“She didn't want to see him?” That told Jane a great deal as Bernie shook his head.
“No, she didn't.”
“Maybe she didn't love him so much.”
“Maybe not.” He didn't want to get into that with her.
“Did he really go to jail?” She looked horrified at that and Bernie nodded. “What if I don't want to go on Saturday?”
That was the hard part. “Baby, I'm afraid you have to.”
“Why?” Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. “I don't even know him. What if I don't like him?”
“Then you just kind of pass the time. It's only four times until we go to court again.”
“Four times?” The tears started to roll down her cheeks.
“Every Saturday.” Bernie felt as though he had sold out his only daughter and he hated Chandler Scott and his attorney and Grossman and the courts and the judge for making him do it. And especially Grossman for telling him so coolly not to rock the boat. Chandler Scott wasn't coming to his house on Saturday to take his daughter.
“Daddy, I don't want to.” She wailed, and he told her the ugly truth of it.
“You have to.” He handed her his handkerchief and sat on the banquette next to her, and put an arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head against him and cried harder. Everything was so difficult for her now. It wasn't fair to add more. And he hated them all for it. “Look at it this way, it's only four times. And Grandma and Grampa are coming from New York for Thanksgiving. That'll give us plenty to think about.” He had put off his trip to Europe again, with all the headaches he'd been having with help at the time, and Berman didn't push him. It had been months since he'd seen his parents. Since August when his mother took the children home with her. And Mrs. Pippin had promised to make the Thanksgiving turkey. She had turned out to be the godsend she had promised to be, and Bernie was in love with her. He only hoped his mother liked her. They were about the same age and as different as night and day. His mother was expensively dressed, well groomed, a little frivolous, difficult as hell when she chose to be. Mrs. Pippin was starched and plain and as unfrivolous as a woman could be, but decent and warm and competent, and wonderful to his children, and very British. It was going to be an interesting combination.
He paid the check at the Hippo then, and walked out to the car with Jane, and when they got home, Mrs. Pippin was waiting to keep Jane company while she took a bath, read her a story, and put her to bed. And the first thing Jane did when she walked in the door, was take one look at Nanny, as they all called her now, throw her arms around her neck, and intone tragically. “Nanny, I have another father.” Bernie smiled at the drama of the words, and Nanny sniffed as she led Jane away to the bathtub.
Chapter 27
The “other” father, as Jane had referred to him, appeared almost punctually at nine-fifteen on Saturday morning. It was the Saturday before Thanksgiving. And all of them sat in the living room waiting. Bernie, Jane, Mrs. Pippin, and Alexander.
The clock on the mantel in the living room ticked mercilessly as all of them waited and Bernie began hoping that Chandler Scott wouldn't show up. But they weren't that lucky. The doorbell rang, and Jane jumped, as Bernie went to get it. She still didn't want to go out with him, and she was feeling extremely nervous as she stood close to Nanny and played with Alexander, keeping an eye on the man standing in the doorway talking to Bernie. She couldn't see him yet. But she could hear him. He had a loud voice and he sounded friendly, maybe because he was an actor, or had been.
Then she saw Bernie step aside and the man walked into the living room and looked from her to Alexander, almost as though he didn't know which was which, and then he glanced at Nanny and back at Jane.
“Hello, I'm your dad.” It was an awkward thing to say. But it was an extremely awkward moment. He didn't hold out a hand to her, and he didn't approach her, and she wasn't sure she liked his eyes. They were the same color as hers, but they darted around the room a lot, and he seemed more interested in her real daddy, as she called Bernie, than he was in her. He was looking at Bernie's big gold Rolex watch, and he seemed to be taking in the whole room, and the neat woman in the blue uniform and navy brogues who sat watching him with Alexander on her lap. He didn't ask for an introduction. “Are you ready?”
Jane shrank back and Bernie stepped forward. “Why don't you talk here for a little while, and get to know each other before you go out?” Scott didn't look pleased at the suggestion. He looked at his watch, and then at Bernie with annoyance.
“I don't think we have time.” Why? Where were they going? Bernie didn't like the sound of it, but he didn't want to say so and make Jane even more nervous than she was.
“Surely, you can spare a few minutes. Would you like a cup of coffee?” Bernie hated being so pleasant to him, but it was all for Jane's sake. Scott declined the coffee, and Jane sat on the arm of Nanny's chair and watched him. He was wearing a turtleneck sweater and blue jeans and he was carrying a brown leather jacket, and he was handsome …but not in a way she liked. He looked shiny, instead of warm and cozy like Daddy. And he looked too plain without a beard like Bernie's, she decided.
“What's the little guy's name?” He glanced at the baby, but without much interest, and Nanny told him it was Alexander. She was watching the man's face, and especially his eyes. She didn't like what she saw there, and neither did Bernie. The eyes were darting everywhere and he paid no attention to Jane at all. “Too bad about Liz,” he said to Jane, and she almost choked as he said it. “You look a lot like her.”
“Thank you,” Jane said politely. And with that he stood up and looked at his watch again.
“See you later, folks.” He didn't hold a hand out to Jane or tell her where they were going. He just walked to the door and expected her to follow, like a dog, and she looked as though she were about to cry, as Bernie smiled at her encouragingly and gave her a hug before she left, clutching a little pink sweater that matched the dress she wore. She looked as though she were dressed for a party.
“It'll be all right, sweetheart,” he whispered. “It's just for a few hours.”
“Bye, Daddy.” She hung around his neck. “Bye, Nanny …bye, Alex.” She waved at both of them and blew the baby a kiss as she headed for the door. She suddenly looked like a very little girl again, and Bernie was reminded of the first time he saw her. And something deep inside him made him want to run out and stop her, but he didn't. He watched them instead from the window. Chandler Scott said something to her as he got into a beaten-up old car, and as though with a premonition of doom, he wrote down the license number, as Jane got into the passenger seat gingerly, and the door slammed. And a moment later they drove off and he turned to see Mrs. Pippin frowning at him.
“There's something wrong with that man, Mr. Fine. I don't like him.”
“Neither do I, and I agree with you. But the court doesn't want to hear that, not for another month anyway. I just hope to hell nothing happens to her. I'll kill the sonofabitch …” He didn't finish the thought, and Nanny went out to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of tea. It was almost time for Alexander's morning nap, and she had work to do, but all day she fretted about Jane, and so did Bernie. He puttered around the house, and he had paperwork and errands to do at home, and other projects waiting for him at the store, but he couldn't concentrate on any of it. He stayed close to home all day in case she called. And at six o'clock he was sitting in the living room, tapping his foot, waiting for her. She was due in an hour, and he was anxious for her to get home.
Nanny brought the baby in to him before he went to bed, but Bernie couldn't even concentrate on him, and she shook her head as she took him to his room. She didn't want to say anything, but she had a terrible feeling in her stomach about the man who had come to take Jane away. And she had the most terrible premonition that something had happened. But she didn't say any of that to Bernie as he waited.
Chapter 28
“Get in the car” was all he said to her as they came
down her front steps, and for a moment she was tempted to run back upstairs again. She didn't want to go anywhere with him, and she couldn't imagine how her mother could have loved him. He looked scary to her. He had mean eyes and dirty fingernails, and there was something about the way he talked to her that frightened her. He opened the car door and got in, and as soon as he did he told her again to get in, and with a last look up at the window where Bernie stood, she did.
The car sped away almost immediately, and Jane had to hold onto the door so as not to fall off the seat as he rounded turns and hurried south toward the freeway.
“Where are we going?”
“To pick up a friend at the airport.” He had the whole thing worked out, and he wasn't about to discuss it with her. It was none of her goddamn business.
She wanted to ask him not to go so fast, but she was afraid to say anything, and he didn't say anything to her at all. He put the car in the parking lot, and took a small tote bag out of the back seat, and grabbing her arm, he didn't even bother to lock the door, he just pulled her firmly down the path to the terminals.
“Where are we going?” She couldn't fight back the tears anymore. She didn't like him at all, and she wanted to go home. Now. Not later.
“I told you, kid. To the airport.”
“Where's your friend going?”
“You're my friend.” He turned and looked at her. “And we're going to San Diego.”
“For the day?” She knew there was a zoo there, but Daddy had said they would be home by seven. He was the kind of man your parents would have told you not to talk to on the street, but suddenly here she was with him, alone, and going to San Diego.
“Yeah. We'll be home by dinnertime.”
“Shouldn't I call Daddy and tell him?”
He laughed at her innocence. “No, sweetheart. I'm Daddy now. And you don't have to call him. I'll call him for you when we get there. Believe me, baby, I'll call him.” Everything about him was scary and he took a rough grip on her arm and hurried her along as they crossed the road into the terminal building. She had a sudden urge to run from him, but his grip on her arm was too hard and she sensed easily that he wouldn't have let her go.
“Why are we going to San Diego, Mr…. er …uh …Daddy?” He seemed to want her to call him that, and maybe if she did, he would be nicer to her.
“To visit friends of mine.”
“Oh.” She wondered why he couldn't have done that another day, and then thought she was stupid not to be enjoying the adventure. It would give her something exciting to talk about that night, but as they got to the security check, he grabbed her arm hard, and his face tightened as he told her to hurry up. And then she had a sudden idea. If she told him she had to go to the bathroom, maybe there would be a phone and she could call Bernie. She had this funny feeling that he would want to know she was going to San Diego with her “other” daddy. She pulled away from Chandler Scott when she saw the door with the familiar sign, and he made a lunge and grabbed her back, as she jumped with surprise. “No, no, cutie pie.”
“But I have to go to the bathroom.” There were tears in her eyes now. She knew he was doing something wrong. He wouldn't let her out of his sight. Not even to go to the bathroom.
“You can go on the plane.”
“I really think I should call Daddy and tell him where we're going.”
But he only laughed at her. “Don't worry. I told you. I'll call him.” And as he held her arm fast in his hand, he seemed to be looking around, and suddenly a woman with dyed blond hair and dark glasses approached them. She was wearing tight jeans and a purple parka and baseball cap, cowboy boots, and there was something very tough about her. “Got the tickets?” He asked her without a smile and she nodded. She handed them to Chandler without a word and they fell into step side by side, with Jane between them, wondering what was going on. “This her?” She finally asked. Scott only nodded, and Jane was filled with terror. They stopped at the photo machine, took four shots for a dollar, and much to Jane's amazement Chandler Scott pulled out a passport and glued one of the photographs into it. It was a counterfeit passport which would not have borne close inspection, but he knew that children's passports were rarely inspected. And at the gate she suddenly balked and tried to bolt, as Chandler Scott grabbed her arm so hard she almost cried out, and he told her exactly what he was doing.
“If you say one word, or try to run away from us again, your daddy, as you call him, and your baby brother will be dead by five o'clock. Got that, sunshine?” He was smiling evilly at her and speaking in a soft voice, as the woman lit a cigarette and looked around. She appeared to be very nervous.
“Where are you taking me?” She was afraid to speak up after what he had just said. Their lives were in her hands, and she would have done nothing to jeopardize Bernie or the baby. She wondered if they were going to kill her, and her only consolation was that, if they did, she would go to join her mommy. She felt sure of that, and it made it all a little bit less frightening.
“We're going on a little trip.”
“Can I go to the bathroom on the plane?”
“Maybe.” He looked at her noncommittally, and she wondered again how her mother could have thought him handsome. He looked vicious and dissipated and there was nothing handsome about him. “Whatever you do, sunshine,” he snarled at her through clenched teeth, “you're not going anywhere without us. You, my darling daughter, are our little gold mine.” She still didn't understand what they were doing and she was convinced they were going to kill her. He then went on to describe to his friend the enormity of Bernie's gold Rolex.
“Maybe he'll give you the watch, if you take me back,” she said hopefully as they both laughed and pushed her onto the plane ahead of them. The stewardesses seemed not to notice anything amiss and Jane would never have dared speak up, after the threat they'd made against Bernie and the baby. They never bothered answering her and they both ordered a beer once the plane took off. They got her a Coke but she didn't touch it. She wasn't hungry or thirsty. She just sat very still in her seat, wondering where they were going with the falsified passport, and if she would ever see Bernie or the baby or Mrs. Pippin again. For the moment, it seemed highly unlikely.
Chapter 29
It was after eight o'clock when Bernie finally called Grossman. For an hour he had told himself that maybe they were late. Maybe he'd had a flat tire on the way back, in that ramshackle car of his, maybe anything …but by eight o'clock they could have called, and suddenly he knew that something terrible had happened.
Grossman was home, having dinner with friends, and Bernie apologized for bothering him. “That's all right. How'd it go today?” He hoped it had gone without a hitch. It would be easier for all of them if they accepted the inevitable. His experience told him that Chandler Scott was going to be difficult to get rid of.
“That's why I called you, Bill. I'm sorry. They were supposed to be back over an hour ago, and they're not back yet. I'm getting worried. No, I'm getting very worried.” Grossman thought he was being premature, and he thought he overrated Scott as a villain.
“Maybe he had a flat tire.”
“He could have called. And when was the last time you had a flat tire?”
“When I was sixteen years old and stole my father's Mercedes.”
“Right. Try again. What do we do now?”
“First of all, you relax. He's probably just trying to be a big shot with her. They'll probably turn up at nine o'clock or something, having gone to a double feature, and had ten ice cream cones.” He was still convinced of that, and wouldn't let Bernie drag him into his paranoia. “Just relax for awhile.”
Bernie looked at his watch. “I'll give him another hour.”
“And then what? You hit the streets with your shot-gun?”
“I don't find this as amusing as you do, Bill. That's my daughter he's out with.”
“I know, I know, I'm sorry. But it's also his daughter. And he'd have to be a raving maniac to do someth
ing crazy, particularly the first time out. The man may be unpleasant, but I don't think he's stupid.”
“I hope you're right.”
“Look. Give it till nine o'clock, then call me back, and we'll see what comes to mind then.”
Bernie called him back at five minutes to nine, unwilling to be put off again. “I'm calling the police.”
“And what are you going to tell them?”
“For one thing, I wrote down his license plate, for another, I'm going to tell them I think he's kidnapped my child.”
“Let me tell you something, Bernie. I know that you're upset, but I want you to think this thing out. For one thing, she's not your child, she's his, legally anyway, and for another, if he did take her, which I sincerely doubt, it's considered child stealing and not kidnap.”
“What difference does that make?” Bernie didn't understand.
“Child stealing is a misdemeanor, and it is the removal of a child by a parent.”
“In this case, it would not be 'removal,' but kidnap. The guy is a common criminal. Christ, he didn't even say two words to her when he picked her up. He just looked around the house and walked out, expecting her to follow, then he drove off in that rattrap car, and God knows where they are now.” He felt hysterical just thinking about it, and he felt as though he had betrayed his promise to Liz. He knew he had. She had begged him not to let Chandler get his hands on Jane, and that was exactly what he had done.
Bernie called the police at ten o'clock, and they were sympathetic, but not overly worried. Like Bill, they felt sure that Chandler would eventually show up. “Maybe he had a few too many,” they suggested. But at eleven o'clock, when he was near tears, they finally agreed to come and take a report from him, and by then Grossman was getting worried.
“You still haven't heard?” The police were still there.
“No, I haven't. Do you believe me now?”
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