Command of Silence

by Paulette Callen

  Leo stood before them. Feeney operated a laptop projector. I tried to stay inconspicuous on a chair in the back corner. “It’s time for you boys and girls to earn the big bucks the city of New York is paying you.” There were a few humorless snickers and some rolling eyes, but the atmosphere was fraught with tension, with anticipation. “We’ve got this Web site.” Feeney clicked a button and it came up on a screen behind Leo, who stepped aside so everyone could see it. “Shiloh thinks, and I think she’s right, this is where pedophiles swap information.These numbers down here are a phone number. Read it backwards. The time to call is here.” Leo paused to take a question.

  “How do we know what time zone?”

  “For now, let’s assume it is the time zone of the number being called. We can also assume the date is today—whatever day someone opens the site. This is the site we opened up this morning. There is some way—we don’t know yet how—they, the webmaster, whoever that is, knows when to change flowers and numbers. We’ll worry about that later. Right now we have to find out where this number is and make sure we are the first to call it. Rami and Stuart are working on that.”

  “Now, two of you are going to eyeball that site every second of every goddamn day from now till we have reeled all these stinking fish in one by one. You people work out your own schedules.”

  “This won’t help us find Anna. Not in time.” Detective Celia Chong, one of the better groomed in the task force, was right.

  “The lab is getting me a list of names and addresses of hits to the site on the day it referred to Anna.”

  “How do you know which day that was?” Holey T-shirt. I couldn’t remember his name.

  “Shiloh is betting that the site that day had violets on it. If you’ll remember what she was wearing the day she disappeared— a playsuit with violets smack on the bib.”

  I remembered now—Holey T-shirt was Jeff something. Didn’t bathe too often. Said it gave him an air of authenticity when talking to the lowlifes. He did remember the playsuit. “Spencer Burke bought her that. Should we pick him up?”

  “Not yet. He could claim he was an innocent flower surfer and that he got the idea for her playsuit from the Web site. I want more before I go after him. As soon as we get that list, we’ll track down every person on it. I think we’re looking for someone who has the means and opportunity for a fair amount of traveling, someone who does not live in Manhattan, and someone who was in Manhattan that day, of course.”

  The chanting of the flower rhyme had stopped, but I felt ill. I was breaking a sweat and my head hurt.

  Detectives Felicia Rami and Nick Stuart were still on with the phone company tracking today’s phone number. The others got themselves coffee and munched bagels and rolls they had brought with them. Most of them looked like they hadn’t slept in days. Still, there was a buzz of excitement at this new opening in the case, a welcome relief from the frustration and hopelessness that had built hour by hour since Anna’s disappearance.

  “Headache?” Leo stood over me with a cup of coffee in his hand.

  “It comes and goes,” I said.

  “You can go home, Shiloh. We can take it from here.”

  “I’d like to stay.”

  “Sure.” He lifted his cup in the direction of his team milling around the coffee machine.“They’re right. It’s going to be tough to pin this on the Burkes.”

  “Leo, Leo, Leo, do we have to tell you everything? You’ll get them with just a little imagination. Fix your tie.”

  The room was hazy and far away, but I could hear her distinctly and sort of see Leo. I felt like I was in a dream where I couldn’t quite get my eyes open. She unbuttoned the jacket and pushed it back and open with her right hand on her hip.

  “Dora?”

  “You remembered me. I’m touched.”

  “Maybe you better go and let us do our job.”

  “Why isn’t anybody ever glad to see me? Without us you would still be chasing your tails. Russian mafia? Oh, please! You can get Spencer and Manfred…I talked to them you know. In the showroom. Isadora had to leave suddenly—she wasn’t feeling well, she is such a little hothouse flower sometimes—and I finished the job. And you know what I found out in the course of one short conversation with the troll Spencer?”

  “Tell me.”

  “He doesn’t know the difference between a pansy and a peony. He wouldn’t know a begonia if it sprouted from his ass.”

  “And how did you determine that?”

  “As I said…” She got up and strolled past Leo, pausing to straighten his tie, to perch on his desk. “I just got him into conversation about the lovely flowers gracing his showroom. I pointed to my favorite, the lush azaleas framing the cheese boards, and he agreed that azaleas were his favorites too. He couldn’t get enough of azaleas. Only they weren’t azaleas, they were petunias. There wasn’t an azalea in the place. So I felt him out—metaphorically speaking—about a couple more blooms, and I confirmed that he knows fuck all about flowers.”

  “And what makes you an expert?”

  “I’ve picked up a few things hanging around Aurora. I pay attention. I’m not just a devastatingly beautiful face. I also tried to talk to Manfred, but he wasn’t in the mood. Isadora has so antagonized him that he is not the tiniest bit cooperative. She really is not right for this work, you know. She’s just not good at it.” Dora frowned and picked off a few crumbs from my breakfast that were still clinging to my lapel. She flicked them away. “You should hire me. Ray agrees that I am good at this. I could schmooze the pants off a snake. Oops, sorry.” She giggled. “Shouldn’t say the S word.” This last was to me, whom she knew was listening.

  From behind him, Leo heard, “We’ve got it, Lieutenant!”

  Leo left Dora swinging her leg off the corner of his desk. “Got what?”

  Detective Rami said, “That phone number is to a phone booth in Seattle.”

  “Get me the Seattle police commissioner on the phone. They’re Pacific time. That gives them over what? Three, four hours to get organized.”

  “Four,” said Feeney.

  Everyone stopped talking and eating while they waited for the call to go through. Leo took it from Felicia Rami’s desk. He introduced himself and then fleshed out the details. The plan as I overheard it was simple. The Seattle police would be watching the phone booth. We would call the number and make sure we were the first to do so. That was easy, we’d keep the line busy until the guy showed up. Anybody who tried to make a call would just think the phone was out of order. The guy who showed up to wait for a call—the phone would ring and it would be us. The Seattle police would nab him, and we would keep the line busy for a while longer. Any other callers to that number would assume they were too late. After that, the phone wouldn’t be answered. Before we knew what any secret perv passwords might be for them to identify themselves to each other and how the webmaster was notified to change the site, we didn’t want to set off any alarms. The Seattle police were eager to participate.

  A little bing sounded from Leo’s computer. “Dora, get off my desk.”

  “Hester is right, you can be quite rude.” She slid off his desk and hovered. He squinted at his screen and hit the print button. “Feeney. They gave us twelve names and addresses. Pass them out. If Shiloh is right, somebody on this list has Anna.”

  And if I’m wrong, you’ve just wasted a lot of time. Dora, go now. Thanks for the tip. But just go.

  “Oh, all right. I was just trying to help. No need to tattle to Ray. I’m gone.”

  “Are you talking to me?”

  “No. Bye bye, Leo.”

  I came back, feeling a little dizzy, and apologized to Leo for sitting on his desk. He waved it off. “Haven’t seen her in awhile.”

  “She showed up yesterday. None of us were thrilled to see her, either.” I knew Dora had to be listening. “Leo, you have a full plate and I’m not your problem, but I need you to do me one favor.”

  He looked at me curiously, noncomittally. Leo
is unsentimental. There was no guarantee he’d do anything for me just because I was a case that could jerk tears out of old ladies and young detectives alike, or even that I had perhaps given him a good lead. I was getting paid for that and probably more than the city of New York was paying his detectives. He said, “What?”

  “If Dora comes back, arrest her, lock her up and call Ray.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “Ray will give you all the grounds you need to keep her locked up for a long time. This is important. She could—hurt this case, and me.”

  “Anything you say. You look like hell. Why don’t you go lie down in the back there. We’ve got a cot. It’s not too full of bugs. We’ll call you when we get something. It will take a while to run down all these names.”

  I passed the malodorous Jeff poring over Feeney’s computer screen—they were both studying the violet site—and found my own way to the tiny back room. I wasn’t sleepy. I just needed the quiet. I shut the door and lay down.

  Feeney woke me up by banging on the metal table next to my head. “We’ve got him! A dentist in Jersey.”

  “Where in Jersey? What time is it?”

  “A little after one. Nutley. The Nutley police are picking him up now. We’re heading out there. Leo wants to know if you want to come along.”

  “Yes,I think I do.”Sometimes I have a gift for understatement. I stumbled after him,embarrassed that he had found me sleeping. When I saw Leo, I said, sheepishly, “Thanks, Leo.”

  “You still look like something scraped off a New York shoe.”

  “Always the flatterer.”

  “Come on then.”

  Feeney drove. I, Isadora, sat in the backseat. Hester and Cootie had left me. Dora probably had something to do with that. I kept my eyes focused on the blaring colors of cars and buildings and signs, glints of chrome that formed the churning collage outside of the car. I listened to Leo and Feeney as they filled me in on everything they had learned while I was not napping in the back room.

  The lab had traced all the hits from April fourth, the day of the violets. There weren’t as many as they had feared. Only fifty. Forty of them were women. They were saving that list in case none of the men panned out, although I believed it unlikely that a woman was the kidnapper in this case. Of the other ten, one was a resident of Manhattan; they put him to the side as well. One, named Bobbie, turned out to be female. The dentist from New Jersey was the only one they knew to have been in and out of New York at exactly the right time. The other people were being checked. An insurance broker in Houston. The Houston police had been notified. The owner of a seed and grain operation in Fargo. He was being questioned as well, but Leo doubted he was our man. A retired career army man in Florida. Leo didn’t think he was a candidate either, but the Palm Springs police were picking him up. And so it went. One person they couldn’t find but all the others were being questioned by their local police.

  After bringing me up to speed on the case, Leo made a couple more calls and conversation died in the car. We were all three tense, excited, fearful of disappointment, of finding her dead, of not finding Anna at all. There was no need to discuss it. My knuckles were white as I hung on to the armrest in the backseat.

  The ugliness that was this part of Jersey reeled by the window. Roadside trash by the ton, asphalt, concrete, malls, smokestacks, filth on the ground and in the air. I should have called Ray. But Dora didn’t stay, and she did have a tip for Leo. And I had stayed conscious. Pretty much.

  Given the wasteland we had just passed through, we turned off into a surprisingly pretty town, powdered with a shimmery green. Well-kept homes of all sizes and varieties. A plethora of lawn ornaments—mostly statues of the Virgin Mary. Splashes of color from spring flower beds.

  The car slowed as we pulled into what appeared to be a big cobblestoned square with storybook New England buildings in pink brick with creamy trim, like matching set pieces in a toy village. They were separated by plenty of green space and connected by winding sidewalks. I remembered passing a church and a synagogue coming in, and I saw another steeple shining through the trees several blocks away. Probably more churches here than restaurants. And everywhere old, stately trees. Nice place, Nutley.

  We went in the side entrance of the Town Hall. This quarter of the building served as the police station.

  Chief Stackmeier looked like an ex-football player who still led a clean, active life. He looked better than Leo, even though he must have had at least fifteen or twenty years on him. He shook Leo’s hand and introduced us to two young uniformed cops named Lambert and Russo. Leo introduced Feeney, who also shook hands with the Chief and then, “This is Shiloh. She consults with us.”

  Hester Hester where are you? Olive? Cootie? Now what?

  Stackmeier stuck out his hand. Nobody was there to take it but me. He got the limpest handshake of his life, and I broke into a cold sweat and felt light-headed. He dropped my hand immediately. To Leo, he said, “He has admitted using the site and has a garden behind his house to prove his interest in the subject. He’s cool as a cucumber. We haven’t turned up the heat. Kept it casual. Thought we’d wait for you.” He shifted his weight. “Just so you know, Lieutenant, I know him. He’s not my best friend, but—”

  “Thanks, Chief. I appreciate it.”

  “I just hate to think—”

  “We don’t know he’s the one.”

  Chief Stackmeier nodded.

  Officer Lambert had red hair and freckles and looked like Opie all grown up. Russo was an Al Pacino type who would not be long in Nutley. He cast a glittering eye at Leo Gianetti, and on his face I read: transfer forms. He could hardly wait to get the hell out of Mayberry. We followed them to the interrogation room.

  The Nutley police station was cleaner, brighter than any I had ever seen in Manhattan. It did not have that worn out and beaten-half-to-death-look that such places have in New York. The walls were paneled in light wood and the surrounding woodwork was painted a cheerful pastel yellow. I imagined a sign in their lobby that said,We want to make your interrogation and incarceration experience the best it can possibly be. Have a nice day.

  The Nutley officers led us down a narrow hallway, stopping in front of a window into the interrogation room. The sound from inside the room came to the spectators through a small speaker mounted on the wall to the right of the one-way glass.

  “Shiloh, come with me. Feeney, you stay here.”

  The dentist was a smallish, pinch-faced, forty-something man with sandy hair, glasses, manicured hands and a tennis tan. His eyes darted back and forth between Leo and me and then settled on Leo with a concerned, willing-to-cooperate-in-anyway-I-can-officer look on his face.

  Leo introduced himself and me. No handshakes were offered. We both sat down across the table from our suspect.

  “We are looking for a little girl named Anna Stern. Ever see her before?” Leo slid a photograph of Anna, taken at her birthday party, across the table.

  The dentist looked at it. Shook his head. Looked Leo right in the eye. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen her. Is she from Nutley?” His voice was evenly modulated. The voices of Bethy-June and Sula were a shrill want to leave, take us home getting dark

  “She lives in New York City.”

  “Why would you think I might know her?”He had a perfectly calibrated smile on his lips. Not too broad—child missing after all—but relaxed, willing to help, friendly. Behind his glasses, his eyes were stones.

  …want to leave no more please so scared we’ll be good so good home mama mama there is no mama there is no mama Where were Lance, Sugartime? Gatekeeper?

  “On April fourth, one of the hits on this Web site…” Leo slid the printout of the home page across the table stopping it flush with the photograph, “was from your computer. I’m a little surprised you used your own computer.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? I was looking for information on some plants I was thinking of putting out back of my house. I hadn’t had experience with the
m before. I wanted to get some tips.”

  “What plants would those be?”

  The dentist blinked and swallowed. Everyone blinks and swallows. The significance is in the timing. “Well, a few things really. Some bulbs. I wasn’t sure if I was too late. Maybe I should have planted them last spring. I...”

  “What bulbs?”

  “Ehhh….Glads. Irises.”

  “You accessed this site,” Leo said, tapping the corner of the paper. “See there, it’s a site with a picture of violets on April fourth, and four days later, Anna Stern goes missing from her playground.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. What does the Web site have to do with her?”

  “This Web site is a message board for pedophiles. The flowers are just...symbols…for children.”

  “How do you know that?” Amazement on his face. Not feigned. The shrieking in my head got louder.

  “Because the information at the bottom there…see the little sun and the little teardrop shape right there?”

  He nodded.

  “That, if you read it right, is a phone number. Did you call that number from your home phone?”

  He emitted a short laugh. “Of course not.”

  “Where did you call from?”

  “I—I didn’t call at all.” He was trying hard to keep his friendly smile but the muscles in his chin were tightening up. His breathing was getting deeper. Deep, cleansing, calming breaths.

  Leo said to the dentist, “Will you excuse us for a moment? Do you want some coffee or anything?”

  “No, thanks. Water. I’d like some water, please.”

  When we closed the door behind us, Leo said, “He’s almost good enough to pass a lie detector test. How about the Shiloh test?”

  “Not even a D minus.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve got kids in my head squealing in terror. Hester, Olive and Cootie are either silent or gone. He’s too relaxed. Like he has taken courses in it. He’s too sure. Too sincere. But that throbbing vein in his forehead is no lie and neither is the spazzing chin muscle. He’s scared. He is so scared that you could probably poke him with your finger and he’d start blubbering.”