“Hey,” Clay said. “What’s going on?”
“Where have you been?” Bob asked jovially. “Are you hungry?”
“We’ve got plenty of food here,” Diane said almost too cheerfully. “We’re eating whatever was in the refrigerator before it goes bad. Can I fix you a plate?”
“No, I’m fine,” Clay answered. “I’m going back out in a few minutes. It’s too hot in here. A friend of mine is having a party on his rooftop terrace. Maybe I’ll sleep under the stars.” He went into the bathroom, feeling slightly annoyed. Diane was always at their apartment. She had her own place but shared it with three other girls, so she and Bob spent their time together here. They never gave him a night to himself. Diane was a strikingly attractive dancer with long, curly black hair, and Bob was an all-American-looking actor who was getting a lot of work in commercials.
So let them get their own pad.
Clay couldn’t wait to be able to afford to live on his own. Maybe he’d use some of the money he got tonight to find another living situation.
In the bathroom, a pair of Diane’s tap shoes were on the floor and her dance clothes were thrown over the side of the tub. Her stuff was always strewn everywhere. Glancing at the shoes, Clay suddenly realized they looked about the same size as the shoes Lorraine had been wearing. Should he borrow them and hope Diane wouldn’t notice? He’d bring them back later. Why not? he thought. He went into his bedroom and grabbed a small nylon bag that he used to carry his pictures and résumé and whatever else he needed for schlepping around the city to auditions. Back in the bathroom, he stuffed the shoes inside.
There’s no way she’ll notice they’re missing tonight, he decided. She’s such a slob she won’t even realize where she left them. Those two are drinking wine and will be asleep soon. Hopefully, I’ll be back before they wake up, and I’ll be a lot richer. This bag will be stuffed with jewelry and cash.
Clay went back into the tiny living room and walked over to his bike which was parked behind the couch. He started to wheel it toward the door. A funny noise made him look down. One of the tires was completely flat. “What happened here?” he mumbled.
“Oh no,” Diane giggled. “I am so sorry.”
Clay looked over at her. “Huh?”
“I was running late today, and I had a big audition for a Broadway play. I knew I’d never make it on time with all the traffic, and the subway can take forever. I got so mad at myself, and I knew if I let all the negative energy I was feeling take over my whole being, it would just ruin my audition. So I borrowed your bike. On the way back, I ran over a nail and the tire went flat. I’m really sorry. I was going to get it fixed tomorrow.”
Clay stood there in disbelief. “You borrowed my bike?”
“I thought you’d understand. You know how it is when you have a big audition, Clay. The good news is they loved me! My agent is sure they’re going to call me back.”
I can’t take it, Clay thought. I just can’t take it. These people are so inconsiderate. He was speechless.
“Hey, buddy, Diane’s really sorry,” Bob said, trying to smooth things over. “Why don’t you sit down and have a glass of wine with us?”
Lorraine is going to freak out, Clay thought. She is just going to freak out.
33
Kent pulled his car up to Lonnie’s, the popular new bar at the corner of Eighty-eighth and Second that was a magnet for the twenty-somethings in the neighborhood. Just two weeks old, it had been written up on the Internet as well as in magazines and newspapers. Word of mouth had also brought in the desired clientele.
“Have fun,” Kent said to Becky. “But be careful. As we saw tonight, there are a lot of weirdos out there.”
“I will. You get home safely!” Becky got out of his car, closed the door, and hurried across the sidewalk. She was thrilled to be able to meet up with Alexis.
Like most places this particular evening in New York City, the bar was hot and dark, lit only by votive candles that weren’t exactly resplendent. The floor felt sticky, it was incredibly noisy, but the lively young crowd seemed as if they couldn’t be happier. Immediately energized, Becky looked around. Alexis was standing in a crowd at the bar, trying to order a drink. She was so pretty and even though she was wearing casual summer clothes, you could just tell that she was rich, Becky thought as she hurried over. “Hi!”
Alexis turned and gave her a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here!” she said excitedly, her brown eyes sparkling, her gold hoop earrings dangling. “A couple of my friends just left, and Dodie is chatting up some guy at the other end of the bar. I walked away to give them some space. Do you want a beer?”
“Sure. I’ll be right back, okay?”
“No problem.”
It wasn’t easy to make out all the faces, but Becky wanted to take a quick look through the joint to see if by any chance the infamous couple who’d left the comedy club tonight were there. She squeezed her way through the crowd back toward the bathrooms, turned around, and came back. There was no sign of them. She passed Dodie, who was engrossed in a conversation and didn’t notice her. That guy is cute, Becky thought.
Two beers were on the counter in front of Alexis. “That was fast,” she said, handing one over.
“Let me give you some money.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Thanks.” Becky took a sip of the warm brew. “Alexis, you are so not going to believe what happened tonight.” Rapidly, she told the story of Georgina and being questioned by a private investigator.
“Are you serious?” Alexis asked. “I thought Lorraine was bad news. She might have spent loads of my Dad’s money but I don’t think she ever, like, physically hurt him. I’d tear her hair out if she did.”
“I don’t blame you! I’d feel the same way if someone tried to hurt my dad.”
“You’re lucky he’s still with your mom,” Alexis said, a wistful tone in her voice. She took a quick sip of her beer.
“I know,” Becky said, feeling slightly uncomfortable. “Alexis, they think the guy that this girl picked up was interested in taking a comedy class and lives on the Upper East Side. You never heard of a Chip Jones, did you?”
“No,” Alexis answered, twirling a strand of her hair. “Most of the guys around here are more into business and stuff.”
Becky nodded. “Thanks for inviting me to your dad’s tonight. I can’t tell you how glad I am not to be alone. You’re such a good friend.”
“No problem. Now that Lorraine is history, the coast is clear. My dad has a fabulous pool. Tomorrow we can catch some rays. Can you believe that Lorraine checked into the Treetops Hotel tonight? It costs a fortune! Of course my dad sold the loft downtown a couple months ago without telling her. I was so psyched.”
Becky laughed. Alexis’s and her lives were so different. “Hey, here comes Dodie.”
Alexis turned. Dodie was walking toward them, the guy she’d been talking to right behind. He looked distracted.
“Hi, Becky!” Dodie said. “Becky, this is Phil.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said as he shook her hand. “Sorry I can’t join you but I’ve got to get going…”
34
Back in the car, Regan showed Kit and Billy the college ring. “It has the initials CRJ. It must be his. The bartender thinks he was here for last call,” Regan said, frustration in her voice. She pulled out her cell phone and called Jack.
“I’ll put out the word for patrol cars in that area to be especially vigilant,” Jack said. “They’re dealing with a lot of problems tonight, but I emphasized this was important.” He paused. “And you’ll never believe where I’m headed.”
Regan listened as he told her of Wally’s saga.
“He’s waiting for me on a footpath next to the West Side Highway while he nurses a bloody nose. If he really has the gallery’s stolen sculptures, I’ll be tempted to kiss his nose to make it better. We’ll have to give the contractor a bonus no matter how our apartment turns out.”
&n
bsp; “While they’re scouting for the thief along the Hudson River, make sure they keep an eye out for Georgina and Chip. I’m afraid they could be anywhere in this city.”
“I know, Regan,” Jack said. “I’ll join you as soon as I get free.”
Regan hung up and put the car into drive. Her cell phone rang before she’d driven ten feet. Quickly she answered.
“Regan, it’s Becky. You know, from the comedy club, Larry’s Laughs. I’m at a bar, and I just met Chip Jones’s roommate.”
“His roommate?” Regan asked, astonished.
“Yes! He was leaving. I’ve been so worried about Chip Jones that I just blurted out, ‘You don’t know a Chip Jones, do you?’ He said yes! Chip’s family has been trying to reach him tonight, but he’s not answering his cell phone.”
“Is his roommate still there?”
“Yes.”
“Ask him what college Chip attended.”
“Just a sec…Chairsworth.”
“Where are you?”
“At Lonnie’s on Eighty-eighth and Second.”
“We’re a couple blocks away. Come outside if you would.”
Two minutes later, Regan double-parked in front of the bar. Becky was standing on the sidewalk with two young girls who seemed to be her age and a guy who was presumably Chip’s roommate. All four occupants of Regan’s car scrambled to get out.
“I’m not waiting in here this time,” Kit mumbled as she grabbed her crutches. “Me, neither,” Billy said as he grabbed her elbow.
Becky made the introductions.
Regan quickly went over everything they’d learned about Georgina, as she handed Phil the ring. He looked distraught. “That’s his. Chip told me he wanted to sign up for a comedy class. He made me promise not to tell anyone.” He paused for a moment. “Over the years, he’s had asthma and sometimes uses an inhaler. He’s big and pretty strong but has had respiratory problems. It’s bad enough that this wacko could scar him for life, but I’m worried about those knockout drops. If she abandons him—it’s already so hard to breathe with this heat and humidity…” His voice trailed off.
“I understand,” Regan said sympathetically. “We all have to work quickly to find them. We know they were at Sammy’s, a bar on Eighty-sixth Street near Third Avenue at some point tonight. It was probably not that long ago. So they may not be far from here. Of course they could be anywhere if they caught a cab or a car service.”
“I just called my doorman,” Phil said. “Chip definitely hasn’t been back to our apartment.”
“Do you and Chip have friends you could round up to help look for him? We should cover the parks and the riverbanks and any isolated areas in the city where she might have brought him.”
“I’ll go back in that bar and make an announcement. This is our new neighborhood joint. I bet a lot of people will help.”
“That’d be great. Just be careful what you say. If you slander her, and if for some reason she wasn’t responsible for these other incidents, there could be trouble.”
“Okay.”
“We should let Chip’s family know.”
Phil winced. “They’re already worried about him.”
“I’m sure they are,” Regan said quietly. “Where do they live?”
“His parents are in Maine and his sister is in San Diego. She works for a news station. I was interviewed on the phone by one of the reporters there about the blackout.”
“Let’s call his parents first.”
Predictably, Sue and Chris Jones started to panic. Regan assured them that they were doing everything they could to find Chip. “The police are on the alert. Phil is calling his friends. We’re forming a search party.”
“He was always so polite to girls,” Sue said, her voice full of pain. “He’d be such an easy mark for a woman like that. And knock-out drops, my God! When I spoke to him, he sounded like he’d had too much to drink.”
Sue’s husband was on the extension. “We’re getting in the car and are on our way down.”
“Please be careful,” Regan said. “Driving at night like this when you’re worried and upset can be very dangerous. And when you hit the areas affected by the blackout the roads will be so dark.”
“It’d be worse just sitting here,” Chris Jones said firmly. “Now I’m going to call our daughter.”
“Tell her not to release any information,” Regan warned him. “Please. With any luck the two of them are just out on the town together. She might not have any intention to hurt your son.”
“But didn’t you say that all of her victims are blond?” Sue asked, her voice cracking.
“I did. But here in New York City it will be harder for her to carry out a crime like this. She doesn’t have a car, so maybe she won’t even try.”
“I pray to God that that’s the case,” Chris said quietly. “But I don’t believe it.”
I don’t, either, Regan thought. When she hung up, she looked around the group—Phil, Becky, Becky’s friends Alexis and Dodie, Kit, and Billy. “We’ve got to get organized. Phil is going to make an announcement in the bar. We’ll ask any volunteers to break into groups and cover different areas. I’ll be driving around with—”
“Here comes my dad!” Alexis cried as a Rolls-Royce came down the block. “He’ll help. He can drive us around. Becky knows what this lunatic woman looks like!”
Regan turned. The driver of the Rolls pulled up behind her car. She was shocked to see Conrad Spreckles get out from behind the wheel.
“Conrad?”
“Regan?”
“You two know each other?” Alexis shrieked.
“Honey, I sold the loft to Regan and her husband.”
“Now I know you’re cool,” Alexis said to Regan. “My dad’s soon-to-be ex-wife loved that place. That’s why I was never there. I’m so glad it’s not hers anymore.”
“Alexis,” Conrad gently chided.
I knew something was up when he sold us the loft and Lorraine wasn’t around, Regan thought.
“Daddy, I’m so glad you’re here,” Alexis said as she gave him a hug. “You’re just in time. We have to help find someone who could be in a lot of trouble.”
“Of course,” Conrad responded, a catch in his voice. He felt overcome by the display of affection from his daughter. It had been so long since she’d hugged him like that. Until this moment he didn’t realize just how terribly he had missed her. “Regan, I can tell you’re in charge here,” he managed to say. “What should we do?”
35
The flashing red lights of several parked police cars pierced the darkness on the West Side Highway. “Owww,” Wally moaned as a paramedic tended to his nose. “That hurts!”
He and Arthur were still sitting on the ground. Jack Reilly and his assistant, Keith, were crouched down, talking with them. The glass sculptures that had been in the backpack were spread out on the dirty blankets they’d been wrapped in.
Detectives were scouting the surrounding area for the runaway thief.
Arthur’s head was spinning. He’d broken into Jack Reilly’s apartment tonight, locked his wife on the roof, and now here Reilly was thanking them for their bravery.
Jack patted Arthur on the back. “If you hadn’t run after the thief—”
“What about me?” Wally grumbled. “If I hadn’t said a friendly hello to the lunatic, this never would have happened.”
Jack laughed. “You’re right, Wally. Listen, I’d like for you guys come to my office. I spoke to the owners of the gallery. They are out of their minds with joy. They’ll be there, and I know they want to meet you. We have to take these sculptures downtown and lift any prints we can get off of them before they’re returned. We’ll also lift prints off this grimy backpack and see if it can be traced. I’ll get us some food and a new shirt for you, Wally.”
“What about my car?”
“Give me the keys. I’ll have a couple of my guys get some gas, then drive it to my office.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll want to fingerprint you, Arthur, since we know you touched the sculptures and the backpack. It’s called elimination prints. That way we can focus on other prints we pick up.”
Arthur felt faint. He’d never been fingerprinted before. Now they’d have a record of his prints. The same prints that were on the stun gun. “Sure,” he mumbled. “Wally touched at least one of the sculptures, too.”
“Then we’ll fingerprint him as well. I’m also planning to get the gallery owners’ prints.”
Wally and Arthur rode downtown in the back of an unmarked police vehicle. Keith and Jack were in the front. Next time I’ll be in handcuffs, Arthur thought miserably.
Still clad in their beach attire, the owners of the art gallery were anxiously waiting outside One Police Plaza. Knowing the story would be good publicity for their gallery, they’d contacted the press. Several reporters and photographers who were sick of reporting on people trapped in elevators hurried to the scene. The photographers snapped away as the couple embraced Arthur and the swollen-nosed Wally.
“How can we ever ever thank you?” Leon and Zora Peters cried. “You must come to our opening night reception.”
An excited reporter shoved a microphone in Wally’s face. “How do you feel?” she asked anxiously.
“My nose is killing me, but I am proud,” he said simply. “Proud that we were able to stop a criminal from making off with valuable art that didn’t belong to him. I’m sure that the NYPD will have him behind bars in no time. Which is where someone like that should be. And they should throw away the key.”
The reporter nodded zealously then turned to Arthur, who was looking at Wally with a shocked expression. “How about you? I understand you were the one who ran after the man who assaulted your friend.”
Arthur swallowed. “I’m just so pleased for the gallery owners,” he said shakily. “When I went to defend my buddy I had no idea that I’d be helping out people I’d never met…”
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