Absence of Alice

by Sherry Harris

  “No. There haven’t been any threats lately.”

  I hated that there were ever threats, but I guess it came with the territory.

  “Of course, we’re looking through old cases. Checking who’s out of prison who might have a connection to me.”

  That was good because they might find the kidnapper before I ever could. It sounded like the kidnapper had made a mistake, and now the DA’s office and probably the police were on his trail. I cuddled into Seth, and he threw his arm around me, drawing me closer.

  “Stay,” he said, kissing the top of my head.

  I thought of Stella. If her captor called me in the middle of the night to do some task, it would be hard to explain to Seth why I was leaving. “I can’t.” I looked at the TV instead of Seth. “It would be too awkward with the guards here.” That wasn’t a lie—at least not much of one. I stood. “Be safe.”

  Seth walked me to the door past the sheepish guards. He kissed me like they weren’t there, and then one walked me to my Suburban. He only stepped back when I started the car and locked the doors.

  I had started my drive home when my phone rang.

  “Ah, Sarah,” the kidnapper said. “You’ve had a busy day. Where’d you take off to in such a hurry?”

  That question gave me more information. Every little bit would help me find Stella. He might have some surveillance in place at my house, but he didn’t have any kind of tracking device on Stella’s phone, my phone, or my car. Because if he did he’d know exactly where I’d been. Unless this was some kind of test. Might as well find out.

  “I needed ice cream. I’m going to Bedford Farms.” Actually, I did need something in my stomach. I drove toward Bedford Farms Ice Cream. They had the best ice cream on the planet. I hadn’t eaten in hours, and nothing else sounded good. I’m not sure even ice cream sounded good. But I couldn’t help Stella if I fell apart.

  “Oh, they have the best ice cream. I like the Green Monster.”

  “What do you want? Because I’m sure you didn’t call to talk about Bedford Farms.”

  “Nothing. Just wanted to wish you sweet dreams.”

  I hung up before he got a chance to. Somehow it felt like a small victory. I’d suspected since the first call someone local was doing this, and the intimate knowledge of Bedford Farms ice cream flavors proved it to me. I turned into the parking lot of Bedford Farms. It wasn’t crowded tonight, but I caught them just before they closed. I walked up to the window to order a small cup of Almond Joy. Minutes later I was back in my Suburban, motor running with the heated seats and heater on high. My cup held two softball-sized scoops of ice cream. Their idea of small and mine were vastly different.

  As I spooned in the ice cream I thought about seeing Seth. How the guy calling me didn’t know that. After I finished I drove home and studied the outside of the house for cameras. I spotted one trained on the front door attached to the roof of the porch. I dragged one of the wicker chairs I’d bought for Stella under it. Climbed on and ripped the camera down. For good measure I stomped on it when I got off the chair. The crunch was the most satisfying thing that had happened to me all day.

  * * *

  After going through my routine of unlocking and relocking the front door, listening in the foyer, and checking to make sure the chair was still wedged under the basement door, I headed up to my apartment. I’d left every light on when I’d dashed over to Seth’s house.

  I was filled with a righteous anger. Whoever was doing this had picked a fight with the wrong person, and if he expected me to be cowed, to do nothing, he had something to learn.

  But then my anger faded back to fear. Had Alice in Wonderland been killed because of me? Some poor woman just going through her life and had it snatched away because someone wanted to hurt me? Because, as he said, I “made life hard.”

  My phone buzzed with a text.

  Broken camera, deduct four hours.

  That meant sixteen less hours to find Stella. “Screw you,” I said. I didn’t bother answering. Instead I looked up June and Yousef Ghannam. They stared out at me with perfect smiles, which wasn’t too surprising because Yousef was a dentist and June was a dental hygienist. He wasn’t my dentist and as far as I knew I’d never met them, although I guess they could have come to a garage sale I’d run. I found pictures of Yousef’s retirement party and of the Ghannams standing in front of a large stucco home with cacti in the yard. They seemed unlikely candidates for people who were behind Stella’s kidnapping.

  Stella’s phone buzzed. Awesome. How is your room?

  * * *

  Nothing fancy but close to the theater. I replied for her. I remembered her telling me that before she left. She was happy that she’d found a place close enough to walk back and forth to the theater. Stella didn’t want to have to deal with the traffic in Los Angeles.

  Texting with Awesome made my stomach churn. If I got Stella back, no when I got Stella back, this would be the part that was hardest to explain.

  Meeting the rest of the cast in a few minutes.

  Love you.

  Please forgive me, Awesome.

  Love you too.

  I could have left it at that, but maybe he’d found something out about Alice in Wonderland. Something he would share with Stella. I fought back the guilt I felt for lying again. This was for Stella I reminded myself. I typed in: How was your day?

  I waited, watching the little dots as he typed. He must be typing a lot because it was taking a while. Then the text popped up.

  The usual.

  The usual? Really, Awesome. A murder wasn’t the usual in Ellington.

  I tossed the phone aside. Turned on the local news. Nothing yet about Alice in Wonderland or a Jane Doe. My phone buzzed again. Another text.

  Well done with Awesome. You gain four

  hours back.

  Six days and twelve hours to find Stella. If he knew what I’d texted to Awesome, he must have downloaded some kind of app on Stella’s phone. I did a quick check of Stella’s apps. I didn’t see anything unusual, but I’d read that apps like this could be running in the background. That was also good to know. I decided to play along. It was better to let him think I was freaked out, malleable.

  Thank you.

  You’re fun to play with, Sarah.

  I just want Stella back.

  I’m sure you do. Good night. The game begins again in the morning. And I have a surprise for you!

  What did he mean by that?

  Chapter Six

  Sounds of people moving around in the apartment next door had me leaping out of bed Saturday morning. A quick glance at the clock showed that it was just after six. I had six more days to find Stella. I was grateful I’d managed to get a few hours of sleep.

  I shoved my arms in my fluffy, purple robe, flew out of my apartment, down the short hall, and burst through the door of the other apartment. Three men twirled around as they pulled out guns and pointed them at me. More men. More guns.

  “Sarah, you scared the bejesus out of me.”

  It was Mike “the Big Cheese” Titone and his two brothers, Francesco and Diego. They all shoved their guns into the back of their pants. I did a round of hugs after the guns were put away. I’d gotten to know all of them over the past two years. Despite their tough exteriors they had always been kind to me. But their being here could make things more difficult for me. When Mike was in residence, someone was always sitting outside his apartment door, which meant someone would know if I left in the middle of the night. That might raise suspicions. Make them ask questions I didn’t want to answer. This must be the “morning surprise” the kidnapper had promised me.

  Another problem was that I’m not good at hiding things from people. Most of my emotions played across my face, and to survive in the mob one had to have a keen sense of human nature. Mike might realize something was up. On the other hand, Mike’s presence also offered me a bit of protection. They wouldn’t let anyone by without checking him or her out. I realized now how scar
ed I was that the kidnapper was just going to get tired of the game, show up, and kill me. I’d buried that thought behind my worries for Stella.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. Usually Mike only stayed here when there was someone after him in Boston.

  The brothers glanced at one another. They all had the same ice-blue eyes, but Mike’s were always the most difficult to read. He was a runner, thin, dark-haired, and possibly dangerous. Francesco was the tallest and broadest. He had a thick, Tom Selleck-like mustache. Diego was a couple of inches taller than Mike and had a little more bulk to him. Mike had told me once that they were all named after different uncles. Mike’s full name was Michelangelo, but I was pretty sure he’d kill anyone who called him that. I knew that Mike was the oldest because he always seemed to be in charge. But I didn’t know about the place of the other two in the family.

  “There was a threat against me, so getting out of town for a few days seemed wise. We’ve taken the usual precautions. No one in Boston should know I’m here.”

  The usual precautions meant someone drove their phones someplace. That way people would think they were in Miami or Atlantic City or Trenton, anyplace but Ellington. Ellington wasn’t the kind of town where mobsters hung out.

  “Sorry I startled you.” I turned to go, but remembered I was supposed to be acting normal, even though I felt anything but normal. “Other than being forced out here, what’s up? How’s the cheese business?” Mike had a beloved cheese shop, Il Formagio, in the North End, the Italian section of Boston. He also had a huge warehouse full of all kinds of massive cheese wheels. As far as I knew the business was legitimate and not some cover for money laundering or other mob-type activities.

  “It’s gouda,” Francesco said. The rest of us groaned.

  “Now you can see why my brothers never have girlfriends. They’re just so cheesy,” Mike said. That brought another round of groans. Mike put a hand on Diego’s shoulder. “Seriously, Diego just broke up with someone. He has terrible taste in women. You have any single friends?”

  This morning just kept getting stranger. Diego blushed. Blushed! Quite a sight on a supposed tough guy.

  “See if I ever confide in you again,” Diego said.

  “What about me?” Francesco piped up. “I could use someone to cook, clean, and darn my socks.”

  My eyes narrowed—thus my problem with not showing my emotions.

  “I’m kidding, Sarah. I only want someone to clean. I’m a good cook.” He put his hands out palms forward. “I’m kidding, really.”

  “Most of my friends are married, but I’ll think about it.” Like I’d fix a friend up with a guy who might be on the right side of good, but also lived on the outskirts of the mob world. “I have to get going.”

  “What about you? What are you up to, Sarah?” Diego asked.

  “I’m doing a garage sale for a client this morning. If you get bored, come on over. She’s got a lot of knickknacks. And actually some nice paintings.” I rattled off the address for them. I smiled at the thought of the three of them purchasing Hummel or Lladró figurines. I waved my hand and walked back toward my apartment, wondering how having them here would affect my effort to find Stella. To save Stella.

  “Sarah,” Mike called.

  I stopped at the door to my apartment. Waited until Mike walked over to me.

  “Are you okay? You seem off. And the front door was locked this morning. That was a first.”

  Ugh. This is why Mike’s being here was problematic. “I lock the door when I’m the only one here.” That sounded good. “I’m fine. Just tired. Busy at work, which is a good thing.” I pasted on a smile. “Any news on Jimmy?” Jimmy was a computer genius who had helped Mike in the past and was the reason Mike had lived here in January. I’d had a run-in with Jimmy during that time. Then Jimmy had been pulled out of Boston Harbor—dead. I’d thought Mike had something to do with it, even though he denied it. When I’d confronted Mike about it last January, he had said he’d tell me if he found out who’d killed Jimmy.

  “Nothing. I’ve got guys working on it, but everything’s come up a dead end.”

  “Yeah, especially a dead end for Jimmy. Are you being honest with me?”

  Mike nodded and walked back to his apartment, but at his door he turned and gave me a long, worried look.

  * * *

  I made coffee, showered, and checked the news for information on Alice in Wonderland. The only coverage was that an unidentified woman had been found dead in an empty house in Ellington. No means, motive, or opportunity. I guess I knew the motive—someone was trying to get to me for some purpose. And I was probably obstructing justice by not telling the police what I did know. I guessed I should be grateful there was no mention that the woman had been found by Sarah Winston, professional dead-body magnet. It’s not a title I enjoyed holding.

  I had to focus on finding Stella because the weight of the thought of someone else getting killed because of me was almost too much to bear—not even counting my need to save my friend. If I could find Stella, it would make the madman stop. That’s what I had to do. I’d decided while I was in the shower that I would give myself three days to find her. By the end of three days, on Monday, maybe I’d know who I could confide in without Stella getting hurt or killed. I was going to have to go to someone—probably Seth or Pellner. I knew I couldn’t go to Awesome because he might kill me on the spot for not telling him sooner.

  My phone buzzed with another text. How did you like your morning surprise?

  If you’re talking about Mike’s arrival, it was mean.

  I texted back. Let him think I was freaked out.

  If a game is easy to win, it really isn’t fun.

  This isn’t a game. I shot back. It’s a crime.

  I have a lot in store for you today.

  What did that mean? I didn’t respond. Despair, like a bony hand, clutched my throat. I’d been in a lot of tough situations. But nothing like this where I was so alone. I didn’t know how to move forward. There’d been days after my divorce when I’d experienced emotions similar to this. Then I’d put one foot in front of the other—kept moving forward. That’s what I had to do today.

  * * *

  I drove around putting up signs to help people find Alice Krandle’s house. I hammered them in with more vigor than usual. Some I taped to street signs or telephone poles. The signs were simple because if there was too much information on them people couldn’t read them as they drove down the street. Some had the words garage sale and the address. Some were only an arrow pointing. They were all a fluorescent lime green so they stood out. After the sale was over I would drive back around and take them all down.

  As I drove I looked for places that a kidnapper might stash a hostage. I had noticed a couple of empty storefronts on side streets. One used to be a coffee shop and one a beauty parlor. The kidnapper had said he had “a lot in store for me today.” Was that a hint? I’d have to check them out later. But the fact was, Stella could be anywhere, including private houses with basements and attics to hide someone in.

  I’d have to figure out some other way to find Stella. Even after a long night of thinking of possibilities, I had no idea who would kidnap Stella or who would do this to me. The hard part was putting all that aside for now to focus on the sale. I worried about what I’d do if the kidnapper called demanding I do some task in the middle of the sale. Acting normal didn’t include abandoning a client. Deep breaths. Worrying about things I had no control over was becoming a hobby for me.

  Harriet’s bright red Porsche was parked in front of Alice’s house by the time I pulled up. Alice lived in a newer development on the west side of Ellington called Patriots Ridge. The houses were big, and most cost over a million dollars. Alice’s house was a beige brick with a covered porch. A wide flagstone path wound from the driveway to the front door. Bushes were neatly trimmed. The sky was a pale blue with some thin, high clouds. Winds were gusting.

  I’d met Harriet last winter when
I’d hired her to help me with a sale. Harriet had been staying with a niece who lived next door to Carol and had been recovering from some medical issues. Harriet had been driving her niece crazy by reorganizing things around her house, so Harriet came to help me. When her niece had taken a turn for the worse, Harriet had stayed on and continued to help me with garage sales as needed.

  A handful of people had already lined up outside of Alice’s door, and the sale didn’t open for another thirty minutes. Early birds. The good thing was that, unlike with an outside garage sale, they couldn’t start poking around. However, it also let me know people had seen the ads I’d put online and in the surrounding local papers. I’d mentioned antiques, and that was what usually drew the early birds.

  There were only three of us working this sale—Harriet, Alice, and me. Alice was going to be at the back door to make sure no one left that way. I would be by the front, checking people out, and Harriet was going to float. I knew she would also help answer questions and negotiate prices with the attendees.

  This was only the second time I’d done a sale inside, and I was a little worried about the small staff, but that was something Alice had insisted on to save money. I’d found out early on that when Alice wanted something, it was done her way. The sale was going to run from nine to three thirty.

  Harriet climbed out of her car once I’d parked behind her. She was dressed in a yellow batik-print tent dress over leggings on her long legs. The dress looked vintage, and Harriet carried the style off well. Short boots finished off the look. Her brown hair was streaked with gray.

  I nodded hello to the people on the porch.