Suddenly the anger and coldness were back. Annette lifted her chin and glared at him. “She had no right prying into my family’s private matters, and neither do you, Detective. If my husband finds out you’ve been here, there’ll be hell to pay. You know that, don’t you?”
John shrugged. “I’m just trying to do my job. I have reason to believe that Eddie may have seen Gail Waters on the night she died. I’m not accusing him of anything, but I need to talk to him about it. It’s standard procedure. I also have a feeling Gail Waters may have talked to you, Mrs. Dawson.”
She almost smiled, a bitter twisting of her lips. “Our paths may have crossed once or twice. I really can’t recall.”
She was lying, John thought. Annette Dawson had undoubtedly talked to Gail Waters, but after his conversation with Fischer last night, John was no longer convinced Ashley’s murder had been the topic. Was it possible Gail Waters had been the reason for the Dawsons’ breakup? She’d been young, beautiful and, from everything John had learned about her, very ambitious. Superintendent Dawson could have given her entry into a lot of important circles, but…suppose he’d refused? Suppose Gail had turned to blackmail?
What the hell had he landed in the middle of here? John wondered as he left Annette Dawson’s apartment. Did he really believe that Ed Dawson or his wife could have been involved in Gail Waters’s death?
And why, all of a sudden, was either scenario easier to swallow than the thought of Thea’s involvement?
THEA KEPT A SPARE KEY to her apartment in the pocket of her coat, in case her purse was ever snatched on the train or on the street—which had happened to her once. She let herself into the building, then glanced over her shoulder to make sure she hadn’t been followed. The last thing she needed was for John to find her here. He’d demand to know why she’d come back to the apartment, demand an explanation for how a button from her uniform had gotten into Gail Waters’s office.
It was possible, of course, that he hadn’t found the button at the newspaper office. It was possible he was grasping at straws. But the last thing she wanted to do was fuel his suspicions, at least until she could get the money she’d hidden in her apartment, along with another set of fake IDs and Nikki’s real birth certificate.
It had probably been a mistake, keeping anything from their past, but somehow Thea hadn’t been able to leave behind proof of Nikki’s parentage. What if the Mancusos had someone kidnap Nikki and whisk her off to a foreign country? How could she prove the child was hers?
Still, it had been a gamble, but her whole life had become one big risk. What she had to do and do well was play the odds.
She started up the stairs, but voices somewhere on the second floor stopped her. Someone slammed a door and then footsteps strode down the corridor toward the stairs. Thea backed down the steps and tried to plaster herself against the wall, hoping to remain unseen, because one of the voices had sounded a little like John’s.
The man was coming down the stairs now. He would see her when he rounded the landing and headed down the second set of steps. Thea turned her back to the stairs and leaned against an apartment door, pretending to insert a key into the lock.
The steps slowed near the bottom, and Thea knew he had spotted her. She almost expected to hear him call her name or feel his hand on her arm. Wiggling the knob as if dealing with a stubborn lock, she almost gasped when the door opened. She had no choice but to go inside.
Keeping her face averted from the man on the stairs, she closed the door, but then opened it a crack to see when the coast was clear. The man had paused on the bottom of the steps, and Thea heard another voice at the top. The man at the bottom turned and walked up a few steps. They stood talking, although Thea couldn’t see the man at the top of the stairs. She couldn’t see the other man’s face, either, but she thought it must be John. Or was it the man she and Nikki had seen the other night who looked like John?
Trapped for the moment, she glanced around the unfamiliar room, realizing almost at once that she was inside Morris Dalrimple’s apartment. The furnishings were fussy for a bachelor, even one as peculiar as Dalrimple.
White lace curtains hung at the windows, matching the starched doilies that decorated tabletops and the backs of green velvet chairs. Pictures in heavy ornate frames and lamps with fringed shades gave the room a strangely oppressive air that made Thea shiver.
A wheelchair sat near the hallway, and she realized that even if Morris Dalrimple wasn’t home, his mother surely was. How would she explain her presence here?
She glanced through the crack in the door. The two men were still out there talking, arguing it sounded like. Thea was almost convinced now that the one near the bottom of the stairs wasn’t John, but she wasn’t sure enough to risk being seen by him.
Silently she closed the door and turned to walk slowly into the apartment. “Mrs. Dalrimple?” she called softly, crossing the room to the window. Maybe if she alerted the old lady to her presence, she could make up some excuse for being there and wait until the coast was clear to leave. Then she could go upstairs, get her money and papers, the suitcase she’d left packed for just such an emergency—
Somewhere in the apartment, a floorboard squeaked, and Thea whirled. Gathering her courage, she walked to the tiny hallway and called out again. Still no answer. One of the bedroom doors was open, but she couldn’t see anyone inside. The other door was closed, and if the old woman was sleeping, Thea didn’t want to awaken her.
Maybe she’d remain asleep until Thea could leave. But what if Morris Dalrimple came home in the meantime? Thea shuddered. She’d say she had come to have tea or something. Or to ask his advice about dealing with the police. The little man would love it, she was sure.
Suppressing another shudder, Thea glanced around the room. It suddenly occurred to her that if Dalrimple had somehow found proof of her and Nikki’s real identities, the evidence might be right here in his apartment. And this might be an ideal time to look for it.
Crossing the floor as quietly as she could, Thea began to search through table drawers and baroque boxes filled with papers and mementos. She became so engrossed in her quest that she forgot to listen for footsteps. For the squeak of a door. For the soft swoosh of the wheelchair.
The old woman was almost upon her before Thea heard the sound of her raspy breathing.
Chapter Eleven
Morris Dalrimple sat in the wheelchair, a shawl draped over his shoulders. Images of Psycho raced through Thea’s head. Then Dalrimple laughed, got up from the wheelchair and tossed the shawl aside.
“Had you fooled for a moment, admit it.”
He didn’t seem at all concerned to have found Thea in his apartment going through his things. She glanced behind him, toward the bedrooms. “Where is your mother?”
“Resting, poor thing. She doesn’t have the strength she once did.”
If Thea called out, would the old woman hear her? Would she be able to help her?
Did she even exist?
Thea drew a long shaky breath. She had to get out of here. “You must be wondering what I’m doing in your apartment.”
“Not at all,” Dalrimple said happily. “You’ve come for tea.” He beamed at her almost giddily before turning toward the kitchen.
Something was different about him, Thea noted. He wasn’t stumbling over his words. He seemed supremely confident all of a sudden.
“I came in here because I didn’t want to be seen by the police,” she explained truthfully. “You said yourself I have to be careful.”
“So I did.” He busied himself with the kettle. Thea edged toward the front door, but stopped when he glanced at her sharply. “He’s still out there. If you leave now you’ll run smack into Detective Gallagher. You don’t want that.”
No, she didn’t want that, but she didn’t want to remain in this apartment with a strange and, for all she knew, very sick little man. “He’s probably gone by now. Maybe I should just have a look.”
“Thea.” Dalr
imple’s tone held a warning that made her mouth go instantly dry. “You don’t want to leave without this, do you?” He came out of the kitchen holding a folded piece of paper in the palm of his hand.
Thea said doubtfully, “What is it?”
He unfolded the paper and held it up for her inspection. Thea’s heart crashed against her chest. Somehow he’d found Nikki’s birth certificate. He knew who they were. What Thea had done.
She began shaking all over, but managed to say coolly, “You went into my apartment and searched through my things.” The image made her almost physically ill. “That’s illegal.”
Mr. Dalrimple smiled. “Now if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black. What were you doing just now, Thea?”
“That was different. I was looking for whatever you’d taken from me.”
“But you didn’t know I’d taken anything. This is just a copy. The original is still safe and sound where you left it.”
And she thought she’d been so clever. Who would have thought of taking the plate off an electrical outlet and looking inside? Obviously Dalrimple had. And if he’d found the birth certificate, what else might he have found?
Now her heart plummeted. Had he found her money, the IDs? Had he taken those, too?
“You’re the one who called Gail Waters, aren’t you?” she said coldly. “She came to see you the night she died. You let her in.”
“She wasn’t supposed to die,” he said sadly.
Fear balled in Thea’s stomach. “Then you—”
His expression turned horrified. “I didn’t push her. I would never do that! I only wanted to see her that night to try and talk her out of doing a story on you. Mama and I were big fans of hers, you see. We never missed her program. She was so wonderful and so clever! When I found Nicolette’s, er, Nikki’s birth certificate, I thought it would be something that would, er, interest Gail.” Dalrimple gave her an apologetic smile. “But after I’d gotten to, er, know you, I was sorry I’d, er, tipped her off.”
Thea wondered if it was a good or bad sign that his halted speech had returned. “What did she say to you that night?”
Dalrimple shrugged. “She said for me not to worry because she was, er, working on a bigger story, anyway, and that she might not be able to use the information she’d found out about you.”
Was that the reason Thea hadn’t been able to locate a file on her and Nikki in Gail’s office? Because they weren’t a big enough story?
“What kind of story was she working on?”
Dalrimple shrugged again. “She didn’t say, but I have a feeling it involved, er, someone else in the building. I’d seen her come and go a few times from here. That’s how I managed to, er, meet her.”
“You don’t know who she was coming to see?”
Dalrimple hesitated. His eyes gleamed strangely. “She was coming to see your baby-sitter.”
Thea stared at him in shock. “Mrs. Lewellyn?”
“No, no. Bliss Kyler. I saw Gail coming out of her apartment one day.”
“Bliss? But why?” Thea said it almost to herself, not expecting an answer. If Bliss was somehow connected to Gail Waters, and Bliss was the one who had taken Nikki up to the roof that day…
Thea’s head spun in confusion.
From somewhere back in the apartment, a bell tinkled faintly.
Dalrimple looked instantly alarmed. “That’s Mama,” he said. “She’ll be wanting her, er, tea, and I haven’t even heated the, er, water.”
So there really was a Mrs. Dalrimple. Somehow that fact slightly alleviated Thea’s uneasiness, although she couldn’t say why exactly. She had no reason in the world to believe a word Morris Dalrimple had told her, but in some strange way, it all made sense. He’d found Nikki’s birth certificate, realized she and Thea were using aliases and had approached Gail Waters with the information, probably to impress her.
The bell tinkled again, and Dalrimple bustled about the kitchen, readying the tea. “Coming, Mama!” To Thea he said, “You’d better go now. Mama can be a little, er, cranky when she first wakes up.”
He loaded the tray and headed for the bedroom. Thea grabbed the copy of the birth certificate and headed for the door.
Dalrimple paused in the hallway, turning to Thea. A large yellow tabby rubbed against his leg, and a bell on the cat’s collar tinkled when it moved.
A chill snaked up Thea’s backbone as her gaze fell on the cat.
Dalrimple gave her an enigmatic smile “You’ll have to come back and meet Mama sometime, Thea. I’m told I look exactly like her.”
THE COAST WAS CLEAR when Thea let herself out of Morris Dalrimple’s apartment. She felt as if she’d just escaped from a carnival fun house, but she wouldn’t let herself dwell on the condition of Morris Dalrimple’s psyche. Instead, she had to get upstairs, get the money and the papers and the suitcase…
Her thoughts trailed away as she started down the hallway toward the stairs. She could see beyond the steps to the glass front door, and beyond that to the street outside. A familiar gray sedan was parked at the curb. It was John’s car.
If it had been him she’d seen earlier on the stairs, then he’d either come back or had never left. Now he was somewhere inside the building. She suspected he was in her apartment, looking for more evidence against her.
And if Dalrimple had found the birth certificate, what might a trained police detective be able to find?
JOHN RANG THE BELL and then knocked on Bliss Kyler’s door. He’d spoken with her on the phone a day or so ago, but he’d yet to meet her in person. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Thea’s baby-sitter was avoiding him; he wanted to know why, particularly in light of recent events. Bliss lived only two doors down from Thea. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility she might have seen or heard something early this morning when someone had tried to break into Thea’s apartment.
John turned and surveyed the hallway as he waited for Bliss to answer the bell. When the door was finally opened, a man said angrily, “What are you doing back here? I told you I wouldn’t say anything—”
The man stopped abruptly when John turned to face him. His face beneath the goatee and long hair turned pale, but his eyes glittered dangerously.
John said incredulously, “Eddie?”
Eddie Dawson gave him a contemptuous look. “How did you find me?”
“Dumb luck actually,” John admitted. He stepped into the apartment before Eddie could close the door on him. “I take it you were expecting someone else.”
“What do you want?”
“I’m getting the feeling you’re not too happy to see me, Eddie.” John strode into the apartment and gazed around. “Nice place you’ve got here.”
Without comment Eddie walked over and picked up a beer bottle from the coffee table and downed the remainder of the contents.
“So who were you expecting?” John asked casually.
“None of your damned business.” Eddie sank down in a chair and folded his arms over his bare chest. He glared up at John through bleary bloodshot eyes.
“I’m guessing it was my cousin, Miles.”
Something that might have been alarm flickered in Eddie’s eyes before he quickly shuttered his expression. “So what if it was? He happens to be a friend of mine.”
“A friend with a faulty memory, right?” John sat down facing him on the shabby sofa.
Eddie spread his hands in supplication. “Look, Miles and I have a business relationship, okay? I’ve got a few connections on the street. I give him a few names once in a while and he gives me a few bucks. No big deal.”
John wondered what Superintendent Dawson would do if he found out one of his narcs was using his own son as an informant. There was nothing more dangerous, nothing drug dealers hated more than a fink. Eddie Dawson didn’t look particularly brave, but he did look strung out. And a desperate addict would do desperate things.
“Funny,” John said. “Both Miles and my brother Tony swore seven years ago that they
saw you at that party the night Ashley was murdered, but now it seems Miles isn’t so sure. I can’t help wondering what made him have a change of heart.”
Eddie said bitterly, “I know what you’re implying, but I didn’t have anything to do with Ashley’s death. She was my sister, for God’s sake.”
“Stepsister.”
“So what? That didn’t matter to her,” he said with a haunted look in his eyes. “She treated me more like family than…” He glanced away.
“Than who? Your father?”
Eddie dragged his fingers through his long tangled hair. “Look, that’s all water under the bridge. Ancient history. My old man and I have come to an understanding. He lives his life and I live mine.”
“So how did Gail Waters come into the picture?”
“Who says she did?” Eddie’s gaze narrowed. “I know you don’t have anything. You’d have been here a lot sooner if you did.”
“I wasn’t here sooner because you’re a hard man to track down,” John told him. He sat forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “And I just might know a little more than you think I do. For instance, I’ve been told you were the one Gail Waters came here to see the night she died. You let her into the building. You may have been the last one to see her alive.”
“So prove it.” Eddie glared at him, his eyes cold and dangerous.
John smiled. “I also know she didn’t come here to talk to you about Ashley’s murder or my father’s disappearance, although that’s what both your father and your stepmother would have me believe. Gail had something a little more personal on her mind, didn’t she?”
Eddie snorted with disgust. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, man.”
“You asked her to meet you here, didn’t you?”
“Why would I do that?”
John sat back and watched him. “Maybe to try and persuade her to break it off with your father. You and Annette were always pretty tight, weren’t you? Maybe you didn’t like seeing her hurt. Or maybe—” John paused “—maybe you were trying your hand at blackmail. A little cash always comes in handy, doesn’t it, Eddie? Especially when you’re needy. Were you helping Gail blackmail your own father?”
The Littlest Witness Page 16