Madison Avenue Shoot (16 page)

“If someone found him, they could be calling the apartment right now,” Donna said, her voice shaking, “and I’m not home to answer the phone.”

“But didn’t you give the police your cell phone number?” I asked.

“I did, but what if it isn’t the police who call? What if whoever took Frank calls w-with ransom demands, and we’re not there?”

“Let’s not assume the worst,” I said. “Frank is going to be fine. I’m sure of it.”

“But there was a murder.”

“That may have nothing to do with Frank.”

“Do you really think so?”

I didn’t, but she needed me to be confident, and I needed to feel that way, too. “Frank is such a curious child,” I said. “It’s possible he just lost his way. It’s a big building, and there must be lots of corridors. He could have wandered down the wrong hall and not been able to find his way back. The police could call at any minute to say they’ve found him.”

“But what if the police don’t call me? What if they call the apartment instead? We might not hear the message for hours.”

“Is there someone in your building who has a key to your apartment?”

“Mary does. She’s Michele’s mother. You haven’t met her. She’s very nice. We’ve become good friends. She’s been such a big help to me in learning the neighborhood. There’s so much to know when you move someplace new. She’s the one who showed me where the nearest bookstore is, and told me which grocery has the fairest prices, and where to find a good hairdresser, and which cafés don’t chase you out in twenty minutes if you only order a cup of coffee. Did I tell you how the boys met? It was in the laundry room.” She stopped. “I’m babbling, aren’t I?”

“That’s all right,” I said. “You have a lot on your mind. Are you feeling a little better?”

She nodded.

“Why don’t you sit here and give Mary a call. Tell her what’s happening, as much as you want her to know, and find out if she would be willing to wait in the apartment until we get back. And ask her to answer the phone in case someone calls, and to write down any messages.”

With a task to accomplish, Donna took a deep breath to steady herself, and dialed.

I went back to the glass window and waited while the police officers answered phone calls and conferred across the room. Eventually, a uniformed officer came to the window. “May I help you?” he said. Even though there was a small opening at the base of the window used for passing papers back and forth, I was barely able to hear his voice through the thick glass.

“Yes. I understand my nephew, Grady Fletcher, was brought in this evening for questioning. Detective Chesny told me I might find him here.”

“Who?”

“Detective Chesny.”

“You’re looking for Pressley?”

“No,” I said, “it’s Chesny. C-H-E-S-N-Y.”

The officer fumbled with an intercom button. “Did you say Chesny?” he asked. The intercom made his voice sound tinny, but at least it was audible.

“Yes.”

“He’s out on a case.”

“I know. He sent me here. I’m Jessica Fletcher. My grandnephew, Frank, is missing and his father, Grady Fletcher, was brought in for questioning.”

“What was it, a custody battle?”

“No, Officer. I’m sorry if I didn’t make myself clear. Detective Chesny said he has his officers out searching for Frank.” I wasn’t going to raise the issue of the all points bulletin. “We need to speak with Grady. That’s his wife over there.” I gestured toward the seats. “Do you know how long he’ll be here?”

“Are you his lawyer?”

“No. I’m his aunt. Why would he need a lawyer? Has he been charged?”

“I have no idea, lady. I’ve been working in here all night.”

“Then may I see him?”

He pointed to the sign that said NO VISITING WITH PRISONERS.

“But he’s not a prisoner,” I said. “He’s only being questioned.”

“If we’re holding him, it’s as good as. Does he have a lawyer?”

“Does he need one?”

“If you have to ask, he needs one. Do you want a list of local lawyers?”

“No, thank you. I’m sure he’ll have someone he wants me to call. How can I speak with him?”

“You can’t.”

“But, Officer, a child is missing.” I lowered my voice so as not to upset Donna even more. “He may have been kidnapped. It’s urgent that I speak with the child’s father.”

“Do you want to complete a missing-persons report?”

“Yes, of course, but is that really necessary if you already have the police looking for him?” I had the feeling he was trying to put me off by having me fill out forms. “If I can speak with my nephew for just a few minutes.”

“Sorry, lady, no can do.” He pointed to the sign again.

I straightened up and tugged at the hem of my jacket. “Then may I speak with the watch commander?” I was going over his head.

“He’s going to tell you the same thing.”

“I’d still like to speak with the watch commander, please.”

“Okay. Wait over there.” He pointed to where Donna sat.

“Did you reach Mary yet?” I asked when I took the chair next to hers.

“Yes,” Donna said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “She said she’d go downstairs right away. Are they bringing Grady out?”

“Not yet,” I said. “I’ve asked to speak with the watch commander, and—”

The door swung open and the man in question stepped into the foyer. “Mrs. Fletcher?”

“Yes,” Donna and I said together.

“Which one of you is Mrs. Fletcher?”

“We both are,” I said, standing and extending my hand.

He shook it warily.

“I’m Jessica Fletcher, and this is my niece Donna Mayberry Fletcher.”

“I’m Commander Willoughby. What can I do for you?”

“You see, Commander, we were over at the office building where the commercials were being filmed and we had my grandnephew, Frank, with us—he’s this Mrs. Fletcher’s son. He’s only nine years old and he’s missing—and he was watching one of the commercials, but when we went to find him, he wasn’t there. And then when his father and I were searching for him, we came upon the body. And the detective said the police brought him here. And now we really need to speak with him—”

“Okay, ladies, come into my office and give this to me in little pieces.” He pulled out a magnetic card and held it up to a box on the side of the door. We heard a click, and he pulled open the door and ushered us into his office.

We spent the next ten minutes explaining the situation to him. Thankfully, at the end of my story, he agreed to let us have five minutes with Grady in an interview room.

“There will be two officers in there with you,” he said. “It’s routine. You’ll have to leave your handbags in here. They’ll be safe. I’ll lock the door.”

We quickly agreed, and Commander Willoughby took us to an empty office where he asked us to wait. Donna paced back and forth in the small space, while I made an effort not to look at my watch. Frank had been missing for more than two hours. It was dark outside. If we didn’t find him soon, he would spend the night alone, or so I fervently hoped. It was worse to think of him in the hands of a kidnapper—or killer. How long would it be before we found him? How many hours? I couldn’t bear to think it might be days. When he was a baby, Frank had been afraid of the dark. Was he still? It was not a question I would ask Donna.

The door to the office opened and two uniformed officers brought Grady into the room. His wrists were hand-cuffed behind him. Donna rushed to him and threw her arms around his neck. The officers stepped back and stood at either side of the door, but didn’t move to unlock the cuffs.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, but he couldn’t hold her with his hands tied. “Did you find him?” His eyes sought mine over Donna’s shoulder.

I shook my head, and he dropped his face into Donna’s neck.

Donna stepped back and put her hands on Grady’s cheeks. “We’ll find him, Grady. I know we will. Are you okay?” She kissed him gently.

“I won’t be okay until we find Frank. You were right, Aunt Jess. I never should have let him go off by himself. He didn’t need to see another commercial being made.” He looked at his wife. “It’s all my fault, Donna. I should have taken him home after the lights fell down. I never should have let him convince me to stay. It’s all my fault. And now he’s gone. I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Grady Fletcher,” Donna said sternly, “I don’t want to hear you talk like that. Of course we’ll find Frank. I’m sure of it. You did nothing wrong, you hear? You’re a loving father. You are not to blame. And you know how Frank can wheedle us to get what he wants.”

They gave each other a small smile.

“We’re going to find him,” Donna continued. “You’ll see.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. She glanced at the two policemen guarding the door. “Will you be able to come home with us tonight?” she asked in a small voice.

Grady shook his head “I don’t think so.”

“How long do you have to stay?” Donna asked, deflated.

“I wish I knew.”

“Why are they holding you, Grady?” I asked. “What did they say?”

“They said I had motive and means. Some of the crew had told them about Betsy’s meltdown. They think I killed her in retaliation for her attack on Frank. It’s stupid. I wouldn’t do that. But they think I did. And there’s another problem.”

“What’s that, Grady?” Donna asked.

“My fingerprints are on that nail gun.”

“We’ll get you a lawyer and I’m sure you’ll be out by tomorrow,” I said. “Is there someone specific you want us to call?”

“We don’t really know any criminal lawyers,” Donna said.

“We can find one,” I said. “And I know who to call for recommendations.”

“If they ask for bail, we’ll have to take the money out of our savings account,” Grady told Donna.

“We used up most of the money to buy the apartment. How much do you think it will be?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.”

“But, Grady, what if we don’t have enough?”

“Don’t worry about the bail,” he said. “Look, I’m not the important one here. Frank is the only thing that matters. Even if I can’t leave here, you’ve got to keep looking. Are the police still searching for him?”

I told Grady the police had Frank’s photograph and were scouring the building and the surrounding area. I didn’t use the initials APB. I didn’t want to upset him even more. An APB is issued when the police are looking for a suspect in a crime. I didn’t know if Grady knew that, but I wasn’t taking the chance. He had enough to lose sleep about without worrying that the police might suspect Frank of murder.

“Aunt Jessica suggested we go to the news media and have them put Frank’s picture on television and in the papers,” Donna told him.

“You think that would work?”

“It was my idea,” I said, “but I think I’d like to run it past Detective Chesny before we do anything. The police are the experts in missing children. If someone took Frank, we don’t want to do anything to aggravate a kidnapper.”

Donna looked at me accusingly. “You said you thought he was lost,” she said.

“I’m hoping he’s lost,” I said. “But I don’t want to rule out any possibility.”

“How can we know for sure?”

“We can’t,” I said. “The critical thing is for us to get Frank back safe and sound.”

“Don’t get upset with Aunt Jess, sweetheart,” Grady said. “She’s doing her best for us, and there’s no one better to look for Frank.” He looked at me. “Please find Frank for us, Aunt Jess. I’m counting on you. I know you won’t let us down.”

“I’ll do everything in my power,” I said.

D
etective Chesny was coming into the station house as Donna and I were exiting. Donna went to get the car, which she’d parked a few blocks away, and I took the opportunity to question Chesny about whether it was prudent to give the media Frank’s picture. And if so, which media? I reminded myself that while Frank lived in New York City, we had been filming in its outer reaches. We would need to alert media in both places, since we had no idea in which direction a potential kidnapper might have taken him.

Chesny didn’t think the timing was right. “I recommend you hold off for a day,” he said. “If the boy
was
kidnapped, seeing his face in the paper might spook whoever took him. And I have to tell you, there are crazies in this world who would call the posted number just to give you a hard time, to tease you. Wait a day. Let’s see if he shows up, or if you get any ransom calls. If not, we can revisit the idea of distributing his picture to the press.”

I was glad Donna was not with me when I asked the detective, “If Frank witnessed a murder, would his kidnapper, presumably the killer, make a ransom call?”

“Probably not,” he said. “But I think it’s more likely the kid is hiding.”

“Is that your professional opinion?”

“It is, Mrs. Fletcher. If he finds his way out of the building, we have every available cop looking for him. I know you’re worried about Frank, but I’m sure he’s fine.”

“How can you be so sure?” I asked. “Can you guarantee that he hasn’t been kidnapped?”

“You know I can’t.”

“Then why not issue an Amber Alert, or at least put Frank’s picture where the public can see it?”

“Mrs. Fletcher, I told you before, the law is very specific about under what circumstances an Amber Alert can be distributed.”

“But a child is missing. A nine-year-old. Isn’t there anything else you can do?”

He heaved a great sigh. “I tell you what. I’ll call your precinct in Manhattan and arrange to have them monitor and record calls on your niece and nephew’s telephone so that if—and I doubt this will happen—so that if any calls from a kidnapper come in, they’ll have it on tape and possibly be able to trace it.”

 

Detective Chesny was as good as his word. By the time Donna and I pulled up in front of the building, a police van was parked outside and a uniformed officer was coming out the front door. For an instant, I thought Frank had been found. Donna’s thoughts echoed mine. Her face immediately brightened, but fell as quickly when we learned that the officer had just installed a tap on their home phone. No calls had come in so far.