by Randy Rawls
I continued, “Since you describe yourself as a straight-shooter, I’ll reciprocate. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. If this thing goes sour, you’ll be right by default, and you’ll be able to needle your brother for the rest of his life—if you so choose. Me, I’ll be upset by the loss of Ashley—and my failure—but it won’t take over my life. Odds are heavy you’ll have the opportunity to remind John that you disagreed. The experts say we’ll never see Ashley alive. But that has nothing to do with his decision. That’s simply the way it is in kidnappings. The victim seldom survives.”
“Then why—”
“Don’t interrupt. I’m not finished.” I hesitated a quick moment as she went mum, then plowed on. “I learned a long time ago to defer to those who know more than I. He says he’s an expert on the criminal mind because he spends so much time with such a variety of them. That sounds logical to me. So when he says a heavy police presence could cause them to panic and kill Ashley, who am I to argue? He wants me on the job. I agreed to take the job. Period. And that’s about as much as I want to say about the subject. You may think what you please.” I finished my speech by picking up my cup and raising it to my lips.
The look of shock on her face faded into a smile. “Thank you for your honesty. I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree. But even though it doesn’t matter, I had to let you know my feelings. John made his decision, and that’s how it is. We’re both stuck with it.” She held out her hand.
I stared at the hand. My first impulse was to slap it away. How dare she invade my privacy to remind me I wasn’t qualified? To hell with her and her New York attitude. But even as that popped into my mind, I was overcome by the realization I had met an honest woman. That, alone, made the conversation worthwhile. In my life, I met far too few of them. I rose and shook her hand. “I appreciate your opinion,” I said, meaning it. I didn’t know whether we could be friends, but I could honor her integrity.
“And I appreciate yours. Let me add that contrary to how I may sound, I do hope John made the right decision.” She walked around the table toward the exit from the gazebo. “Maybe when this is over, we can have a lunch together. Who knows? We might learn to like each other. Now I suggest you get some sleep. You look like hell.”
“Yeah.” No witty comments came to mind. Too tired.
sixteen
I sat again at the table in the gazebo and picked up the message. The letters blurred as my eyes closed, making me realize how stupid I was acting. I was beat, and this might be my best chance to get some rest for the near future. Who knew when the lid might blow off? I slid the paper and the pictures into my briefcase and stepped out of the gazebo. My plan was to locate a sofa in a quiet corner and grab some shuteye.
But first, I wanted a shower. A cleansing and a nap might solve my zombie state. Hammonds was at his office downtown, but I didn’t need his permission or for him to point me in the right direction. I had no doubt he’d prefer a clean PI representing him. As for where to find a shower, that shouldn’t be a problem in a house like Hammonds’. Each bedroom probably had a full bath attached.
I headed toward the front door, my mind feeling heavy. Before I arrived, Providence intervened in the form of my cell phone.
Oh, no. Mom. In the excitement of the soccer field run, I forgot she was in town. Feeling a lecture coming, I answered, “Mom. How are you this morning?”
“Don’t give me that. If you really wanted to know, you’d have come home last night—or at least called. What kind of life are you leading?”
I guess there was no need telling her I spent a couple of uncomfortable hours flopping from one side of my recliner to the other. She’d accuse me of making it up. “It’s a tough case, Mom. Look, I was on my way home to grab a shower. I’ll explain when I get there.”
“Are you sure? I hear something in your voice like when you were a teenager and up to some devilment.”
What is it about mothers? Or is it only mine? I could never put anything over on her. “Well, I need to clean up, and my shower isn’t that far away. I promise to tell you the whole story.”
“Okay. I’ll fix something to eat. Have you taken the time for a proper meal? You know breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
“That sounds great. I’ll be there in less than a half hour.” I hit the end button. So much for checking Hammonds’ fancy digs.
Twenty-five minutes later, I walked through my front door. The delicious smell of frying bacon greeted me. In the kitchen, I saw Mom at the stove. Not only was there bacon in a pan, but a pot of grits bubbled on a back burner. With that, I realized how hungry I really was. Thinking back, I couldn’t remember anything except coffee since … well, I couldn’t remember.
“I’ll be in and out of the shower in fifteen minutes,” I said. “That smells so good I can hardly wait.”
Mom turned. “I didn’t hear you come in, dear. You go ahead and shower. I’ll hold the eggs until you’re ready. Want two or three? And how many slices of toast? Will three be enough?”
“More than enough,” I said. “And two eggs. But you better make it about half a pound of bacon. You know I can’t resist it.”
Over enough food to feed several of Bob’s homeless friends, I filled Mom in on the case. When I finished, there were tears in her eyes.
“You do whatever you need to do,” she said. “And don’t even think about me and my problems. That little girl’s more important than anything else right now. I’ll just call Ike and ask him if he can come for a visit. He said you promised him a fishing charter.”
“Ike?” Oh, my. What had I started? What had they discussed over that breakfast in Dallas? “Do you really think he’ll come? Can he break away from his job?”
She chuckled. “He says it’s more of a hobby than a job. They kinda humor him and pay him for coming in. All he has to do is let them know he won’t be there.”
Figuring I was in a no-win situation, I said, “That’s a great idea. If Ike was in the area, I wouldn’t feel so guilty about leaving you alone.” After a second thought, I added, “Uh … where will he stay?”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll get a room in a hotel. That would be much more convenient for him. And … well, if we decided to stay out late, we wouldn’t disturb you if you were resting.”
I rolled my eyes, deciding not to go there. There are some things a daughter should not pursue with her mother.
After a few more words, we lapsed into silence. The good news was, Mom was taken care of. The bad news was, I hadn’t made any inroads on finding Ashley. But, after the night I’d had and the thousand calorie breakfast I’d consumed, I couldn’t hold my eyes open.
“I’m going to bed down for a bit,” I said. “I’ll set the alarm, but just in case, give me a good shaking about two.”
“No problem.”
I followed through with my plan and felt much better when the alarm woke me at one fifty-nine. Mom was through the door a few seconds later.
“Rise and shine. Crime awaits,” she said, giving me the same smile she used when I was a child.
Seeing her in the doorway and hearing her words again made me realize how much I missed her. Yeah, although she badgered me about grandchildren, she was still the same wonderful woman who sacrificed her youth to raise me. Giving a long luxurious stretch, I felt twelve years old. Crime busting had not been my objective then. Timmy, who played quarterback in high school and lived down the block, was. But that was then, and now was now. Time to move it.
“I’m awake, Mom. Thanks.” I rolled out of bed and adjusted my clothes, then slipped on my sneakers. As I holstered my bra-gun, Mom stuck her head back into the door.
“What are you doing? What is that?”
Busted. This might take more explaining than I wanted to do. How could I tell my mother I needed to carry a concealed—and I do mean concealed—firearm? I couldn’t. “Sorry, Mom. Gotta
run. Kisses.” I dashed past her, out of the room, and out of the house.
Once in the car, I headed north. Only when I was three blocks away did I pull into a 7-Eleven. I needed gas, but I also needed to consider my next step—and a cup of coffee would help with that.
After filling the tank, I parked in a spot beside the station and called Bob. If I were lucky enough to win the lottery, one of his people would be standing there with the name and address of my mystery woman.
“Hi, Beth. What’s happening?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing. I took a few hours to catch forty winks. Since no one woke me, I’m guessing things remain the same.”
“I wish I had good news, but I don’t. Maybe when people drift in later, someone will have something. Time will tell.”
“Okay. I’m going to hit some more of the strip malls near the school. If miracles are real, she stopped in on her way to kidnap Ashley, and I’ll find someone who knows her. That’s about where I am—waiting for my good fairy to alight and point me in the right direction.”
Bob chuckled. “Remember, we’re never too old to believe. Don’t give up. Ninety percent of any miracle is hard work. Or, in your case, shoe leather.”
We promised to keep one another up-to-date, then rung off. My next stop was FedEx Office for more copies of my sketches. But before then, I wanted to check in at the Hammonds house.
Officer Winthrop answered the phone. “Hammonds residence.”
“It’s me, Beth Bowman. Has Mr. Hammonds called in? Has anything new happened?”
“No, everything is quiet. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, all day. Well, a few media calls, but no one worthwhile.”
His comment told me what he thought of the fourth estate. Couldn’t say I disagreed with him much. “Give me a call the moment something happens—anything happens. Do you have my cell?”
“Yes, Ms. Bowman. Chief Elston threatened to tattoo it on the back of my hand if I forgot it. Can you hold? I have another call coming in.”
“Sure.” I didn’t have anything else to say to him, but I was curious about who was on the other line.
“Ms. Bowman.” He was back. “That was Detective Bannon. He told me to tell you to hang up and keep the line open. Mr. Hammonds wants to talk to you.”
I followed instructions and the phone rang. “John,” I said into the phone. “What do you have?”
“Five people, four men, one woman. I defended them eight to fifteen years ago and lost. Each of them received sentences that would keep them in jail a minimum of ten years.”
“Great,” I exclaimed. “Were they white-collar? Well-educated?”
“Yes. Two lobbyists and two county commissioners. The fifth embezzled from an assisted living facility.”
“That fits,” I said. “Can you bring their files to the house?”
“We’re on the way. Bannon alerted the chief, and they’re digging for their records, too. Of course, that might take longer. These were pre-computerization and they archived old closed cases in a warehouse in the southwest end of the county.”
“We’ll take what we can get,” I said, pushing my hair out of my eyes. “At least we’ll have something to start with. How long before you get there?”
“Maybe thirty minutes—unless I convince Bannon to use the siren.”
“Tell him Beth will tell the chief if he doesn’t,” I said, hoping Bannon would find it humorous. Or maybe he’d cooperate. “If not, I’ll be at your house before you arrive.”
seventeen
I arrived at Hammonds’ house first and camped out in the gazebo again, loving the fresh air. The temperature was in the nineties, but that was pretty standard for South Florida. I could handle it as long as I didn’t have to be in the direct sun. Shade, any shade, reduced the heat to a bearable degree.
Another reason I didn’t go in was I had no desire to face Maddy Hammonds. She had told me what she thought, and I didn’t need any more of that. And, by being outside, I would be closer when Hammonds arrived. He said five possibilities. Five to find and investigate, and little time to do it. But that was better than no leads at all. Of course, we had to keep our fingers crossed, hoping the kidnapper was one of the five. Hammonds said Bannon gave the names to the chief, and the police were checking them. With perfect luck, we’d find four of them still in jail, leaving the fifth as the logical kidnapper. However, I couldn’t recall any time in my life I’d had perfect luck—well, other than meeting David. He was three thousand miles away, though, diluting that good luck. Nothing to do but wait for Hammonds and wish for the best.
My cell phone rang, and I yanked it out of my bag. Maybe it was Hammonds saying they were almost home. That would be great, meaning we could get serious about finding the kidnappers. The call was even better.
“David,” I exclaimed. “It’s so good to hear from you. God, I miss you. I wish you were here.”
“Good to hear your voice, too, and I miss you just as much. I only have a moment—slipped out of a session—but I had to talk to you. Sorry about last night, but I could just hear those two characters ragging me if I said what I wanted to say.”
“And what did you want to say?” I asked, cutting in.
David chuckled. “I said it. I miss you. I’m learning that I miss you very much. You have really gotten under my skin in areas I can’t scratch in public.”
“So, it’s all about sex? Is that it?” I said it with what I hoped was a smile in my voice, not wanting David to misunderstand.
“Not at all. You mean much more to me than that. I guess I’d better change the subject before I get into deeper trouble.”
“Really? I prefer you keep talking. Get yourself in deeper trouble.”
He hesitated, and I refused to rescue him. Let him sweat.
“Okay, I’d much rather be wrinkling the sheets with you than listening to these boring lectures. Is that enough trouble for you?”
I laughed. “The feeling is mutual.”
“How are you?” he asked in his serious voice. “Or maybe I should ask, what are you up to, and have you been injured yet?”
I smiled, recognizing he couldn’t keep his sense of humor down. We first met because of a bonk on the head I received. A few days later, my cranium took another blow, making him wonder if that was my normal course in life. He never missed an opportunity to make a joke about my proclivity for getting banged around.
In a microsecond, I decided to tell David everything. Maybe it would clear my head to put it into words. After all, he’d almost said he loved me. He’d support me and give me guidance. “I have a new case. Someone kidnapped a five-year-old child after killing the mother. It doesn’t look good for the little girl.”
“That’s terrible. Do you think you can help? Isn’t this something for the police?”
“Do you know John Hammonds, the defense lawyer?”
“I’ve heard of him. Fortunately, I haven’t needed his services. How does he fit in?”
“He’s my client, and when he speaks, folks listen.” I launched into an explanation of why Hammonds wanted me to front the investigation, instead of the police, leaving out nothing. It felt good to talk to someone not involved. Maybe David’s clinical analysis was what I needed.
“Wow,” he said. “Quite a story. Hammonds is lucky it’s you and not me. I wouldn’t know what to do. Good luck on getting his daughter home. I’m sure you’ll make the right decisions. And Hammonds lived up to his reputation of being brilliant. He hired the best.” His voice softened. “The very best.”
It wasn’t the clinical analysis I had hoped for, but it would have to do. “Thanks, I—”
A plain wrapper police car pulled into the driveway. I bounced from my seat and stepped outside the gazebo. It had to be Hammonds and Bannon. Great. Now I’d finally have something to sink my teeth into other than frustration.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” I said. “I have to run. John Hammonds just arrived. He might be carrying the break we’ve been hoping for.”
“I understand. I’ll be home Saturday or Sunday. The conference ends Friday night, but they’re making some arrangements for the weekend. They’ve announced an optional visitation for Saturday afternoon. Professionally, I need to attend, but my heart is tugging me home. Please be careful. And … well, good luck. I wish I were there to help—or at least give moral support.”
“I understand, my love. Running.” I clicked off as I started toward the police vehicle, which had stopped at the garage door. I had my fingers crossed, hoping they had names and pictures I could feed to Bob and his people. There was always the chance someone would get careless when there was no one around except a derelict. Since most people have no eyes for the homeless, they often see things no policeman has a chance to observe.
I ran to the passenger side of the sedan. “Do you have the pictures?”
“Pictures?” Hammonds said, opening the door and stepping out. “No pictures, just my files. I’m hoping the police will come up with mug shots. Of course, much of my experience says any similarity between appearance in booking photos and how a person looks in real life is purely coincidental. Plus, they are at least ten years older, but they can age enhance them. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and they’ll be recognizable.”
Disappointed, I said, “Let’s get inside and see what you have. Time is slipping by.”
eighteen
Dabba sat in the middle of the city bus, no one beside her or in the rows to her front and back. The combination of her appearance and her constant muttering kept everyone at bay. She didn’t care. She didn’t need them. She didn’t need anyone—anyone except her daughter.