We stopped behind Gregory’s house. No fence. No signs of a dog. Patchy grass. Lights were on in the basement, and again there weren’t any window coverings. “It doesn’t look like he’s a man with anything to hide,” I said.
“Let’s take a look anyway,” Harriet said.
“Why don’t you stay here and watch for anyone who might happen by. I’ll go peek in.” I didn’t want to get Harriet in trouble if I got caught. Harriet nodded, and I crept forward. I dropped to my knees and peered in the basement window, stood, and repeated the process at the window on the right side of the house. Then I creeped up the steps leading to a back door. Peeked in. A kitchen with a small table and chairs off to one side. Stella wasn’t tied to a chair.
“Well?” Harriet asked when I got back. We continued down the alley.
“If he’s guilty of anything, it’s of being a neat freak. Lots of tools and a workshop in the basement. A partially built bookcase. No chains hooked into the walls or duct tape lying around. Kitchen had a small table with four matching chairs. Nothing out of the ordinary. No sign of Stella or Gregory.”
“Let’s go knock on his door then.”
“And say what?”
“That you live in the area and heard his car had been stolen. That someone stole your car too.”
“Oh, you’re good at this,” I said.
Harriet laughed.
“If whoever answers looks like the guy from the costume shop, I’m not going in.”
“Agreed.”
“You don’t have to go in with me.” Although as a hostage negotiator Harriet was probably better equipped to handle this than me.
“There’s safety in numbers. Maybe while you talk, I can get away and take a look around.”
* * *
A few minutes later we sat on a couch across from Gregory Kiah, who slumped in an overstuffed chair. He’d bought my story about my car being stolen too. Gregory looked nothing like the man who’d rented the Alice in Wonderland costume, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t involved. His head was shaved bald. A well-trimmed mustache and goatee combo covered his upper lip and chin. He’d already told us he was originally from Liberia and had fled with his family during Charles Taylor’s reign of terror.
“When was your car stolen?” Gregory asked as he shook his head, disgusted.
The answer would be a lie, and my face tended to contradict my words, although I’d been working on that. “A couple of days ago.” Being vague seemed best. “Do you have any idea who took yours?” Gregory seemed honest enough, but maybe he’d loaned the car to a friend or even used it himself and reported it stolen.
“No.”
“It couldn’t have been a friend or a family member who needed to borrow it?” Harriet asked.
“They would have asked, not just taken it. My spare keys are still here.” He nodded toward the front door where a decorative piece read “Home” and had hooks for hanging keys. Several sets were there. I should tell him not to do that. That someone could break the window on his door and get the keys all too easily.
“Where was your car parked when it was taken?” I asked. “Mine was on the street.”
“Mine too. I told the police all this.” He opened his mouth to say something else.
Harriet stood. “May I use your restroom?”
I knew that she was going to search as much of the house as possible looking for Stella while I distracted Gregory.
“Of course. Down the hall, second door on the right.”
“I thought maybe there’s a ring of people who might connect us to each other. And that we could figure out who did this if we compared notes.”
“Shouldn’t we leave that to the police?” he asked.
“I don’t think a couple of stolen cars are high on their priority list. At the very least it’s not as important to them as it is to me.”
Gregory nodded. “You’re right. In Liberia the police were corrupt for the most part. But I believe it’s different here.”
“It is different here. But they are busy and spread too thin. Crimes against people take a priority over stolen property.” Gregory nodded again. “Where do you work?” I asked. Minutes later I knew he worked for an IT company, went to a Methodist church on Sundays, played pickup basketball on Tuesday nights, and loved American reality TV shows. I shared as little as possible and made up everything I said.
Harriet walked back into the room with a slight shake of her head. No signs of Stella. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not.
“Do you have any security cameras?” Harriet asked.
“No.”
“How about neighbors? Do any of them have security cameras?” I asked.
He puckered his lips together as he thought. “The people across the street have a doorbell with a camera.”
I stood. “Thank you. I hope they find your car and get it back to you.”
“Yours too.”
* * *
There were lights on at the house across the street. Harriet and I crossed over and rang the doorbell. Like Gregory had said, it was the kind with a camera on it and an intercom. I looked around to see if there were other cameras, but didn’t see any. Although I knew from past experience that cameras could be very small and easily hidden. But weren’t most security cameras big to scare people off?
A voice came out of an intercom. “What do you want?”
“We were talking to Gregory Kiah about his stolen car and wondered if your security system picked anything up,” I said.
“It did. I gave a copy of the recording to the police.”
“Any chance I could take a look? My car was stolen too. A couple blocks over. My doorbell picked up a figure but not much more.”
Harriet gave me a small nod of approval.
A moment later the door opened. A dark-haired woman in jeans and a green Providence, Rhode Island T-shirt stood there. She had a laptop in her arms that she opened. She turned the computer toward Harriet and me. “I hope we aren’t going to have a rash of crimes around here. It’s a good neighborhood.”
“Yeah, me too,” I said.
The woman clicked open a file, and we watched for a couple of seconds. Gregory’s car was clear in the photo. A slender person in a black hoodie walked up and slid a jimmy between the window and the door, bold as could be. He got in and seconds later drove off. His face never showed.
“That’s all I’ve got,” the woman said.
“Thanks for showing us,” I said. Harriet turned quickly and started down the walkway. I looked after her in surprise and followed suit. I guess she didn’t want to answer questions if the woman started asking them.
“What did you say your name was?” the woman called out as we hurried down the sidewalk.
“Poppy Smith,” I called over my shoulder. I didn’t want to alarm the woman after she’d helped us.
“What street do you live on?” she yelled.
I kept going like I hadn’t heard her. Harriet walked up the block past my Suburban with me hustling along, trying to keep up with her longer stride. At the corner she turned and looked back. “Coast is clear. We can head back to your car now.”
Chapter Fifteen
“That was a bust,” I said as I drove north on the 95. It was eight fifteen.
“Not completely.”
“How so?” I asked.
“We know Stella isn’t at Gregory’s house and that he probably didn’t have anything to do with her kidnapping.”
“Probably?” I switched lanes. Thankfully, the traffic was much lighter. My app showed that we’d be back in Bedford in 57 minutes. I hoped to beat that and sped up.
“None of his behaviors suggested he was lying,” Harriet said. “He maintained eye contact. Didn’t twitch his mouth or nose. It’s not always a foolproof method, but my gut said he was telling the truth.”
“One suspect down and how many people live on Earth? Seven billion left to go?”
“It’s better than no suspects down.” Harriet leaned her
head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. “What’s your next move?”
“A late dinner at DiNapoli’s while I go over everything I know.” More likely all I didn’t know. “Want to join me?”
“I can’t. I’m sorry. I need to spend some time with my niece.”
“How’s she doing?” I asked.
“We haven’t killed each other yet, thanks to your getting me out of the house.”
“Not bad then.”
Harriet yawned.
“Sleep if you need to. Being a caregiver is exhausting.”
“Thanks, Sarah.” Harriet closed her eyes and slept the rest of the way home. I wished sleep would come that easily for me.
* * *
After I dropped Harriet off, I drove home, sat in my car, shot off a text to Awewome, and called Seth.
“Any word on who tried to kidnap you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice concerned but not shrill. Because every nerve was standing like a tin soldier. I had too many thoughts like bowling-sized balls twirling above my head—Stella, Crystal, Seth, the kidnapper. If I could catch just one of those balls, maybe the rest would fall into place before they all crashed down.
“They’re working on it.”
“Who are they?”
“Several different agencies.”
“But they haven’t figured it out yet?”
“I don’t think they have a clue.”
That meant I had to find one for them. I filled him in on my visit with Trooper Kilgard and Pellner. I left out my trip to Pawtucket. “Did you know Crystal Olson?” I asked.
“No.”
I should have been that decisive with Trooper Kilgard. “Did you ever see her around the apartment complex?”
“I’m sure I didn’t. I would have noticed someone who looked like you.”
“It’s disturbing,” I said.
“It’s almost like someone left Crystal there for you to find.”
Oh, no. Trust Seth to take two and two and come up with the right answer. “It is.” There. I managed to find a response so I hadn’t lied to Seth and I hadn’t compromised Stella’s safety.
“But how would anyone ever think you’d be at that house to find her?”
This was a much harder question to answer without lying. “Exactly.” That wasn’t really a lie. I was just agreeing with the question. I hated all this evasiveness. Skirting the truth didn’t suit me.
“Come over?”
It was tempting, but I couldn’t work on tracking the killer if I was with Seth. “Are your guards still there?” I hoped they were for his safety and also because it gave me an excuse to not go over.
“They are. Is that a no then?”
Leaving would be much harder than not going over at all. “It is. What’s your day like tomorrow?”
“Court in the morning.”
“Is it safe for you to go?”
“As safe or safer than any place.”
Metal detectors. Armed guards. I hoped safe.
“I have to ask you about something, Sarah. I’d rather have asked you in person, but since you aren’t coming over, I need to get it off my chest.”
His tone was so serious that I braced myself. I’m not sure I wanted to hear what was coming next.
“I heard from Awesome that you’re thinking of buying a house. Why didn’t you ever talk to me about that? I have a house. I was hoping, maybe unrealistically, that someday we’d be sharing it.”
My heart fluttered with joy for a moment, a glimpse of a shiny future out ahead of me. But then reality hit. If hearts could drop, mine just had. And now I’d have to flat-out lie to Seth. Sins of omission didn’t seem as bad somehow. “Thinking of buying something is way different from actually buying something.” It sounded lame. I would feel terrible if Seth made a big life decision without talking to me at this point in our relationship. “I wouldn’t have bought a house without talking to you, and I don’t have the money now anyway. I’ve always liked looking at real estate. You know that.”
“I didn’t.”
I’d hurt him. The tone of his voice screamed it. I almost couldn’t stand myself, and I just hoped, when the truth came out, after I found Stella—please let me find her—that Seth would understand.
“I need to go,” Seth said.
“Okay then. Love you, Seth.”
“Love you, Sarah.” Seth disconnected.
The words gave me hope, but they were said flatly. At the end of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes when he realized that Christmas is about more than just presents. Mine was swollen with the pain of a thousand lies.
* * *
I arrived at DiNapoli’s door just as Rosalie was turning the sign to Closed. I hadn’t realized it was already past nine thirty. I wasn’t that hungry, but I needed to be around people who loved me if only for a few minutes. Rosalie spotted me and motioned for me to come in. The place was empty except for Angelo and Emil. Oh, boy. Why was that my reaction every time I saw the man? He was heading to the back of the restaurant.
“We were just sitting down to eat. Join us,” Rosalie said.
I wanted to make an excuse and leave now that I knew Emil was here too. But my stomach rumbled just loudly enough for Rosalie to hear.
“Come in and eat with us,” she insisted. “There’s pizza in the oven. It will be ready soon.”
“As long as you let me help clean up until then.”
Rosalie nodded. Emil walked out from the back just then with a broom in his hand. I hung up my jacket and started putting chairs up on the long line of tables as Angelo and Rosalie worked in the kitchen. I’d found some of the tables along with various chairs at garage sales I had attended. Nothing matched, but it was charming somehow. Twenty minutes later a timer went off, and Angelo pronounced the pizza ready.
He gestured to the table on the right side of the room where I’d left the chairs down. Emil opened a bottle of Chianti. Rosalie grabbed a big salad on the counter in front of us, and Angelo carried a pizza toward the table.
“Bianco. Your favorite, Sarah. It’s like I knew you were going to turn up tonight.”
Bianco was white pizza with cheese and garlic. If heaven had a food, it was surely Angelo’s bianco pizza.
“Can I get anything?” I asked.
“Grab some silverware and napkins please,” Rosalie said.
I did as instructed, carried the utensils and napkins to the table, and set it. When I finished Emil lifted a strand of my hair and examined it.
“Dough free,” he said with a deep chuckle.
“I’ve heard it’s the latest craze for conditioning one’s hair. People are paying hundreds, and you did it for free,” I said. It felt good to be silly for a minute.
Emil chuckled again. “Well, it’s working for you. Your hair couldn’t be any silkier.” He held out the chair next to him as Rosalie beamed at us and Angelo winked at me. They were about as subtle as grizzlies in a tea shop. They sat opposite us. Emil poured us all wine, and we toasted to good friends and good food. Angelo passed out pieces of pizza, cheese oozed over the sides. I took some salad when it was passed to me, arugula with walnuts, goat cheese, and pomegranate seeds, with Angelo’s light vinaigrette to dress it.
Just as I took my first bite of pizza, Emil asked if we’d heard there’d been a murder in town. I suddenly found it difficult to chew and swallow. Angelo and Rosalie turned to look at me.
“I’m sorry, Sarah. That was a terrible time to bring it up.” Rosalie frowned at Emil.
“She found the body,” Angelo said.
Emil raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry. Did you know her, Sarah?”
Maybe that would put an end to any romantic interest if there even was any. I finally managed to swallow. “I didn’t know her.”
“Have they identified who it was?” Emil asked.
“I was at mass this morning, and there was a lot of talk, but no one had heard who she was,” Rosalie said.
Apparently chur
ch, like almost every place else in Ellington, was a hotbed of gossip. “Did they say anything else?” I asked.
“No. Everyone was gossiping about it and the lack of information,” Rosalie said.
I guess the police wanted to hold back that Crystal had been dressed like Alice in Wonderland because that might be something only the killer would know. With the Ellington information pipeline, it was amazing that detail hadn’t gotten out. But it was disappointing that Rosalie didn’t know anything new. How would I ever find Stella?
Emil set down his fork. “Do you find dead bodies often?”
More than anyone should.
“No,” Rosalie said. “Of course not.”
“I have on occasion,” I said. And even if I hadn’t found the body, I’d ended up tangled in more than one investigation to help someone out. Even the police last January.
“You’re an interesting woman,” Emil said.
“That’s one way to look at it. Someone else might say unlucky.” Stella would definitely say that. I changed the topic to my upcoming garage sale and the rest of the dinner passed without controversy.
Rosalie looked at Angelo. “Will you help me with the dessert?”
“It’s just cookies, right?” Angelo said.
Rosalie poked him with her elbow as she smiled at him. “You can help me clear the table.”
Angelo looked at her with a puzzled expression and then glanced over at Emil and me. “Sure I’ll help. Anything for the woman I love.”
“I can help,” I said.
“No, no,” Rosalie said. “You’re our guest. Sit. Emil pour some more wine for Sarah.”
Most nights when I ate here alone with Rosalie and Angelo, they let me clear the plates, and sometimes they even let me do the dishes. I could only hope that Emil didn’t pick up on the blatant messages.
“That was awkward,” Emil said as soon as Rosalie and Angelo headed to the kitchen.
“I’m embarrassed. I’m seeing someone, and for all I know you are too.”
“Nope. I’m free, but I think I left my heart in Italy.”
“Ah, sorry.” I knew a lot about hearts and breaking.
“It’s okay. I’m a survivor. Came home to be surrounded by my loving family.”
“They are an amazing family to be surrounded by. Living in Italy must have been wonderful,” I said.
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