The Dead of Winter (The Jacob Lomax Mysteries Book 3)

by Michael Allegretto

  I sat at the table with Angela.

  “When exactly did the man call?” It was nearly five.

  “Just after noon,” Gary Rivers said. “I remember checking my watch.”

  I looked at him. “You were here?”

  He nodded yes.

  “Doing what?”

  “Don’t you know?” Tony said, a wiseass grin on his face. “He works for you.”

  “He said that?”

  “I said I was working ‘with,’ not ‘for.’” Rivers looked at me. “I told you I was going to help you find Stephanie, remember?”

  “We’ll talk about that later.” I turned to Angela. “Tell me what the man on the phone said. Exactly.”

  “Well, first he asked me if I was Angela Bellano. Then he told me to look in the mailbox. He said there was a present for me. Then he hung up. I thought it was some kind of a joke. I went out and found this.”

  She nudged the envelope toward me. I picked up the ring. It was a simple yellow gold band with tiny flowers etched in the surface. There was a single word inscribed inside: Bellano.

  “It belonged to Joe’s mother,” Angela said. “Joe gave it to Stephanie on her sixteenth birthday.”

  I set the ring down. Angela stared at it wistfully.

  “A few minutes later the man called back,” she said. “He said, ‘We have your daughter and—’”

  “He said ‘we’?”

  She nodded. “‘We have your daughter, and if you want her back alive, you’d better come up with one hundred thousand dollars in cash. Fifties and hundreds.’ I asked him if Stephanie was all right. He said she was fine now but she wouldn’t be if I didn’t get the money. I said I wanted to talk to her. He said not until I got the money. I begged him, but he wouldn’t listen. He said if I called the police or told anyone I’d never see her again. I told him I didn’t know how long it would take me to get that much money; you know, all in cash. He said, ‘Have it by Monday.’ Then he hung up.”

  No one spoke for a few moments. Angela shifted her rosary to her left hand and picked up Stephanie’s ring. She rubbed it slowly between her thumb and forefinger as if it, too, were a talisman against evil.

  “Do you remember anything else he said?”

  “Isn’t that enough?” Tony asked sarcastically.

  “Nothing else.” Angela touched the ring to her bottom lip.

  “How did he sound? Young? Old? Ethnic?”

  “He sounded … funny. As if he was trying to disguise his voice.”

  Disguise? I wondered if he was afraid Angela would recognize him.

  “There’s something here that bothers me,” I said.

  “You mean besides my sister’s kid being kidnapped?” Tony sounded mean. He looked it, too, milk glass or no. Maybe Angela wanted me here, but he sure as hell didn’t. I wondered what he thought about the presence of Rivers. I glanced over at the smaller man, who was standing quietly in the corner, trying hard not to be noticed.

  “They didn’t let Angela talk to Stephanie,” I told Tony.

  “So what?”

  “How do we know they really have her?”

  “The ring, for chrissake.”

  “Right, the ring.”

  That bothered me, too, and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe because it seemed like an unusual item to send as proof. More to the point would have been Stephanie’s driver’s license. Or articles of clothing. But a ring? How did they know Angela Bellano could identify it unless they knew it was something special? Or unless they’d removed it from her finger and read the inscription? Maybe that’s what had happened. The next question was, had her finger been warm or stone-cold?

  “How do we know she’s all right?” I said.

  “She is all right.” Angela was staunch. Her eyes, though, were moist. “I know she is.”

  “We can’t know for sure unless they let us talk to her.”

  “Hey.” Tony crossed the kitchen in three long strides. “We know she’s all right.” He shoved me so hard I almost fell out of my chair.

  I stood. Tony squared off, ready to punch me out.

  “Tony, no!”

  Rivers came forward, like a small referee in a heavyweight bout. He got between us and raised his hands to our chests.

  “Take it easy, both of—”

  Tony shoved him aside, not hard, but hard enough to knock Rivers back against the counter.

  “Stop it!” Angela cried. “My God, what are you all doing? It’s my little girl.” Her hands were fists. Stephanie’s ring was clenched in one, the rosary in the other. The black beads stood out on her skin like drops of blood.

  Tony pushed past me to get to his sister.

  “There, Angela.” He pulled my chair next to hers, sat down, and put his arm around her shoulders. “There, it’s gonna be all right. Everything’s gonna be fine.” He looked at me and glared, as if this whole thing were my fault. “Why don’t you leave us alone for a while,” he said.

  “We’ll be in the next room,” I said. I looked at Rivers, then walked out. He followed me. I led him through the dining area to the living room, then turned to face him.

  “I know you’re wondering why I was here when—”

  “You lied to me, Rivers.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “Last Monday you told me you’d never met Stephanie Bellano. You said the first time you saw her was in her father’s barbershop the day she ran away.”

  “That’s true.”

  “No, it isn’t. She was working at the Big Pine Medical Clinic last July when you brought in your dead baby son.”

  He turned pale. “How did you …?”

  “I asked around. Why did you change his name on the medical report? What were you trying to hide?”

  “Change his name?”

  “Thomas Rhynsburger.”

  Rivers cleared his throat, regaining his composure.

  “Rhynsburger is his name. It’s my name. Everyone knows me by ‘Rivers,’ but that’s my professional name.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you’d seen Stephanie at the clinic?”

  “I didn’t see her. I didn’t know she was there until just now.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “No, I … Look, if you say Stephanie was there, fine, I believe you. I mean, I knew somebody was there besides the doctor, but I honestly didn’t look at her face. I was …”

  He looked away.

  “It’s painful to talk about,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “My wife and I and Tommy were up there on vacation. In fact, now that I think about it, I might have heard about Big Pine from Joe Bellano. Anyway, we rented a cabin on the lake. On the second morning there my wife went to take Tommy out of his crib. He wasn’t breathing. She started screaming, and I ran in there and tried mouth-to-mouth. Nothing. We rushed him to the clinic. Dr. Early tried to revive him, but it was too late. He was already … gone.”

  He looked up at me and shook his head.

  “I guess I remember someone else being there,” he said. “But before today I couldn’t have told you if it was a man or a woman. I was, well, in shock.”

  “I see.” I think I was beginning to. “I’m wondering if it was you that Stephanie ran from that day in the shop.”

  “Me? But why?”

  “In a minute. First, I want to know what you’re doing here.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Trying to help.”

  “Help who?”

  Some color rose to his cheeks.

  “You think I’m pretty selfish, don’t you, Lomax?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  “Well, I don’t give a damn what you think. The truth is, I feel sorry for this woman. I want to help her if I can. If nothing else, I can give her moral support. Is there something wrong with that?”

  “These people are hardly your best friends. I think you’re hanging around waiting for a news story to happen. And wasn’t it a coincidence that you were here when the phone call came?”

  Now his wh
ole face turned red.

  “Yes, it was a coincidence. This is the third time I’ve been here since Monday. And, okay, maybe it is for selfish reasons. I think this is a great human-interest story, and I want to be around when Stephanie comes home. I think other people would like to hear about this.”

  “In other words, Angela’s suffering has market potential.”

  He gave me a grim smile. “If you want to put it in those terms, fine. But before you start condemning me, remember, if it weren’t for her suffering, you wouldn’t be working here, either.”

  “Not the same thing, Rivers.”

  “According to you. Now tell me what you meant about Stephanie running from me.”

  I glanced toward the kitchen. I could hear Angela and Tony talking.

  “Your Dr. Early performed an abortion on Stephanie,” I said, keeping my voice down.

  “What?”

  I nodded. “It was a few weeks before you brought in your dead child. Apparently she was still deeply depressed.”

  Now it was Rivers’s turn to glance toward the kitchen.

  “Do they know?”

  “No. And before I got involved, the only people who knew were Stephanie, her doctor, her nurse, and her priest. She felt certain that none of them would tell. But she wouldn’t have been so certain about you.”

  “Me?”

  “You might not have recognized her, Rivers, but I think she recognized you. When she saw you in the barbershop, she probably connected you with the clinic and Dr. Early. And there you were, pals with her father. She ran because she thought you’d tell him about her abortion.”

  Rivers was shaking his head.

  “But I didn’t even know about it. And what if her parents did find out? It was only an abortion. What’s the big deal?”

  “Are you really that stupid? We’re talking about a strict Catholic family. An abortion is about as big as you get.”

  Rivers looked angry. He didn’t like being called stupid.

  “If you’re right about all this,” he said, “then why didn’t she come home after her father was killed? Are you saying she’s been held by kidnappers all this time?”

  “I don’t think she’s been kidnapped at all.”

  “What do you mean? Her ring. The ransom demand.”

  “Listen, four days ago Stephanie was on a farm in Wray. She phoned a man in Denver, and he picked her up. This kidnapping business sounds like something she and this man might have cooked up between them.”

  I thought now I knew who the man was. Mostly by process of elimination. I’d even considered the Reverend Lacey, but only briefly. He didn’t seem the type. Besides, I figured he was too smart a man to try something like this, especially after having admitted that Stephanie had lived in his house.

  “You think Stephanie is party to her own kidnapping?”

  “It’s possible. I know one thing, if she’d truly been kidnapped four days ago, Angela would have received a ransom demand before now. Kidnappers are generally in a big hurry.”

  “Jesus, I can’t believe Stephanie would put her own mother through this.”

  “She might have gotten encouragement. From her ‘man.’”

  “What kind of a sleazeball would—”

  “The kind that likes money and young girls.” I looked at my watch. “And it’s just about time for me to go talk to him. Say good-bye to Angela for me.”

  I left Rivers staring at my back.

  CHAPTER 24

  FOWLER’S TV APPLIANCE CENTER stayed open until six on Saturdays. I got there at five fifty-five.

  “We’re closing,” Mr. Roberson told me. He acted as if he didn’t recognize me. Maybe he’d had a long day.

  “Stan’s expecting me,” I said.

  “He’s in the back. You want me to call him?”

  “Don’t bother.”

  There were several other salesmen in the vast store. I was the only customer. I walked between two rows of cold, colorful stoves to the back doors. The warehouse area was silent and empty save for a horde of crated appliances.

  Fowler’s office was to my left. As I started toward it, I heard a forklift.

  I ducked behind a crate. The forklift stopped nearby. The gorilla who climbed off was one of the pair who’d ushered me out the last time I’d been here. He went into Fowler’s office. A few minutes later he came out laughing and saying good-night over his shoulder. He pushed through the doors and was gone.

  Madge Fowler had told me that Stan locked up the store. I hoped he did it after everyone else left. It would be easier to squeeze the truth out of him if we were alone.

  I had nothing solid on Fowler. In fact, everything I had might be merely coincidence. Somehow, though, I doubted it. There was just too much.

  Fowler frequented the Lion’s Lair, and so had Stephanie. He’d entertained young women at his cabin in Big Pine, and Stephanie had worked there the past two summers. According to his wife, he was a demolitions expert. And someone familiar with military explosives had put a bomb in Stephanie’s car, which had ultimately killed her father. Fowler lived within a mile of the armory from where those explosives had been stolen. And he’d owed Joseph Bellano almost one hundred thousand dollars—the exact amount now being demanded for Stephanie’s return.

  If Stan were holding Stephanie—or harboring her—he’d done so since last Tuesday, when she’d left Wray. But why had he waited until now to try to “sell” her?

  I’d already decided that neither of us would leave this building until I had the answer.

  Now the swinging doors opened, and Roberson came through. I watched him walk to Fowler’s office. He stood in the doorway.

  “We’re ready to lock up, Mr. Fowler.” Pause. “Okay, then, see you in the morning.”

  Roberson returned to the front of the store. I waited a few moments, then stepped out of my hiding place and peeked through the crack between the double doors. I saw Roberson follow the other salespeople out the glass front doors. He waved good-bye to them, twisted his key in the lock, then walked out of sight.

  I unholstered the Magnum and walked into Fowler’s office.

  He was alone at his desk, intently studying some papers.

  “Hi, Stan.”

  “I thought you’d—”

  He stopped short when he saw it wasn’t Roberson who’d returned. He gave the gun a passing glance. The fine network of broken capillaries stood out fiercely on his face. He looked angry, not scared. Maybe I needed a bigger gun.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Where’s Stephanie?”

  “Get out of here before I call the police,” he said.

  “You’re not calling anybody. Tell me where she is.”

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  He stood up and puffed out his chest to scare me away. He was almost big enough to do it.

  “Get out.”

  “I’m not here to play games with you, Stan.”

  “That’s it. I’m calling the police.”

  He lifted the receiver.

  I shot the phone off his desk. It exploded into white shards, like an old, fragile skull.

  I’d seen Lee Marvin do that once in a movie. It had worked for him. His guy had turned to jelly. My guy looked surprised, sure. Maybe even shocked. But he wasn’t scared. Unless he was a good actor.

  I waited for the Magnum’s ringing to leave our ears.

  “Where is she, Stan?”

  “You’re going to pay for this.” He laid the receiver on the empty place on his desk where his phone used to be. His hand didn’t even shake. “And I don’t know anything about Stephanie, much less where she is.”

  His voice was smooth and steady, sincere enough to sell a freezer to an Eskimo. I didn’t believe him for a minute.

  “I’ll shoot you, Stan. I mean it.”

  He didn’t seem convinced. Maybe I wasn’t, either. It wasn’t that I didn’t have the stomach for it. In fact, at that moment I think I would have enjoyed it. Not ki
ll, just wound. But it’s tough to merely wound someone with a .357 Magnum, especially at point-blank range. Even if I shot Fowler in the foot, the hydrostatic shock from the high-velocity, 158-grain slug would probably knock him unconscious. Or cause his heart to seize up. At the very least, it would blow off his appendage. He might bleed to death. He’d certainly be spiteful. He might not tell me where to find Stephanie.

  “Where is she, Stan?”

  “I’m telling you I don’t know.” And then he must have seen something in my face, because he set his jaw and gave me a tight grin. “And you know what else, Lomax? I don’t think you’re going to shoot anybody. You’re not the type.”

  “Let’s go,” I said, motioning toward the door with the Magnum, which now felt as heavy as a cinder block.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “Right now.” I raised my aim to his face and thumbed back the hammer until it clicked.

  Fowler hesitated. He didn’t think I’d shoot him, but he wasn’t totally certain. Neither was I.

  He came around the desk.

  I shoved him out the door.

  I kept the gun pressed to the middle of his beefy back and steered him through the warehouse area toward the huge roll-up doors at the rear of the building. This was where crates were opened, and sometimes resealed for shipment back to the factory. Running along the wall next to the doors was a counter with crowbars, heavy-duty staplers, box cutters, and the like. I picked up a thick roll of fiber tape.

  “Put your hands behind your back.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “First, tie you up.”

  “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to just stand here and let you—”

  “Fine,” I said. I put down the tape and picked up a crowbar. “Then I’ll knock you out first.”

  He let me tape his wrists together behind his back. I shoved him toward a refrigerator-sized crate, then turned him around so his back was against it. Then I knelt and taped his ankles together. I stood before him and holstered the Magnum.

  “Look here, now, Lomax. This has gone far enough.”

  He was starting to sweat. Finally.

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  His movements were now limited to hopping, bending over, and falling down. I’d fix that. I left him for a moment to get a stapler. When I returned with it, he looked genuinely worried.