Willow Pond

by Carol Tibaldi

  “Let’s go,” Peter said, tugging Dorothy behind him.

  Erich couldn’t take his eyes off the men. They were still going at it, rolling on the floor beside her pretty black shoes. Erich caught the gleam of a knife near her and jumped to his feet, lunging for it. Just as a third man was about to come at Erich, he was hit over the head with a chair by yet another gang member.

  Peter grabbed Erich and dragged him outside. Laura and Dorothy had run out ahead of them and stood waiting on the sidewalk.

  “Muller, are you nuts?” Peter demanded.

  “I couldn’t let them get near Laura.”

  Peter held out his arms in mock resignation, then rolled his eyes skyward. “He takes in stray kids and defends damsels in distress. What’s next?”

  “Leave him alone,” Dorothy said. “I think it’s sweet.”

  Laura laughed and took Erich’s arm, sinking her nose into his jacket and enjoying his scent. Someday she would have to find out why people felt such a need to protect her.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Twenty years had passed since Virginia had called off her engagement to Paul O’Malley. At times she wondered what her life might have been like if she’d married him. But it would never have worked. Paul could never have reconciled himself to the fact that she was more ambitious and successful than he was.

  “It’s been a long time, Paul.”

  “Almost ten years. You look wonderful, Virginia.” He smiled at her and she let herself enjoy the familiar twinkle in his eyes. “I’ve been reading a lot about you in the newspapers since the kidnapping. I bet you aren’t too happy about that.”

  “It’s terrible to be a suspect in my own nephew’s kidnapping. The cops drive by here a few times a day looking for God knows what. They think I don’t know what they’re doing.”

  “How’s Laura?”

  “She’s got a new boyfriend. He’s a reporter who’s convinced I had something to do with all this. I think he’s using her. I’ve talked to her about it, but you know how headstrong Laura can be.”

  Paul glanced at his watch. “It’s time we got going. Ready?”

  He took her arm and they headed onto Central Park West, enjoying the cloudless sky. They walked toward Riverside Drive, and for a few moments the tapping of her high heels was the only sound they heard.

  “Maybe you should talk to her some more,” Paul suggested.

  “I’ve tried, but I might as well have been talking to myself. And it’s such a bad time for her. She’s miserable without Todd.”

  He hailed a cab and they rode uptown to Yankee Stadium. It was good to get out and do something like this. Something out of her regular routine. With everything else going on, she sometimes felt like she might explode. She’d needed someone to talk to. Sometimes she wished she’d kept in closer touch with Paul, but the most difficult part of that was he had that annoying habit of always being honest with her. At times she couldn’t handle that.

  As they climbed the bleachers she turned and gave Paul a puzzled look. “What are we doing way up here? I have box seats behind the bleachers.

  “I think we’re better off here. We’ll get some privacy in a public place. I wanted to talk to you about something that happened at one of Capone’s hangouts.”

  She climbed the stairs ahead of him, calling out her question over her shoulder. “What’s he up to now? Last time I saw him he tried to trick me out of a piece of my business.”

  O’Malley laughed. “Bet you were too smart for him. Nah. This is about another guy. Here. These are our seats.”

  When they were settled in, she tilted her head. “So? Go on. I never could read your mind.”

  “A guy from New York hit Chicago on the run. He went from one speak to another, buying drinks for everyone, trying to pick up any woman who would give him a second glance.”

  “Another Don Juan in Chicago. I’ve met dozens of them. What makes this guy different?”

  “This nut bought from Capone’s people and Torrio’s people. You know what that can do.”

  She pursed her lips and gave a low whistle. “Start a war between the two gangs.”

  “He showed up at Capone’s headquarters demanding to see him. When he was told he couldn’t, he stormed into Scarface’s office and started ranting about a machine he’d invented that would make more booze for less money.”

  Virginia laughed. Just the kind of stupid thing Rudy would do.

  “Then he mentioned your name.”

  She stopped laughing. “What did he say about me?”

  “Nothing that made any sense. But a guy spending money like it was going out of style and throwing your name around … well, I thought you’d want to know about it.”

  “It might be something. You’ll keep a lookout for me?”

  “Always.”

  “Thanks.” She kissed his cheek and sat back. “You know, it’s kind of fun up here. Now where’s that hot dog man? My treat.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Bill McCaffrey’s first assignment for Erich was to make some deliveries to a few speakeasies on the east end of Long Island. Erich was as nervous as he was excited about talking to some of the speakeasy owners. He just had to remember to use the name Hans Kohl, which didn’t roll naturally off his tongue. He felt bad about the excuse he’d given Laura about why he couldn’t have dinner with her. He’d said he had an assignment he couldn’t tell her about. That part was true, mostly.

  The first speakeasy was in East Moriches, a pretty little town on the water. The owner, Otto Bayer, greeted him with a frown, but Erich thought it was probably because he’d never seen him before. Figuring he was also German, Erich laid his accent on thick. Bayer neither looked at him nor spoke to him, so he collected what he was owed and left.

  His next stop was a popular speakeasy in Hampton Bays called The Canoe Place Inn. There were a few men and one woman at the bar, and he decided to have a beer and keep his eyes and ears open. He was trying to listen in on a conversation about Dutch Schultz, who had set up shop in Patchogue, when the front door to the place slammed open and two prohibition agents stormed inside, machine guns raised in the air.

  “This is a raid! Everybody on the floor.”

  Erich shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered to himself. He’d heard these raids were often staged and wondered if Bill McCaffrey had something to do with this one. Could be the East End bootleggers were trying to find out what he was made of. He would play along. Not that he had much choice in the matter.

  Within a few minutes the police had herded everyone into their van and taken them to the Hampton Bays police station. There they were fingerprinted and had mug shots taken. An hour after he walked into the Canoe Place Inn, Erich was sitting on a cot at the local jail like a common criminal.

  As soon as the cops went through his personal belongings they’d find out he wasn’t Hans Kohl. If the bootleggers found out, he’d be in danger. He had no idea how friendly the cops and the bootleggers were with each other, but he had heard stories.

  “Guard, can you come here for a minute?”

  A man sitting at a desk in the corner turned around. When Erich called him again he approached the cell.

  “I need to make a phone call.”

  The guard laughed. “Who do you want to call?”

  “My boss.”

  “Who’s that, Dutch Schultz or Al Capone?” The guard laughed. “You’ll pay a fine and be out of here by tomorrow morning. Relax.”

  Erich waved a dollar bill between the bars. “Just let me use the phone. It’s important.”

  The guard slipped the bill from his fingers. “That’s a pretty paltry bribe.” With a sigh, Erich held out a five and the guard took that, too.

  “Phone’s on my desk. Two minutes, no more. I’ll be timing you.” Erich slipped out of the cell when it clanged open, then picked up the receiver from the guard’s desk. He glanced up, meeting the bore of the guard’s gun. The guard smiled patiently. “Go ahead.”

 
; Fortunately, Dan picked up the phone right away.

  “I’m in the Hampton Bays jail,” Erich muttered into the phone, out of the guard’s earshot. “Drive out here as fast as you can and get me the hell out of here before my cover is broken.”

  “Jesus, Muller. You can get into more trouble than ten men. What the hell are you doing in jail?’

  “I’ll answer all your damn questions when you get here. Just do what I tell you.”

  “Are you on assignment? Don’t remember anything happening out there.”

  “Don’t ask so many questions. Just get out here before they find me floating in Long Island sound.”

  “I’ve got better things to do than save your ass.”

  “No, you don’t. I’m your best reporter.” He chuckled. “Oh, yeah. And bring cash. A fifty should do.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Police commissioner Tony Jaeger’s phone call had shocked Virginia, and she’d packed in a hurry. It was mid-June and Tony was vacationing at his summer home in Cape Cod. He’d received word that a little boy matching Todd’s description had been seen at the Draper Inn in Falmouth, Maine, along with a dark-haired woman in her mid-twenties.

  Tony had begged Virginia to come to the Cape with him, but she had refused. She knew his mistress was up there too, and she had no interest in getting mixed up in all that. Besides, her priority was finding Todd. She tossed what she thought she might need into an overnight bag, wondering if she should call Laura. In the end she decided not to. No sense getting her hopes up before she knew anything for certain.

  By the time she’d headed out of New Rochelle on Route 3, Virginia was positive someone was following her. It was a dark green Buick, never right behind her, but two or three cars back, sometimes in the same lane, and sometimes not. Where had she seen that car before? Once she slowed and tried to get a better look at the driver, but he pulled away before she could.

  When she reached Bridgeport, Connecticut, she spotted the Buick parked outside a restaurant when she stopped for lunch. The driver was nowhere in sight. A few minutes later she spied Erich Muller leaning against the driver’s door, eating a sandwich and drinking a soda.

  She pulled out of the parking lot with him right behind her. When she stopped for gas he parked by the side of the road.

  “I’ve had it,” she muttered to herself. “That’s enough.”

  The gas attendant looked confused. “Ma’am?”

  “Not you. I’ll be right back.”

  Muller’s expression didn’t change when she stuck her head through the open window of his passenger side window.

  “Following me, Mr. Muller?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “You’ve been tailing me since we left New York.”

  He shrugged innocently. “I’m on my way to visit my sister in New Hampshire.”

  “Bullshit. I’m surprised at you, Muller. By now you should know how dangerous it is to interfere with me.”

  “Trust me. I’m one of the few people who knows what you’re capable of. But unless I’m breaking the law there’s nothing you can do, is there?”

  Just before four o’clock she pulled up in front of Tony’s summer home. He greeted her with a kiss and a glass of wine and she disappeared from Erich’s sight.

  ***

  About forty-five minutes later, Erich watched them get into a Packard and pulled out behind them. Since Bridgeport, there didn’t seem to be much point in trying to be inconspicuous. So he followed the car in plain view, staying there even though they were traveling inland instead of along the coast toward Portland.

  After a couple of hours, they heading right onto a winding country road then turning onto a dirt road a few miles later. They made another right and pulled into the driveway of a New England colonial.

  Erich parked and walked down the dirt road to a beach that was close enough to give him a good view of the house. A man and a woman came outside and headed down the road, followed by two school-aged boys. Another woman came out with Jaeger. He was holding a little blonde girl in his arms.

  Where was Virginia?

  He walked closer and watched the two boys splashing in the water. Jaeger put the little girl down and started toward him.

  “Are you a peeping Tom? Show me some ID or you’re under arrest.”

  Erich took out his driver’s license. “What law have I broken, Commissioner Jaeger?”

  “Trespassing, vagrancy, I’ll come up with something.” He studied Erich’s driver’s license. “So you know who I am. Your name’s familiar. Where have I heard it before?”

  “Where’s your traveling companion?”

  “Right over there.” He grinned. “But that’s not who you’re looking for, is it?”

  “Pretty slick. Virginia’s well on her way to Portland by now, isn’t she?”

  Jaeger tried to grab Erich’s arm as he walked away, but he didn’t go after him.

  The police commissioner and Virginia Kingsley. Very interesting. Just how close were they? Close enough to help her slip a tail. God knew how much more.

  ***

  Draper’s Inn was an eighteenth century Victorian house, situated off a well-traveled road and down a small embankment. Not the ideal place to hide the most famous kidnapped child in the world.

  Virginia went into the office and rang the bell on the counter. She had to ring it two more times before a middle-aged woman emerged from a back room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  As she spoke, Virginia played noisily with a twenty-dollar bill between her fingers. “I’m looking for a man and a woman and a little boy about two years old.”

  The woman glanced from Virginia to the twenty, but shook her head. Virginia put the twenty down on the counter and slid it toward her.

  “The child’s blond, fair-skinned with curly hair,” Virginia said. “The man’s tall and dark haired. I’m not sure what the woman looks like.”

  The woman opened a file box, took out a card and handed it to her. “She’s the only woman who’s stayed here during the last few weeks with a child that young. No man, though.”

  Virginia studied the signature. Maggie Pierce. Round letters, neat and even. Then she looked at the date: 15/6/30. Europeans always put the date in front of the month. Even after living here for thirty years Virginia still found herself writing it that way at times. What did that mean? Was this just a mother and a child traveling, or had Rudy ditched them?

  “When did she leave?”

  “Around eleven o’clock last night.”

  “Did you see the little boy?”

  “No. Told me she had a son and he needed a crib.”

  The woman reached for the card but Virginia pulled her hand away. “I must keep this.”

  “No, don’t. My husband—”

  “I’ll make it easy for you.” Virginia pushed the twenty dollar bill closer to her. “For your trouble. And a look at the room.”

  The woman stuffed the twenty into the pocket of her bathrobe and grabbed a key from the hook on the back wall. “Follow me.”

  They walked up a flight of stairs and the woman opened the second door on the right. “You can go in by yourself. I got stuff to do.”

  Virginia walked into the little white room and glanced around. The aroma of pine permeated the air. Centered on the wall facing the door was a double bed covered with a faded hand-stitched quilt. No crib. She searched the dresser and the night table and found nothing apart from a Bible. Nothing hid under the bed or dresser but dust.

  There were a few unopened Band-Aids someone had left behind in the medicine chest, but nothing else. In the end, all she took away from crawling around on the bathroom floor were sore knees and an unpleasant odor that lingered in her nostrils long after she left.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Ben Wilson was surprised to get a call from the warden at Sing Sing. He told Wilson an inmate named Dan Molloy had been asking to see him for weeks. The warden had ignored Molloy at first, but the inmate kept insis
ting it was important for Wilson to pay him a visit. Molloy refused to tell the warden why. He said he would tell them when Wilson arrived at the prison.

  At first Wilson refused to go, saying he wasn’t interested in playing games with some two-bit con. He wanted Molloy to be be more specific about why he wanted to see him. Probably just wanted to squeal on someone on the outside so he could get his sentence reduced. The warden relayed the detective’s message to Molloy, but the inmate insisted he didn’t want any favors and refused to say any more.

  Detective Wilson finally relented. His meeting with Dan Molloy took place in the warden’s office. When Molloy walked in, shackled and in handcuffs, Wilson was shocked by his gauntness. Something was wrong with the man.

  “If you need me, the guard stationed outside will know where I am,” the warden said.

  He closed the door behind him, leaving Ben Wilson and Dan Molloy alone. Despite his thirty years on the force, Wilson was never comfortable around criminals.

  “You’d better not be wasting my time, Molloy.”

  “Do I look like I have any time to waste?”

  “No, but …”

  “Doctor told me I’d be dead by this time next month. Cancer. I gotta tell you what I know now before it’s too late.”

  Wilson looked him in the eye, suspicious. He was so jaded he couldn’t even trust a dying convict. “Let’s hear what you’ve got.”

  “The Austin kidnapping. Is that important enough for you?”

  “What do you know about it?”

  “I know who the kidnapper is.”

  Wilson saw the prisoner in a new light, but tried not to let his excitement show. If this were true, Wilson would solve the Austin kidnapping. One step at a time, he admonished himself. “Where did you get your information from?”