Veiled Threat

by Alice Loweecey

  Sidney reached for the pink phone-message pad, but Frank stopped her. “If you stop watching to write it down, you’ll miss the technique. Okay, see this little hook at the end where I broke the clip in half? You stick that end into the bottom of the lock so the L points up.”

  He pushed the smaller half of the paper clip into the jagged opening using his left hand, working it till it stopped. “See how I’ve placed it below the section that holds the wafers?”

  “Wafers?” Sidney said.

  “The pins, in some locks. The pieces of metal that the key fits into. Now you bend the pick down. If I did this right, I’ll get torque.” He applied pressure to the paper clip, and it popped out of the lock. “Good. That’s what happens when you do it wrong.” He reinserted it and pushed down. This time the metal stayed in place. “Good. See how I turned the L out of the way of the lock? Now take the other half.” He manipulated it in his right hand until the straight end pointed toward the file cabinet. “Slide this end—not the broken end with the hook—under the wafers.”

  Giulia stood on tiptoe to see over his shoulder. “How do you tell when it’s in the right place?”

  “You can feel the wafers. Here, take it.”

  Giulia grasped the second half of the clip. “I don’t feel anything.”

  “Move it in and out. Yes, like that. Can you feel the pins shift slightly?”

  “Yes. Okay, now I get it. Here, Sidney.”

  When Sidney had mimicked Giulia’s and Frank’s motion with the straight paper clip, Frank took it back.

  “Here’s the tricky part. You’re going to want to practice this at home. A bike lock or a plain old padlock is fine. What you have to do with the bottom piece is turn the keyway clockwise, but without interfering with the pins—wafers. The pick does that.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You both watching? Okay. Keep your left index finger on the torque half and hold the pick half at the rounded bend. Now you jog the pick up and down, fast but not rushed; you want to feel the wafers move. At the same time, you put clockwise pressure on the torque half. It’s like driving a stick.” After a few more wrist movements, the lock clicked and the cylinder popped out of the top corner of the file cabinet.

  “There.” He removed the paper-clip pieces.

  “Mr. D., that was awesome.” Sidney took the broken metal from him and turned the pieces over in her hands.

  Giulia applauded. “I am officially impressed. However, I do not know how to drive a standard transmission.”

  “I do,” Sidney said. “Dad taught me on the roads in the cemetery near our farm. It’s super-easy, Giulia. I could teach you in like half an hour.” She handed her a large paper clip and dropped one in her knapsack-sized purse. “Does that mean you’re getting a car?”

  Giulia tucked the paper clip in the inner pocket of her much smaller purse. “Soon, I hope. Much sooner than I’ll need to break into a house or steal a bicycle with this new skill.”

  “Always be prepared. You never know when you might encounter a stray file cabinet in need of help.” Frank peered into his part of the office. “That’s right. I didn’t bring coffee because we went to Jimmy’s.”

  Giulia opened her mouth to offer to run downstairs to Common Grounds, but the Cosmo fairy sitting on her shoulder shut it for her.

  “Eh, I drink too much caffeine anyway. Sidney, any messages?”

  “Oh, yes. Sorry. I forgot when I tried to find the key to that stupid lock.” She picked up two bright-pink message slips. “Monsignor Harvey’s assistant said he really wants you to call before noon, and your mom called right after you left.”

  Frank’s shoulders slumped. “Is there anything less professional than having your admin tell you to call Mom?”

  Giulia laughed. “Real men call their mothers regularly. This lets them cut the line into heaven.”

  “I’ll remember that.” He closed the door of his half of the office behind him.

  Giulia pulled out her cell and redialed Laurel. “It’s me again, sweetie. Can you email me everything you just sent to the police station? Here’s my address.” She waited while Laurel clicked her mouse. “I’m going to take a look at it on my lunch hour … yes, of course I’ll call you if I have any ideas … I know … I have to get back to work now.”

  Sidney plopped a stack of documents on the edge of her desk and opened the top file cabinet drawer.

  “I told you we’re going to have food stations at the reception, didn’t I?”

  Giulia discarded three emails. “You did. What did Olivier decide to have on his side?”

  Sidney jogged papers into one of the hanging folders. “Teriyaki pork kebabs at one, little corned beef sandwiches with Swiss cheese and sauerkraut at another, chicken wings at the third one.”

  Giulia looked up. “Reubens?”

  “Yeah, that was it. He went into rhapsodies over sauerkraut and Russian dressing and rye bread—which I could eat if I liked sauerkraut—but corned beef? Ew. I can just picture his poker gang glomming onto that preservative-filled heart-attack fodder.” More papers disappeared into the file drawer.

  “Maybe their wives will encourage them to try your stations.” Giulia opened an unfinished spreadsheet and her Day-Timer and started typing in her handwritten information.

  “Puh-lease. Olivier says they might try the free-range chicken dumplings if we don’t tell them they’re healthy. But he says they’ll run away from the mushroom pâté and the corn-and-pumpkin stew. It’s all grown locally—even the wheat used to make the bread for the bruschettas.”

  “As long as everyone has a good time …” Giulia’s voice trailed off as she deciphered her own writing.

  “That’s what Mom says. You’re right. I’m just nervous.”

  Giulia hit Save. “Why?”

  Sidney closed one drawer. “Not about marrying Olivier. He’s wonderful and I love him and I love his family too. About everything being perfect. I worry that I’ll turn into one of those Bridezillas or that we’ll get to the church and the Pope will burst open the doors and tell everyone that the wedding is canceled because I failed that test on church history.”

  “You failed that test?” Giulia fought—and conquered—her desire to smile at the picture of the Pope and two dozen attendant Cardinals invading quiet little Our Lady of Perpetual Help. “Did you freeze?”

  “I overloaded. I was okay with the real early stuff, but when the test got to the Borgias and all those corrupt popes, everything scrambled in my brain like eggs. Plus I hadn’t eaten that morning and I thought of eggs and—poof. There went half my studying. All I could think about was a mushroom omelet.”

  “You can retake it.”

  “Not till after the honeymoon. It wouldn’t have changed the wedding plans even if I did pass, because I’ve got a bunch of steps to go before I become 100 percent Catholic and can join in Communion and everything. Father Pat’s got our whole liturgy set up, and says that everyone’ll be going to church the next day for Christmas anyway because it’s Sunday, so it’s not like they’ll be missing their Communion for the week.”

  Frank opened his door. “Seven.”

  “Seven what?” Giulia said.

  “Seven separate commissions from the Diocesan Office. Did you have any idea the Church had so many projects they didn’t want to handle themselves?”

  “That wasn’t my area, but I’m not surprised. Look at the scope of their works and the number of parishes.”

  “Plus all the nuns are jumping ship.”

  She stuck out the tip of her tongue. “Wall. Jumping the wall.”

  “You are such an English teacher.”

  “Besides, what makes you think that any Community would handle these commissions? Nuns aren’t private investigators.”

  Frank’s expression was the picture of ingenuous. “Come on. Nuns are all-powerful and all-knowing. Like all the nuns who taught me in high school.”

  The phone rang. Sidney ducked under the open file-cabinet drawer to answer it.

 
“Perhaps I should’ve kept one of the habits from the Motherhouse undercover job. It seems to be the only symbol you respect.”

  “Not true.” Frank ticked points off on his fingers. “I respect the Steelers’ defensive line, the power of Jameson, Manchester United’s keeper, and the prompt person who cuts the checks for the Church. DI’s account balance is a joy to behold.”

  “Sidney and I will expect fat Christmas bonuses, then.” As Sidney hung up the phone, Giulia added, “Right, Sidney?”

  “What?”

  “Just say yes.”

  “Um, yes?”

  Frank made head-clawing motions. “You two will bankrupt me.”

  “If you want to retain good employees, you have to give them proper incentive.”

  Sidney looked from Giulia to Frank, worry lines forming between her eyes. “Um, Mr. D., that was Captain Reilly.”

  “Sidney, don’t listen to Giulia, she’s just trying to apply that famous Catholic guilt. What’s the message?”

  “He says please come back to his office. He’ll buy lunch.”

  “Crap.”

  Giulia said,” What’s wrong with that?”

  “He wants to soften me up. Lunch is his favorite weapon.”

  “Maybe he’s going to give me another opportunity to pour hot coffee on Poole.” Giulia stood and headed for the coat rack. “It’s Tuesday. It’s nearly noon. The window for getting Katie back is closing fast. I’m willing to discuss anything that may help.”

  SEVEN

  “I WENT WITH THE safe choice,” Jimmy said as he ripped open a large white paper bag. “Isaly’s chipped ham, lettuce, tomato, brown mustard, no pickles.”

  “God be praised,” Frank said, unwrapping a foot-long sub.

  “What do you have against pickles?” Giulia folded her sub wrapper into a neat rectangular placemat without disturbing the actual sandwich.

  “How do you do that?” Frank studied Giulia’s paper and shook his head, unscrewing the top of his Coke bottle. “Pickles are zombie cucumbers: green, droopy, and excreting unspecified innards. I only eat clean kills.”

  Giulia laughed. “Next Halloween I may dress up as a zombie pickle, just to see the look on your face.” She smiled at Jimmy. “Thank you for lunch. This smells heavenly.”

  “Nothing says brain food like a hot chipped-ham sub. We’re gonna need it.” He clicked his mouse with his right hand and took a bite from the sandwich in his left. “I got Davis away from Poole, and we combed through their report and the documents your friend sent me. Assuming that the three kidnappings are connected, we’re looking at the same person—or people—running a kidnapping ring. If not, we’re looking at a mighty long coincidence.”

  Giulia set down her own Coke. “Of course they have to be the same person.”

  “Not necessarily. Black-market baby rings are more prevalent than you want to know.”

  She shuddered. “But isn’t it obvious that in these three cases the kidnappers deliberately targeted adoptees of gays?”

  Frank said in between bites, “Where’s conclusive proof that gay couples are the only target?”

  Jimmy set down his sub and wiped his hands. “The information your friend has focuses only on two kidnappings, which, granted, have a very similar pattern.”

  “Show me, please. She sent everything to me, but I haven’t been able to study them yet.”

  He handed them a set of printouts and reentered his password to unlock his screen. “The top pages are about the first couple in Akron. Young woman with middle-aged partner. One hundred percent honest on their application, as you can see.”

  Giulia snickered. “I don’t suppose I’d have the nerve to ask a male friend to ejaculate into a turkey baster, either.”

  “The things I see in this job.” Jimmy clicked his mouse. “They had contacts at several local hospitals. A mother gave birth, stayed overnight, and walked out.”

  Frank stopped in the act of taking a bite. “She left her newborn? Every time I think I’ve seen too much, people surprise me.”

  “Fifteen-year-old black mother, forty-year-old Asian father. Neither family wanted the baby. The father had already skipped town; the teenager boarded a bus and hasn’t been seen since.”

  Frank swallowed. “I take it back.”

  Giulia pointed to the bottom of her page. “The adoption laws are less strict in Ohio.”

  Jimmy said, “Yes and no. This couple had all their paperwork and background checks in place. They also had connections and money. Bribes are effective grease. Three months later, the baby was theirs.”

  “Two months after that,” Giulia said, still reading, “the young woman took the baby for an evening walk. It was a beautiful April night. Someone clocked her on the head and took the baby. The same phone-call pattern.”

  “Untraceable because the kidnappers used burn phones, no doubt,” Jimmy said.

  “I’m sorry?” Giulia said.

  “Prepaid disposable phones. Untraceable because the most the recipient’s carrier can do is use the nearest cell towers to triangulate the signal. All the kidnappers had to do was call from a densely populated area. A train station at rush hour, or a sports stadium during a game. By the time the police get there, even if it’s only a few minutes, the caller’s thrown away the phone and melted into the crowd.”

  “Oh. I see. After that call, this couple paid the ransom, but they never saw the baby again.” She swallowed, picturing Laurel’s face as she told her story in the office.

  “They got a follow-up phone call the next day,” Jimmy said, pointing to the corresponding places on his screen and the printout. “Said the baby was safe and in a God-fearing home.”

  Giulia hit her hands on the desk. “I am sick of people using God to suit their own purposes.”

  “I’ll keep you away from Poole when you leave.” Jimmy smiled at Giulia.

  Frank turned the page as Giulia took a drink. “Here’s one similarity: birth defects. The abandoned baby had a cleft palate. The next one was born deaf.”

  “Katie was born with an extra pinky finger on each hand.” Giulia snatched the paper from Frank. “Laurel said that nontraditional couples fared better adopting hard-to-place babies.”

  Jimmy typed the birth defects into an open Word doc. “Good. The second kidnapping happened in Erie. Older women, already had one child from a failed marriage, wanted a second. Heard of a deaf-mute one-year-old that had already been in three foster homes. Long story short, they were approved after the child’s second birthday.”

  “They snatched this baby like they did Katie,” Giulia said. “The couple paid the ransom, but this is why Laurel and Anya are so frantic.”

  Frank read on, setting down his sub. “Son of a bitch.”

  Jimmy said, “The little girl’s lungs were filled with water. A bathtub accident was the obvious conclusion, but there was no soap mixed with the water. It wasn’t chlorinated, either, so probably not an indoor pool.”

  “Why not outdoor?” Frank said. “Right, February.”

  “Here’s how she was left.” Jimmy turned his screen. A snow-covered bicycle path shelter held a tiny, blanket-wrapped bundle. Off to one side, two women in long coats clung to each other. A piece of paper pinned to the front of the blanket, its sunny yellow color garish against the bright pink blanket.

  Giulia kept her voice steady as she traced her finger down her page. “What does the note say?”

  “That the child is in the arms of her Heavenly Father.” Jimmy tossed his wrapper into the trash.

  Frank put a hand on Giulia’s arm. “I’ll say it. Bastards.”

  EIGHT

  GIULIA GAVE FRANK A tight smile. “I notice that the kidnappers kept the money both times.”

  “Of course,” Frank said. “It’s all about the money.”

  She gripped her Coke till the plastic buckled. “Captain, may I have a pen?”

  When she uncapped the ballpoint, she turned over the first printout. “Similarity number one: all three babie
s had a medical issue. The kidnappers could be working at hospitals. No. The victims lived too far apart. They could have hacked into hospital databases.”

  “Across three states?” Frank said. “Keep in mind that I’m playing Devil’s Advocate in this scenario.”

  “Drag yourself into the twenty-first century, Driscoll,” Jimmy said. “My neighbor’s kid hacked into the school district’s database to change his girlfriend’s GPA.”

  “I’ll give you that. But this could also mean we’re dealing with three different kidnappers. A small ring, but still a ring.”

  Giulia finished her sub. “That’s possible. Laurel and Anya’s contacts don’t think the police in Erie or Akron tried to connect the crimes.”

  Jimmy looked at her over the monitor. “There wouldn’t be an obvious reason to. Of course, if either set of parents had disobeyed the phoned instructions and called in the FBI, their resources might have found a connection where local authorities couldn’t. And I say that as a local authority.”

  “I know. The adoption assistance group did insist there was a pattern.” She folded her wrapper into a small square.

  A quick knock on the door and a detective poked his head in. “I kid you not, Cap, a geezer just rammed his ’55 T-Bird into a 7-Eleven.”

  “Is he hurt?” Giulia said.

  “Is the T-Bird hurt?” Frank said.

  “He’s okay enough to be cursing in German and kicking pieces of his bumper. The two clerks and a guy who was getting a Slurpee are trying to salvage the front displays. The T-Bird sustained minor front-end damage.”

  Frank and Jimmy groaned.

  “You two,” Giulia glared at each of them in turn, “need to rethink your priorities. Cars can be replaced. People can’t.”

  “Vintage T-Birds cannot be replaced.” Jimmy waved the detective out. “Get the uniforms’ report and plug it into your metrics. Close the door.”

  “Men.” Giulia said. She spread out the papers. “Look. All three couples use the same bank chain.”

  Frank and Jimmy followed her pen as she circled the bank name three times.

  “I know it’s possible to hack a bank, but it’s not easy.” Giulia tapped the pen next to one of the circles. “Laurel said that they used credit cards for most of the expenses and left their bank accounts intact. This way, when the agencies ran credit checks, they always had enough money to pay the bills.”