Dark Waters (The Jeff Resnick Mysteries)

by Bartlett, L. L.

  Evelyn shook her head. “I’m sorry, Richard — about everything’s that happened since we arrived. It’s occurred to me that I haven’t considered the situation from your brother’s perspective. As far as I can see, he never provoked Da-Marr. And if he was viciously mugged as you say, then I guess I can understand why someone of Da-Marr’s stature might seem intimidating.”

  “Thank you, Evelyn,” Richard said sincerely.

  Evelyn’s lower lip trembled. “How can we find Da-Marr before something terrible happens to him? My goal was to keep him out of trouble so that he wouldn’t be just another statistic.”

  “Well, when he finally does surface, it might be a good idea to ask him what he’d like to do with his life.”

  “What do you mean?” Evelyn asked, clueless.

  “Did you know that the idea of fixing jet engines appeals to him?”

  “Manual labor?” Evelyn said, appalled.

  “Not everyone is cut out for a white-collar job. It still takes a college degree, and the wages are extremely competitive. Then maybe one day, if he’s interested, he could move into to a management position within the airline industry. The thing is he seems to like to work with his hands. And letting him choose the kind of collegiate experience that would be of interest to him could be the motivating factor he needs to find success.”

  “Airplane engines?” Evelyn repeated in amazement.

  “I’ll bet Da-Marr would be one hell of a mechanic. Look at the way he fixed our old broken down lawnmower. He has a knack for such things. When he shows up, instead of pouncing on him for what he’s done wrong, why not ask him what he’d like to do that’s right?”

  Evelyn thought about it for a long moment, then let out a long breath and shook her head. “I must admit, when I first arrived, I didn’t think either of you were ready for parenthood, but after this conversation, I’m pretty sure that you’ll make a terrific mom and dad. And — ” she gazed at Brenda. “I really don’t think you need me here at all, Twinnie.”

  Richard cast a glance toward his wife, and saw her eyes brim with tears. She and her twin had been identical and when the family couldn’t tell them apart, they’d both affectionately been called Twinnie.

  “You’ll always be welcome in our home, Evie,” Brenda said.

  Evelyn smiled. “I know. But I believe you’re right; Da-Marr and I need to go home. He and I — and his parents — have a lot to talk about.” She got up, kissed Brenda on the top of the head, and left the room without a backward glance.

  They listened until they heard Evelyn mount the stairs and was long out of earshot.

  “Well, that was unexpected,” Brenda said softly.

  “It sure was,” Richard agreed. “I wouldn’t mind giving the kid a hand to go to school.”

  “Your own personal scholarship?”

  “We’ve taken our time thinking about what to do with some of my grandparents’ money. Why not establish a few scholarships for kids in need?”

  “Here, or in Philly?” Brenda asked, sounding hopeful.

  “Why not both?”

  Brenda nodded, with the barest hint of a smile on her lips.

  “But Da-Marr is still a wild card,” Richard said with resignation. “The way he took off, the people he’s met here — we don’t know what kind of trouble he’s courting. And we don’t know if we can rescue him if he’s gotten himself into something illegal. We just don’t know.”

  Brenda’s head drooped, and for a moment Richard was sure she was once again about to cry. But then she seemed to shake herself. “I can’t let him be my problem. He has family — and especially Evie — he can fall back on. Right now, I have to concentrate on our family.” She patted her belly and smiled. “We haven’t talked about godparents.”

  “I kind of thought that was a given.”

  “Jeffy and Maggie?” Brenda asked.

  “Of course.”

  Brenda smiled. “That means a party.”

  “We don’t have a lot of people to invite.”

  “Who do we need to invite besides Jeffy and Maggie?” Brenda asked.

  “Not one other person,” Richard agreed. “But, I think a few of the foundation board members might feel slighted if I didn’t at least ask them. And what about the girls at the clinic?”

  “You’re right. We do have more friends than we think. And I like the idea of a party. Any excuse for cake. You cannot have a decent celebration without cake.”

  “We’ll get a ten-tiered one, if that’s what you want.”

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. A five-tier cake will suffice,” she said and laughed.

  “Coconut?” he suggested.

  “How about every layer a different flavor?”

  “As long as one of them is bland white, Jeff will be happy.”

  Brenda gathered up the loose skeins of yarn and her project and stuffed them back into her workbag. “It’s bedtime, at least for this tired girl.”

  “I’ll be up in a few minutes,” Richard said, helped Brenda to her feet, and then watched her waddle off in the direction of the stairs. In the meantime, he wondered if he should track down and check Brenda’s purse to see if all the credit cards were intact. And if they weren’t … well, then it would be time to make another decision.

  A much harder one.

  Chapter 21

  Once again, I left a sleeping Maggie and headed for home. It was just a lot easier on her come morning. Too bad I had to work the next couple of nights. That meant we’d hardly see each other on the weekend when she would finally have some time to devote to us.

  It was long after midnight and I braked as I approached the bakery with the big blue sign. As I’d hoped, the light was on in the back of the shop. My friend and mentor, Sophie Levin, was waiting for me.

  By the time I parked the car on the side street and walked back to the bakery, she was standing behind the big plate glass door.

  “It’s cold,” she scolded. “Hurry and get inside.”

  I knew the cold wasn’t likely to bother her. She just liked to kvetch. Once I was inside and she’d locked the door behind me, she led me through the shop to the back room where cups were waiting on the rocky card table, along with a plate of macaroons and a pile of paper napkins.

  “Coffee tonight,” she said, and poured water into the mugs from the small saucepan she’d had heating on a hotplate.

  I sat in my usual rickety chair and waited for her to sit.

  “So, it’s about time you came to see me.” She shook her head as she pushed the creamer across the table toward me.

  “I didn’t want to bother you.”

  “Nonsense. You know I live for you to bother me.” Then she laughed.

  “Very funny.”

  “I’m sorry. You have been very unhappy. I only want to ease your pain. I thought the two of us could talk about anything.”

  “We can. But we’ve been over this ground so many times, it seems like we’re beating a dead horse.”

  “It will take you a long time to recover from the mugging. Not just the physical injury, but the emotional one as well. I speak from experience when I say sometimes, no matter how hard we try to deny it, we never really recover from these things.”

  I knew she was talking about her time in the concentration camp.

  “But the person who’s been tormenting you must have some goodness in him,” she went on, this time pushing the plate of cookies toward me. She always says I don’t eat enough.

  “Could’ve fooled me,” I said, bypassing the cookies and spooning some powered creamer into my coffee.

  “Everyone, even a man like Jack Morrow, has some goodness in them.”

  How did she know about Jack Morrow?

  “Oh, yeah? Enlighten me.”

  “I believe the man gave a great deal of money toward cancer research.”

  “That’s all well and good, except the money wasn’t his to give.”

  “Will they make the charity give it back?”

  “I�
��ve heard of instances where they do just that.”

  “That wouldn’t be good. Some good should come from that man’s thievery.”

  I sipped my coffee. I couldn’t argue with her on that account.

  “You should be very careful tomorrow.”

  “When I go to Morrow’s offices?”

  She nodded. She always knew what I was up to. Sometimes I felt like she had me under surveillance 24/7.

  “I think it’s a big waste of time.”

  “You do?” she asked skeptically.

  “You don’t?”

  “What do I know?” she said with a shrug.

  “You always seem to know a lot more than I do.”

  “Like you. Some things I know; some things I don’t know. But I think you will succeed in what you want to find.”

  “Can you give me a clue as to where? It would save me a lot of time.”

  She shook her head and picked up her cup. “It’s like I said. Some things I know, some I don’t. What you find will not repay the millions upon millions lost. It’s just a trifle. But there’s a chance all could be lost, too. You must be very, very careful tomorrow.”

  I frowned. Her vague threats were irritating to say the least, but I knew enough to pay attention to them. The problem was, she could never tell me exactly what it was I was supposed to be looking out for. I decided to ask, anyway.

  “So, what do I need to beware of?”

  “What looks the most innocent could be the most dangerous. And what seems too dangerous to tackle, might be where you most need to concentrate your efforts.”

  Talk about a confounding riddle.

  “You’re not helping me.”

  Again she shrugged. “I wish I knew more. I only know what I feel. And I feel strongly about this.”

  Great. She felt strongly about something she couldn’t put into words, and I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. I decided to change the subject. “Care to guess when Brenda’s baby will be born?”

  She thought about it. “Maybe tomorrow night … Saturday morning at the latest.” She smiled. “She will be adorable. I would love to see pictures of her,” she said wistfully.

  “I’ll bring some the next time I visit.”

  She frowned. “If you are able.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means what it means.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that.

  “Drink up,” she urged me, sounding solemn. “And eat a macaroon. You’re far too skinny and I worry about you so.”

  I sipped my coffee and did not take one of the offered cookies. If it made me look like a petulant child, then so be it. I drained my cup and stood. “I’d better get going. I’ll come back and see you in a couple of days.”

  Her dark eyes looked terribly sad. “If you’re able.”

  “Will you stop with all the negativity? You’re scaring me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized and pulled a used tissue from her sweater pocket to dab at her nose. “Just promise me you will be very careful, because if you’re not….”

  Was that some kind of a threat? That the white light would suck me into it and….

  Now I was angry. “Good night, Sophie.”

  I heard the rustle of paper behind me as I started for the shop. She caught up with me at the door, unlocked it, and thrust a white bakery bag into my hands. She’d dumped the plate of macaroons in it. “Give me a kiss before you go,” she ordered.

  When I leaned down to kiss her cheek, she grabbed me in a fierce hug. “Do everything you can so that we do not meet on an equal plane tomorrow night.”

  I pulled back, “What do you mean?”

  She shook her head. “There are things I’m not permitted to tell you.”

  “Who says you can’t tell me?” I demanded.

  She shook her head. “Nobody. But there are rules. There are constraints. It’s nothing you are able to know or believe. But one thing you can believe in is the love I have for you. The love your brother has for you. The love that Brenda and Maggie have for you. All of us have one wish, and that’s for you to be safe. But you have to work at it, too. It’s not God-given.”

  “I don’t believe in God.”

  “Then why did you consult a priest?” she demanded, sounding as angry as I’d ever heard her.

  She had me there.

  Was this a test of faith? She was a Jew who’d been incarcerated in a fucking concentration camp. My mother had been a staunch Catholic, which had been abhorrent to that side of the family. They’d never accepted her … but was it her faith or her mental illness that had caused the rift? I only know that I’d been caught somewhere in the middle.

  “I had to talk to someone.”

  “Then why didn’t you come to me?” she cried, sounding terribly wounded.

  “Because I was afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “That you’d tell me to embrace the light. To join my parents and all my other dead relatives. And I don’t want to die!” I actually shouted at her.

  Sophie’s eyes blazed, and for a moment, I thought she might slap me, but then she turned away. “Nothing is certain. Tomorrow could be a turning point for you. I thought you should know. I am telling you to be careful. There is nothing else I can do to help — to protect — you.” She turned back to face me, her glare menacing. “Do you understand?”

  No! I wanted to scream. Tell me more! I almost demanded, but then I didn’t.

  I didn’t want her to tell me my future. I didn’t want to follow somebody else’s script.

  Whatever happened tomorrow, I was determined that it wasn’t destiny that would rule my path. It was me. My decisions. My experience that would guide me to make the right choices at the right time.

  When it came down to it, I trusted me more than I trusted anybody else on the planet — living or dead.

  “I have to go,” I said.

  Sophie nodded. “I love you. If and when we meet again, you will at least know that.”

  If and when?

  “I love you, too.”

  Her lips quirked into a lopsided smile. “Go home. Get a good night’s sleep. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”

  “I have a feeling you’re right.”

  We stared at one another for a long moment, and then both of us burst into laughter.

  “I’m scheduled to work tomorrow, Saturday, and Sunday. I’ll plan to come here on Monday. You will be here, won’t you?” I asked.

  “I already told you. I am here for you. I am only here for you.”

  “Then I’ll see you on Monday. And I will bring pictures of the baby.”

  Sophie tilted her head, but said nothing.

  Man, that made me feel like shit. That she believed I just might die.

  I was not going to let her fears sway me.

  Whatever happened tomorrow — happened.

  “Good night,” I said.

  “Sweet dreams,” she wished me.

  I strode through the door and heard her turn the deadbolt after me.

  I didn’t look back and headed straight for my car. I knew that when I drove to the corner that the bakery would again be dark. That there’d be no sign that anyone had been there during the preceding half-hour.

  That it would be devoid of all life.

  I drove home in silence, and when I opened the garage door to park my car I found one of the three bays open. Brenda’s car was missing.

  I knew that wasn’t a good thing, and I also knew that Sophie’s wish for me to sleep well wouldn’t come to pass.

  I just didn’t know how the missing car would affect my life in the coming hours.

  Chapter 22

  Once again Richard sat alone at the breakfast table. He’d checked the guest room before heading to the garage where he’d found his own car — and Jeff’s — but Brenda’s car was still among the missing. He was pondering the option of calling the police to report it — or Da-Marr — as missing when the phone rang.
He snatched it up on the first ring.

  “Hello.”

  “This is Officer Walther of the Grand Island Police Department. Is Ms. Brenda Stanley available?”

  It was barely eight o’clock. “No, she’s not. But I’m her husband. Have you found her car?”

  “Yes, that’s why I’m calling. It was found sitting alongside East River Road. Apparently it’s been there since late yesterday afternoon.”

  “Has it been damaged?” Richard asked.

  “No, but it’s about to be towed. I’m calling to let Ms. Stanley know where she can pick it up.” He gave the address of the impound lot.

  “Thank you. I’ll try to get out there later this morning to get it.”

  “You will have to pay a fee for us to release it.”

  “I’m aware of that. My wife won’t be able to accompany me. Should I bring the registration?”

  “Yes.

  “Thank you.” Richard hung up the phone and looked over to the doorway where Evelyn stood in her robe and slippers. “I take it the car was found?”

  He nodded.

  “But no Da-Marr?”

  “They said it had been abandoned. My guess is it ran out of gas. It was found not far from the marina where our boat is parked. I’ll pick it up later today.”

  “Why would Da-Marr go there?”

  Richard shrugged. “Would you like some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”

  Evelyn shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears. “What am I going to tell Da-Marr’s parents? They trusted him to my care.”

  “I have a feeling he’s all right,” Richard said dryly. He stepped over to the cupboard, grabbed a clean cup, filled it with coffee, and handed it to Evelyn. “Sit down. Would you like some breakfast? I’m not much of a cook, but I make a mean slice of toast.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t eat. I’m too worried, but thank you for the coffee.” She sat down at the kitchen table.

  Richard pulled out the toaster and no sooner had he pushed the lever on two slices of white bread when Brenda showed up as well. “No word yet?” she asked, eyeing her sister, who dabbed at her eyes with a balled-up tissue.

  “The Grand Island police found your car, but no sign of Da-Marr.”

  Brenda nodded.