Typically, business people hate seeing cops, and when the young, blonde receptionist looked at him and frowned, he knew this time would be no different. Her frown deepened when he told her he needed to see Gina Ackles.
“Is Mrs. Ackles expecting you?”
“She will be when you tell her I’m here.”
The look of confusion on the girl’s face was replaced by one of relief when Gina Ackles appeared at her office door and motioned Wilson in.
Wilson smiled back at the receptionist. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
Mrs. Ackles ushered him into her office and he sat in the leather chair she offered. “What can I do for you, Detective? Mr. Austin called and asked me to help you in any way I can.”
“Then you already know this is regarding the Austin kidnapping case.”
“I do. How can I help?”
“I’m here about Brian Madigan. I believe you have his records.”
“Brian Madigan.” She looked blank for a moment, then started thumbing through a box of cards. “Let’s see. Oh yes, the landscaper. We usually handle household employees, not groundskeepers or anything like that, but he had excellent references. Too bad it didn’t work out.”
Wilson needed to see the employee records. Gina Ackles searched briefly through a filing cabinet, then produced a slim folder. She slipped two sheets of paper from the folder and began to read.
“He came here a few days after the Austins let him go, but we had nothing for him.”
“Is that the last time you were in touch with him?”
She frowned and followed her notes with one slender finger. “No. It says here a nice family in Connecticut was looking for a groundskeeper and we recommended him. If we’d had any idea why the Austins had let him go we never would have, but at that time we didn’t know what had happened.”
She read more, then stopped. “That’s odd.”
“What is?”
“Brian Madigan’s wife was hired as a maid by the same family, but fired a few months later. According to this, she had an alarming habit of hiding their little girl.”
Ben Wilson reached for the folder. “Let me see that.” He read a few lines then looked back up at her. “Is this the current address and phone number?”
“As far as I know. Oh dear, that doesn’t look good, does it? Hiding the little girl, I mean.”
Ben Wilson was out the door before she finished the sentence.
Chapter Seventeen
Virginia and Tony spent two days in bed, but when he tried to mount her for the fourth time the second day, she pushed him away. She sauntered to her walk-in closet and removed a black satin robe, which she slipped into, knowing his eyes were on her body. Seconds later she felt his hands on her shoulders. She chuckled. For a man his age, he was insatiable.
“No more cuzzy,” she murmured.
“A bearcat like you never has enough.”
“Maybe not, but right now all I’m hungry for is dinner. Come on downstairs.”
They’d met four years earlier when he was appointed police commissioner, and they’d been seeing each other on and off since then, even though his divorce had only become final last year. He spoke of marriage often, and when he did, she laughed.
Virginia watched him dig into a bowl of mushroom and barley soup but had to look away. He had some distasteful habits which she tried to ignore because of all the influential people he knew. He was also an energetic lover who was always willing to try new things, and she definitely enjoyed that part of his personality.
She passed him the Italian bread. “I tried to call in some favors, but no one’s talking.”
“Favors? What favors?”
“You know better than to ask me that.” She dipped a piece of bread into the soup. “Did the police find any clues at the farmhouse?”
“Next to nothing: an empty bottle of milk and some beer. They dusted them for prints and dusted surfaces around the house too, but didn’t get any clear prints.”
“That’s it?” She waited as he slurped the soup.
He shrugged. “A couple of toothpicks. Dusted them, too.”
Toothpicks?
Virginia’s fingers tightened on the bread until the soup was littered by crumbs. Rudy. His interest in Todd suddenly made sense. Her mind spun. She would have to find him, but she hadn’t paid much attention when he’d dropped out of sight, since he did that all too often. She should have picked up the signals.
“Virginia, what is it? You look sick.”
She took a deep breath and waved a hand at him. “No, it’s nothing. It’s the stress of the last few weeks. Nothing matters to me but finding that baby.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you keeping something from me?”
“How about a vacation sometime?” she asked. “Just you and me on a beach somewhere?”
“Vacation, my ass. You’d better tell me what’s going on, or I’ll toss you in the clink.”
“For what? Feeding you dinner? I’m not that bad a cook.”
“Out with it.”
She sighed, then studied his expression, trying to figure out if she should play hard or soft. He looked all business, so she went with the truth. “Listen, Tony. I need your cooperation. I’ve gotta find Todd, and I think I have the best shot at doing that. You know I’m not gonna drop this. I’ll devote the rest of my life to it, if necessary.”
He shook his head. “What are you asking for?”
“Just some room, you know? Let me do what I have to do without having to answer all your questions.”
“You can’t just do this, you know, shove the law aside when it suits you.”
Now was the time to play soft. She tilted her head just enough and lowered her chin so the light caught her eyes. It had to be perfectly choreographed, and she was the master. “Please, Tony?”
He frowned, looking unsure, so she leaned over the table, letting her cleavage beckon. She saw the moment when he surrendered, when his eyes gave up the fight and filled with lust. She stood and tapped her slender fingers on the back of her chair.
“Let’s go back upstairs,” he said, his voice a little rough.
Her lips puckered exactly the right amount. “If anything comes into the department concerning my nephew’s kidnapping, you’ll tell me. Understand? Only me.”
He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head again. “I’ve got thousands of trained police officers at my disposal. This is one time you aren’t going to get your way, Virginia. I won’t call off the investigation no matter how many times you threaten me.”
She glared at him. “Why should I trust the N.Y.P.D.? Look what that idiot Wilson did to me. Look what you let him do.”
“Come on, Virginia. I knew nothing about that. As soon as I did, I told him if he ever tried those tactics again he’d be pounding the pavement out in Suffolk County.”
Virginia played her last card. She crossed her arms over her chest and flicked up one sardonic eyebrow. “Tell you what, Tony. You give up that floozy you’ve gotten hidden up in Maine and not only will I tell you what I know about Todd, I’ll even take your marriage proposal seriously.
Chapter Eighteen
Virginia racked her brain trying to remember what she might have said to Rudy to prompt him to kidnap Todd. She thought about everything they’d done and said. Then, all at once while she was putting on mascara, she recalled telling him Todd would be at Willow Pond that week.
So it was her fault. It was all her fault. She sat on the side of her four-poster bed, dropped her head into her hands and let the tears come, feeling sick with guilt. But she had to pull herself together. Indulging in self-serving emotions was a waste of time. The only thing that mattered was finding Todd.
She went to the one-room dump in lower Manhattan that Rudy called home and took anything she thought might give her a clue as to where he might be. Though his address book was full, all the names except for two had been blackened out. It was time she paid a visit to these men whom Rudy had mentioned
to her a few times. The first was named Eddie.
After she finished dressing, she took a long look at herself in the mirror. The navy blue silk dress accentuated her tall, slim body to perfection. Slipping on her best pair of black heels, she headed downstairs to where the cook had breakfast waiting for her. She wasn’t hungry, so she had one cup of coffee, then stepped outside. She glanced up and down the tree-lined street, making sure she didn’t see anyone suspicious, then drove her dark green Packard town car away from the curb.
The fine car hummed as it rolled down the streets of Manhattan. When she reached the Park Slope section of Brooklyn, she turned onto Seventh Avenue and drove past Woolworth’s, the A&P, a gas station and a school. She made a left onto President Street and slowed the car, trying to get a feel for an unfamiliar section of Brooklyn. She stopped in the next block, near three girls playing hopscotch in the street. Further ahead, a group of teenage boys were playing stickball. Unlike the girls, they didn’t budge after she honked the horn several times.
She rolled down the window and told them to get up on the sidewalk. One of the boys ran his hand smoothly over the Packard’s hood, then poked his head in her window and asked her to take him for a ride.
“Not too friendly with soap and water, are you?” she asked.
He stared at her. “A fine lady in a fine car like this is out of place here. You sure you want to be telling me what to do?”
She shrugged. “Are you sure you want to mess with Virginia Kingsley?”
His eyes bugged out in a satisfying manner and he backed up as soon as he heard her name, but she smiled and motioned for him to come closer. He took a few steps toward her, but now he kept his head down. She wanted to know where 320 President Street was. He pointed toward an old couple sitting on a porch.
“That’s the house you’re looking for.”
The old man had evidently been reading a magazine, but it had slid out of his hands and onto the sidewalk when he’d fallen asleep. As Virginia approached, the woman nudged him awake.
“What you after?” the old woman asked without lifting her eyes from her knitting.
“I’m looking for someone.” Virginia glanced around to make sure no one was near enough to hear. “His name’s Rudy.”
The old man came to life and waved her away. “You need to talk to my son. If he doesn’t hear the bell, ring it again and wait. He don’t hear too good.”
A man in a filthy undershirt opened the door and peered out at her. She watched with disgust as his bloodshot eyes traveled the length of her body and a crooked leer settled on his face.
“Hot damn,” he said after a moment. “Been way too long since I seen a broad like you on my doorstep.”
Of that she had no doubt. “Listen honey, why don’t you keep your eyes where they belong and answer a few questions for me. You know a guy named Rudy Strauss?”
He opened the door wider and reached for her hand. “Who wants to know?”
She avoided his hand and sidestepped the rest of him, stepping into the hallway and using her foot to block the door from closing behind her.
“I’m a friend of his. Do you know him or don’t you?
“A guy like Strauss has no friends. You one of his broads or something?”
“Maybe so. All you need to know is I need to find him. Have you seen him around?”
He shook his head, assessing her. “No way. You got too much class for a clown like that guy. Tell me why you’re looking for him and I’ll decide—”
He stopped short and took a step back, a nervous expression settling on his bristled face. “Wait a minute,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re that bootlegger broad.” He took another step away. “Damn, I should have kept my mouth shut.”
“It’s too late for that, isn’t it?” She leaned forward and put her face right into his, careful not to inhale. “So where is he?”
“Beats me. It’s been over two years since I seen the guy.”
She jabbed a finger into his gut. He winced, but made no move to retaliate. “What’s your name?”
“Eddie? Why?”
“Well, that’s real strange Eddie, because I was talking to a waitress at the diner around the corner and she said she’d seen a two bit sleazebag who looked just like you in there not two weeks ago. And the funny thing is, this punk in her coffee shop wouldn’t shut up about another guy named Strauss and how pissed off he was at him. Sound familiar to you?”
She straightened and looked him in the eye. “You’d better tell me, Eddie, because if you know anything about me, you probably know I can make life real hard on you. You’re not going to make me do that, are you?”
“Jesus, lady, I’m sorry. I hadn’t seen him in a while, just like I told you. Then he shows up a few weeks ago, says he needs a place to stay for a night and he’s calling in a favor. I don’t owe that guy nothing, so I told him to get lost. That’s when he hit me.”
Eddie lifted his undershirt high enough to reveal the remnants of an ugly bruise on the upper left side of his abdomen. “I think the fucker broke a rib. That’s why I didn’t wanna say nothing.”
Virginia shook her head and let out a long sigh. “Did he say where he might be headed?”
“Just that he needed to get out of town the next day. I know he’s got some people in Detroit and Chicago, though.”
“People, huh?” she said. “How do you know that, Eddie?”
“He was always bragging about his so-called business associates. You know, like he’s connected to important people or something.”
“Did he mention any names?”
“Sorry, lady. If he did, I sure don’t remember.” He looked her up and down. “And if he’d mentioned you, I would have.”
She considered him for a minute. Instinct was what she lived on, and her instincts told her Eddie was telling the truth.
“Tell you what,” she said. “You seem like a decent guy, Eddie. Maybe you could be a sport and ask around. If he didn’t stay with you he had to stay somewhere. Maybe it was in the neighborhood?”
“I don’t know. This guy’s trouble. And one thing I don’t need in my life is any more trouble.”
Virginia smiled. “Suppose I make it worth your while?”
He might not have gotten what he’d hoped she’d offer, but it took him less than two minutes and one tiny favor to secure a promise that he’d do his best and contact her at Bacchanal if he heard anything. Odds were he wouldn’t, but it was worth the two bottles of gin she’d offered if he were successful. In the end he was more than happy to cooperate.
Chapter Nineteen
Erich called Laura three times the following week and invited her to dinner. It wasn’t until the fourth call that she agreed to meet him at Bacchanal, thinking she’d feel more comfortable on her own turf. She decided it wouldn’t do any harm to see him again and was certain he’d stay off the subject of Virginia.
She arrived at eight o’clock, half an hour before the time they’d set. John Barrymore and about half a dozen friends were singing “Bye Bye Blackbird” so loud the young singer couldn’t be heard over the din.
With steak dinners at two dollars and fifty cents, washed down with Pol Rogers champagne at twenty dollars a bottle, it was almost guaranteed there’d be a line of Duesenbergs, Lincolns, Packards and Rolls Royces all parked in the porte cochere every night. Virginia had designed every inch of Bacchanal’s décor, from the oak paneling to the red linen tablecloths on each round oak table. Laura fiddled with the white rose in a crystal vase in the center of her table and glanced around.
One of the hostesses appeared at her table carrying a glass of champagne. “I love the feather in your headband,” she said to Laura. “Your whole outfit is hot.”
The black silk hoyden dress was a perfect background for a long strand of pearls and the imitation jewel-encrusted headband set in her blonde hair. The dress, a gift from Phillip, had hung in her closet for months with the tags still on it. She blushed when she realized the care she’
d taken with her appearance tonight.
She blushed again when Erich arrived. He was an uncommonly handsome man, a tad over six feet, with eyes so blue she was afraid it might hurt her eyes to look into them for too long. He stopped at the table and gave her a long look, then settled into the chair across from her, never glancing anywhere but at her.
“You look incredible. The most beautiful woman here.”
“You sure? Have you checked out the hostesses?”
He snorted. “Could their chemises be any shorter?” He obediently watched one of the hostesses walk by. “Your legs are much nicer.”
She cocked one eyebrow. “You should see them do the shimmy.”
“W.C. Fields was up on stage with them a few weeks ago.”
“Hate to see him in gold chemise.”
He chuckled and spread blue cheese on a piece of French bread, then signaled to the hostess, whose sole job was to sell roses at two dollars each. Laura shook her head when Erich asked what color rose she’d like, but he stopped the hostess before she could walk away.
“I have some new information I want to tell you,” Laura said.
Erich held up one hand, asking Laura to wait. “Hey, I know the rules. No man is considered a gentleman unless he buys his lady a rose. Yellow? Pink?”
She blushed. “Yellow’s my favorite. Don’t you think it’s more unique than pink or red?”
He placed the rose in front of her and set it in the crystal vase. “To keep it fresh while we’re here,” he said.
“Thank you. You are now officially a gentleman.”
He nodded. “Now. What’s your news?”
She leaned forward, her expression intent on his. “The police interviewed that family in Greenwich, Connecticut yesterday and found out some odd things about Madigan’s wife. Like the fact that she liked to hide their little girl.”
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