by Patricia Fry
“Okay,” Savannah said. “I’m ready for a break.” When she saw Rob walking toward her booth she asked him, “Hey, would you take my place for a bit? Rochelle and I are going to look at the plans for this building.”
“Yeah, sure. Let me know if you need help deciphering those things.”
Savannah nodded. She faced Rochelle as they walked together toward the exit. “Did you get my message about this evening?”
She scrunched up her face. “Yes, what’s that all about?”
“Well, Rob has met up with a woman who wants to audition for him, I guess. She’s looking for an agent and she’s invited all of us for cocktails, probably to impress Rob.”
“Who is she, do you know?” Rochelle asked.
“No.” Savannah laughed. “But I did see her mauling him.”
“What?” Rochelle asked.
“Yeah, this blond bombshell was really trying to get to know him. I was a little mad at him for allowing that. I mean, he is in a committed relationship.”
Rochelle scoffed. “Some men…” She gestured. “How’s this? Want to sit here?”
“Sure,” Savannah agreed, sitting down across from her.
“So Rob’s potential client has a mansion, huh? Why are we all invited?”
“I’m guessing she wants to quiz me about my working relationship with Rob before she hires him.”
“Could be,” Rochelle said. She briefly touched Savannah’s arm. “Oh, by the way, I learned a few things about Miss Alison-Francesca. Her relatives were involved in this place.”
More enticingly she said, “And I uncovered something else.” She paused for effect. “Twice, and maybe more times, she was at least partially responsible for stopping the demolition of this old building.”
Surprised, Savannah said, “Your friend? Really? On what grounds, do you know?”
“One time she said she was fighting to preserve a historical treasure. Another time it had more to do with how dangerous it would be to spew the toxins from the old building materials into the air—you know, during demolition. She said it would be a danger to the neighborhood, and threatened to force city officials to call for evacuations and pay for hotel stays. According to my friend at city hall, Alison had gone to quite a bit of trouble to get corroborating facts or made-up facts. I guess her arguments were questionable.”
“Who owns the building?” Savannah asked.
“The city ended up with it by default some years ago. Like I told you, they want to create a small park on the lot, maybe with co-op vegetable gardens for low-income families. Sounds to me like a worthwhile project.”
“Absolutely,” Savannah agreed. “So what’s her problem—I mean your friend?”
“No one can figure it out, but there are suspicions.”
More curious now, Savannah asked, “What sort of suspicions?”
Rochelle leaned closer. “Well, she obviously knows something about this old place that no one else knows; something, I sense, that would benefit her greatly if the place remained standing.”
“Well, that really narrows it down,” Savannah joked.
“I know.” Rochelle gazed at the building. “Savannah, I believe it holds a secret.”
“Wait,” Savannah said, grabbing Rochelle’s arm.
“What?” she asked.
“Money,” she hissed. When Rochelle looked confused, Savannah explained, “The director told me this morning about strange things sometimes appearing overnight inside the building.” More mysteriously, she said, “…and guess what those strange things include.”
“What?” Rochelle asked eagerly.
“Well, he said that they’ve found money straps—you know, those wrappers they use around bundles of bills. In fact, he found another piece of one today near where they thought Rags had gone into the wall.” Before Rochelle could respond, she added, “And they’ve found pieces of money—like it was shredded.”
“Money!” Rochelle said. “Of course.” She stared into space and muttered, “She comes from a family of criminals and what do criminals do? They steal, for one thing. I wonder if they robbed a bank or something and hid their loot in the walls of this building.”
It took a few moments for Savannah to digest that concept. Then she remembered something else. “Oh, and a woman with a booth close to where we think Rags went into the wall said she found weird pieces of fabric in her booth yesterday afternoon.”
“Weird pieces of fabric?” Rochelle repeated.
“Yes, she said she left to get a soda or something and when she came back, there was a swatch of fabric. She showed it to me. It looked like it could have come from a men’s suit jacket. It was pretty threadbare. Looked really old and worn.”
Rochelle leaned forward and focused on Savannah’s eyes. “Well, that’s interesting. Know why?”
Savannah shook her head.
“You aren’t going to believe this, but among the items in the file with the plans were some newspaper articles. One caught my eye when I saw the name Graham.”
“Yeah?” Savannah prodded. “Alison’s grandfather’s name? You said he was involved in this old place.”
“Uh-huh. Well, this was dated 1971. Evidently Mr. Graham was on trial for a major embezzlement or swindle scam and Alison’s mother, Mrs. Drummond, surprised everyone while she was on the stand by accusing him of murder.”
“What?” Savannah yelped.
“Yeah, she wasn’t married yet. She was maybe eighteen at the time. She said that when she was just fifteen, her parents sponsored a relative from another country. Mr. Graham employed him in one of his businesses. Mrs. Drummond said that she and the boy, Maurice, had become close. He told her one day that he felt uncomfortable working for her father and, in fact, he was frightened by something that had happened. Shortly after that, according to Mrs. Drummond, the young man disappeared. Her parents told her that he didn’t work out—that he wasn’t cut out for the type of work they wanted him to do, and that they had sent him back home. She really missed him. One day she happened to see a letter her father was preparing to send to the family abroad, telling them how well the boy was doing and what a hard worker he was.”
Savannah lowered her brow. “You mean he lied to his daughter about sending the boy home?”
Rochelle nodded. “Yes, and he was evidently lying to the boy’s parents, too. They thought he was still living with the Grahams and working in one of the family businesses.”
“Why would he do that?” Savannah asked.
“My guess is he loved money and wanted to continue collecting the room and board the boy’s family was sending.” Rochelle said more quietly, “That day while she was on the stand Mrs. Drummond said she suspected that her father had killed Maurice.”
“Well, that’s a reach, isn’t it?” Savannah asked. “I mean, why would she think he’d been killed or that her father would do something like that? Maybe Maurice simply went out on his own.”
Rochelle shook her head. “I don’t know, but I guess no one had seen the kid in three years by then. Mrs. Drummond was certain that if he were alive, he would have stayed in touch with her.”
“Well, that is strange. People had tighter reins on their kids then—especially the girls. Maybe the family thought he was getting too close to their daughter.” Savannah suggested.
“I guess,” Rochelle said. “Something sure wasn’t right. I mean, why would Mr. Graham lie? I doubt that Alison even knows about that bombshell her mother dropped at her grandfather’s trial. But Alison was around twenty when her father’s trial was going on. That was in the late nineteen nineties.”
“What did he do?” Savannah asked. She cringed. “Or do I want to know?”
“I guess he followed in his father-in-law’s footsteps,” Rochelle said. “You name it and he had a hand in it—you know, underworld criminal activity. I think it had mostly to do with the businesses he ran and the way he ran them.” She removed something from the envelope and laid it out on the table. “Anyway, maybe the
se plans will give a clue as to where something like money could be hidden in this place.” She smiled weakly at Savannah, adding, “…and Rags.”
“Or a body,” Savannah suggested.
“Yikes,” Rochelle shrieked. She raised her eyebrows. “Well, there’s something going on with this building. I sense it, and Alison seems to know something. Heck, even Rags may have gone off into the skeleton of this old place in search of something that really shouldn’t be there.” She looked at Savannah. “Did the director tell you where they’re finding those money wrappers?”
She pointed. “I think over there near the wall where Rags might have gone into that duct.” Savannah looked at the building for a moment. “Hey, that’s also where Rags was digging around yesterday.” She stared into Rochelle’s face. “And that’s where we found the strange symbol—the heart with the cross.”
“Good gosh,” Rochelle muttered, “what have we tapped into here?”
Savannah took a deep breath. “Well, let’s see what these old drawings tell us, shall we?”
The women had been studying the plans for several minutes when Rochelle’s phone chimed. She looked at it and announced, “A text from my honey.” She read it and revealed, “Darn it. He says child protective services came to get Simon.”
“Already?” Savannah said. “I thought they were going to leave him with you all weekend.”
“I did too. I guess they want to do an evaluation and see what they can find out about his parents and any other family members. Peter told them that we would like to take Simon in if he has no family that wants him.” She looked up at Savannah. “They probably just need to do a background check to see if we qualify.” She laughed. “Actually, we’ve started the process of adopting, so we’re a few steps ahead of them.”
“You have?” Savannah asked. “Oh, Rochelle, how wonderful.”
“Yeah, we’re thrilled.”
“So how do you feel about fostering or adopting Simon—I mean at his age and all?” Savannah asked.
Her demeanor gentled. “We love Simon.” She paused, then said, thinking out loud, “The boy has some of the qualities I remember loving about my brother.”
“That’s right,” Savannah said, “you thought of your brother the other day when you saw Simon. You said you thought that was a sign.”
Rochelle smiled. “Yes, I still do. I think Stevie might have helped orchestrate this interesting turn of events with Simon. It just feels so right.”
Savannah became more serious. “Do you think he’s truthful?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, does Simon ever lie to you—you know, tell stories? What I’m getting at is could he be making up the story he told about the woman he saw with a cat that looked like Rags? I keep watching for Rags to come out of the wall, but I also wonder if it’s possible that your friend or maybe someone else actually took him. What do you think? Was Simon’s story a fabrication?”
Rochelle seemed stunned for a moment. “Gosh, I don’t know. I guess we’ve always taken Simon at his word. We’ve never questioned his truthfulness. However…” she paused.
“However?” Savannah coaxed.
“Well, what he told us last night about the lady in white with a cat that looked like Rags sounded a little far-fetched to me. I wondered if he told that story for attention or if he imagined it.”
“Now, why would you say that, if you’ve always found him to be truthful?”
“For a couple of reasons,” Rochelle said. “For one, you thought that car in the parking lot last night might have belonged to Alison-Francesca. So was she the woman in white that you saw in the shadows? I cannot imagine for a minute that Alison would bother with Rags. She used to pretty much hate cats. She said that her grandmother’s cat scratched her once, and she’s disliked them ever since. She’s one of those who holds all cats responsible for one negative experience with one cat. When we were in college I yearned for a cat companion; I missed my cats at home. She thought I was crazy to want something around that would leave fur all over my clothes, claw my furniture, and all. She wasn’t one to appreciate any animal, least of all cats.”
“Well, that’s a pretty solid reason why she probably didn’t take him. What else do you have?” Savannah asked.
“I got the feeling last night that Simon just threw that story together in order to be a part of the conversation. I could be wrong, but that was my sense.”
“Okay,” Savannah said, “back to these plans. So we’ve determined that if Rags went through that open duct, he might have access to every room in this building. That appears to be a heating or air conditioning vent, don’t you think so? I don’t see those vents or ducts on these plans.”
Rochelle winced. “Shoot. I guess we need plans from the people who put in the heating and air-conditioning systems.”
Savannah slumped in her chair. “Oh, this is becoming so complicated. Why won’t they just cut a hole in the wall?”
Rochelle tapped on the plans. “This is why. He might have such wide access in the walls that there would be no way to figure out just where he is.”
“So what will I do?” Savannah asked, choking up. “I can’t go home without him. I can’t leave him lost inside this building. They’re demolishing it next week, for heaven’s sake.”
“I know, honey,” Rochelle comforted. “I know.” She thought for a moment and said, “Here’s what I think we should do. Let’s find out who put in the heating system. They may no longer be in business, but there could be a diagram someplace. That might be a start. I’d also like to get someone to unseal the stairwell and allow us access to the upper floors.”
Savannah brightened. “Great idea. He may be living up there with a family of mice.”
Rochelle smiled.
“So do you know anyone who has that kind of authority?” Savannah asked. She then considered, “Hey, maybe I should call animal control.”
“Possibly. Yes. Can you stay on?” Rochelle asked. “I mean, you were going home tomorrow, right?”
Savannah nodded. “Absolutely.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t leave without him. I just can’t.”
“Well, how about we try to relax this evening and we’ll devote Monday totally to finding Rags. I’m quite sure you’ll have him in your arms some time tomorrow.”
“Is that a made-up story, Rochelle?” Savannah asked. “Is it wishful thinking, or is that your professional—you know psychic, clairvoyant assessment?”
Rochelle thought for a moment. She put a hand on Savannah’s arm. “I can’t tell you why I so strongly believe this, but I do.” Looking off into space, she added, “There is something that must take place this evening in order to bring us the results we want.” She focused on Savannah. “Will you trust me? While it may seem like we’re wasting time, I feel as though we’re actually being led down the right path. I trust the universe on this one and I hope you can too. However…”
“However what?” Savannah asked, suspiciously.
“Well, in order for everything to work out, we must pay attention to the signs and take the right action at the right time.” When she saw the apprehension on Savannah’s face, she chuckled, “Hey, that’s nothing new, kiddo. I believe that’s one of the universal laws. There’s nothing to fret about. We just need to follow the signs. We’ll be okay.”
“Yeah, but will poor Rags? Is he even in charge anymore, or is someone else pulling his strings?”
◆◆◆
“Gosh, babe,” Peter said early that evening as he watched for the address of Rob’s potential client, “why didn’t we shop for our home in this tract?”
“Yeah, right,” Rochelle snarked. She pointed. “There it is. Wow, that place is ridiculously, obscenely opulent.”
“What does this gal do, anyway?” Peter asked.
“I don’t know,” Rob admitted.
Savannah chuckled.
“What?” Rob asked.
“I thought you’d know her whole life story by now, the way yo
u two were hanging all over each other today.”
“What?”
Savannah grinned. “I saw you.”
“You saw me once getting her address,” he insisted. “That’s all.”
“Oh, I saw you outside when I went to get a sandwich, too.”
“You did? I didn’t see you.”
“I know, you were hiding at one of those intimate tables playing footsie with her. She’s certainly attractive—well, from the back.” Savannah chuckled. “She has pretty blond hair. Is she?”
“Is she what?” Rob asked.
“Attractive.”