Romantic Road

by Blair McDowell

  The detective’s voice when he replied was soft spoken and kind. “I’m Detective Daniels, and this is Officer Jamison. Can you tell us what happened here?”

  “I don’t know. I just came home, and there was Jane, unconscious…I think someone hit her with that heavy brass lamp on the floor in the hallway.”

  “And your apartment?” He surveyed the wanton destruction. “Looks like someone did quite a job on it. Is anything missing?”

  “I haven’t yet looked. I stayed by Jane’s side until the paramedics arrived. I didn’t see the rest of my apartment until just moments before you came.”

  “I’d like you to take time right now to take a thorough look and see if anything obvious is missing. Officer Jamison will walk through the apartment with you.”

  Lacy did as instructed.

  Ten minutes later she was back in the living room.

  “My husband’s computer…”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s the only thing I can see that’s missing.”

  “No jewelry, no furs, no other electronics?”

  “I never wear fur, and I don’t have much jewelry. My jewelry box was emptied out on the floor, but everything seemed to be there. And as you can see, the television set and the Bose music system are still here.”

  “Do I understand correctly that the injured woman was a friend of yours?”

  “Yes. We’ve been friends for years. We shared an apartment before my marriage.”

  “What was she doing here?”

  “She was going to help me pack up my husband’s clothing this morning. We were to meet at ten. But then at eight o’clock I got called in to the U.N. to do an emergency translation job.” Lacy suppressed a sob. “I tried to call Jane, but she didn’t answer.”

  “I see. And what time did you arrive home?”

  “I’m not sure. It must have been about one o’clock.”

  Richard intervened. “Mrs. Telchev called me right after she called the ambulance and the police. It was about one-twenty. She’d just arrived and found Jane…”

  The detective nodded and spoke to Lacy. “Didn’t you go into your apartment at all after discovering your friend injured there in the hall?”

  “No. I’m afraid I just panicked. I took the elevator down to the lobby. John, the doorman, called the ambulance and the police. Then I came back upstairs and stayed beside Jane.”

  “You weren’t aware at the time your apartment had been ransacked?”

  “No. I never went farther than the hallway after finding Jane there. It was the doorman. He saw it when he went into the bedroom get a blanket for her. She felt so cold to the touch.” Lacy shivered. “Please, can we do this later? I need to get to the hospital to see how she is.”

  “Just a few more minutes, please.” The detective frowned. “It’s odd nothing other than your husband’s computer was stolen. Either it was a particularly nasty act of vandalism or someone was searching for something very specific. Do you have any idea what they might have been looking for?”

  She thought back to the confrontation on the road. “Tell us where it is,” they’d said. Were they the ones who’d searched her apartment? She was pretty sure it was Igor’s manuscript they’d been looking for. But Richard had advised her not to say anything about that to the police.

  “No,” she answered. “Not really.”

  Lacy struggled to make sense of the viciousness of the act. Igor’s manuscript was probably on the computer they’d stolen. There had been that file labelled “M.” But once they had the computer, why had they felt the need to destroy all her belongings, and why attack Jane?

  “Why would anyone do such a thing? I just don’t understand,” she said.

  “It seems likely your friend walked in on the intruders when they were in the act of tearing your place apart.”

  “No. Oh, no.” Lacy’s shoulders shook as she gave into the wracking sobbing threatening ever since she’d found Jane.

  Richard intervened. “I think Mrs. Telchev has been through enough. Perhaps anything more could wait until later.”

  “Just a couple more questions, if you don’t mind.” The detective was calm but determined in his manner.

  Lacy pulled herself together. “It’s all right, Richard. I want to help. I want to answer their questions.”

  “Can you account for your whereabouts during the morning?” the officer asked.

  Lacy frowned. “I was in an office at the U.N. Office number 1007. I was there all morning. The secretary can vouch for me.”

  The detective stood. “That will be all we need for the moment. Thank you. The forensic team will be here shortly.”

  “Forensic team?” Lacy asked.

  “Fingerprints, DNA evidence. You should plan to spend the night someplace else, Mrs. Telchev. For the moment this is a crime scene.”

  “Of course. I understand.”

  The crime unit arrived as the first two policemen were leaving. Sica had made herself comfortable on the sofa pillows on the floor. Lacy scooped her up and held her close.

  Richard said. “He’s right you know. Even if it weren’t a crime scene, you couldn’t stay here tonight. For one thing your bed’s been destroyed, and for another, your lock’s been compromised. You’ll stay with me. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  Lacy smiled wanly. “Does the offer extend to Sica? I really can’t leave her alone in this mess, with strange men and women all over the place.”

  “Of course. It’s no problem. I think I even have some canned sardines for her majesty.”

  “She’ll love you for life.” Lacy sighed. “I should call Jane’s parents in Iowa.”

  “Wait until after we know more about her condition.”

  They went out into the hall. “Let’s take my car,” Lacy suggested. “I may need it tomorrow.”

  “Sure. But I’ll drive. You’re in no condition to be behind the wheel of a car.”

  “We must stop by the hospital on the way. I need to know how she is.”

  “I intended to do so.”

  “Thank you, Richard. You’re very dear. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

  “I keep trying to tell you how indispensable I am.” As they stepped into the elevator, he put his arm gently around her shoulders and leaned over to kiss the top of her head.

  Lacy shivered. “Why should anyone have hurt Jane? Everybody loved her.”

  “Most likely it was as the detective suggested. She interrupted them when they were tearing up your apartment.” He added hesitantly, “Of course it’s possible it was a case of mistaken identity.”

  “Mistaken…?”

  “You and Jane are very alike superficially. Both blonde and blue-eyed, both tall, about the same age. She opened your door with your key. It would have been an easy error to make.” Richard looked at her questioningly. “What aren’t you telling me, Lacy? What was that emergency call to the U.N. about? You didn’t tell me you were working again.”

  Lacy started to cry again, silent tears coursing down her cheeks. “I don’t know, Richard. I don’t know. Someone named Smithers called me this morning and said they had an emergency; they needed someone fluent in Russian. Could I come immediately?”

  “I suppose that happens from time to time when someone on the regular staff isn’t available. So what was the problem?”

  “I just sat there in that office all morning. Nobody came for me. I don’t think they needed me at all. I suspect that call was a hoax. Somebody wanted to get me out of the apartment so they could search it. And then Jane interrupted them and…I’m scared, Richard. What kind of people are we dealing with if they go to these lengths to get what they want?”

  Richard shrugged. “All I can think is it must have something to do with what Igor was working on during these last two years of his life. But you weren’t able to get into his files to see what it was. And now his computer is gone, and we’ll never know.”

  ****

  At the hospital the news w
as encouraging. Jane was still unconscious, but they’d stabilized her and the prognosis was guardedly optimistic. They were assured everything that could be done was being done.

  Later, over a cold supper made from cheese and pâté she found in Richard’s refrigerator, Lacy said, “I wonder when I’ll be able to get back into my apartment.”

  “Once the forensic team is finished, it shouldn’t be too long. I’ll keep on top of it.”

  “Meanwhile”—Lacy gave him a wan smile—“it looks like you’ve got a couple of house guests.”

  ****

  When Lacy went to the hospital the next morning, she was told Jane had been moved to a private room. The doctor said she had stitches in her scalp and would be drowsy from the anesthesia, but she was out of danger.

  Lacy rushed to the room and found her friend asleep, pale and wan, hooked up to slowly dripping IV units. Her head was heavily bandaged.

  After that it was just a matter of time. Jane spent three days more in the hospital, with Lacy almost constantly by her side. Her recovery was rapid.

  Just before she was released from hospital the detective who had interviewed Lacy came to see Jane. Lacy was with her at the time.

  “What can you tell us about what happened?”

  “I really don’t remember much of anything. I opened the door with the key Lacy gave me and stepped into the hallway of the apartment,” she frowned. “I turned around to latch the door. I remember a sharp pain and then nothing.”

  “You didn’t get a look at your assailant?”

  “No. Nothing. The next I knew, I was in this hospital bed with my parents and Lacy hovering over me.”

  The detective looked disappointed. “If you should remember anything, no matter how trivial it may seem, please call us.” He gave her his card.

  “Of course.”

  ****

  The man’s agile fingers tried numerous combinations of words and letters that might get him access to the files. He was efficient and systematic in his approach. Four hours after beginning he was in.

  He opened the documents folder and inspected the dates and times of the last entries. In the final months of Igor’s life, he had created a folder labeled “M.” In it there were three new documents, one entitled IG, the second, RR, and the third ZSz.

  He opened the first file. It had been wiped clean. He swore under his breath. Taking a deep breath he stood and stretched. Then he walked over to the window, lit a cigarette, and gazed down at the traffic. It had started raining again.

  He sighed and went back to work on the computer.

  It was worse than he’d feared. Empty. There was nothing of any value left. Igor must have sensed he was being monitored.

  The man banged the desk with his fist in frustration. He’d been so sure it would all be there on Igor’s computer. He’d been too cautious about it. Why hadn’t he confiscated the computer sooner, while Igor was still alive? Igor alive could have been persuaded to tell them where the manuscript was. He’d made a serious miscalculation. He shouldn’t have killed Igor until he was quite certain of exactly what Igor had and how he intended to use it.

  The man systematically copied the rest of Igor’s files onto a thumb drive and then erased them from the hard drive. Nothing he could see of any value there, but you never knew. He’d leave the computer in a dumpster when he had a chance.

  Why had the idiots he’d sent thought it necessary to tear up the apartment? He’d been perfectly clear when he told them he just wanted the computer. It was supposed to have looked like a random break and enter. They should have taken the electronics, the TV, the sound system, the computer, and maybe the jewelry, and gotten out of there. To have injured that girl? Utter stupidity.

  Chapter Three

  The police allowed Lacy to return to her apartment the day Jane was released from hospital. They told her they’d found no fingerprints or DNA traces other than those that might be expected.

  She’d ordered a new bed to be delivered, so she’d be able to stay in the apartment while she tried to make order of the chaos left by the intruders. She sighed as she contemplated the job ahead of her. She might as well get started. She’d tackle the easiest task first, putting the Igor’s collection of books back into the bookcases.

  Two hours later when she had finished that time-consuming chore, she decided the living room looked somewhat better, if you didn’t look at the ripped sofa and chair cushions.

  She stopped long enough to have a quick lunch of avocado and tomato on a piece of dark rye bread with a cup of tea. Then she moved into the bedroom and started on her clothes, putting the ones that hadn’t been torn or otherwise damaged into piles to go to the dry cleaner or to be laundered. Those beyond salvaging, she placed in garbage bags to discard.

  In the late afternoon she sat on the floor in the living room and surveyed her accomplishments. Depressed, she realized she’d hardly made a dent in the mess. Sica climbed into her lap and started kneading and purring.

  “I know, Sica. There’s no place like home.” Sighing she moved the cat to a sofa cushion and stood up to continue the job. Her little antique Italian desk between the two tall windows had been pulled apart, its drawers turned upside down and her papers, mostly bank statements, checkbooks and trivia, were scattered all over the floor. She’d kept meaning to go paperless. After this she certainly would.

  Most of the papers could just be shredded, but they’d have to be sorted first. She set about the work systematically, dealing with the papers, putting each drawer back into the desk. When she came to the top left drawer, it resisted going in. She felt around inside the cavity to see what the obstruction was. Her hand hit a switch and something opened in the back.

  Good Lord. She’d forgotten it was there. A small compartment. She remembered when Igor first brought the desk home for her. He’d found it in an antique shop over on East Tenth Street. He’d delightedly shown her this “secret” drawer. How could she have forgotten it?

  She reached carefully inside. There was something there. She pulled out a small flat key with a tag on it. Chase Manhattan Bank.

  Their safe deposit key. She’d forgotten all about their box at the bank. She’d never accessed it. She’d gone with Igor to sign the card and then had just forgotten about it. Was the answer this simple? Could Igor’s manuscript be in the box at the bank? She glanced at her watch. It was too late now. The bank would be closed. She’d go first thing in the morning.

  She put the safe deposit box key in her pocket and looked around the living room to survey her day’s work. Things were a bit tidier, but there was still so much to do. Perhaps she should turn it over to professionals at this point. Get a decorator in to finish the job. Of course it would be expensive, and it would mean she and Sica would have to move out for a while. And she didn’t want to go back to Richard’s. He’d never taken advantage of the situation while she was there, he’d been a perfect gentleman, but she could feel his eyes following her.

  She sighed. She’d think about it tomorrow, after her visit to the bank. Now what she needed was a long hot soak, something to eat and a good night’s sleep. In that order.

  Richard called two hours later. “Everything all right there?”

  “Fine,” she answered. “I’m just about to crawl into bed. It’s been a long day.”

  “You should have gotten some help with the clean-up. I wish I could have been there, but I had to fly to Washington today for a meeting. I just got back.”

  “I know. Richard, I’m thinking about getting professional help with the apartment. I may as well redecorate since so much of the furniture was torn apart and needs either reupholstering or replacing. And the place could use painting, while I’m at it.”

  “Good idea. I can supply some names if you want them.”

  “Thanks. Any suggestions will be gratefully accepted.”

  ****

  The next morning Lacy was at the bank when it opened. She presented her safe deposit key at the desk.

&n
bsp; An efficient-looking bank officer went to an old-fashioned metal file and pulled out a card. “May I see two pieces of identification, Mrs. Telchev?” the woman asked.

  Lacy fished out her driver’s license and her bank card.

  “Thank you. Sign here please.”

  Lacy complied, noticing the box had been accessed only by Igor previously. His signature was on the card several times.

  “Come this way, please. Will you need a room in which to examine your box?”

  Lacy nodded. “Yes, please.”

  She followed the clerk into the vault. There the woman took Lacy’s key and selected a matching one from a large ring. It took the two keys to open the box.

  The clerk left her alone in a small, well lit room, the only furnishings one chair and a table on which the box now sat. Lacy had a sudden premonition that if she opened this box her life might never be the same again. She gave a short, humorless laugh. She was being ridiculous. Whatever was in this box, Igor wanted her to have it. He’d never have done anything to endanger her. Would he?

  She opened the lid. There was a large manila envelope on top. She set it aside and looked at what was under it. Cash, all large denominations, in US dollars and Euros. The box was stuffed full of money. She tried to estimate the amount and gave up. Where had Igor come by this much money in cash and why had he kept it here, hidden away?

  She picked up the manila envelope and upended it on the desk. Three passports fell out. Lacy opened one. To her shock, she was looking at her own face, but the name under it was not hers. She opened the other two. Three passports, each in a different name, each showing her in a different way. She examined the covers. One was E.U., one Canadian, and one U.S.

  She opened each in turn and studied the names and places of issue. The U.S. passport was issued in Baltimore and showed her as Alice Ames. She examined the photograph. In it she had soft wavy brown hair and wore glasses. She looked like a schoolmarm, a bit uptight and prissy.

  The E.U. passport gave her name as Janine Dubois and Paris as her home. In that photograph she had short straight black hair and her eyes were heavily made up.