Desperate Measures (25 page)

“Wha'd I say?” Pete demanded, his face stricken at Annie's words and tone of voice.

Jakes grinned. “I think it's that old, don't-take-me-for-granted crap. Sounds to me like you did. Take her for granted, I mean. I'll check back with Annie at noon as we agreed. Good luck with Nester.”

Temperamental females, Pete thought. Shit. He marched down the hall to the spare room and knocked on the door. He found himself apologizing and pleading. Jesus, Annie was his friend. She was helping him and he'd . . . what the hell had he done? He'd been thoughtless, inconsiderate. Had he taken advantage of her? Damn, didn't she know how worked up he was, how worried he was about Maddie? Dennis's words rang in his ears.
She's in love with you, always has been
. “Oh, shit!”

Annie opened the door just as he was about to walk away. Her face was composed, her eyes wide and ...
speculative
, for God's sake.

“Sorry I acted like a female back there,” she said quietly.

Pete wrapped his arms around her. “I'm sorry too. Sometimes I don't think. If I was sharp with you or if I came across as bossy, I'm sorry.” He could feel her stiffen beneath his touch. He dropped his arms and stepped back.

“No apology needed, Pete. I know how much stress you're under. It never happened, okay?”

But it had happened. Pete could see it in the way her jaw set and in the matter-of-fact way she asked, “Do you have any special instructions for me today? Is there anything in particular I should be doing, watching out for?”

“Just run the store the best you can. Check the register receipts, talk to customers, that kind of thing. I'll be checking in with you throughout the day. So will Jakes. You'll be our go-between. If business is brisk and you need to hire some people, go ahead. Maddie had a list of part-timers. I think she ran an ad in the
Times
. Whatever feels right, do it. Oh, by the way, my cleaning lady comes in today, so don't worry about the kitchen. I'll leave a note for her to make something for dinner. She's real good at cooking stuff in one pot.” He wagged a playful finger in her direction. “Now, don't worry about the kitchen.”

“I had no intention of worrying about your kitchen, Pete,” Annie said quietly. “Is there anything else?”

Goddamn right there was, but he didn't know what it was precisely. He knew he was losing something, something he wasn't going to get back if his mind didn't come up with something real quick. Annie was watching him, waiting for that thing, whatever that thing was, that he was about to lose. He thought of a hundred things he could say, and knew instinctively none of them were right. What he settled for was, “You're a good friend, Annie,” before he walked away.

Tears glistened in Annie's eyes as she closed the door.

 

The police station was just as busy during the early morning hours as it was at night. The only difference, Pete thought, was that the scent of Aqua Velva and Brut deodorant was a little fresher. He thought he smelled burned coffee when he approached the desk. “I'd like to see Detective Nester.”

“So would a lot of other people,” the officer behind the desk growled. “Detective Nester is on vacation. He takes his vacation at the same time every year. And, no, I can't get in touch with him. He's camping. In the woods,” he said, by way of explanation.

“Does he call in?” Pete asked, his voice sounding desperate.

“If you were on vacation and camping in the woods, would you call in ... sir?”

“If I had pending business I would.”

“Well, I guess Detective Nester doesn't have any pending business because he hasn't called in.”

“When is he expected back?”

“Next Monday.”

“That pisses me off,” Pete snapped.

“Me too. I'd like to be out in the woods about now,” the officer snapped back.

“Who's in charge in his absence?”

“Finnegan.” The officer pointed with his index finger. “His desk is the third one from the left.”

He was a burly man, at least forty pounds overweight, with all the weight in his gut. He was chowing down on a box of Dunkin' Donuts and a large coffee that said “Dunkin' Donuts” on the side. Pete stared at the box. He knew from its size that it would hold a dozen doughnuts. Seven were gone, and Finnegan didn't look like the kind of guy who shared. He was licking his fingers when Pete introduced himself. He waved him to a wooden chair, sprinkles of sugar falling from his fingers.

Pete didn't like him, and he'd just met him. Finnegan had mean little eyes in a doughy face, which stared at him. His thick lips were blubbery-looking and dotted with sugar. They pulled back from his gums to reveal small square, nicotine-stained teeth that seemed at odds with his overlarge mouth. He slurped at the coffee in the large container. Pete guessed it was laced with real cream and at least six sugars.

“I filled out two Missing Persons reports. I'm here to check on them, and . . . Detective Nester was the person I spoke with. The duty officer said he was on vacation.”

“He's camping in the woods.”

Pete bit down on his tongue. He'd almost said, Where else do you go camping except in the woods? “I want to talk to your boss,” Pete said belligerently.

Finnegan bit into another doughnut as he pointed to a glass-enclosed room. “He's in there.”

Pete glanced down at the floor and saw Finnegan's feet. He was wearing one blue sock and one brown one. He must use the same laundry I use, he thought. The damn washer ate his socks.

The brass nameplate said the man behind the desk was Captain Joshua Markam. Pete introduced himself for the third time.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Sorenson?”

“Well, I wanted to talk with Detective Nester....”

“He's on vacation. A camping trip.” Pete waited for the words, in the woods, but the captain only folded his hands and leaned across the desk.

Joshua Markam was clean-shaven, dressed in a dark suit, the jacket hanging over the back of his chair. Someone had ironed his shirt, Pete noted. The collar didn't have those tiny little wrinkles near the point, and there were creases in his sleeves even though they were rolled partway up his arms. He wore a strap watch with a large face with bold numbers. One of those things that even gave sea-level readings, Pete surmised. He was older, possibly in his early fifties. In good shape, probably played squash or racquetball after work hours. He was lightly tanned, had all his hair, and the sharpest eyes Pete had ever seen.

“I have every reason to believe my fiancée and her friend were in your custody. I filed Missing Persons Reports with Detective Nester. What I want now is confirmation that my fiancée was put into the Witness Protection Program, and I want to know what's being done to find her.”

“What makes you believe this, Mr. Sorenson?”

“Circumstances, and one of your men has a loose lip when he drinks. Plus, Maddie called me. She's out on her own. I told Nester and I'm telling you, I'm not going to let this drop. I'm going to keep at it until I have concrete proof that you people are covering up ... whatever it is you're covering up. I strongly believe my fiancée and her friend witnessed that murder on First Avenue. I am not comfortable with all the coincidences that have happened. I hired a private detective who has the nose of a bloodhound. Now,” Pete said, leaning toward Markam, “I'm the first to admit I don't know how you run this department, but I know how I run my life, and I know how Maddie ran hers and how we were going to run our combined lives after we were married. Maddie would never, as in ever, leave and not tell me where she was going, and why she was going. That's number one. Number two is she just opened what will in a very short time be a million-dollar business. Number three is Maddie would never walk away from her own wedding. Number four is of course me. I know Maddie loves me just as much as I love her. We planned a life together and now that's all gone. I want to know why. I want to see the police file. My fiancée is loose somewhere. I want her found.”

“What police file? You need to be more specific. I cannot comment on any ongoing investigations.”

“That's bullshit and you know it, Captain,” Pete said, his voice rising. “You guys stuck her and her friend into the Witness Protection Program. Go ahead, look me in the eye and tell me you didn't do that. That's what you did, I know it. She told me when she called. I defy you to tell me I'm wrong.” Pete was shouting now.

Markam jerked backward when Pete inched even closer to his face. “All I can tell you, Mr. Sorenson, is that I cannot comment on an ongoing investigation. I'm sorry about your problem, I really am.”

“That's it! You're sorry!” Pete thundered. “That's not good enough. From this moment on I'm going to be this department's worst nightmare. I'm going to find Maddie, and when I do, it will be in every newspaper in the country. Police cover-up. I think the people are about ready to read garbage like that.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Sorenson?” Markam asked in a steely voice.

“No, Captain Markam, that is not a threat. It is a goddamn promise. You have no right to fuck with my life or Maddie's life or Janny's life. You can all go to hell,” Pete stormed as he slammed out of the glass-enclosed room.

Outside, in the hot, humid air, Pete shook his head to clear it. “You just blew it, Sorenson. You let your temper get the best of you. You let them see you sweat,” he muttered. Now what? When Plan A doesn't work, switch to Plan B. The only problem was, he didn't have a Plan B. “Shit!” he said succinctly.

Pete climbed into the Rover that was parked a block away. “I'm going to find you, Maddie,” he muttered.

 

At Fairy Tales, Annie Gabriel was explaining for the twentieth time the reason for the store being closed so soon after its grand opening. For the most part, she made up things as she went along, never sticking to the same story twice.

It was only noon, and she was exhausted, her mind boggled with the amount of sales she'd rung up. In between sales and showing merchandise, she'd busied herself by dusting the glass shelves and rearranging displays that weren't to her liking, displays Maddie had spent hours working on. She'd called three suppliers to order additional stock, and placed an ad in the paper for part-time help. There was no doubt in her mind that Maddie Stern had a class operation in Fairy Tales, thanks to Pete's backing. She wondered if Maddie signed a promissory note or if the business was in both Maddie's and Pete's names.

She was eating a wrinkled, wilted apple when the phone rang. It was Pete asking if Jakes or Maddie had called in.

“Not yet. How did you make out?”

“The police won't comment on an ongoing investigation. I blew up, acted like a real ass. You know how good I am at doing that. How many times did you pull my chestnuts out of the fire?”

“More times than I can remember. I thought you were past that hothead stuff. Anger gets you nowhere. You have to learn how to outfox the foxes. That's the first rule, Pete.”

“I know, I know. How are things at the store?”

“Fine. Business is great. You have a gold mine here. I put an ad in the paper and ordered some merchandise. I think it'll take me about a week to get the hang of merchandising.”

“Don't get attached, Annie, I'm going to find Maddie and ...”

Annie's voice turned to ice. “And . . .”

“Jesus, I didn't mean . . . what I was trying to say was I know the law is your first love, and you're doing this as a favor. Jesus, Annie, we don't seem to be communicating here.”

“I wonder why that is, Pete,” Annie said coldly. “You don't have to worry about me trying to take over Maddie's business. That's what you meant, isn't it?”

“Well, yes, but not really. Actually, Annie, it was a joke that laid an egg. I didn't mean anything by my comment, just the way I didn't mean anything this morning. I'm wired, Annie, cut me a little slack, okay?”

“Sure, Pete. I understand. I have to go now, I have a customer.”

“I'll see you tonight. I'll call in around three if I get the chance.”

Annie hung up the phone, her eyes burning unbearably. She tossed her apple core into the lace-edge wastebasket. A second later she removed it and carried it back to the plastic-lined pail in the kitchen.

She hadn't lied, there was a customer in the store. She walked up to her and asked if she could be of help.

“I was here opening day and literally bought out the store,” the customer trilled. “Where is that pretty young woman who waited on me? She was so helpful. She seemed to know exactly what I wanted, and she had the nicest manner. Not pushy at all, like some salespeople. I adore those shopping bags. I'm just delighted the store reopened. What was the problem?”

“A death in the family. Unexpected death,” Annie said coolly.

“I thought it was something like that. I've walked by almost every day since then. There were two strange ladies here one day, and then bang, the store just closed. No sign or anything.” She wagged a playful finger under Annie's nose. “You should have put a sign in the window saying you were closed.”

“Yes, we should have. I'll be in the back if you need my help,” Annie said.

Annie walked back to her stool behind the counter. She shuffled sales booklets and pencils, stacked the charge slips next to the machine. Soooo helpful, such nice manners. “Hrumph,” she snorted. “If this were mine I'd be ever soooo helpful and chock full of manners too,” she muttered.

Annie reached for a slip of paper. She started to add a column of figures. She had her student loans, rent to pay back in Boston, and a utility bill to pay. Not to mention her car loan and charge accounts. She'd literally walked out on her job, and didn't know if she could go back when things were finished here. Pete hadn't said anything about how much he was paying her, and she hated to ask. He should have said something by now. She wondered
exactly
what the words “worth your while” meant, and when a check would be forthcoming.