“Right.” Lydia sighed. “We deduce from facts, clues, and evidence. Stefano’s dead, and we’ve spoken to the Holtsteins. I feel like we’re back to square one.”
She dropped Barbara off at her house and wished her a fun evening with Andrew.
“Let’s make it a foursome one night,” Barbara called back.
“Good idea,” Lydia agreed, but somehow she doubted it would ever happen. Barbara and Andrew were retired; their time was their own. Sol’s work was his top priority. Besides, while she considered him the man in her life, she had difficulty picturing Sol at her daughter Meredith’s for dinner, or going to the movies with Barbara and Andrew.
She drove home, wondering if Sol would stop by tonight. She clicked the garage door opener. As the door began to rise, a figure approached from the shadows. Lydia’s rush of panic subsided when she recognized the slender form of Gillian Ellenberg. The girl, dressed in black jeans and a black long-sleeved polo, darted over to the car before Lydia could open her door.
“Mrs. Krause—Lydia, I need to talk to you!”
“Of course, dear. Come inside.”
“Nicole’s in trouble. It’s really bad.” The words spilled from her mouth as she followed Lydia into the kitchen. Lydia gestured to the table and Gillian hurled herself into a chair.
“Has she come home?”
Gillian shook her head from side to side. Tears filled her blue eyes and she scrubbed them away. “She called me on my cell when that creep Ringo fell asleep. He’s guarding her like a hawk.”
“Why didn’t she leave when she had the chance? Want something to eat?”
Gillian turned her gaze on Lydia. Beyond the girl’s spiky hair and black lipstick shone her great beauty. “Yes, please. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since this morning.”
Lydia put a bagel in the toaster and slices of turkey and cheese on a plate. She brought out containers of salads and eating utensils. Gillian scooped a mound of coleslaw onto her plate and devoured it as though she were starving
“Sorry,” she apologized when she came up for air. “I have a fast metabolism. I have to eat pretty much all the time.”
Lydia smiled. “I’m delighted to feed someone with a hearty appetite.”
When Gillian’s plate was empty and she showed no sign of refilling it, Lydia brought out the pastries she’d bought at the gourmet shop. Two of them disappeared quickly.
“Milk, tea, or coffee?” Lydia inquired.
“Milk would be great.”
Lydia filled a glass, then sat down to listen to the rest of Gillian’s story.
“Nicky’s afraid to come home. I begged her to, but she said there was no point. He’d come after her and get her.”
“Ringo? But why?” Lydia’s eyes widened with fear. “Don’t tell me she’s in an abusive relationship.”
Gillian raked her hand through her short hair. “I don’t know. She’s terrified, and I’m not sure it’s of Ringo. She claims she saw something, but she won’t tell me what. The only thing I got out of her was where she and Ringo are staying. She told me after I swore up and down I wouldn’t call our parents or the police.”
She clutched at Lydia’s hand. “My boyfriend’s out of town, and there’s no one I can turn to. So I thought you’d help me.” She gave a little smile. “Grandpa said you were a whiz when it came to solving problems.”
Lydia winced, remembering how little she’d done to help Daniel before someone murdered him. “What do you want me to do, Gillian? I’m afraid I’m not the person to break down the door and rescue your sister. I think we should leave it to the police.”
“No! If Nicole said not to, there’s a reason.” She cast Lydia a baleful glare. “I’ll go myself!”
She flung herself from her chair and made a beeline for the door.
“Wait, I’ll come with you!” Lydia called after her.
Gillian ignored her, but had difficulty undoing the lock. When Lydia put a hand on her shoulder, she flinched.
“I said I’d go with you.”
“If you want,” Gillian said. “We’ll take my car. Yours would stick out where we’re going.”
*
The cottage was in a rundown residential area two towns east. Gillian parked in the rutted driveway, behind a rusted pickup truck missing a tire. The place looked deserted. No light shone from any of the windows.
“I don’t think anyone’s here,” Lydia said.
“The electricity’s been cut off,” Gillian answered without breaking stride as she headed for the back door. All in black, she was barely visible amid the scraggly bushes, and it dawned on Lydia that Gillian had dressed for the occasion.
“Nicky, are you there?” Gillian called as she rapped on the glass panel of the warped door.
Lydia wondered at her temerity. Ringo was a drug addict. For all she knew, he had a gun, which he’d pull on whomever came to his home or hideout or whatever the vernacular was. As much as she wanted Nicole to appear and leave with them, Lydia was relieved when the silence continued.
“Maybe they went out,” she suggested, ready to return to the car and the safety of her home.
“I doubt it.” Gillian slipped a charge card from her pocket and edged it along the crack between the door and the frame. A moment later, she turned the handle and a damp, fetid odor assailed Lydia’s nostrils.
“Nicky,” Gillian called softly, switching on a flashlight that cast a narrow but potent shaft of light on the grungy kitchen. Lydia trailed behind as Gillian walked down the narrow passageway, beaming the flashlight on the empty space that must have been the living room. She stopped at the bedroom. Lydia peered over her shoulder. A mattress covered by a garish-colored quilt filled half the room. Gillian zoomed in on the knapsack in the corner and rummaged through it.
“This is Nicole’s. Some of her clothes are here. No sign of her cell phone. I hope she has it with her.”
“Do you think she ran away from Ringo, or with him?” Lydia asked.
“I don’t know. Ringo has a beat-up, old jalopy, but it wasn’t parked outside. Nicole and I share our car, so she doesn’t have her own wheels. But Mom said she withdrew a large sum of money from the bank, so maybe she can call a cab.”
If her boyfriend didn’t help himself to it all. Lydia knew Gillian was disappointed not to have found her sister. Hearing negative comments would only make her feel worse.
They climbed back into the car and Gillian retraced their route. At the first red light, she turned to Lydia. “Thanks for coming with me. My mom would kill me if she found out I’d gone alone.”
“I’m sorry we couldn’t bring Nicole home,” Lydia said. “I think it’s time to call in the police.”
“Nicky’s terrified. She believes the police won’t be able to protect her.”
“Why don’t you try calling her now?”
Gillian pulled into a strip mall and reached for her cell phone.
“Hello?”
In the streetlight, Lydia saw her eyes flash with anger. “Damn you, put my sister on! Hello! Hello!”
Gillian tossed the phone onto the back seat of the car. “Ringo answered then hung up when he heard my voice.”
“Gillian, this is serious. We have to call Detective Molina and tell him the situation.”
The girl’s eyes filled with terror. “He’s a homicide detective! My sister’s not dead.” She whispered the last word.
Lydia placed a hand on the girl’s trembling shoulder. “Of course she’s not,” she said, hoping this w true, “but he was in charge of your grandfather’s case. He’ll know whom to contact.”
“I—I don’t know,” Gillian said, looking down at her lap. “I have no idea what to do now. I thought I’d go there and talk to Nicole, at least. Find out what’s going on.”
“You did your best for your sister,” Lydia said gently. “I think you came to me because you knew I’d suggest bringing in the authorities.”
Gillian nodded without lifting her head. “I guess,” she whispe
red.
“Would you like me to drive?” Lydia asked.
“No, I’ll be okay in a minute.”
When they reached Lydia’s house, Gillian refused to come inside. “You call him,” she said. “I trust you to tell him everything. I’ll be at home if he wants to talk to me.”
“All right, Gillian. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
*
Sol called Lydia back half an hour later, and listened without comment as she told him of her outing with Gillian. When she’d finished, he asked, “Are you up to grabbing a bite and catching an action movie?”
“Sure, but don’t you want to check out the cottage?”
He sighed. “Not really. Your report was pretty damn complete. Do you remember my colleague I brought along for the drug bust at Evelyn’s house? Jack Delaney?”
“Of course.”
“If you’ll remember, Jack’s in narcotics. I’ll give him a ring, tell him what you’ve discovered, and let him take it from there. Ringo’s a druggie, not a murderer.”
“What about Nicole? Her family’s frantic.”
“I’ll send a few men to scout out the area and talk to neighbors, though people in that part of town claim not to know anything. Can you be ready in half an hour?”
Lydia frowned as she hung up the phone. Sol’s response wasn’t what she’d hoped it would be. Why hadn’t he offered to go there himself? Take more of an interest? After all, this was Daniel’s granddaughter. Maybe Nicole’s disappearance had something to do his murder. Maybe Nicole—Lydia refused to finish that sentence, even in her mind. She had to believe that Nicole, while terrified and with her grubby boyfriend, was alive and well.
A furry head butted against her legs, jolting her from her musings. She filled Reggie’s plate and had no sooner set it on the floor when the phone rang. It was Evelyn.
“Lydia, I’m flying home tomorrow evening. Do you think you could pick me up at MacArthur at seven thirty?”
“Of course I can, but why are you cutting your visit short?”
“I need to be in my own home. And now that they’ve caught Daniel’s murderer and my attacker, I can rest assured I’ll be safe.” Evelyn tsk-tsked into the phone. “It just goes to show how you never know what lurks in a person’s heart. I never would have dreamed Stefano would harm either Daniel or me.”
Lydia bit back her doubts about Stefano being the murderer. Instead, she said, “And supposedly he committed atrocities during the Serbian-Bosnian fighting.”
“I suppose Denise put him up to it. Have they charged her yet?”
“I think they’re questioning her at this point,” Lydia said. “The police haven’t found any evidence to prove her complicity.”
“They’ll find it,” Evelyn said with fervor. “It’s just a matter of time. Have you spoken to Polly? She’s frantic with worry about Nicole’s taking off like that.”
“I really must call her,” Lydia said.
“That’s about it, dear. I have to go change my outfit. Gayle and Roger are taking me out for a farewell dinner, and I don’t want to keep them waiting.”
“One more thing,” Lydia said quickly. “Did Allen Holtstein happen to borrow money from Daniel?”
Evelyn let out a cynical laugh. “Several times, as I told the police. When Allen and Rochelle took me out for dinner, I told them I forgave him his debt. You never saw a happier fellow!”
“That was kind of you,” Lydia said.
“Actually, I was being realistic. I figured Allen would cry poverty and wouldn’t have repaid the loan, anyway. Besides,” Evelyn lowered her voice, “I feel sorry for them. Rochelle’s in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. She says the most outrageous things.”
Lydia hung up, relieved that the Holtsteins had no reason to kill Daniel. Then it dawned on her—Evelyn forgave Allen’s debt after she’d been struck on the head. It didn’t put him in the clear, but if it had been Allen, at least he wouldn’t come after her now.
Time for her to change outfits, too. Lydia slipped into black silk pants, a slinky top with a deep V neckline, and black strappy heels. She freshened her makeup in the bathroom, then stood back to admire her handiwork. Pretty sexy for a grandmother going on fifty-nine!
The phone rang and a male voice she didn’t recognize asked to speak to her.
“This is Lydia Krause,” she answered, puzzled. “What can I do for you?”
“Lydia, Tom Coltrane here. Of New Horizons Enterprises.”
She gave a start. New Horizon Enterprises owned Carrington House and several other catering establishments.
“Hello, Mr. Coltrane,” she responded with more warmth than she felt.
“It’s Tom, Lydia. I apologize for calling you on a Sunday evening when you’re probably dining with family, but we’ve a committee meeting Tuesday morning, and we need your answer by then as to whether or not you’ll take the position of overseeing the Carrington Suites.”
“Right,” she said slowly. “Tuesday’s the fifteenth.” How could she have forgotten? 2“I apologize for not getting back to you with my response. I’ve been deluged with—” She paused to think of a euphemism for her sleuthing. “Family issues,” she finished lamely.
“I’ll make no secret of the fact that we want you for the position. With your background and Len’s rousing commendation, you’re the woman to run the new Suites. Provided you want it, of course.”
And he was hoping she’d say yes then and there. Lydia frowned. It wasn’t like her to sit on the fence for this length of time, but she still hadn’t made up her mind. She plunged ahead.
“I’m still in the middle of a crisis here, but it should be resolved by Monday evening. Can I call you then with my answer?”
Tom Coltrane exhaled noisily. “You drive a hard bargain, Lydia, but I’ll abide by your answer.” He rattled off his cell phone number.
“I’ll call you tomorrow night,” she promised, and hung up.
Chapter Twenty-One
In the car, Sol told her that police officers were checking out the cottage and others were following up every lead in hopes of locating Nicole and Ringo.
“Now relax and enjoy the evening with me. For once I’m not in the middle of a case.”
“I intend to,” Lydia said, deciding that tonight wasn’t the time to mention the Holtsteins. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you to my favorite restaurant. I hope you like Thai cuisine.”
“I love it,” Lydia said, surprised by his choice. She’d assumed Sol was a meat and potatoes man.
“Thought you would.” Sol gave her a dazzling smile. “Everything’s freshly made. Their pad Thai’s outstanding, but I can’t resist their panang duck. Order it every time.”
They chatted about casual topics during the ten-minute ride. The restaurant was in a shopping center. It’s glamorous decor—golden masks, jadite figurines, and elephant-sequined wall hangings against a softly lit red wall—was a treat to her eyes.
The hostess, dressed in elegant Thai costume, greeted Sol by his first name.
“Lily, this is my good friend Lydia.”
Lily smiled. “Welcome to Thai Palace.”
She seated them at a corner table and brought a pair of chopsticks for Sol. “Would you like to eat with chopsticks, too?” she asked Lydia.
“Yes, please.”
When she looked up from the extensive menu, Lydia found Sol watching her with a bemused smile. “Admit you’re surprised.”
“What do you mean?” she demurred.
“That I like Thai food. Can eat with chopsticks. I also enjoy hockey games, the occasional Broadway show.” He gave her an impish grin. “I even read a hefty biography on occasion.”
Lydia felt her ears redden. “Well, we do seem to spend a good deal of time talking about homicide cases.”
“I love my work, but I’m more than a homicide detective, Lydia. Did you know I almost became a college professor?”
“You’re kidding!”
�
�I’d started my PhD in history, and then a good friend was murdered. I was angry, upset. I stopped going to classes. My parents finally sat me down. They told me I wasn’t helping Charlie by ruining my own career. I realized I wanted to find the guy who killed Charlie, not talk about international trade agreements and wars, so I quit school and joined the force.”
Lydia nodded. “Did they ever find your friend’s killer?”
“One of them. The other disappeared inside Mexico. A two-bit thug. I hope he got what he deserved in a bar fight or somewhere.”
Their appetizers arrived, and Lydia bit into a dumpling. It was heaven, as was the rest of the meal. Don, the chef-owner and Lily’s husband, emerged from the kitchen to meet Lydia and to ask if they’d enjoyed their food.
When they left, Lily hugged them both and said to come again soon.
“I feel like I’ve just met your family,” Lydia said once they were outside.
Sol laughed. “We’ll leave my mother and my brother and his family for another day.”
The movie theatre showing the action film was more than half empty. Lydia wasn’t surprised, as the film had come out two months before. But Sol probably didn’t have many opportunities to take time off to go to the movies.
They chose seats in the middle of a row towards the rear. Sol tossed their jackets on an empty chair then reached for her hand. Lydia suddenly felt like a demur girl of sixteen out with her new boyfriend. Sol squeezed her fingers. “I hope you like this film.”
She giggled. “So do I.”
“You get to choose next time.”
“Sounds fair to me.”
They watched the coming attractions. When the announcements not to talk, litter, or use cell phones came on, Lydia reached into her pocketbook to turn hers off.
“I have to leave mine on,” Sol said. “Just in case.”
“Don’t you ever get a minute entirely to yourself?”
“Only when I leave the country, which hasn’t been for seven years.”
The main feature appeared on the screen, and Lydia relaxed into her high-back seat to lose herself in fantasy. It was a story of a heist gone wrong, with a fair amount of humor and male bonding. Not what she would have chosen, but she enjoyed the plot’s twists and turns, and the lead actors were great to look at.
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