by Anne Logan
Alex switched on the engine, and with a cursory glance in the rearview mirror, he ground the gearshift into drive and stomped on the accelerator. By the time he parked his car in front of his apartment, his anger had abated, leaving an empty, hollow feeling, a feeling that something precious had been lost. And for a long time, he simply sat behind the wheel and stared into space as he tried to gather the strength to get out of the car and go inside.
FROM THE BALCONY of her brother’s apartment, Maddie had watched until Alex’s car disappeared around the corner.
She had tried telling herself that maybe it was for the best, that, after all, she had known from the beginning that a relationship between them wouldn’t work.
But back inside the apartment, a tiny voice kept whispering, nagging…It could have worked. Love would have found a way.
Disappointment for what might have been swelled beneath her breasts, and an image of the expression on Alex’s face rose like a specter to taunt her. The look he’d given her when he had stormed out without defending himself had spoken louder than any words could have.
“So what did you expect?” she murmured. And as she closed and locked the French doors, she silently cursed the impulse that had prodded her to make such harsh accusations. She should have known that Alex wasn’t the type of man who could be goaded or badgered into doing something he didn’t feel right about doing. Hadn’t that been one of the very things that she had admired about him?
As she gathered together the items belonging to her brother that she intended to keep, she felt the heat of embarrassment rise on her neck and burn her cheeks. Thank God she hadn’t compounded the insult by accusing him and the whole police department of some kind of conspiracy or cover-up. Still, she might as well have, she thought as she snagged the strap of her purse and the keys. Alex couldn’t have acted any more insulted if she had.
Her arms full, she fumbled to lock the apartment door then carefully made her way down the staircase that led to the street.
It wasn’t until she had transferred the items from her arms into the trunk of her car that Maddie noticed how quickly daylight was fading into darkness. Already the streetlights were on, and for the most part, the street was empty. In the distance, she could hear the faint sounds of musicians warming up their instruments at the Jazz Hall a couple of blocks away.
Maddie glanced around nervously. There were still several things she wanted to take with her, but the thought of going back inside the apartment alone then coming out into the dark night made her shudder.
She slammed the trunk shut and walked quickly to the driver’s side of the car. Just as she was about to insert the key into the lock, the unmistakable sound of hurried footsteps sent a chill across the back of her neck. Maddie glanced up to see the shadowy form of a man heading directly for her.
Get in the car and lock the door. But Maddie already knew she would never make it in time. Her heart racing, she clutched the keys and whirled to face the man just as he stopped within a few feet of her.
“Where is it?”
His face was hidden by the shadows of night, and Maddie’s insides quaked. Knowing that her only defense would be the element of surprise and acting on pure instinct, Maddie screamed and lashed out at him, aiming for his face with the car keys.
With a yelp of pain, the man grabbed his face and stumbled back a step.
Maddie screamed again, but when she tried to sidestep around him, he grabbed her. “You bitch,” he yelled. “Shut your damn mouth!”
Before she could scream again, his hands were around her neck. Scratching and clawing, Maddie tried to break his grip.
“What’s going on out there!”
Hearing the familiar voice of Sid Thomas gave her courage. Using her fingers like claws, she went for the man’s eyes, and at the same time, kneed him. His hands fell away, and clutching his groin, he doubled up in pain. Gasping for air, Maddie shoved him. Caught off-balance, he stumbled backward and sprawled onto the street. Seizing the opportunity to escape, she spun around and ran. “Sid, help!” she cried. “Call the police!”
Wielding a baseball bat, Sid almost collided with her. When he started after the man, Maddie grabbed his sleeve. “It’s too late.” She could already hear the footsteps of the man running down the street. “You’ll never catch him.”
The sound of her assailant yelling stunned both of them. But it was his words that made her blood run cold.
“I’m not through with you yet, bitch,” he screamed just before he disappeared down an alley.
Maddie began to shake and her legs felt as if they were made of jelly. When Sid placed an arm around her waist, she was grateful for the support.
“Are you hurt? Should I call an ambulance?”
She managed to shake her head, but when she spoke, she was surprised to hear her voice come out in a raspy whisper. “No, not hurt. Just shook up. If you’ll help me get to my car, I think I would just like to go home.”
“Since I haven’t seen you around lately, I take it home is no longer your brother’s apartment.”
Again Maddie shook her head. “No it’s not.”
“What about calling the police?”
Thoughts of Alex immediately surfaced. “No,” she said weakly. “It wouldn’t do any good to call them. I didn’t get a clear look at his face, and I’m not up to answering a bunch of questions.” Not again, she added silently, knowing that there was nothing more she could tell them this time than she had told them the last time.
Once she was in her locked car and on her way back to her apartment, Maddie felt a little safer, but she wondered if she had made the right decision about not calling the police. All kinds of thoughts flitted through her head, and she found herself constantly glancing in the rearview mirror to see if she was being followed.
Inside her apartment, behind the locked and bolted door, Maddie headed straight for the bathtub. While the bathwater was running, she glanced into the mirror. Twisting her head from side to side, she touched the angry red welts on her neck and wondered if she would have bruises. It was then that she saw the blood; it was caked on two fingernails that she had broken to the quick when she’d fought with the man.
Hands covering her face, Maddie sank to the tiled floor of the bathroom. For the first time that she could remember, she admitted that she needed someone else. But not just anyone. She needed Alex, needed him there to comfort her, to hold her, to tell her that everything would be okay.
The following morning, Maddie forced herself to get out of bed. She dressed carefully, determined not to allow the effects of last night’s attack to show. A scarf covered the bruises on her neck. When she walked into Crescent Antiques, no one could have guessed at the ordeal she’d been through.
“I’ve come to learn the ropes,” Maddie announced to Josephine. “Since I own half this place and have no intention of selling it, I figured I’d better start learning something about it.”
Josephine’s wrinkled face broke into a smile. “Well, you couldn’t have picked a better day. Mr. Keller is out of town on business and that son of mine called in sick. I need some help, so this is a perfect time.”
It was past one before Maddie took a lunch break, her head swimming with facts, figures, inventories and procedures. She went into Michael’s old office to call Ross Shaw. A recording at his home number informed her that if she needed to make an appointment with Mr. Shaw, she should call his campaign headquarters.
By the time Maddie finally got someone to answer at Shaw’s campaign headquarters, thirty frustrating minutes had passed and she still hadn’t eaten lunch.
“My name is Madeline Johnson,” she told the woman who answered. “My brother was Michael Johnson, co-owner of Crescent Antiques. I need an appointment with Mr. Shaw as soon as possible to return some merchandise that he purchased from my brother.”
Maddie was put on hold for several minutes and had just about decided to hang up, when another voice picked up, a man’s voice this time.
/> “Ms. Johnson, this is Ross Shaw.” Though deep and resonant, Maddie could have sworn that there was a trace of uneasiness in his tone. “We need to meet,” he said bluntly. “Would Tuesday about six in the evening be convenient for you?”
“Well, yes, I suppose so, but—”
“Fine. Please meet me at my home.”
Before she had time to respond, she heard the firm click of the phone. Maddie slowly pulled the receiver away from her ear and dropped it into its cradle.
“Strange,” she murmured. But what suddenly struck her as even stranger was that Shaw hadn’t asked what merchandise she intended to return to him. It was almost as if he had expected her call.
Still thinking about Shaw, Maddie dug in her purse until she found the business card she was looking for, then she placed a call to the office of Jean Claude Dureaux. It took only seconds for the receptionist to put her through to Michael’s lawyer.
“Maddie, good to hear from you again. What can I do for you?”
“I want to hire a private investigator, and I thought that you might be able to recommend a good, reputable person for the job.’’
THAT EVENING, across town, Alex was pacing in his living room. He’d dropped Carla off at her friend’s house earlier with the understanding that Kelly’s mom would bring Carla home around six.
Alex glanced at his watch. It was already past seven and Carla had yet to show up. Marching to the telephone, Alex snatched the receiver. He’d called the number Carla had given him at least three times already, but there had been no answer.
Just as he was about to hang up, someone picked up the phone. “Hello,” a woman said. “Dufresne residence.”
From the sound of her voice, Alex guessed that the woman was elderly. “Ah, hello,” he said. “This is Alex Batiste, Carla’s father. Is she there?”
“Carla?”
“Yes, she’s a friend of Kelly’s.”
“Are you sure you have the right number? Kelly is away for a few days with her parents in Florida. I’m her grandmother and I’m house-sitting for my son while they’re on vacation.”
For several seconds, Alex couldn’t speak as he reeled from the fact that Carla had outright lied to him. Why? he wondered. And if she wasn’t at her friend’s house, then where the hell was she? Then another thought hit him. The night that Carla had supposedly spent with Kelly. He’d been unable to reach Kelly’s parents that night. Had his daughter lied about that, too? He finally cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind my asking, how long has your son and his family been away?”
“Well…”
“I wouldn’t ask, but my daughter is missing, and I had hoped she might be with Kelly.”
“Oh, dear. Yes, of course. I understand. They left yesterday and I don’t expect them back until Sunday.”
Alex closed his eyes, thankful that at least Carla hadn’t lied about the sleep-over. “I see,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I hope you find your daughter.”
“Thanks,” he said in a choked voice. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding,” was all that he could think of to say before hanging up.
For minutes, he stood staring into space, his heart pounding in his chest. Where could she be? he wondered. And why had she lied?
The first person he thought of was Maddie, and all of his instincts urged him to call her. Maddie seemed to have developed an affinity with his daughter in the short time they had known each other, and she might know where he could start looking. Maybe Carla was with Maddie.
Alex reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. But as Alex reached for the phone again, he hesitated. After their last confrontation, he wasn’t sure if talking to Maddie was a good idea. There was always the possibility that she would refuse to speak to him. Still, he had to try.
As he reached for the phone, he heard the distinct sound of a key being inserted into the lock on the front door.
He turned to face the door just as it swung open.
“Hey, Dad,” Carla said with a grin as she sauntered inside, closing the door behind her. As usual, she was garbed in black, and her long hair looked even more frizzed than it normally did.
“Where have you been, Carla?” he asked quietly, evenly, barely able to contain his anger.
Carla looked puzzled. “You know where I’ve been—at Kelly’s. You dropped me off at her house. Remember?”
Alex raised his chin a fraction. “Where have you been?” he repeated a bit more forcefully.
“Dad? What’s wrong?”
Alex narrowed his eyes. “I think you know. Now, once more, where have you been?”
Her cheeks darkened to crimson, she ducked her head and stared at the floor, but not before he saw the flicker of guilt flash in her eyes. “Hanging out,” she mumbled.
“Hanging out? Hanging out where?”
She shrugged but still didn’t look at him. “Just around.”
“Why did you lie?”
Carla raised her chin and glared at him. “How do you know I did lie?”
“Carla!”
“Okay, okay, but it’s no big deal. I was just hanging out down in the Quarter with some friends, and I knew you wouldn’t want me to.”
Alex crossed his arms against his chest. “In the first place, lying is a very big deal, and in the second place, you’re right, I wouldn’t approve of you just hanging out in the Quarter. You seem to forget that I work down there and know what goes on.” He drew in a deep breath in an attempt to keep a lid on his temper. “Consider yourself grounded for two days—no phone calls.”
“What? No calls for two days! Aw, come on, Dad.”
“Want to try for three?”
For an answer, Carla whirled and stomped off to her room. When Alex heard the bedroom door slam, he closed his eyes and counted to ten. Hell, he thought, maybe for once, Joan was right. Maybe shipping Carla off to some Swiss finishing school was just the thing his daughter needed.
But a second later he was shaking his head. What his daughter really needed was supervision and firm, loving discipline, just what he was trying to give her. How come, he wondered, he’d never realized how hard it would be?
Later that night as Alex lay in bed, sleep eluded him. His thoughts ricocheted between Maddie and Carla.
No matter how hard he tried not to think of Maddie, it seemed as if she was permanently lodged in his brain. He missed her more than he would have believed possible.
And thoughts of Maddie always led to the mystery of her brother’s death and all the strange happenings since. There were too many loose ends to make the nice neat package that Jack had settled for when he’d closed the case on Michael Johnson.
“You’re not doing your job…”
Alex raised himself in bed, twisted around, punched his pillow, then flopped onto his stomach as Maddie’s accusation gnawed at him.
“Do you think it’s possible that Ross Shaw could somehow be involved…”
He’d told Maddie he didn’t, but from experience, he knew anything was possible. And the fact that the receipt found wadded up in the pocket of Michael Johnson’s jeans had been made out to Ross Shaw wasn’t a coincidence he could ignore.
With a groan born of frustration, Alex rolled, then jackknifed to a sitting position and shoved his fingers through his hair. After a moment, he vaulted off the bed and yanked on a pair of jogging pants.
Easing down the short hallway past Carla’s closed door, he headed for the living room. There he picked up the box containing a copy of the file on Michael Johnson that Casey had dropped off earlier. Good old Casey, he thought as he grabbed a notepad and pen, then settled at the kitchen table.
Alex stared at the blank piece of paper before him. “Okay, hotshot detective,” he muttered. “Let’s see how good you really are.” Within seconds, he had put pen to paper and began a list of everything that he would have checked out had he been the detective assigned to Michael Johnson’s case.
The following morning, Alex, a
rmed with a list of names, went to his office. Carl a had refused to speak to him when she got up, so after letting his neighbor know that his daughter would be alone, he’d left the girl to stew by herself at the apartment.
Several of his colleagues gave him strange looks when he entered the office, but no one questioned his presence, even though they knew he was on vacation.
After two hours of doing research on the department’s computer, Alex hit pay dirt. Bernie Keller’s name was on file as the last employer of record for Johnny Smith, the drunk who had hanged himself in his cell after chanting all night. At the time, Smith’s background hadn’t interested Alex. It was strictly routine to list all particulars about prisoners. But now there was Keller, Smith’s employer, Michael Johnson’s partner, the chanting, the strange disc that Carla had played on the gramophone, the receipt for the gramophone…
A frisson of excitement hummed through Alex. Somehow, everything was all connected. The trick would be finding out how.
The information on Keller was all Alex came up with. He still needed background information on Shaw, and he definitely wanted more on Keller. He had a feeling that all he needed to do was probe deep enough to find the missing pieces of the puzzle.
Alex gathered his things and left the office. There were other sources he could use. A credit check on both men, to begin with. Recent newspaper articles written about Shaw might give him some clues. Then there was the computer buff that Alex used sometimes. Joey Jacobs claimed that he could access information about anyone through the computer.
Just outside the front of the building, Alex ran into Casey.
“Hey, Alex. What the hell are you doing here?”
“Got time for a cup of coffee?” Alex asked, not bothering to answer his partner’s question.
“Nope, but since when has that stopped me?”
Over coffee, Alex told his partner what he was doing and why. For several seconds, Casey simply stared at him. “Talk about a can of worms,” he finally said. “But hey, I just love fishing, so how can I help?”