by Cathi Stoler
“I gathered up everything, put it back into the envelope in what I hoped was the right order and reattached it to the dresser. It all felt so wrong. I just needed some time to think.” Anne paused. “That’s why I emailed you. I read your articles in Women Now each month. I … I thought … you might be able to help me figure out what to do.” Her voice became smaller and more tentative as she spoke these last words.
Laurel sat back, easing up on the pen she realized she was holding in a death grip. Her heart raced. This could be serious trouble. She tried to find the right words. The last thing she wanted to do was increase Anne’s panic. “You did the right thing by putting the envelope back. It bought you some time.”
“It didn’t.” Anne moaned, dread seeping into her voice. “All weekend I tried to act as normal as possible, but David must have sensed something was wrong. He seemed very edgy and left the apartment several times. He said he had work-related errands to do, but he’s a financial advisor and never works on weekends. When he finally left for the office this morning, I worked up the courage to get the envelope and look at its contents again, but it was gone.”
Laurel bit her tongue to hold back the questions that threatened to pour out. If I interrupt her now, she might lose it completely.
“David must know I found the envelope and opened it. He hates people prying into his business. I know he can’t stand personal questions and gossip at his office. He once pounded his fist against the wall when he told me about an argument he had with a coworker who kept asking about his life in the Midwest. David said he was sure the guy was looking for some way to trip him up.”
Laurel winced at the image, imagining the reaction Anne must have had to seeing this violent side of her fiancé.
“I didn’t understand it at the time,” Anne went on, “but maybe that was his way of warning me about interfering. Maybe I should just get in my car and leave. I know it seems crazy, but I really feel frightened.”
You should feel terrified, Laurel thought. Men who became nasty so easily were dangerous, especially one with four sets of false IDs at his disposal. Laurel’s mind went into overdrive. “How long have you known David? How did you two meet? Did he ever …” She stopped short of asking if David had ever been abusive toward Anne, knowing this might frighten her even more.
“Well, we met a little while after I moved here from Clayton,” Anne said.
“Clayton? Where’s that?” Laurel was trying to get Anne’s story sorted out. She heard the woman take a deep breath and then there was a pause.
“Clayton is where I grew up. I’m twenty-three, and Clayton is the only other place I’ve ever lived. It’s a tiny village in a rural farming area, just outside Meadeville, in western Pennsylvania. I helped my parents on their dairy farm and took college courses online. After my parents were killed in an automobile accident a little over a year ago, I was totally alone. No family or any really close friends. I didn’t want to stay on the farm by myself, so I sold it and moved to Doylestown to start a new life. The thought of living in a big city like Pittsburgh made me nervous. Doylestown seemed large enough to offer some opportunities for work and for meeting people and making friends.”
Laurel listened, biting back the other questions she wanted to ask. Telling me her life story is calming her down. She’ll need to be calm to handle the mess she’s in. Laurel cradled the phone against her shoulder and quietly turned the page in her notebook. She had already filled five pages.
“I rented a small studio apartment over the used bookshop on West State Street. Then I enrolled in courses at the local community college and found work as a waitress at The Willow, a local bar and restaurant. I’d been there about three months when I met David. David Adams. I was working the dinner shift and noticed him looking at me from his seat at the bar.”
“Did he approach you, or speak to you?” Laurel asked.
“No,” Anne said, “but each time I walked to the service bar with my drink orders, he seemed to know I was there. He’d look up, kind of smile with his soft brown eyes and then lower his head back over his drink. ”Anne’s voice warmed for a moment at this memory. “On my last trip to the bar, I noticed his seat was empty and I was a bit disappointed. He seemed shy and handsome, kind of easygoing. I would have liked to have chatted with him. I cleared my last table and counted my tips. After I said good night to my coworkers, I stepped outside. David was there.”
“What did he do?” Laurel asked.
“He called my name. It startled me a little, but he explained that it took him the whole evening to work up the courage to speak with me. I was flattered. Men don’t usually go to such lengths to meet me, especially ones as attractive as David.
“David came back to the restaurant the next night and every night after that. I got so used to seeing him there talking with Craig, the bartender, that when he finally asked me out, I said yes.
“David was also fairly new to Doylestown. He told me he was from a small town in the Midwest. When he saw an ad proclaiming the beauty and bounty of Pennsylvania, he decided to move and began working for a local investment firm. We dated for six months. Then I moved into David’s apartment, and we became engaged. I don’t know. I … I really thought I knew him.”
Laurel could hear the distress in Anne’s voice. “How about his friends? How did he behave when you were with them?” Laurel tried to build a picture of their relationship.
“David doesn’t have many friends,” Anne said. “We never went out with any of them, or any of mine. He said what we had together was perfect and we didn’t need anyone getting in the way.”
Had he tried to isolate Anne from the very beginning? Why? What was his plan?
What could she tell this woman that wouldn’t cause her fear to escalate? Laurel spoke slowly. “I think you should trust your instincts. Leave the apartment before David gets home. Just take what you need and your personal papers. Write a note with some excuse about going grocery shopping, or to the mall, so he’ll think you’re coming back and won’t suspect you think he might be angry. Then get in your car and drive to a friend’s house.”
“I don’t know … I …” Anne was crying. “I … have nowhere to go.”
Laurel paused to catch her breath. “Anne, you’re not the first woman to be fooled by a man. It’s horrible and I know it really hurts, but you have to think about your safety. You should go to the police station and tell whoever’s in charge what you just told me. All of it. Especially the part about his violent outburst. It’s important.”
“What are you saying? You’re frightening me.” The fear in Anne’s voice made Laurel cringe.
“Listen to me,” Laurel said. “This is serious. Have the police check with David’s boss. That list you found. It could be some private investment of his. Or it could mean he’s been diverting funds from his firm’s clients. The police will know who to talk to and what to look for. Do you have someone you can crash with, at least for tonight?”
“There’s a waitress from work. I’m sure she’ll let me stay with her, but I don’t want to cause her any trouble,” Anne said.
“Tell her you and David had an argument and you’d rather not speak to him if he calls looking for you.” Laurel was firm.
“Okay.” Anne’s reply was tentative.
“I mean it. Call me after you go to the police.” There was no time to waste. David Adams could arrive home at any minute.
Laurel had one last question for the scared young woman and posed it gently and carefully. “Is it possible David knows you’ve contacted me? Could he have checked your emails and realized you’re looking for help?” After the conversation she just had, Laurel was certain David Adams inspected Anne’s computer without her knowledge and realized she was on to him. She would have the magazine’s online technology department check the address no matter how hard it was, or how long it took to be certain.
“No, it’s not possible. I … I closed down my computer each time I wrote you.”
; “Good, good.” Laurel hoped Anne couldn’t hear the false note in her voice. Closing down a computer wouldn’t stop someone as determined as David Adams seemed to be. “Just get out of that apartment as soon as you can, okay?”
Laurel gave Anne her home and cell numbers and hung up. She sat at her desk, staring at her notes and reliving the conversation. Laurel’s advice might have seemed extreme to Anne, but it wasn’t. She wanted Anne to protect herself. Over the past few years, Laurel had heard and read so many news stories about people not being who they said they were. Most often, it was men—con artists who had some scheme in mind that involved taking advantage of some unsuspecting woman. Not always.
Laurel shuddered, remembering that women could be just as deceitful. There was that case a few years back right in New York, a mother-and-son team that stalked and killed an elderly woman on the Upper East Side and then tried to take over ownership of her townhouse. They had a long history of murdering and swindling, and were clever enough to fool many people along the way.
Unless David Adams was in the CIA, which Laurel seriously doubted, he was yet another con artist and quite possibly a very dangerous one. Would he hurt Anne to protect himself?
Laurel didn’t know. She shook her head. I’m a reporter, not a detective. Anne needed the help of professionals. She tapped her pen anxiously and considered what she could do. An idea began to form in her mind. She’d help the best way she knew how: with Women Now and an assist from the smartest PI in the city, Helen McCorkendale.
Chapter 4
Monday, 7:35 p.m.
“You’re here!” Paul Stevens came out from the kitchen and gave Laurel a big hug. “Hey, now I know it’s officially Monday night.” His thick Brooklyn accent made her smile.
“Cute.” She hugged him back. “I guess hanging out here every Monday means Jenna and I have become too predictable.”
“Ms. Jenna Gems? Too predictable? Fuggedaboudit!” He laughed and raised his eyebrow. “Never!”
“Gee, thanks,” Laurel said with a mock hurt tone, giving him a playful punch on the arm.
“Where is the lady?” Paul nodded toward the entrance to his noisy and bustling restaurant.
“As if she’d be on time.” Laurel followed his gaze and took a seat at the beautiful old oak and brass bar. I wish for once she wouldn’t be late, she thought. She drummed her fingers impatiently on the polished wood in front of her.
Laurel sighed. She loved her time together with Jenna at Paul’s Saloon, rehashing the week’s events over a bottle of Chardonnay or Merlot and the Monday night dinner special. Jenna’s news is usually more intriguing, she thought. All about her men and the many games she plays with them. Tonight, I’ve got her beat.
Laurel checked her watch, and her cellphone rang as if on cue. “Where are you, exactly?” Laurel didn’t miss a beat. “I’d like an ETA, please. I’m starving and there’s something important I need to discuss with you.”
“You sound as if you were expecting me to be late. I’m not always late.”
Laurel rolled her eyes and held up her hand toward Mike, her favorite bartender, before he poured her usual pre-dinner club soda with a twist. “Make it a scotch and soda,” she mouthed, and he gave her a thumbs-up.
“Okay,” she replied. “I know you’re busy. I know traffic’s a bitch. It’s just that I was hoping you’d be on time tonight. I have something important to discuss with you.”
“I’m in a cab. I just left Tony’s and I’ll be there in five minutes. Hang on.” Laurel could hear Jenna speaking to the driver. “No. Don’t go up First Avenue, look at the traffic. Take the Drive and get off at Sixty-first. Okay, I’m back. Bye.” She was gone.
Laurel smiled to herself, in spite of the anxiety she felt. Jenna could be a little bossy. I wonder if she bosses Tony around, too.
Laurel had heard the story of how Jenna met her latest boy toy, Tony Morelli, so often she could practically recite it from memory.
“I was showing my collection at the Euro Jewelry Expo in Milan last October,” Jenna would begin in her low, throaty voice. “I was talking with Donatella, when this gorgeous male model from her show came up to her … very Italian … very handsome, you know?”
Laurel would nod in response.
“They spoke for a moment, then he turned and left, without so much as a word to me,” Jenna would add, as incredulous as if the sun had just dropped out of the sky. “So really, what could I do? I had to ask Donatella to introduce us … and well, you know the rest.” She’d shrug eloquently.
Now Tony was here in New York, doing the men’s couture shows in the tents at Bryant Park. The trouble was that Tony had a mind as well as a body, a trait in men that Jenna didn’t always take kindly to. After all, how could she tell them what to do if they wouldn’t listen or, God forbid, answered back? The next two weeks while Tony’s here should be very interesting, Laurel thought as she sipped her scotch and soda and waited for her friend.
She really wanted Jenna’s take on what had happened. Earlier she had noticed a listing in The Times for Newsmakers on Channel Seven. They were broadcasting a piece that would definitely tie in with the idea she’d been considering since late afternoon to help Anne and maybe all of the magazine’s readers.
Laurel had spent several hours on the Internet researching the subject of hidden identity. She was more certain than ever it wasn’t just terrorists who could conceal their true identities—anyone could do it. Errant husbands, bored wives, child abusers, embezzlers, thieves, even murderers. Anyone with a computer could create a new identity or steal someone else’s. As she researched, she saw a blurb about the latest episode of Newsmakers airing later that night and knew she had to watch it. The subject was exactly what she needed to jump-start her plan. She hadn’t had time to go home and set the DVR, but if Jenna arrived soon, she could be home in time to catch the program.
Chapter 5
Monday, 8:05 p.m.
Dinner with Jenna went much as Laurel expected. “I’m here,” Jenna said as she burst into Paul’s, surrounded by a swirl of tote bags, packages and oversized envelopes. Most of the bags were filled to overflowing with samples of the jewelry she designed. Jenna believed in always being prepared. This could mean anything from being dressed to kill, just in case she met a new man, or wearing her work as a kind of performance art, in case she met a new backer.
“Hi,” Jenna said and settled herself and her portable showroom at Laurel’s table. She signaled Mike for a martini and turned to Laurel. “What’s up?”
“It’s been quite a day.” Laurel pushed her long auburn hair over her shoulder and took a sip of her drink. “I really need your advice.”
“This sounds serious,” Jenna said. “Is everyone okay? Your dad? Matt?”
“They’re fine,” Laurel said, “though I haven’t spoken to Matt in two days. It has nothing to do with them. It’s about a woman I talked to today. Her name is Anne Ellsworth. She’s basically alone in the world and I think she’s in serious trouble.”
Jenna leaned forward, elbows on the table, her dark eyes serious as Laurel spoke about the emails she received, including the anonymous warning and the conversation she had with Anne.
“You shouldn’t get any more involved in this than you already are.” Jenna’s voice took on a sharp edge. “You don’t know anything about this woman or the man, her fiancé. She could be making this all up. You told her to go to the police. Let them take it from here.”
“I don’t think she’s a fake. I sensed a real desperation from her and I feel I’ve got to do something. I think she feels alone and abandoned,” Laurel said.
Laurel had lost her mother at a young age and was susceptible to the plight of every needy single woman who crossed her path and unleashed her empathetic side.
“I understand how you feel about people who are on their own,” Jenna said more kindly. “You practically adopted me when you realized I had no family here. But, you can’t take in every stray you come across. You have to t
hink about your life.”
“You’re right,” Laurel said. Jenna would just argue with her if she kept talking about Anne. She’d definitely have something to say if Laurel told her the idea running through her mind since late afternoon. She caught Jenna’s suspicious look and decided to change to subject to one she knew would appeal to her friend. “So, how’s Tony Il Magnifico behaving? Shaping up to your strict standards yet?”
The question got Jenna going on Tony in particular, men in general, and how difficult managing this relationship business was. “Why do men always assume having a little fun means you’re in a relationship?” she asked.
Laurel smiled at Jenna’s role-reversal. She certainly has no trouble getting in touch with her masculine side.
“Tony’s expecting me back at his place at eleven,” Jenna continued. “We’re going to an opening of a new gallery on Greene Street. The guest list is filled with New York’s movers and shakers. Cognoscenti of art,” Jenna gave Laurel a wicked smile, “but they’re people with money nonetheless, and you know how much they like expensive jewelry.” Her eyes brightened. “What pieces should I wear to show off all my talent?”
Laurel thought about how easily Jenna could take her mind off her problems and cajole her into a good mood. It was that way right from the start, a yin-yang friendship with a balance that suited them both. Jenna was even responsible for the meeting that brought Laurel and Matt together.
Laurel’s wide brown eyes crinkled with pleasure. Jenna opened the bags surrounding her and pulled out pieces of beautiful and intricate jewelry. Bar patrons turned to look at the lovely Jenna as she decorated herself. The waitresses noticed, too, and came over to their table. They tried on one or two things over their all-black uniforms of T-shirts and trousers and asked for prices. Leave it to Jenna to make the most of every opportunity, both here and at the opening, Laurel thought. You’d think she was a native New Yorker and not a transplant from the Czech Republic.