us for that, Judy. She has the passwords. She wouldn’t have chanced logging off if she didn’t.”
“Then why didn’t you ask her for them? She was forthcoming about the name of Madeline’s date on Monday.”
“I would have if she had let me take the laptop. Nah, she doesn’t want us in there. Not yet anyway. She looked that Ben guy up and then closed out of those accounts so that we wouldn’t have it so easy. She wants to talk to him first.”
“We’re cops. It’s not going to be very hard to find him.”
“Wait to press her until we need to. Right now she’s being friendly. Letting us look around the apartment, letting me dig around the computer. I still had access to Madeline’s email, calendar, files.”
Carlisle shrugged, “All right. Anything on the calendar?”
“We have plenty of time to find out. I emailed it to myself.” Kincaid gave his partner a self-satisfied smile.
With a guffaw, she replied, “I knew you were good for something, Kincaid.”