Dead Canaries Don't Sing

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Dead Canaries Don't Sing Page 28

by Cynthia Baxter


  “And how did Tommee get paid?”

  “He got a piece of everything that came in. Not only from the ‘givers,’ like Pomonok Properties, but also from the ‘takers,’ including the cops and the government. They all made regular payments to Tommee Frack & Associates. The people who set him up took care of the rest. Even Tommee’s accountant didn’t know what was going on after the money was deposited. Besides, he wasn’t close enough to the day-to-day workings of the firm to know what went on. It was all done under the guise of complete legitimacy.”

  I took a deep breath. “And who were they? Who set Tommee up in business?”

  “You didn’t hear it here, right?”

  I nodded.

  “It went straight to the top. Gene Guilford, when he was county executive. A county legislator or two. The commissioner of highways. A guy from the health department who was pretty high up. Even Daniel Sharpe, the police commissioner.”

  “Sharpe,” I breathed. “That explains why the police have been dragging their feet with this. The order had to have come from very high up.”

  “There were people at the town level, as well,” Wade went on, “including some members of the local zoning board. A pretty nice mix, overall. Something for everyone.”

  “Who else knew?”

  “Only a select group, those at the very top. People like Joe DeFeo, who were the presidents and CEOs of the companies that were involved. In the case of the cops, it was probably only Sharpe and maybe a few guys close to him. Everybody knew Sharpe handed out special favors, but most people didn’t have a clue about how the whole thing worked. Same with the elected officials and the other people in government. The feeling about who needed to know was the fewer, the better.”

  “Then how come you know all this?”

  “All of Tommee’s employees knew. We might not have known the details, but we could see that something strange was going on. Don’t you think the account executives noticed that there was a tremendous list of clients that the company supposedly represented, yet none of us ever worked on those accounts?”

  “So Brad O’Reilly knew.”

  “I guarantee it.” Wade smirked. “Like I said: Mini-Me. But I knew even more than the rest. One day, I was working late, and nobody was left at the office except Tommee and me. We started talking about how successful he’d been in such an incredibly short time. I kept asking questions, trying to piece the whole thing together, and eventually the whole story came out. It was funny, but Tommee seemed relieved to have somebody to talk to about what had been going on for so long. When you come right down to it, he was really a very lonely man. He needed somebody to spill his guts to. I was it.”

  “But you didn’t stick around.”

  “Nope. As soon as I found out what was going on, I got the hell out of Tommee Frack & Associates. I didn’t want any part of it. I ran as fast and as far as I could.” He opened his arms. “Dream Catcher was born.”

  “What about George Babcock? Did you know Tommee left his business to him? He said in his will that he’d had a change of heart.”

  “Good for George. He deserves it.”

  “But how will he run the business, now that he’s inherited all of Tommee’s clients? Will he play the same role Tommee did?”

  “I suspect that the clients who choose to stay with George will simply continue getting whatever legitimate public relations services they got with Tommee. Those that weren’t interested in PR in the first place will leave, of course.”

  “Unless the people who set Tommee up extend the same offer to George.”

  Wade smiled sourly. “Or to someone else, if George doesn’t have the stomach for it. But there’s another possibility: that the truth about what’s been going on comes out. In that case, the payoff system that’s been in place for years will come to an end.”

  I just sat there in the hand chair, my brain spinning as I tried to comprehend the magnitude of what I’d just learned. Wade’s “story” certainly made all the pieces fit together. It explained the monumental success of Tommee Frack & Associates, as well as the fact that Tommee was at the heart of nearly everything that went on in the local business and political arenas. It also explained all the big movers and shakers who’d showed up at his funeral, the fat checks that kept coming in after his murder, so many that even Tommee’s accountant was astounded, and the huge number of “clients” that didn’t jibe with the small number of account executives Tommee had hired to service them.

  Then there was the fact that right from the start, Tommee Frack had such an impressive list of clients. And according to Jonathan Havemeyer, that list had expanded almost immediately, growing like a monster in a science fiction movie.

  It had been so easy for Tommee. He really had made a deal with the devil.

  But at some point, even he had seen that getting everything he wanted—money, success, women, and above all, status—wasn’t enough. Somewhere along the line, he’d begun finding it difficult to face himself in the mirror every morning. And he decided he wanted out.

  That change of heart very likely cost him his life.

  “This wasn’t printed in the papers,” I told Wade, “but when Tommee’s body was found in the woods, a canary was buried nearby.”

  A look of shock crossed his face. “How do you know?”

  “I was there, remember? I’m the one who found it next to Tommee’s body. Actually, my dog did.”

  “So Tommee was about to sing.”

  I nodded. “It looks as if that was a recent development. From what I can tell, he changed his mind right before he was murdered. His fiancée, Barbara, knew all about it. In fact, she was so upset that Tommee was turning state’s evidence that she told one of her friends she was going to kill him.”

  “If that was true,” Wade said thoughtfully, “if he really was going public with this, his fiancée wouldn’t have been the only one who’d be upset. Some very important people had a great deal to lose. Tommee managed to make a lot of friends, but if he decided to blow the lid off this, he would have made just as many enemies.”

  “So there were a lot of people who would have wanted him dead.”

  “Precisely. As I told you before, Dr. Popper, the best advice I can give you is to let this thing go. Not only are you treading on dangerous ground; the chances of you figuring out who’s responsible for Tommee’s murder are very slim.”

  Wade’s caution only frustrated me further. Instead of getting closer to learning who had wanted Tommee Frack dead, it turned out there were too many to count.

  And I’d put myself right in the middle of it. The image of the canary feather, a warning planted on the windshield of my car, floated into my mind. My stomach wrenched as the full impact of what everyone had been trying to tell me finally hit me: that getting involved in Tommee Frack’s murder could have been the biggest mistake of my life.

  Another thought struck me. “Why didn’t you tell me this the last time I was here?”

  “Before, I thought it would be dangerous for you to know. But at this point, you’re in too deep. I figure it’s more dangerous for you not to know.”

  “If that’s supposed to make me feel better, it didn’t work.”

  “It’s supposed to make you be more careful. Don’t assume anything, and don’t trust anybody. There are a lot of barracudas out there.”

  I didn’t doubt that for a second.

  As I turned into my driveway, the names of all the people who were likely to have wanted Tommee Frack dead buzzed around inside my head like mosquitoes. The half-dozen highly visible, highly connected individuals who’d set him up in business in the first place. Every single person who’d been involved in the ongoing game of give-and-take since it started.

  Then there was my original list of suspects. George Babcock, of course, but also the women in Tommee’s life.

  It was almost too overwhelming to contemplate.

  But I forgot all about Tommee as I neared the end of the driveway and was confronted with
the pulsing red light of an ambulance.

  “Oh, my God!” I cried, fighting off the sick feeling that instantly came over me.

  I pulled over just in time to see a paramedic slam the back door of the vehicle shut.

  “What happened to Betty?” I demanded, jumping out of my car.

  “Who are you?”

  “Her friend. I live right over there.”

  “She was attacked. Looks like somebody broke into her house.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “She was in good enough shape to dial 911.”

  “Where are you taking her?”

  “Port Townsend. Norfolk Hospital.”

  I watched him leap into the ambulance. I immediately got back into my own car and headed toward my cottage.

  My head was spinning as I raced inside. Stay calm, I told myself. You’ve got to think.

  As I opened the door, Max and Lou pounced. “Not now, guys,” I told them urgently. “We don’t have time.”

  I made a beeline for the phone. The red light was blinking.

  A message from Betty? I wondered. A plea for help—and I wasn’t here?

  I pressed “Play.”

  “You—have—one—message.”

  As the tape rewound, Prometheus launched into his usual tirade. “Damn you, awk!”

  “Quiet!” I pleaded.

  “Awk! Jesus H. Christmas!”

  I turned up the volume.

  “Hey, Jess. It’s me, Jimmy. I’m on duty right now, but I thought I’d stop over this evening and take you for that ride I promised. Probably about eight, if that’s okay. Hope I catch you in. Later!”

  So it hadn’t been Betty who called, only Jimmy. I dialed Nick.

  “Come on, Nick, answer . . . Nick? It’s Jessie. Betty’s on her way to Norfolk Hospital. They’re bringing her in an ambulance right now.”

  “Oh, my God. Stroke? Heart attack?”

  “Worse,” I croaked. “Someone came into her house and assaulted her. Betty’s hurt, Nick.”

  As I raced to the hospital, I felt as if I was in one of those awful dreams, the kind in which you’re desperately hurrying and everything around you is moving in slow motion. Every traffic light was red, and there seemed to be an unbelievable number of cars on the road.

  When I finally made it to the hospital, I dashed inside. I had to remind myself that I wasn’t the only person who was under stress as I stepped out of the way of people in wheelchairs and young couples carrying newborn babies.

  I careened down the hall blindly, still managing to hold it together. But as soon as I spotted a familiar face, I lost it.

  “Oh, Nick! This is so horrible!”

  “She’s a fighter, Jess. And they think she’ll be fine.”

  “You talked to her doctor?”

  “Yes. He said her injuries aren’t bad. It’s more the shock of what happened that he’s worried about.”

  I sank into one of the plastic chairs lining the hallway. “What did happen?”

  “Apparently somebody broke into her—”

  “They didn’t have to break in. She keeps the back door unlocked during the day. Remember when I barged in on the two of you? Anybody could have walked in.”

  “However he got inside, he wasn’t there to steal anything. Or, from the looks of things, even to hurt her very badly.”

  “What’s left?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

  “He must have been trying to scare her.” He swallowed. “Or somebody else.”

  “Like me,” I groaned. “This is all my fault.”

  “Jess, you could never have anticipated that something like this would happen.”

  “I should have known Betty was going to become more enmeshed in this, that the creepy phone call was just the beginning.” I lowered my voice. “Nick, I found out what Tommee Frack was involved in.”

  I related my entire conversation with Wade Moscowitz. When I’d finished, Nick murmured, “This is worse than we ever imagined, Jess. More complicated, too. Now we know there are a lot of people who would have loved to keep Tommee Frack from ‘singing.’ Powerful people, too. Which explains why somebody’s been trying to scare you away since the beginning.”

  “All these ‘warnings,’ even before this,” I mused. “The phone call and the break-in and and the feather and being followed by that Jeep—”

  “I almost forgot! I finally heard back from my contact at the DMV. He traced the license plate.”

  “And—?”

  “You’re not going to believe this, but there’s a black Jeep Cherokee with the New York State license plate BLD-0917 registered under the name Vincent Pascucci.”

  I blinked. “Officer Pascucci? Jimmy’s partner? He’s the one who’s been following me?”

  “Excuse me.” A nurse carrying a clipboard poked her head out of a doorway. “Are you here with Elizabeth Vandervoort?”

  Nick and I both jumped to our feet.

  “Is she all right?” I demanded.

  “She’ll be just fine. You can see her now, if you like. She’s a little doped up, but she can manage a quick visit. It’ll be good for her to know you’re here.”

  As we walked through the Emergency Room, passing a row of beds separated by curtains, Nick took my hand.

  “You all right?” he asked gently.

  “I’ll feel better after I see for myself that she’s okay.”

  Betty’s eyes were closed. She seemed very fragile and very small. No glittery eye shadow illuminated her tired-looking eyes, and the pale green fabric of her hospital gown made her skin look ghostly white.

  “Betty?” I said softly.

  She opened her eyes. I let go of Nick’s hand and took hers. “You look great,” I assured her, only lying a little. “How do you feel?”

  “Like someone who’s been banged on the head with a bowling ball.” She forced a little smile. “But they tell me the damage was minimal. According to that nice doctor who was just in here, I should be tap dancing again in no time. What’s even more important is that I’ll be fine by January.”

  “January?” I repeated.

  “For my trip to Tahiti, of course!”

  “So that’s where you decided to go.”

  “I couldn’t resist the thought of those men in loincloths with the palm fronds.” For a brief moment, the familiar twinkle lit up her eyes.

  “Do you know what happened?” Nick asked somberly.

  “I was arranging flowers on that table I keep in the front parlor, the one with all the picture frames and knickknacks. The next thing I knew, someone shoved me. I fell across the arm of the couch and hit my head against the edge of the table, which is probably why I feel like I just drank a whole bottle of champagne all by myself.”

  “That’s the drugs. They gave you something for the pain.”

  “Got a huge gash in my side, too, where I smacked into the corner of the table. Guess I won’t be wearing my bikini on this vacation.”

  “You didn’t hear anyone?” I asked.

  “No. It wasn’t until he came up right behind me and I saw him in the mirror that I was even aware that anyone else was in the house.”

  “You saw him?” Nick and I exclaimed in unison.

  “Well . . . not exactly. I keep a small mirror in a silver frame on the table, stuck in with all the photographs, and I caught just a glimpse of him as he came up behind me.”

  “What did you see?” I demanded.

  “Just his shoulder and chest. But I know he was tall. Towered above me, in fact.”

  Tall. Towering. Those didn’t sound like words that described stubby Officer Pascucci.

  “Are you sure, Betty?” I wondered if the incident had left her confused.

  “Positive.”

  “But you said yourself the mirror was tiny.”

  “A mirror’s a mirror, Jessica. They don’t lie.”

  “But—”

  The nurse reappeared and reached for the curtain hanging above the bed. “I’m going to hav
e to ask you folks to leave now,” she said firmly. “We’re taking her up to her room now. I think she’s had enough excitement for one day.”

  “She’s going to be all right, though, isn’t she?” I asked anxiously.

  “Sure she is. We just want her here overnight so we can keep an eye on her.” She winked at Betty. “I know the type. Stronger than an ox.”

  Betty laughed softly. “Jessica already knows what a tough cookie I am.”

  I squeezed her hand gently. “Take good care of yourself, will you?”

  “I’ll be out of here in no time.” She squeezed my hand back. “And you and Nick will come pick me up when they release me, right?”

  “Yes, Betty. Nick and I will come. Together.”

  Nick and I headed out of the ER, this time walking a couple of feet apart.

  “I think she’ll be fine,” he said.

  I only nodded. This was all my fault. And even though I’d wreaked havoc with the life of one of my best friends, I had nothing to show for it. As far as the investigation was concerned, I’d come up completely empty-handed. Although I thought I knew why Tommee had been murdered, I still didn’t know who’d killed him.

  When we reached the exit, Nick said, “Want to get something to eat?”

  “Thanks, but I’ve got to get home. I’ve got other plans.”

  “Oh.” He sounded hurt. “I figured you’d enjoy the company. That you wouldn’t want to be alone tonight.”

  “Actually, a friend of mine is taking me out.”

  “Don’t tell me. Our man in blue.”

  I was in no mood to play verbal volleyball with Nick. “His name is Jimmy.”

  “You’re going out with him? After what Betty said?”

  “Surely you’re not referring to the fact that she claims the person who assaulted her was tall!”

  “That doesn’t make you nervous?”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “But that Jimmy Nolan guy is tall and he works with Pascucci,” Nick insisted. “Doesn’t that give you second thoughts about getting in a car with him alone?”

  “Aside from the fact that Jimmy is one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met, he’s a cop! Who could be safer?”

 

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