by Harlan Coben
That's not true. I almost had the best. Twice.
The tape stopped and turned itself on.
I almost had the best. Twice.
The first two calls were hang-ups. She hated those. Why couldn't the caller at least have the courtesy to say something? The next message was from one of her students asking for an extension on a paper due tomorrow.
Twice. I had the best twice.
With great effort, she pushed the tormenting thought away. That was when her sister's voice came on the machine.
'Judy, it's Mary. Please call me right away. It's very important I talk to you.'
Judy's silly/goofy/Just F- - -ed smile vanished. The panic in Mary's voice would have been picked up by a deaf mute. Judy pictured her sister making the call, the chord twisted around her hand, her beautiful eyes wide with alarm and fear. Something else must have gone wrong. Judy prayed it did not involve hurting Laura again. But how could it not? Laura was now enmeshed in the sins of the past as though she had partaken in them. She was entangled in a way she could never hope to escape. The combination of evil and the past made up an awesome foe, one that could cripple, mutilate, kill.
There were two more similar calls from Mary, each more pleading than the one before. Then Judy heard Laura's voice on the machine.
'Hi, Aunt Judy, it's me. I'm going away for a couple of days but I wanted to let you know that next Saturday the Celtics are going to retire David's number at the Boston Garden. I know how busy you are but I would very much appreciate it if you could be there. Bring Colin if you'd like. I'm anxious to meet him. I love you and I'll speak to you soon.'
'I love you too,' Judy said out loud. She wiped away a stray tear. Evil and the past. For David the pain was over. For Laura it had become a constant companion. Judy wondered how many great works of literature had taught her that life was not fair, not even remotely close to being an even-handed contest. Life was random, choosing to coddle some and destroy others without plan or justification. That was just how things worked. Accept it and move on.
Laura's message was the last one on the machine. Colin had a seminar on Saturday and would probably not be able to join her, but of course Judy would go to the ceremony. She had been very fond of David from the beginning and to Laura's initial surprise, Judy had even been a big fan of his.
'You're dating David Baskin?' Judy had said to her niece. 'I think he's the greatest player I've ever seen.'
'I never knew you liked basketball.'
'Love it. When I lived in Manhattan, I had season tickets to the Knicks games. I've followed your boyfriend's career since he was a Michigan Wolverine. You don't like basketball?'
'I do now.'
Judy laughed. 'Well, tell that handsome superstar that he better get me some tickets.'
'Will do. When you coming down this way?'
'In two weeks.'
'Will you stay with me?'
'Of course.'
'Great. I'll see you then, Aunt Judy.'
'Goodbye, Laura.'
Judy took a deep breath. Poor Laura. Poor David. She reached for the phone and dialed Mary's number.
'Hello?'
'Hello, Mary.'
'Where have you been?' Mary nearly shouted. 'I've been trying to reach you for days.'
'So I gathered. I went away for a few days.'
'Don't you call in for messages? Suppose somebody had to reach you in an emergency?'
Judy closed her eyes. 'I was distracted. I forgot. Now, what's the big problem?'
Mary did not answer right away. 'Stan Baskin.'
'David's brother?'
'Right.'
'What about him?'
'He's living with Gloria.'
Judy almost wanted to laugh. 'So?'
'So?' Mary shot back. 'Don't you realize what this means?'
Judy sighed deeply. 'Why don't you try being happy for Gloria, Mary? Hasn't she suffered enough? The situation is hardly the same as it was with David and Laura.'
Mary paused. 'I know,' she said quietly, 'and I want to do what's best for my daughter.'
'Is Stan Baskin a nice guy?'
'I don't know,' Mary admitted. 'I haven't even met him yet.'
Judy nodded. Now she understood why her sister was so upset. 'You're going to have to if they stay together.'
'I know. I'm just so scared. Suppose he recognizes -- '
'It's been thirty years,' Judy cut in. 'And anyway, it's a risk we'll both have to take. For Gloria's sake.'
'Both?'
'Are you and Laura still speaking?'
'Yes.'
'Then she told you about the ceremony at Boston Garden on Saturday. I'm sure Stan Baskin will be there. So will I.'
'You're coming down for it?'
'Yes.'
'I'm so grateful, Judy. I need your support so badly.'
'I'm not coming down for you,' Judy said coldly. 'I'm coming down for Laura and to pay my respects to David.'
'Judy?'
'Yes?'
'It will never end, will it?' Mary began. 'Every time I think it's over, it comes back to haunt me. Was it that awful, Judy? Was what I did so terrible that it should harm my children like this? Was it that unforgivable?'
Judy thought for a moment. In truth, it was not so unforgivable. But sometimes this indiscriminate world did indeed have a pattern, a pattern like a set of dominoes. We knock down one small tile and without realizing it, we trigger a reaction that topples countless others. Had this particular chain reaction finally reached the last tile and stopped? Had David's death marked the end of this destructive chain? Judy hoped so.
But she doubted it very much.
Chapter 17
T.C. drove back to his office. Serita was good, damn good, but T.C. had been up against better. She was lying. No doubt about it. And she didn't feel good about doing it either. If she had been sure lying was the right thing to do, T.C. doubted her poker face would have revealed anything. Even now, T.C. was not nearly as confident as he pretended to be. But what else could he do? If he assumed she was telling the truth, it left him with nothing to go on. If he assumed she was lying, ah, well, that was a different story.
Okay, T.C. thought, let's assume Serita is lying. What does that mean? T.C. tried to organize the facts in his head. Fact 1: Laura had seen Corsel. Fact 2: She now knew about the timing of the money transfer. Fact 3: She had discovered that David's call had come from the Pacific International Hotel in Australia. Partial Conclusion: Knowing all of the above, Laura would never just give up and forget about it. Query: Where would she have gone next?
T.C. did not buy Estelle's story about Laura on some secret fashion trip. What kind of crap excuse was that? He could understand trying to hide a certain excursion from your competition, but from her family and friends? Hardly Laura's style. She trusted her friends. She would tell them, especially now when so many people were worried about her.
But she doesn't trust me.
Sad to say but T.C. had to accept the truth. Somewhere along the way, Laura's trust in him had disintegrated. She had not told him about her second visit to Corsel's office; she had not told him what she had learned about David's death. And if Laura had still trusted him, she would have. If she had still trusted him, Laura would have wanted his help.
T.C. shook his head. Those damn suspicions of hers just made everything all the more difficult. But all of this was an aside, an aside that was bringing him nowhere in a hurry. He had to find out where Laura was and what she was up to. He had questioned Laura's parents, her sister, her best friend. Nothing. Could Laura have really gone somewhere without telling anyone? And if so, why? Unless she wanted to protect them. Unless she was doing something that could prove dangerous to her family and friends. Unless . . .
He stopped his car and sprinted to a nearby phone booth. He put a quarter in and dialed the unlisted number. It was picked up after the second ring.
'Sherman's Paper Supplies.'
'Stu, it's T.C.'
Stuart Sh
erman repeated, 'Sherman's Paper Supplies.'
'Damn you FBI bigshots and your codes. Who the hell remembers? Can't you do a voice print or something?'
'We have a special on yellow paper today.'
T.C. thought. 'Oh right. Do you have any yellow paper with pink and aqua lines?'
There was a moment of silence. 'Hey, T.C. Long time no speak. What's happening?'
'Not much. Don't you ever get sick of playing spy with all those codes?'
'Nah,' Stu replied. 'It's the reason most of us join.'
T.C. laughed. 'And the reason I only work with you on special occasions.'
'What phone booth you at?'
T.C. squinted. 'The number is 617-555-4789.'
Stuart typed the number into his computer terminal. 'Okay, it's clean. What do you need?'
'Quick request. Can you tell me if Laura Baskin traveled on any flights from the United States to any city in Australia? She may have used the name Laura Ayars.'
'No problem,' Stu said. 'When do you need it by?'
'Right away. I'll hold.'
'Okay, but it'll take a few minutes. Say, how was the coroner we found for you in Australia?'
'He worked out well, but he was from Townsville, not Cairns.'
'Townsville?'
'It's about an hour flight from Cairns,' T.C. said. 'I had to fly him in.'
'Ah what the hell, T.C., this business wouldn't be any fun if there weren't a few bugs in the system. How about Hank? How did he do for you?'
'He's still the best surgeon around.'
'And the most discreet,' Stu added. He paused a second. 'Oh, and don't worry, T.C. I'm not going to ask you what this is all about. It's none of my business, right?'
'Right.'
'Besides I'm not a Celtics fan anyway.'
T.C. sighed. 'All right, Stu. I owe you one.'
'A big one,' Stu corrected. 'Hold on a sec. Let me check on this for you.'
T.C. listened to the hold music. He wondered what sort of subliminal message the FBI Special Branch put in its hold music. Something mind-warping no doubt. Stu was right. T.C. did owe him a major-league favor. If the company ever learned what T.C. had been up to, they would both be in serious trouble. But then again, T.C. had stuck his neck out for Stu plenty of times -- especially the time when Stu had worked undercover for the Bandini family.
The Bandinis were a particularly vicious group of drug dealers who enjoyed torturing and executing those they did not like. And the Bandini family did not like Feds much. The last time they had discovered a Fed in their employment, the Bandinis tied him to stakes spreadeagle on the floor of an abandoned warehouse. Then they poured a bag of rats onto their helpless victim. The poor guy writhed in agony as he watched the vermin eat away at his stomach, his groin, his cheeks, watched until the rat's claws and small, sharp teeth shredded his eyes. When T.C. viewed the carcass a few days later, he had become physically ill for the first and only time in his career. The thought of that rotting cadaver still made him shudder.
Anyway, one of T.C.'s sources learned that the Bandinis had discovered Stuart Sherman was a Fed and were preparing an encore execution for his benefit. The FBI was able to pull Stu out just as he was heading to what would have been his final meeting with the Bandinis. After that Stu Sherman decided he preferred the computer and research end of the business. He no longer did field work.
Stu came back on the line. 'Got it, T.C.'
'I'm listening.'
'She's using the name Ayars,' Stu said. 'She left two days ago on a Qantas Airlines flight from Los Angeles to Cairns.'
T.C. rubbed his eyes. 'Stu, thanks a lot.'
'I'll just put it on your bill.'
Laura and Graham were back at the cocktail lounge. This time, they chose to sit in a quiet corner rather than at the bar. Laura studied the big man in front of her as he stroked his beard, his eyes fixed in concentration. What did she really know about Graham Rowe? How could she be so sure he wasn't involved in all this? After all, he had been the police officer in charge of the investigation. If Laura could not even trust T.C., how could she rely on this stranger?
'Well, what have we got so far?' Graham asked, speaking as much to himself as Laura. 'Number one: David did not just go swimming like he wrote in his note.'
Laura remembered that note. I will love you forever. Always remember that. So serious for David. So foreboding. Had he somehow suspected that it would be the last note he would ever write? Had he somehow known that death was awaiting his imminent arrival?
Graham continued. 'Number two: the time of death estimated by the coroner was way off. We have an eyewitness who swore he saw David Baskin several hours after he supposedly drowned.' The sheriff flipped through his notebook, jotted something on a sheet of paper, and then continued. 'Number three: we know David took an elevator ride in this hotel. He was upstairs for approximately one hour. We can assume he visited someone during that time.'
Laura nodded. 'But who?'
'That's the question,' Graham agreed. 'But there are a few other things we should look into.'
'Like?'
'Like why was the coroner so far off with his estimation of David's death? And did he miss something else, like signs of foul play or ...'
'Or?'
Graham's piercing eyes locked onto hers. 'Sorry, Laura, but we have to look into the possibility of suicide.'
Laura's tone remained even. 'Like I said before, I want all possibilities explored -- no matter where they lead.'
Graham nodded. 'Okay, let's get started.'
'What do we do first?'
The sheriff let a small laugh pass his lips. 'We?' he repeated. 'There's no chance I'm going to convince you to let me do this on my own, is there?'
'None.'
Graham shrugged. 'Well, I always wanted a beautiful partner,' he said. 'Okay, the first thing we should do is find Gina Cassler.'
'Who's she?'
'An old friend of mine,' Graham replied, 'and the owner and manager of this hotel.'
Gina Cassler was a stately-looking woman in her early sixties. Her neatly bunned hair was gray, her posture straight, her head held high in the air. She wore a gray business suit and her personal appearance was perfectly groomed and manicured. It made a shocking contrast with the cluttered desk she sat behind. Files and loose sheets of paper formed three-feet alps over what Laura assumed was a nice wood finish. Occasionally, papers floated onto the floor but Mrs Cassler didn't seem to mind.
'Jeez, Gina,' Graham said with a shake of his head, 'how can such a beautiful dame be such a slob?'
Gina waved her hand as if to dismiss him. 'Still a charmer, eh, Graham?'
'Trying.'
'And who is this lovely lady with you?'
Graham turned toward Laura. 'This is Laura Baskin.'
'Ah, yes, the founder of Svengali,' Gina said, gently shaking Laura's hand. 'I bought one of your suits last time I was in San Francisco. I understand you're going to start marketing here in Australia.'
'Yes.'
'It'll be a big hit, I'm sure,' Gina said with a smile. 'Now what can I do for you, Graham?'
'We're investigating the death of Mrs Baskin's husband. Did you hear about it?'
'Of course,' Gina replied. 'It was all over the papers and telly. Such a terrible thing. We haven't had a drowning in this region in what? Three years, Graham?'
'Two and a half,' he corrected.
'Whatever. And I read he was a good swimmer.' She shook her head. 'I'm very sorry, really I am.'
'Thank you,' Laura said.
Graham cleared his throat. 'Gina, we need to see a list of your clientele for the time period surrounding Mr Baskin's death.'
Gina looked puzzled. 'A guest list you mean?'
'Right.'
'From June?'
'June 17th.'
'That's almost six months ago.'
'Five and a half,' Graham corrected.
'We don't have them.'
'What do you mean you don't have th
em?'
'We don't save daily rooming lists,' she explained.
'Sure, we have a customer list in the basement but it's not done by the dates they stayed here.'
'There's no way we can find out who stayed in the hotel on June 17th?'
'None. Unless . . . wait a sec.' Gina looked up, her face scrunched in concentration. A few moments later, her eyes widened and she snapped her fingers. 'Are you looking for a foreigner?'
'What does that have to do -- '
'Just answer my question, Graham,' she interrupted impatiently. 'Are you looking for a foreigner?'
'Probably. Why?'
'The passport cards.'
'The what?'
'Each foreigner has to leave his passport at the front desk so we can fill out a passport card for them. Immigration collects them and keeps them at town hall.'
'Can you get the ones filled out on June 17th?'
'It would probably be faster if you made the request, Graham.'
The big sheriff shook his head. He did not want the government involved in this case yet. 'I'd appreciate it if you took care of it. Just say you need it for tax purposes or something.'
Gina shrugged. 'No worries. It'll probably take a couple of days. Red tape and all that, you know.'
'It's important,' Graham stressed. 'I also need to see your long-distance phone bills for that month.'
Gina released a long whistle. 'Look around you, Graham. Do I look like the type who saves old phone bills?'
Laura's eyes scanned the disheveled room and cluttered garbage cans. The answer was obvious.
'I need those phone bills.'
'My nephew works for the phone company in Cairns,' Gina said. 'He'll be in the office tomorrow. I'll give him a call.'
They thanked her and left.
'What next?' Laura asked. 'Do we go see the coroner?'
'Easier said than done.'
'What do you mean?'
The big sheriff opened the door for her. 'The coroner who handled your husband's case was not from around here.'
'He wasn't?'
Graham shook his head. 'He was flown in from a place called Townsville.'
Stan heard Gloria's key in the lock. He quickly rose and moved toward the door. When she opened it, Stan grabbed her and kissed her passionately.
'Welcome home.'