InSight

by Polly Iyer

  “I’ve heard a lot about you from Luke,” Norm said, taking Abby’s hand.

  Abby felt the warmth of the man in his touch and his voice. “The pleasure’s mine, Norm. Have you heard anything?”

  “Let’s go into the bar.”

  Jeff took her arm and led her to a seat. She heard the TV but couldn’t make out what was on. She smelled beer and something sweet.

  “I don’t know where Luke is,” Norm said.

  On hearing his negative response, Abby’s knees weakened. Luke was missing because of her. Right now, she didn’t care about Carlotta Gentry or Graeme Collyer or Herbert Scanlon. She wanted to find Luke and go home to the way things were. She wanted their lives back, their dinners together, their running time, their quiet time. She wanted him. She fought the dizziness when she feared he might be hurt or worse, resurrecting the nausea.

  “I called Mrs. Gentry,” Norm said. “Luke went to see her, all right. They spent twenty minutes together, after which her limo took him back to town. She said he was polite and that he asked a number of questions about the time Stewart got sick. Luke told her he didn’t know where Stewart was but hoped the police apprehended him soon so the attacks on you would stop. On the way back to the hotel, he asked to be dropped off at the Straw Market to pick up some things. That’s the last anyone has seen of him. I think she’s lying through her teeth, but the chauffeur confirmed her account of his visit.”

  “Yeah, a chauffeur in her employ,” Jeff said. “I bet he’s more than a chauffeur. Let me tell you something about Luke. It would take someone very special to take him face to face. Of that I’m sure.”

  “Graeme Collyer?” Abby asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Norm answered. “He’s special, all right. Special Forces, South African style.”

  “I know the type,” Jeff said. “But why bother face to face when he can take Luke from behind? We’re not talking fair play here.”

  Jeff’s words didn’t help Abby’s frame of mind. “It’s time to call on Mrs. Gentry. She’ll see me, if for no other reason than to find out if I know where Stewart is. Besides, she’ll want to see the results of her handiwork.” She reached down and gave Daisy a rub. “That’d be me. Isn’t that right, Daisy girl?”

  “Well you’re not going alone,” Jeff said. “Luke did, and no one’s heard from him since.”

  “She won’t get away with doing it twice,” Abby said.

  “You’re not going alone,” Jeff repeated.

  “Don’t worry, I couldn’t if I wanted to, and I don’t. Blind, yes; stupid, no.”

  Carlotta Gentry accepted Abby’s call as expected and with a warmth never extended while she was married to her son. In fact, Mrs. Gentry seemed anxious to see her—a first—and offered a car to pick her up in front of the hotel in two hours. Abby said she came with a friend and that they’d drive.

  “They don’t have Luke at her house,” Norm said. “He’s stashed somewhere else.”

  “They confined Stewart to Scanlon’s private hospital,” Abby said. “Do you think they’d chance putting Luke there?”

  “I doubt it. In any case, we can’t march in there without a warrant, and I can’t get a warrant on a hunch. I want you to wear a wire.”

  “No way. Mrs. Gentry isn’t stupid either.”

  “Neither is Collyer,” Jeff said. “We may not see him, but he’ll be there. I doubt Luke saw him until it was too late.”

  “Anyway, I won’t need a wire. If Luke is alive, she’ll let him go. I promise she will.” The thought that Luke might be dead weakened Abby’s knees again. It was the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room no one mentioned. She couldn’t lose someone else she loved. Not again.

  “Are you carrying?” Norm asked Jeff.

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “No, I guess not. Forget I asked.”

  * * * * *

  The butler brought Abby and Jeff out to the veranda. Abby had visited the Gentry estate a few times during her marriage. Coming from such a humble background, she’d been in awe of the luxurious surroundings. While the Gentrys entertained, the parade of yachts and sailboats kept Abby entranced for hours. The rippling water, salt air, and ocean breeze calmed her, and she remembered thinking she could spend the rest of her life taking in the view. Today, the setting wouldn’t distract her.

  “Abigael, we meet again. What a pleasant surprise.”

  The voice from the past with its phony patrician accent took Abby back to an undesirable place. A place where she’d always been an outsider wondering how she fit in while trying to convince herself she didn’t care. Stewart never strayed far from her, sensing her discomfort, always making her feel part of him. She loved him for that. But this was another day, another time, and Stewart wasn’t near to protect her.

  Was it the cooler temperature or the memory of being an unwelcome guest in her ex-mother-in-law’s home once more that sent a chill down her spine?

  “It has been awhile, hasn’t it?”

  “You’re looking well, my dear. You always were a pretty girl. In your fashion. Come sit down.”

  Her compliments had always managed a knife-in-the-back twist. Later, Abby would have one of those I should have said epiphanies, but at the moment she had no retort. She came with one purpose. To rescue Luke. If he was still alive.

  * * * * *

  Carlotta Gentry appraised her ex-daughter-in-law. She had matured. Not as gawky as she used to be. In fact, if it weren’t for the lifeless eyes, Abigael could almost be attractive. She even dressed well and wore makeup. Humph, wonder how she does that. Astonishing what blind people can do. And she arrived with another attractive man too. All those good-looking men and Abigael couldn’t even appreciate them. Of course, this one wasn’t interested in getting into any woman’s pants. More’s the pity.

  “And you are?” she said to Jeff in what she hoped was her haughtiest tone. That always seemed to put people in their place from the outset. Didn’t seem to phase this man one bit.

  “Jeff Conti, ma’am,” he said as he moved two chairs against the wall of the house and positioned Abby in one of them.

  The defensive placement wasn’t lost on Carlotta. Ha. No one’s going to sneak up behind these two. But then they would have to think me an idiot to pull that again. “I’d offer you a seat, but I see you’ve already made yourself at home.” She did her eyebrow arch, which Abby missed and Conti ignored. “Now, for what reason do I have the pleasure of this visit, Abigael?”

  “Luke McCallister,” Abby answered.

  Abigael’s boldness surprised her. She spoke right out, unlike the timid girl of years past.

  “As I told the detective when he called, Mr. McCallister came, we chatted, and he left. My chauffeur delivered him where he wanted to go, and that was the end of it.”

  “I’ll get right to the point, Mrs. Gentry.” Abby took the recorder from her pocket and turned it on. Stewart’s voice mingled with the outdoor noises but came across as if it were in surround sound.

  “They killed him, you know.”

  “What? Who?”

  “My mother and that Collyer guy who worked for my grandfather. They killed my father.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I heard them. I told you, Abby. Don’t you remember? Before I got sick. I thought I did. Maybe I forgot.”

  “You never told me that, Stewart. I don’t remember.”

  “Yes. We were going to tell the police. Did we ever do that?”

  “No, we never did. Why did they kill him?”

  “I don’t remember. Everything’s behind a closed door. Sometimes, in my dreams, I keep pulling on it, but I can’t make it open.”

  “I’ll be back, Stewart. Okay?”

  “Okay, Abby. I’ll be here, won’t I?”

  “Yes, you’ll be here.”

  “Why, Mrs. Gentry, you’re as pale as the sails on that boat,” Jeff said. “Are you okay?”

  Bastard. He’s filling Abigael in on what she can’t see. I hate
that. Damn queer pervert. Doesn’t he know his place? She forced herself calm.

  “I love my son, Abigael,” Mrs. Gentry said, “but he’s mentally ill. You of all people should know that. Do you honestly think anyone will believe his accusations? The poor man escaped from a mental hospital, for God’s sake. I don’t think even you believe what he said. You admit you don’t remember anything he claims.”

  “Thanks to Dr. Scanlon. Did he work his evil magic on me too, Mrs. Gentry?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Dr. Scanlon is a respected psychiatrist and neurosurgeon, known all over the country for his exceptional work.”

  “I wonder how he would like his exceptional work scrutinized. I’m sure the authorities would be interested in his patients. You know the ones I mean. Those receiving experimental therapy with his experimental drug. A drug based on an illegal composition. The same drug you used on Stewart.”

  A wave of heat surged through Carlotta’s body. Someone spilled her secrets, but they wouldn’t beat her. Serranos don’t grovel. They attack. “I assure you if there were an experimental drug that would alleviate my son’s symptoms, I wouldn’t hesitate to use it. However, that isn’t the case. As far as a drug based on an illegal substance, that’s absurd. I don’t know where you’re getting your ideas, but making public an accusation like that against me, a woman who’s been honored for contributing so much to the mental health industry, would destroy your reputation more than mine.

  “You have nothing.” She spoke with the same tone she reserved for those beneath her, which was everyone. But Abby and her mother held the two places at the top of her list. “There is no secret lab. Stewart’s illness can be traced to family genes. His case is famous, a psychotic murderer, or don’t you remember?”

  “Oh, I remember every minute of that time, especially the last day of Macy’s life. You remember that, don’t you, Mrs. Gentry?”

  “A tragic affair. Macy was my grandchild. Her death horrified me.” She wiped an imaginary tear off her cheek. She knew the action was lost on Abby, but her aberrant bodyguard would no doubt fill her in later. “And you, my dear, how you and Stewart survived is a miracle.”

  “Yes, a miracle. I don’t see it that way. Not at all. I bet you were disappointed. It must have seemed the perfect solution. With me dead, you wouldn’t have to worry if Dr. Scanlon’s mind control didn’t work, or that maybe one day I’d remember what Stewart told me. What did you do? Have your Svengali program Stewart to kill me and then himself? But you didn’t count on his killing his daughter, did you?”

  “That’s outrageous,” she said, sucking air between her teeth. “I know you never liked me, but to think I’d plot the murder of my family is carrying it too far. You sound as crazy as my poor son. No one would believe that accusation.”

  “Maybe you’re right, after all. The authorities will listen to this tape and hear the ravings of a hopeless psychotic, but I’ll give it a try anyway. What’s the worst that can happen?

  “Oh, and if you have any ideas of harming either me or Mr. Conti, a police friend knows we’re here.”

  Fury cut into her composure. Damn, the blind bitch is blackmailing me. And so confidently. Me, Carlotta Gentry. Inhale, Carlotta. Deep breaths.

  “I’m appalled. You’d threaten to release that tape, knowing it’s not true, because you think I know where your detective is? Why, you’re blackmailing me.” She forced a droll laugh. “How dare you. How much do you want, Abigael? I’d like to know so I can tell the authorities when you make these ridiculous assertions. I’m sure they’ll take your state of mind into consideration when the sordid details come out. Poor blind woman, shacked up with a deaf has-been cop, besieged by her schizophrenic ex-husband, and unable to overcome the tragic death of her daughter. You’ll have their sympathy, but you’ll be seen as someone who couldn’t absorb the enormous strain.”

  Abby smiled. “I’m a respected psychologist, Mrs. Gentry. I doubt the authorities will write me off too quickly when I explain Dr. Scanlon’s methods, do you? Even if they don’t believe me, my assertions will cast doubt on your work and his. He’ll be ruined and so will you and your foundation. I think the FDA will be interested in giving Synthetec a second look. Knowing now what we’re dealing with, and with proper medication, Stewart might even reach a point of remembering what happened. Are you willing to take the chance?”

  Carlotta felt the blood rush to her face. She yearned to spew invectives at this nonentity. No one talked to her like that. Not even her husband, damn his sorry hide.

  “Go ahead. Be my guest.” She rose from her chair, balancing herself on shaky legs. “I’ll have Cyril show you out.”

  Abby got up. Conti put her hand on his arm to lead her from the room.

  “You’ve misjudged me, Abigael. I wish you nothing but the best.”

  “Of course,” Abby said, walking alongside her guide.

  Carlotta watched the two people walk away. Damn .“Abigael, wait.”

  Abby stopped first, then turned and faced her, the recorder raised in her hand.

  “How do I know that’s the only recording? Not that there’s anything to Stewart’s charges, mind you. I admit to nothing. But those accusations might hurt my foundation, put its good works under suspicion. I can’t have that.”

  “I give you my word,” Abby said. “This is it. I don’t care about Stewart, Mrs. Gentry. Why would I? He’s stolen the two things that filled my life with beauty, and I can never get them back. I don’t care about him, and I don’t give a damn about your business. It has nothing to do with me. All I want is Luke McCallister.”

  “Touching,” Carlotta said, grinding her teeth together. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll have my chauffeur search the area where he dropped off Detective McCallister. He knows it well. Maybe your friend was mugged. I’m not promising anything. How could I? But if he finds your young man, we’ll see he’s returned to the hotel where we picked him up.” She took a deep breath. “But I want the recorder. That’s a fair exchange.”

  “When—and if—you find him…safe, I’ll erase this,” Abby said. “You have my word.”

  “How do I know Mr. Conti won’t talk? I have only your word.”

  “You have mine too,” Conti said.

  Carlotta watched her butler usher them into the house. No one had ever beaten her like that. She’d get even. No low-class white trash could dictate to her and get away with it.

  * * * * *

  “I thought we’d lost there for a minute,” Abby said, “and she’d called our bluff.”

  “You were great,” Jeff said. “I’m proud of you.”

  “I almost folded. I don’t know how I remained upright.” She wanted more than anything to walk unassisted from the room, but she held on to Jeff as if they were attached. She felt the heat of Carlotta Gentry’s stare on her back.

  “Skinny bitch,” Jeff said when they got outside. “She offered you bribe money without offering it. Skinny, clever bitch.”

  “I’m shaking so hard, I can’t walk.”

  “I got you, girl. You’re really going to erase the tape?”

  “Yes. I gave my word.”

  Jeff took the long way back to the hotel. When they arrived, the desk clerk gave them a message.

  Mr. McCallister had returned and was in his room.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  An Uneven Trade

  “Luke’s groggy as hell,” Jeff said. “His wrists and ankles have bracelet marks, and the vein in his right hand is bruised from a needle puncture. I’m sure you smell that he reeks of alcohol. Those bastards restrained him and pumped him full of drugs, then doused him with booze so it’d look like he was drunk.”

  As bad as Jeff’s description of Luke sounded, relief washed over Abby. He was alive. That’s all she cared about. Jeff filled the ice bucket, and she wrapped some cubes in a towel and placed it across Luke’s forehead. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she walked her fingers over his face, found his lips, and kissed them, de
lighting in every prickle of his three-day bristle.

  She put her hand on his chest. “His heart’s racing. Should we call the hotel doctor?”

  “I’m afraid if we do, they’ll find obvious signs of drug abuse, then we’ll have another thing to explain. I’ve seen this before. He’ll come out of it.”

  “Are you sure? Oh, God.”

  “I’m checking his eyes. He’s coming round.”

  “What does he look like?”

  “Like he’s been to hell and back. When he wakes up, we’ll get him into a bath and clean him up. I’ll call Norm and let him know what happened, but first I’ll go down to the desk to find out how he got here.”

  Luke moaned. Daisy snuffled near his face, licking his neck.

  “He’s opening his eyes,” Jeff said.

  Luke reached an arm around the dog. “Hey, Daisy,” Luke’s hoarse voice croaked. “Abby?”

  Abby directed him toward her as he had done so many times to her. “I’m here, Luke. Can you see me?”

  “The room’s going round. I can’t make out what you’re saying.” He tried to sit up but collapsed back onto the bed, then rubbed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Give me a minute to focus.”

  Jeff waited. “Do you remember anything?”

  “I remember the limo taking me to the Gentry estate.” He stopped and drew a deep breath. “I met with the grand dame herself, and after that, nothing.”

  Luke sounded like he’d swallowed a pail of sand. After coughing a few times, he said, “Water.”

  The sound of water

  Jeff filled a glass. “You were the beneficiary of a double dose of bad guys, Collyer and Scanlon. These people are lethal.”

  “Damn, my head hurts. What are you doing here, Abby? And you, Jeff. You’re supposed to be home.”

  “We came to find you,” Abby said. “You’ve been missing for three days.”

  He sat up. “Did you say three days? But I just…got here. Where have I been all that time?”

  “That’s what we’d like to know. Carlotta Gentry and her chauffeur are the last people claiming to see you.”