“Then get her and the child in that car and get out of here. Make arrangements for them as you see necessary. I’ll follow you and then I’ll take you to my plane. I’ll drop you off in Canada.”
Clint nodded. “She’s the one who ruined it all.”
“Not yet, she hasn’t,” the Pied Piper assured him. “But get her out of here before it’s too late.”
91
The taxi driver who had driven Clint to LaGuardia Airport was in the Danbury police station.
“The guy I picked up at the service road of the country club had a real small bag,” he told the FBI agents and the police chief. “He paid with his credit card. Gave me a lousy tip. If he had money, I sure didn’t see it.”
“Angie must have taken off in the van with the ransom money,” Carlson said to Realto. “He’s got to be planning to meet her.”
Realto nodded.
“He gave no indication of where he was going?” Carlson persisted. It was a question he’d asked the driver before but still was hoping against hope that maybe he’d spark some response that would be useful.
“Just to leave him at the Continental drop-off. That’s all he said.”
“Did he use a cell phone at all?”
“No. And didn’t say one word to me except to tell me where to go.”
“All right. Thank you.” Frustrated, Walter Carlson looked at the clock. After Lila Jackson went to the house, Clint knew that it would be only a matter of time before we got to him, he thought. Was he meeting Angie at LaGuardia? Or did he take another cab, maybe to Kennedy, and get on an overseas flight? And what about Kathy?
Carlson knew that Ron Allen, the FBI agent in charge of the Bureau’s operations at LaGuardia and JFK, was directing the investigation at both airports. If Clint was listed as a passenger on any plane leaving from either one of them, he would be sure to find out soon.
Fifteen minutes later, the call came from Allen. “Downes took the six P.M. shuttle to Boston,” he said, crisply. “I’ve alerted our guys to look for him at Logan.”
92
“We’ve got to try to keep her awake,” Sylvia Harris said, not bothering to conceal the anxiety in her voice. “Put her down, Margaret. Hold her hand. You, too, Steve. Make her walk with you.”
Her lips white with fear, Margaret obeyed. “Come on, Kelly,” she urged. “You and Daddy and Kathy and I love to take a walk together. Come on, darling.”
“I . . . can’t. . . . No . . . I don’t want . . .” Kelly’s voice was fretful and sleepy.
“Kelly, you must tell Kathy that she has to wake up, too,” Dr. Harris urged.
Kelly’s head was drooping on her chest, but she began to shake it in protest. “No . . . no . . . no more. Go away, Mona.”
“Kelly, what is it?” Help me, God, Margaret thought. Let me break through to Kathy. That woman, Angie, must be the one Kelly called “Mona.” “Kelly, what is Mona doing to Kathy?” she asked desperately.
Stumbling between Margaret and Steve, half carried by them, Kelly whispered. “Mona’s singing.” Her voice trembling, off-key, she sang, “No . . . more . . . Old Cape Cod.”
93
“I’m afraid they’re going to think I’m just one of those people who want to get their names in the paper,” Elsie Stone confided to her daughter. She was holding the telephone in one hand and the Cape Cod Times in the other. On the television screen, pictures of the Frawley twins were being shown over and over again. “The woman told me the child was a boy, but I’m convinced she’s a girl. And Suzie, as God is my witness, I swear that child was Kathy Frawley. I mean, she had a hood on, and it just showed some dark brown hair, but looking back, I knew there was something phony about the hair. You know what I mean, like when you see a bad dye job like your uncle Ray has. And when I asked her name, she said it was Kathy, but then I could see the scowl that woman gave her, and the kid looked real scared and said it was Stevie.”
“Mom,” Suzie broke in. “Are you sure you’re not getting carried away?” She looked at her husband and shrugged. They had waited to have a late dinner after they put Debby to bed. Now, the loin lamb chops on her plate were cooling, and Vince, her husband, was making a slashing motion across his neck, meaning she should cut it short.
Vince was genuinely fond of his mother-in-law, but he did say that Elsie had a tendency to “reiterate again.”
“I mean, I don’t want to make a fool of myself, but just suppose . . .”
“Mom, I’m going to tell you what to do, then I’m going to hang up and sit down before Vin has a heart attack. Call the Barnstable police. Tell them exactly what you told me, then leave it in their hands. I love you, Mom. Debby had a wonderful time with you today, and the cookies she brought home are heaven. Goodbye, Mom.”
Elsie Stone kept the receiver in her hand as she debated what to do. Should I call that tipster number or the police? she wondered. They’re probably getting a lot of crank calls on the tipster phone.
“If you do not wish to make a call, please hang up.” The buzz of the computer voice was the catalyst that strengthened Elsie’s resolve. “I wish to make a call,” she said. She pushed the Off button, waited a moment, pushed the Talk button and dialed information.
When another computer voice asked for the city and state, she said hurriedly, “Barnstable, Massachusetts.”
“Barnstable, Massachusetts, is that right?” repeated the mechanical voice.
Suddenly aware that if what she had to say had bearing on the Frawley case, then it was very important to get it to the right people quickly, she snapped, “Yes, that’s right, and for heaven sake why do I have to waste my time with you?”
“Business or home?” the computerized voice asked.
“The Barnstable Police Department.”
“The Barnstable Police Department, is that right?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes.”
After a pause, a human operator’s voice asked, “Is this an emergency, ma’am?”
“Put me through to the police station.”
“Right away.”
“Barnstable Police, Sergeant Schwartz speaking.”
“Sergeant, this is Mrs. Elsie Stone.” Elsie’s diffidence was a thing of the past. “I am a waitress at McDonald’s near the mall. I am almost certain I saw Kathy Frawley there this morning and this is why.” She then began to recount the events of that morning.
At the police station, they had been talking about the breaking news in the Frawley situation. Now as Sergeant Schwartz listened, he was comparing Elsie Stone’s story with David Toomey’s annoyed account of the nonexistent theft at the Soundview Motel.
“The child said her name was Kathy and then corrected herself and said it was Stevie?” he verified.
“Yes. And all day it’s been bothering me, until I really studied the newspaper picture of those darling little girls and saw their picture again on television. It’s the same face. I swear on my immortal soul, it was the same face, and she said her name was Kathy. I just hope you don’t dismiss me as a crank.”
“No, Ms. Stone. I’m not dismissing you as a crank. I’m calling the FBI immediately. Please stay on the line. They may want to talk to you.”
94
“Walter, this is Steve Frawley. Kathy is on Cape Cod. You’ve got to start looking there.”
“Steve, I was about to phone you. We know Downes took the shuttle to Boston, but when he rented a car he asked for a map of Maine.”
“Forget Maine. Kelly has been trying to tell us since yesterday that Kathy is on Cape Cod. What we missed is that she wasn’t just saying ‘Cape Cod.’ She was even trying to sing that song, ‘Old Cape Cod.’ That woman the twins call Mona is singing it to Kathy now. Believe me. Please believe me.”
“Steve, take it easy. We’ll tell our guys to put out a special bulletin to the Cape, but I have to tell you, we know that an hour and a half ago, Clint Downes was standing at the window of the rental agency in Logan Airport and asking for a map of Maine. We’re learning more abo
ut the girlfriend, Angie. She was brought up in Maine. We think she may be hiding out there with friends.”
“No. The Cape! Kathy is on the Cape!”
“Hold on, Steve. There’s a call I’ve got to take.” Carlson put Steve on hold, answered the other call, then listened silently for a minute. After hanging up, he got back on with Frawley. “Steve, you may be right. We have an eyewitness who claims to have seen Kathy this morning in a McDonald’s in Hyannis. As of now, we’re concentrating the search in that area. An FBI plane is picking up Realto and me in fifteen minutes.”
“We’re coming, too.”
When Steve hung up the phone, he rushed back into the living room where Margaret and Dr. Sylvia were forcing Kelly to walk back and forth with them. “Kathy was seen on Cape Cod this morning,” he said. “We’re flying there now.”
95
“You’re here in Old Cape Cod,” Angie sang, throwing her arms around Clint’s neck. “Boy have I missed you, Big Man.”
“You have, huh?” Clint was about to push her away from him, but then remembered that he could not let her become suspicious. Instead, he hugged her back. “And guess who missed you, little songbird?”
“Clint, I know you have to be mad at me for taking off with the money, but I started to worry that if anyone connected you to Lucas, it would be better if I was out of the way.”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. But we’ve gotta get out of here. Have you been listening to the radio?”
“No. I’ve been watching Everybody Loves Raymond. I gave the kid more cough medicine, and she finally fell asleep again.”
Clint’s glance darted to Kathy, who was lying on the bed, one shoe on, her damp hair clinging to her face. He could not stop himself from saying, “If we did it the way we were supposed to do it, that kid would be home right now. And we’d be on our way to Florida with half a million and not have the whole country looking for us.”
He did not see the expression on Angie’s face. It would have told him that she’d just realized she had made a mistake by letting him know where she was staying. “What makes you think the whole country is looking for us?” she asked.
“Listen to the radio. Switch channels. Forget your reruns. You’re big news, baby. Like it or not, you’re big news.”
With a deliberate click of the remote, Angie turned off the television. “So what do you think we should do?”
“I’ve got a safe car. We get out of here and dump the kid where she won’t be found. Then you and I get off the Cape.”
“But we’d planned to get rid of the kid and the van.”
“We leave the van here.”
I’m registered here under my own name, Angie thought. If they really are looking for us, they’ll be here soon enough. But Clint doesn’t have to know that. I can tell he’s lying to me. He’s sore, and when dopey Clint gets sore, he gets nasty.
He wants to get rid of me.
“Clint, honey,” she said. “That cop in Hyannis has the license plate of the van. By now, every cop on the Cape knows I was in Hyannis this afternoon. If they think I’m still around, they’ll be looking for this van. If they find it in this parking lot, they’ll know we can’t have gone far. I used to work at a marina not five minutes from here, and I know it’s closed this time of year. I can drive the van onto the pier with the kid in it, then jump out of it while it’s still moving and let it keep going off the end. The water’s plenty deep enough to cover it. They won’t find it for months. Come on, honey, we’re wasting time.”
She watched as Clint looked uncertainly at the window. With a chill, she realized that someone else was out there, waiting to follow him, and that he had not come there to escape with her, but to kill her.
“Clint, you know I can read you like a book,” she said cajolingly. “You’re mad at me for getting rid of Lucas and taking off. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re not. Tell me something. Is the Pied Piper up here with you?”
She could tell from the expression on his face that she was right. He started to speak, but she stopped him. “Don’t answer, because I know. Have you seen him?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know who he is?”
“No, but he looks familiar, like someone I’ve seen before. I can’t place him, though. I’ve got to figure it out.”
“So you’d be able to identify him?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you really think now that you’ve seen him, he’s going to let you stay alive? I’ll tell you something—he won’t! I bet he told you to get rid of me and the kid, and that then you two would be pals. It don’t work that way. Believe me, it don’t. You’re better off trusting me. We get out of this place—and we will—and we’re half a million bucks ahead of what we would have been with Lucas around. Then when we figure who this guy is, we start reminding him that we deserve a bigger share. Or else.”
She could see the anger draining out of Clint’s face. I could always twist him around my little finger, she thought. He’s so dumb. But once he figures out who this guy is, we’re set for life. “Honey,” she said. “You take the suitcase. Put it in the car you’re driving. But hold on a minute—is it rented in your name?”
“No, but now that they’re looking for us, they’ll be able to trace the credit card to the rental agency. I was smart though. I asked for a map of Maine, and I switched cars at the movies.”
“Good for you. Okay. I’ll take the kid. You take the money. Let’s get out of here. Is the Pied Piper gonna follow us?”
“Yeah. He thinks that I’ll get in his car and drive with him to where he has a plane waiting.”
“And instead of that,” Angie said, “when we dump the van, you and I take off in your car. You don’t think he’s going to chase us and risk having the cops stop him, do you? Then we get off the Cape. We change cars again and drive to Canada, get a plane out of there, and disappear.”
Clint thought for a moment, then nodded his head. “All right. Get the kid.” When Angie picked up Kathy, he noticed that the one shoe she was wearing fell off. So what, he thought. She won’t need it anymore.
Three minutes later, at nine thirty-five, with Kathy wrapped in a blanket and lying on the floor, Angie drove the van out of the parking lot of the Shell and Dune Motel. Clint followed her in his stolen car. Directly behind, unaware that Angie and Clint had teamed up again, the Pied Piper followed. Why is she in that van? he asked himself. But he’s carrying a suitcase, and the money has to be in it. “It’s all or nothing now,” he said aloud as he took his place at the rear of the deadly procession.
96
Officer Sam Tyron arrived at the Soundview Motel twelve minutes after receiving a terse phone call from the Barnstable Police Department. On the way there he angrily berated himself for not following his instinct to investigate further the woman he had stopped because of the lack of a car seat in her van.
It even crossed my mind that she didn’t look that much like her photo ID, he thought. That bit of information, however, he did not intend to share with his superiors.
He arrived to find the motel swarming with police. The realization that the second Frawley twin was not only still alive, but had been spotted in Hyannis, had brought out all the brass. They were clustered in the motel room where the woman who registered as Linda Hagen had stayed. The twenty-dollar bills found scattered under the bed were a strong indication that this was indeed where the kidnapper had stayed. Kathy Frawley had been lying on that bed only hours before.
An excited David Toomey had responded to a call from the night manager and returned to the motel. “That child is very, very sick,” he warned. “You can bet she hasn’t seen a doctor. She was coughing and wheezing and should have been taken to the emergency room. You’d better find her soon or it’ll be too late. I mean . . .”
“When was the last time you saw her?” the Barnstable police chief asked, urgency in his voice.
“It would have been about twelve thirty. I don’t know what time she took off.”
That’s seven and a half hours ago, Sam Tyron thought. She could be in Canada by now.
The chief voiced that possibility, then added, “Just in case she’s still here, though, we’ll send a message to all the motels on the Cape to be on the lookout for her. The state police will put up roadblocks at the bridges.”
97
Other than their efforts to keep Kelly awake, everyone on the plane remained silent. Kelly, her eyes closed, was in Margaret’s arms. Totally lethargic, her head resting against Margaret’s heart, she was becoming less and less responsive.
Agents Carlson and Realto were in the plane with them. They had been in touch with FBI headquarters in Boston. Their counterparts there would be at the Cape to take over the investigation. An FBI car would meet them at the airport and take them to police headquarters in Hyannis, which would be the command center for the search. Before they boarded the plane the two men had quietly agreed that they had actually witnessed Kelly in communication with Kathy. They also believed that, judging by the way Kelly was behaving now, it might be too late to save her twin.
The plane held eight passengers. Carlson and Realto sat side by side, each caught up in his own thoughts, each filled with chagrin because they had missed Clint Downes by only hours. Even if Angie was on the Cape this morning, she was probably meeting him in Maine, Carlson thought. It made sense. He got a map for Maine from the car rental. She was raised there.
Realto was mentally analyzing what he would do if he were in Clint and Angie’s position. I’d get rid of the van and the rental car, and I’d also get rid of the child, he decided. With every cop in the country on the lookout for her, Kathy’s too much of a liability. If only they have the decency to leave her where she can be found quickly.
Two Little Girls in Blue Page 24