Mystery Dad

by Leona Karr

  “See! Up there.”

  She realized then the boy wasn’t pointing at the man but at a bright blue Steller’s jay flitting through the branches of an evergreen spruce tree. All she could do was nod, and stiffen her knees that had gone weak.

  As Timmy skipped happily beside her, she chided herself for letting her imagination run away with her, but a flicker of apprehension stayed with her. When they got home, she made a point of impressing upon her mother the need to keep the children under the watchful eye of an adult at all times.

  WHEN KERRI GOT TO the office, Debbie was as ecstatic as a bridesmaid who’d caught the wedding bouquet. “What’s in a name that doesn’t smell sweet, sweet, sweet,” she said, mangling the quote from Shakespeare.

  Kerri laughed, “I gather you’ve had some luck checking the records I suggested.”

  “You bet you’re sweet patooties, I did.” Debbie shashayed over to Kerri’s desk, and laid down some papers with a flourish. “I zeroed in on California and Nevada driver’s license bureaus as you said.”

  “And—?”

  “Voilà! A driver’s license issued to Ardella Browski, two years ago, Reno, Nevada. I’m expecting a fax any minute.”

  “Good work, that will give us a photo, plus our mystery lady’s height, weight, color of eyes and her age. And more important, an address.” There was no reason to think that Ardie had returned to Reno after leaving the kids, but picking up her trail, even if it was two years old, was a place to start. “What else?”

  “No telephone currently listed for Ardella Browski, but five years ago, she was in the Reno directory, and I got that address.”

  “All right, let’s go through the marriage records again. This time for an Ardella L. Browski. If her exhusband is still alive, we may pick up her trail from him. And if he’s dead, we still may get some information from him that will help us.”

  “If he’s dead, he’s dead,” Debbie countered. “Even if we get a death certificate, I don’t see what you can learn from a dead man.”

  “Every person’s life is a mesh of people and happenings,” Kerri explained. “Everything that happens in life is interwoven, and is in some way connected to everything else. Every choice is a link to something in the past, the present or the future. In order to find Ardie, we have to follow those links. Along the way, we’ll discover things about her life that don’t seem related to finding her, but they are.” Kerri paused. “I have a feeling we’re going to run into a lot of things that won’t make sense, but somehow they’ll add up to an answer that explains why a mother took off and left her kids with strangers.”

  “How are the kids doing?”

  “Great. Thanks to my family, they’re responding to all the love around them, and loosening up. If we can just keep them safe…” Kerri’s voice trailed off.

  “What do you mean, safe? That Dirk guy hasn’t shown up again, has he?”

  “Not that we’ve seen, but I’ll admit I’m just a little uneasy about this whole situation.”

  “Did you find out what the connection was between him and Mr. Richards’s brother?”

  “No. I struck out finding out much of anything about Jason.” Then Kerri told her about the time she spent looking into Jason’s accident. “I wrote it up for the files, but I don’t know if his death is connected to anything at all. Everything is pure speculation at this point.”

  Debbie let out a slow whistle. “You mean we could be dealing with a murderer? And that’s why the woman took off? Oh, my gosh, she’s afraid for her own life and is on the run from someone who wants to kill her! Maybe, she’s tied up with the mob and—”

  “Slow down, Debbie,” Kerri ordered. “Don’t go all melodramatic on me.”

  “But what if someone is trying to kill her?” she protested, her eyes rounded with anxiety.

  “We don’t know anything at this point that even points to her life being in jeopardy,” Kerri cautioned. “Mark is convinced the woman saw a chance to make him responsible for her kids. He has money, he can support them and give them all the advantages. Not a bad motivation for a mother who wants more for her children than she can give, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Debbie, we have to tie down some firm facts before we have any idea about the real reason she decided to disappear. We’re beginning to move on the case, but we can’t get ahead of the evidence. Right now, we have a name, and we’re beginning to build a background that may answer some of our questions.”

  “But even if we find out why she wanted to disappear, we still won’t know where she is.”

  “No, but we may have some idea how to find her. Even people who don’t want to be found are trapped by their own patterns. They repeat themselves once too often. Unable to completely change a life-style, they unwittingly hold to old habits, interests, weaknesses and ways of thinking. Once we get to know Ardie, we’ll have clues to where she might be, and answers to why she ran away.”

  “I don’t know how you can be so patient.” Debbie sighed. “I want things to happen fast.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  “Which brings to mind the handsome Mark Richards. You said on the phone that he followed you to Los Angeles.”

  “I didn’t say he followed me. I said he flew out to Los Angeles.”

  “Same difference.” Debbie smiled knowingly. “And you went out with him, didn’t you? Level with me. You had a date. Where did he take you?”

  “It wasn’t a date. We were trying to find someone at this exclusive club who knew his brother. So we had dinner and talked.”

  “And…?” she prodded.

  “That’s all. It was all strictly business.”

  Debbie leaned over the desk, and grinned right in Kerri’s face. “You’re going to have to lie to yourself better than that. You’re like a kid caught with a chocolate bar melting in his hand, swearing he doesn’t like candy.”

  Kerri couldn’t help but smile back at her. “You may be right, but I have great willpower when it comes to sweets that aren’t good for me.”

  “We’ll see.” Debbie winked and laughed softly as she returned to the outer office. The telephone rang almost the moment she was back at her desk, and she chuckled to herself as she buzzed Kerri. “Mr. Mark Richards is on line one. He’s inquiring if you are in the office. Shall I tell him you’re busy?”

  Kerri sat forward in her chair with an eagerness she would have readily denied. “I’ll take it.”

  She glanced at her watch. Four o’clock in California. It had only been seven hours since they had breakfast together. Why did it seem like forever?

  “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.” His voice was as deep and resonant as if he were sitting beside her, and an olfactory memory brought his scent back to her. “I checked at the telephone company and got a copy of Jason’s final bill. There’s a Reno number that is listed several times. I called it, but it’s been disconnected. I’m working on getting the name of the party who had that number.”

  “Terrific. That will help. We found a telephone listing for Ardella Browski, but it’s five years old. The number you have may be a more current listing. We’ve made progress on another front,” she told him. “Ardie has a Nevada driver’s license, and once we have a copy of it, we’ll have a photo, a description, and an address from the time she got the license two years ago.”

  “So, we’re making progress?” He sounded doubtful. She knew he was asking the same question that Debbie had. How is all this old data going to tell us where the missing woman is today? “Slow but sure progress,” she answered, hoping she wasn’t misleading him. She knew that they could run into a brick wall at any time, and with the future of three children involved, there was an urgency that could not be denied. Pressure was building with every passing day. She’d never had a case where the time clock was ticking at such a frantic rate.

  “I should be able to finish up here tomorrow,” he said hopefully. “And catch a flight home tomorrow evening. Oh, I al
most forgot. I may know where I put that note from Ardie.”

  “Terrific. Where?”

  “In the telephone stand by the door. It seems to me I had the folded note when I thumbed through the yellow pages looking for a delivery service to pick up Cora’s overnight bag at her house and bring it to the loft. Maybe I left the note in the drawer with the directory.”

  “Is there any way I could stop by your place on the way home and check? I’d really like to get a handwriting analysis as soon as possible. I could take it over to the graphologist tonight and let her get started.”

  “Sure. I’ll call my secretary and have someone bring you the extra key to the loft that I keep at the office, but I’m not positive it’s worth your trouble.”

  “Well, it’s worth a try.” She wasn’t going to pass up any faint possibility of getting another clue to the missing Ardie. Any glimpse into her personality traits might be a big help. “I’ll stop by your place on the way home.”

  “I’ll call you the minute I get anything on the disconnected number,” he promised. After a moment’s hesitation, his businesslike tone softened. “And Kerri, I really did enjoy last night. Could I persuade you to have another business dinner date when I get back?”

  “We’ll see,” she answered evasively. How could she admit she was afraid that she’d lose all sense of balance if she allowed herself to view him as anything but a client? There were too many things she didn’t know about him—and about herself. Her body remembered the compelling attraction she’d felt as they danced, the total awareness of his hands drawing her close, the light caress of his cheek against hers. She’d never felt such physical harmony with a man. Even now she regretted closing the hotel door against him with only a crisp good-night. Mixing business with pleasure definitely was not a good idea.

  They exchanged a few more casual comments. Kerri stared at the phone for a long minute after they hung up. A dissatisfied feeling mocked the things she might have said to him and didn’t. Get it together, girl, she lectured herself, and with determined effort managed to put Mark Richards out of her mind long enough to catch up with some of her other work.

  She worked past the dinner hour, alone in the office after Debbie left, a habit of hers when she got behind on her reports. Muscles in her neck and back were protesting when she finally called it quits. A copy of Ardie’s driver’s license had come in with its empirical data. Hair: blond. Height: five feet six inches. Weight: 112 pounds. Address: 2712 Moana Lane, Reno, Nevada. Kerri feared that the woman’s photo wasn’t sharp enough to assure ready recognition, but it was better than nothing. At least they had a place to start.

  Taking the key that a messenger had brought over from Mark’s office, she decided to leave her car in the garage and walk over to his apartment building. The streets of lower downtown Denver were aglow, and bustling with people enjoying restaurants, bookstores and art shops. If Kerri hadn’t been so preoccupied, she might have lingered in front of the some of the enticing windows, and window-shopped as she walked the few blocks to the Crystal Lofts building. Instead, her steps were quick and purposeful, her thoughts centered on finding the note and taking it to the woman graphologist that she had used in other cases to get a personality profile on a missing person.

  No one was in the foyer as she quickly walked to the elevator and punched the fifth-floor button. The cage hummed reassuringly as it lifted upward. When the doors flew open on that level, Kerri was startled to find herself face-to-face with Lisa.

  The blonde’s precisely plucked eyebrows rose as Kerri stepped out. She glanced down at the key that Kerri had taken out of her purse, and held ready in her hand. Then she said sweetly, “I thought Mark probably told you he’s in California. He left yesterday.”

  Kerri smiled just as sweetly. “Yes, I know. I just got back myself this afternoon. In fact, I just talked to Mark a little while ago.” Something about the woman’s proprietary air brought out the worst in her, and Kerri was ashamed of herself for the spurt of feminine cattiness.

  “Oh, I see. Mark was kind of vague about how long he would be gone,” she said with markedly less cordiality. “I guess you sent the children away, thank heavens for that. He didn’t say where they’d gone?” She made a question out of the statement, and her eyes were sharply inquisitive.

  Kerri ignored her open curiosity. The fewer people who knew where the children were the better. Giving Lisa a vague smile, she started away from the elevator.

  “I’d be glad to help if Mark has asked you to pick up something for him,” Lisa offered. “I’m pretty familiar with Mark’s things.”

  “I’ll remember that—if I need any help,” Kerri answered in the same tone. Then she turned her back on the woman and walked down the hall, telling herself that Mark’s playmates were no concern of hers. In a way, she was glad there was someone like Lisa to remind her of her client’s life-style.

  As Kerri opened the door and stepped inside the shadowy loft, she was aware of its high ceilings, brick walls and heavy draperies that had been drawn across the windows. Only a small kitchen light shining across the open counter into the living room gave faint illumination to the open-space room.

  A lingering aura of bodily warmth struck her with such force that she couldn’t even reach for a light switch. Either someone was still in the loft or had just left it She was positive of it. An intuitive awareness of human scent was undeniable, and all of her senses reached out into the large darkened area, trying to see any shadowed form, any movement or sound of quickened breathing.

  She held her breath. Nothing. After a long moment, she moved quickly to the nearest light switch and sent a blaze of overhead lights into every corner of the living room and kitchen area. Then she forced herself to turn on the den, bedroom and bathroom lights.

  The loft was empty, and if anyone had been there earlier, they were gone now.

  She felt slightly foolish as she quickly located the small telephone stand. Two deep drawers contained bulky metropolitan telephone directories. Kerri looked carefully for any small paper that might be caught in the drawers, but didn’t find anything but some advertising flyers. If Mark had the note in his hand when he looked up a telephone number, he hadn’t left it in the drawer.

  She began flipping through the regular directory and came up empty. Then she picked up the yellow pages directory. She remembered that Mark had said he thought he’d had the note when he was calling about someone to pick up Cora’s things at her house and bring them to the loft. She quickly turned to the section listing delivery services, and there it was, a folded piece of paper stuck between the pages.

  Kerri’s cry of joy echoed through the empty apartment. She read through the note carefully, searching for something that Mark might have missed telling her, but it was as short and concise as he had said. “Have to leave for a while. Don’t try to find me. Ardie.”

  As Kerri read this concrete link to a woman who had deserted her children, her determination to find her was renewed. She stuck the note in her purse, determined to drop it off at the graphologist before she went home.

  As she lingered a few moments in the loft, she quietly embraced the essence of the man who lived there. Everything had been put neatly back in order by some unseen hands, probably by a housecleaning service, she guessed. Without the children and their clutter, she saw Mark’s home as a place of contentment and refuge from the business world. She could picture him relaxing in his chair, listening to fine music pouring from an elaborate entertainment center. A John Grisham novel lay on a coffee table next to a book on Colorado history and a thick volume on Wall Street investments. His strong personality was everywhere she looked, and she was acutely aware of the many facets of this man who’d come to dominate her thoughts and emotions.

  For the first time, she realized how shattering the invasion of his home must have been for him. He’d spent too many years living alone to be prepared for the sudden assault of noise and confusion that erupted into his life. He had created a personal sa
nctuary for himself, and there was a quiet dignity about everything in the loft. She was aware of the sharp contrast between these surroundings and the bustling old house she called home.

  Kerri turned off the lights and left the apartment, making sure she locked the door behind her. When she stepped out of the elevator on the first floor, she was surprised to see someone outside the double glass doors. A woman stood near the bank of intercoms and had her head bent as if about to buzz one of the apartments. Then, suddenly, she turned away quickly and hurried out of the building.

  An alarm like a fire bell went off in Kerri’s head. A fair-haired woman, about five feet six inches tall, weight about 112 pounds.

  Kerri dashed to the glass doors, let herself out and bolted down the steps and out of the building.

  Where did she go?

  Kerri sent frantic glances down the sidewalk in both directions. The woman couldn’t have gone far. There hadn’t been time. But where—?

  Before she finished the thought, she sensed a presence behind her. Even as she swung around, her head exploded into a thousand shattered pieces. A man’s oath roared in her ears, and the sidewalk sank beneath her feet as she lost consciousness.

  Chapter Eight

  Kerri floated up through thinning layers of gray mist. A painful throbbing at the back of her head kept rhythm with a loud ringing in her ears. Her skull seemed filled to bursting. As she tried to lift her weighted eyelids, a woman’s demanding voice assaulted her.

  “Can you hear me? Open your eyes. That’s it Good.” The disembodied voice told her, “You’re in an ambulance. We’ll have you at Saint Joe’s in a few more minutes.”

  Ambulance? Saint Joe’s? The words floated around in Kerri’s consciousness like foreign particles, detached and incomprehensible. She tried to raise her hand to touch the tube in her nose but couldn’t Either the message didn’t get through to her arms, or something was holding them down. And she couldn’t move her head, either. Something stiff like a collar around her neck held it firmly in place.