by Nero Blanc
Karen shook her head. “He loves me, Rosco! We have a wonderful life together. Everything he always wanted and dreamed about—that’s what he keeps telling me—the best of everything! Why would he want to give that up? Either for some other woman or—” Karen broke down and sobbed, and Belle stood, walked around the table and put her arm around the convulsing shoulders.
“Do you want to stay here tonight?” Belle said. “You and Lily can have the guest room.”
Karen shook her head. “No. I need to be home. Besides, there’s poor Bear. He’s been acting unusually groggy all day…. No, I should get back. It will be easier on Lily if she’s in her own bed…. But thank you. Thank you both for being such good pals.”
Rosco glanced at his watch. “It’s only nine thirty. I know he’s been missing quite a while, but it’s still early. I’m certain he’ll be home before long … and with a logical explanation.”
Karen wiped the last tear from her eye and said, “I wish I could share your optimism.”
CHAPTER 9
When morning came, one of the first things Belle did was telephone Karen Tacete. It wasn’t a task she relished or felt especially well-equipped for, but her friend’s obvious needs overcame Belle’s hesitation.
Rosco stood beside his wife in the kitchen as she asked the all-important question and received the leaden response of, “No, Dan hasn’t returned yet.” In the background, Belle could hear Lily begin shouting with mirth. Karen had told her daughter that her father was away on business and that he’d bring her a “big present” when he came back. Lily was celebrating what she anticipated would be a very happy reunion.
Belle felt her heart fly up into her throat. She was afraid if she tried to speak she’d start crying. She motioned to Rosco, who walked into her office and picked up the phone on her desk.
“What would you like me to do, Karen?” he said. “I’m happy to help.”
“Do?” Either distracted by Lily’s noise or too befuddled to think clearly, Karen sounded strangely spaced-out and incommunicative. “I don’t know…. What does someone usually ‘do’ in situations like these?”
“Well, I can begin by checking on any auto accidents with the out-of-state police, in Rhode Island and Connecticut. Vermont and New Hampshire, for that matter. If Dan decided to—”
“But why would he go to any of those places without telling me? It doesn’t makes any sense.”
On her extension in the kitchen, Belle heard her husband drawing in a slow breath.
“Well, for the time being, let’s just suppose that he had a compelling reason, whatever it might be, and forgot to—”
“Oh …” The word was a sigh only. It sounded to Belle as though Karen were falling asleep.
“And I should check on credit cards, gas company cards … see if there’s any movement there—”
“Yeah … sure … I see …”
“I’ll want to talk to Dan’s partner, as well. Sometimes a business colleague has a different understanding of a situation, sees things that—”
“They didn’t like each other; there were increasing problems where work was concerned.”
“Well, that’s helpful to know, Karen.”
“No, no … Lily honey … come here to Mommy and stop bothering Bear…. He’s not feeling too well. He’s still Mr. Snoozy, like he was yesterday…. ” Then Karen returned to Rosco and Belle. “Yeah … I guess … whatever you think best, Rosco. You’re the pro—”
“Karen,” Belle broke in. Rosco could hear the forced cheer in her tone. “I just got an idea. Why don’t I come over and spend the day with you while Rosco does his thing? I’d love to spend more time with Lily, and if the weather’s as nice as it was yesterday, we can take Bear to the park—”
“No, I should wait here for Dan.”
“Well, I’d be happy to wait with you.”
“I couldn’t impose …” Karen’s voice began to fade away.
“It’s not an imposition if I get to spend time with Lilybet…. Let’s just say it’s settled. I’ll stop at the deli on the way over and buy us a bunch of sinful nibblies. We’ll have an all-girls day. Okay?”
“Okay …” Then the phone on Karen’s end dropped back into its cradle with what sounded like a crash.
Rosco’s face, when he returned to the kitchen, was lined; a clear indication he was thinking the worst. “Not good,” is all he said.
“No,” agreed Belle. She dumped granola into two bowls, sliced bananas, and tossed them haphazardly on top while Rosco refilled their mugs with coffee. Neither paid much attention to the act of making breakfast, and neither spoke as they consumed their brief meal. They perched on two stools nearest the coffee machine rather than sit at the table facing the bay window as they usually did.
“All set?” Rosco asked as he cleared away the crockery and put it in the dishwasher.
Belle nodded, rose, pushed the stool back under the countertop, and began to walk toward the coat closet to fetch her purse. Then she turned back to face Rosco. “Can you take this much time off from working on your other case?”
“I guess I’ll have to,” was her husband’s resolute response. “Right now we’re in the middle of a waiting game. Oddly, no news is good news, and Karen needs all the help she can get, both emotionally and physically.”
Belle nodded again. Her eyes were now the color of charcoal. “She doesn’t sound good. Did you notice her voice seemed off?”
“Well … don’t forget that her husband’s a doctor.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time a doctor prescribed ‘comfort drugs’ for his wife.”
“That’s not Karen,” Belle said emphatically.
Rosco shrugged. “Nothing surprises me anymore…. Why don’t you check on Dan’s credit card activity when you get to their house. I’m sure Karen has all the numbers. All you’ll need is his Social Security number, mother’s maiden name, and zip code to access the accounts by phone. Write down the dates and times if anything shows up after he disappeared. I’ll run down the merchants if you find anything. I’m going to start with the partner. Maybe Dan confided something to Jack Wagner that he couldn’t tell his wife.”
“Karen already said they didn’t get along.”
“I’d like to get Wagner’s perspective on that.” He kissed his wife lovingly. “Let me know if anything jumps out on those credit cards.”
Rosco was in luck when he rang the buzzer of Smile! at quarter to nine. Appointments weren’t scheduled to begin for another fifteen minutes, but Jack, Bonnie, and Ginny—the hygienist who worked Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings—were already gearing up for the day. Fortunately, as yet the waiting room was devoid of patients.
“I’d like to speak to Doctor Wagner if I could,” Rosco told Bonnie.
She gave him her professional smile. “If it’s an appointment you need, I can—”
“It’s a personal matter, I’m afraid. It’ll only take a minute.”
“Oh!” Bonnie looked momentarily perturbed, and Rosco sensed her scrutinizing him in an effort to ascertain what the issue might be. “You’re not with the police, are you?”
“No. Are you expecting the police for some reason? Have they stopped by or called?”
“Er … no, but Doctor—” She stopped and glanced down at the appointment book, although it was plain that she wasn’t really focusing on anything. “I’m sorry.” She then reached for the intercom button. “Let me buzz Doctor Wagner for you, Mr…. ?”
“Polycrates. Rosco Polycrates. My wife is a friend of Karen Tacete’s.”
But before Bonnie could convey this information, Jack Wagner himself came barreling through the door that led to the examining rooms in the back.
“Where the hell is Dan?” he barked. He then glanced briefly at Rosco before leveling an indignant gaze on Bonnie, as if blaming her for his partner’s tardiness. Wagner’s perfect teeth were clenched, and the jaw that looked surgically enhanced q
uivered. It was clear that the dentist was barely containing a considerable amount of anger. Rosco studied the man—his hair was black and wavy, his eyes almost as dark, and his complexion the color of opals. As a Greek American in a city full of people of Portuguese, Italian, Russian, and Armenian descent, Rosco wondered if “Jack Wagner” was the name he’d been born with; in fact, Wagner looked a lot like Rosco’s second cousin Ari.
“Doctor Wagner, this is Mr. Polycrates. His wife is a friend of Mrs. Tacete’s.”
Jack Wagner didn’t extend his hand. A look of something approximating outrage passed briefly across his face, then it morphed into what Rosco assumed was an effort at empathy. “Is Dan all right? I mean, he hasn’t been in a car accident or anything like that, has he?”
“Is there somewhere private we can talk, Doctor Wagner?”
The co-owner of Smile! turned without speaking and led Rosco back to his office.
What do you mean, ‘missing’?” Wagner demanded, flipping Rosco’s business card back and forth between his manicured fingers. He was seated at a mahogany desk whose surface was so meticulously ordered it looked as though every object on it had been lined up with a ruler. Three life-size replicas of the human jaw, pink gums and pearly white teeth gleaming, rested on a Plexiglass shelf on the wall behind him. Above them were picture frames displaying the requisite medical degrees and scholarly accolades from Harvard and the University of Pennsylvania medical school. Ensconced in one of the two chairs reserved for patients, Rosco let his eyes drift to the signatures of the university big-wigs. He was having a difficult time overcoming his initial dislike of Dan Tacete’s partner.
“Missing means missing. That’s the word we’re using at the moment.”
“What do you mean, we’re?”
“His family. The police. Doctor Tacete has been officially listed as a missing person. Maybe there’s another word that you feel might better apply to the situation?”
Wagner eyed Rosco coldly. “What are you trying to imply?”
“I’m implying that you, as Doctor Tacete’s partner, may have been privy to information he might not have wished to share with his wife. In circumstances like these, there are generally three probable scenarios. One: there’s another woman or man; two: the person in question may have manifested signs of depression—not being able to work, showing up late, and so forth. As a result—”
“Oh, yeah, he’s showed up late, all right. But that’s because he’s such a damn goody-two-shoes. It had nothing to do with depression.” Wagner leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. “So, my partner’s flown the coop, is that what you’re telling me?”
“Well, there’s the third option, which is foul play.” Rosco watched Wagner’s face to see what secrets it might reveal. The doctor only clenched his chiseled jaw.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re suspecting me of, or why you’re poking your nose around here—”
“I don’t suspect you of anything. I’m simply asking if you’ve noticed anything unusual. I’m trying to locate a missing person. That’s it.”
“Dan does his work; I do mine. End of story. If he’s missing, I’m sorry. It doubles my case load, all right? He’ll turn up. But when he does, he won’t be getting any red carpet treatment from yours truly.”
“What can you tell me about his work at the Bay Clinic?”
“I never go down there.”
Rosco waited for Wagner to continue, but instead he stared belligerently ahead. “I take it you didn’t approve of his donating his time?”
“Look, Polycrates, we’re a small but busy practice—just the two of us. If Dan gets stuck helping a bunch of ne’er-do-wells and leaves me hanging, then what am I supposed to feel? Pride that he’s such a terrific and generous guy? Or ticked off because the folks who pay our rent—and who let Dan indulge his taste for expensive cars—are breathing fire down my neck? This is a profession, not a charity. And, for the record, I didn’t approve of his bringing those undesirables into our office here. This is a nice place, and I’ve worked hard to establish it within a certain social strata of the city…. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to prepare for my first patient.” Jack Wagner didn’t stand and walk Rosco to the door; instead, he depressed a button on his intercom and leaned into the speaker. “Bonnie, cancel Dan’s patients for today, will you? Try to set them up for next week sometime. And try to squeeze in any emergency cases there might be into my schedule.”
Bonnie O’Connell’s eyes were huge and anxious when Rosco reappeared at her reception counter. “Is Doctor Dan okay?” she asked in a near-whisper. “When his wife called yesterday to ask if he’d left yet, I had a feeling she was upset about something. And not just the usual work-related stuff.” Although Bonnie’s voice was full of worry, Rosco detected an underpinning of strength. Looking at her face, he noted the same traces of determination and resolve. He imagined she was a person who’d weathered a good many difficulties in her short life.
“Doctor Tacete never returned home; no one’s heard from him since he left here yesterday.”
Bonnie drew in a rapid breath. “Oh … but … I mean, where could he have gone?” She seemed far more upset over the news than Jack Wagner had been.
“We have no idea. Did he have any relationships with patients that seemed odd to you? Either overly hostile, or overly friendly? Or did he seemed depressed at all?”
“Well … I mean,” she said uneasily, “we’re not all that close. I mean, he’s always pleasant when he arrives here, but he usually goes straight to the back and gets to work. I’m not saying he’s not a nice guy to work for and everything, because he is. But he is my boss; well, he and Jack are both my bosses…. ” A tear formed in her eye. “This is horrible. Doctor Tacete can’t just disappear. I mean, where could he be?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Rosco placed his card on the counter. “If he there’s anything you think I should know, give me a call, okay?”
Father Thomas Witwicki was in his fifties, stood six-feet-five, and weighed close to three hundred pounds. His short-cropped hair was a fiery red, and he had a slight limp and a nose that had been broken three times. Rosco always felt that Father Tom, as he was affectionately called by the men residing at the Saint Augustine Mission, looked more like a former pugilist than a man of the cloth.
The mission itself was housed in what once had been a boot factory in the section of Newcastle that had formerly been strictly industrial and that was now undergoing a steady transformation. Trendy lofts were sprouting up in buildings that had been warehouses and manufacturing plants during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, and the spaces were now deemed “hot properties” on the residential market. At least once a year some new neighbor would make it his or her raison d’etre to try to force Father Tom and his “clients” to move to a less hip area.
Rosco’s path had crossed Father Tom’s on several occasions in the past, and they’d developed a mutual fondness and respect for one another. Upon seeing Rosco, the priest gave him his habitual ironclad handshake and followed it with a bone-crushing bear hug. “Long time, no see,” Father Tom bellowed. “I don’t suppose you’d like to step into the kitchen and give us a hand fixing up today’s lunch?”
Rosco raised his hands, regained his breath, and smiled. “No can do, Padre. I’m up to my ears.”
“Yeah? What’s shakin’?”
“I’m working on a little missing persons problem.”
Father Tom sighed. “Okay, shoot. Give me a description, I’ll let you know if he’s checked into the mission. But I’ve gotta tell you, Rosco, I haven’t seen any new faces down here for the past few weeks.”
“No, I doubt if this guy would be checking into the mission.” Rosco stopped and gave Tom’s notion some thought. “But then again, you never know who’s got a secret passion for the demon rum, causing him to slip off the deep end one day.”
“Happens all the time, my friend.”
“No, I’m
looking for the dentist who works with your men.”
“Dan Tacete?”
“Yep. He left work yesterday noontime and hasn’t been seen since. I gather he was at the Bay Clinic on Tuesday?”
Tom tilted his head toward the mission’s kitchen door. “Come on, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee. I need to make sure things are going smoothly back there. Don’t worry, I won’t put you to work baking bread like I did the last time you drifted in here.”
The men entered the kitchen, walked over to a standing urn, and filled two porcelain mugs with coffee. Three other men were busily making sandwiches while another was dumping commercial-size cans of soup into a large steel pot on a gas range.
“Twenty-four hours,” Father Tom said after he’d sampled the coffee. “That’s a little early to start calling out the Marines, isn’t it?”
“Tacete’s a family man, Padre. No, I don’t think it’s too early to start looking. His wife’s very concerned.”
The priest nodded toward the men toiling in the kitchen. “They’re all family men, too. I guess the difference is, nobody’s looking for them.” He sighed and leaned his big frame against a work table. “Dan’s a good person. He started the dental branch of the Bay Clinic, and he’s the only reason it’s kept going. The few other dentists he persuaded to get involved haven’t lasted. There’s no Medicare money floating his way—it’s all pro bono stuff. A lot of people aren’t into that, or simply don’t have the time, or devote the time they do have to golf … but I have to tell you …” He stopped and took another swig of coffee.