Missing Brandy (A Fina Fitzgibbons Brooklyn Mystery Book 2) (31 page)

Mrs. Hallowell nodded.

“After that, a pall settled over the neighborhood. They were there, the Grubers. I’d see Henry’s car in the driveway, but we gave them space. When I’d take out the garbage or mow the lawn or when Mother would tend the garden, we’d hear terrible fights coming from their house. Then one day we saw a moving van. Never saw either one of them after that. Terrible, the boy’s death. And you hear rumors, you know.”

“Rumors?” I asked.

“I heard they sued the hospital.”

“What happened?” Jane asked.

“Another frivolous lawsuit, of course. The child died and they tried to blame the hospital, but they lost.” He scratched his stubble. “Don’t blame them. I think Henry was the one who pursued it. By the time it came to court, they had to hunt for Susan Gruber.”

“They found her, of course, and she testified.” The voice came from Mrs. Hallowell, who leaned against the door jamb, her arms crossed. “I don’t know what I would have done. We have two fine children, both married now with children of their own, but I don’t know what would have happened if one of them had died, how we would have coped.”

We thanked the Hallowells. I left my card. “If you can think of anything, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call.”

Mrs. Hallowell showed us to the door. “How is Susan doing?” she asked.

“She’ll never get over losing her child,” I said, “but she’s trying to make a life.”

As I walked down the stoop, I thought of one more question. I turned and faced the couple staring down at me, their faces rimmed in lamplight.

“Stuart was in which hospital?”

They looked at each other and shrugged. “Don’t know for sure. Must have been Hamilton, that’s the closest one. That’d be my guess,” Mr. Hallowell said.

Jane and I didn’t speak until we turned onto the turnpike. “Hamilton Hospital,” I mused.

“Hamilton Hospital, what?”

“Did Ben Small work there when Stuart Gruber was a patient?”

From the side of my vision, I watched Jane’s face. For a moment it was lit by passing headlights, inscrutable in light and shadow. Then it was lost in a dark stretch of road. She punched her smartphone, and I heard snatches of the conversation. It went something like, “I don’t care how you do it or who you have to wake up to get it, I want to know when and where Stuart Gruber died. Six years old. We think it was Hamilton Hospital. I want to know the date of his death, the floor of his room, the bed number. I want to know the dates of Ben Small’s employment there … I know what the report says; I want to hear it from hospital admin. And I need the information now.”

Chapter 57

Fina. Evening Three, The Talk

When we got back to Brooklyn, Jane and I paid a comfort call to Trisha Liam. She answered the door before we rang the bell and led us into her conservatory. As we entered the room, I peered into the dark waters of the East River. The Statue of Liberty still held her torch.

We told Trisha about the latest developments in her daughter’s abduction, running through what the ME told us about Phillipa’s sudden death.

“Phillipa has a mother in Kansas City,” I said. “They haven’t spoken in years, but Family Services will find her. If you have any information, they’d be grateful.”

Trisha Liam shook her head. This wasn’t the first she’d heard about Phillipa’s mother and child—I’d told her shortly after we found the body—so she’d had the afternoon to absorb the news. “I’ve been a cruel, cold employer.”

I looked at Jane. Uncaring bitch that I am, I couldn’t argue with Trisha Liam, so, back at yah, I thought. I clamped my lips shut and felt my heart sink into my nethers. God would pay me back later on, of that I had no doubt.

Trisha straightened her slacks at the waist. “What will happen to her son?”

“They’ll try to place him in a good home. He has learning disabilities.” I told her what I knew about Freddy, where he went to school, and his pitiful reaction to his mother’s death. I laid it on heavy, telling her in slow detail about his desolation.

Trisha Liam hugged herself and rocked. “Maybe I can help. After this is over, after Brandy is back. She will be back, won’t she? Tell me she will be back. You’ve got to give me that.” Trisha Liam cupped her mouth and extended an arm.

“We’re doing everything we possibly can,” Jane said.

“She’ll be back because we’ll find her and bring her back, I know we will. We’re close.”

“Was Phillipa the inside link?” Trisha Liam asked.

I looked at Jane.

“We don’t know for sure. We think there was a connection.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Detective.”

“She’s telling it like it is. We think Phillipa was the inside connection. We think she made the call to the school excusing Brandy’s absence. That’s why the school called you the next morning, remember? But there’s no evidence. That doesn’t take away—”

“What would you know?” Trisha Liam shook her head. “We’ve been together for over twenty years. Phillipa would never betray me.”

I held my tongue. After all, what did I know, really, when it came right down to it? I know what my gran used to say—we can bear only a small piece of reality. And come to think of it, Gran ought to know, she lost her daughter.

“And Brandy, what more have you learned about her? Is she in pain? When will you find her?”

I felt her fear. “We haven’t found her, not yet. We’re getting very close, but we need your help. That’s why we’re here.”

I told her about the fingerprints lifted in the van. I told her the truth about Ben Small and his role as an assassin for the mob. “The rumor is he was hired by the mob to kill your husband.”

“Where did you hear that?”

I told her about my conversation with Joe Catania. Trisha Liam’s eyes widened. “We think this same assassin, Ben Small, is currently working for the kidnapper.”

I thought she was going to faint. “Oh, Mitch, oh, Mitch.” She breathed in, breathed out, stood up, paced the floor.

“That’s why we haven’t held news conferences,” I said. “We’re trying to keep our involvement under wraps as much as possible.”

Jane nodded. “Regardless of the ransom note’s demand for no law enforcement involvement, we have police departments from all metro areas working on the case as well as the FBI. They’ve requested assistance from Homeland Security.”

Jane continued. “Your daughter’s safe return is our number one priority.”

Trisha Liam waved away Jane’s remark.

We told her about the phone number found in Phillipa’s address book. “An old cell phone number. Phillipa thought it belonged to someone named Henry. But it was no longer in service and belonged to his estranged wife. We think this Henry person is the mastermind behind the kidnapping.”

Trisha Liam looked confused, but I could see her eyes working it out.

“So there are two men involved? And Phillipa?”

“Two men and we think Phillipa, but we don’t know that for sure.”

“This woman, this Henry person …” Her voice trailed off.

“We visited the woman,” I said.

“You mean the wife of this Henry person? Is she involved?”

I shook my head. “Not at all. She’s doing her best to put the past behind her and hasn’t seen Henry Gruber since the trial.”

“When?”

“We’re not sure. Their young son died suddenly some time ago, and the husband sued the hospital where the boy was undergoing tests for a heart problem.”

“The claim?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I only know what Susan Gruber said. His death was never satisfactorily explained.”

I couldn’t have calmed Trisha Liam better if I’d been the Fairy Shrink waving a magic wand.

Instantly she segued into prosecutorial mode. “Name of the hospital?”

“Almost positive it’s Hamilton Hospital in New Jersey near—”

“An old client.” She slumped into the nearest chair.

Into the silence that followed, I heard the grandfather clock swinging its pendulum. Or maybe it was my heart.

“Does the name Henry Gruber ring a bell?” Jane asked.

Trisha Liam stared into space a moment, then shook her head. “Must have been a very old case, and they must have found for the hospital. I only remember the cases I lose.”

“We think it was an old case, too, because of the relatively small amount of the ransom demand,” Jane said.

Too late, she realized what she’d said. I watched Jane’s face redden. Trisha Liam didn’t need to hear about the amount being small.

Trisha’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve given you access to our files.”

“Briefs going back five years. The older cases aren’t digitized, my assistant tells me.”

I watched her for a minute, struggling with something half-remembered. At any rate, she was far away. We waited for her to come back.

When she did, she was galvanized. She made a call to her office and gave me assurances they’d digitize all the older briefs concerning Hamilton Hospital. “They’ve begun now, should be finished in a few hours. If your Lorraine person finds an interesting summary and wants to see more, tell her to call me directly. I’ll meet her in the office. She can go through the paper files. She can call me with whatever questions she has.”

She made a few more paces around the room. “Things will change when Brandy’s back. You’ll see.” She sat on the edge of her chair and faced me. “And I’ll take responsibility for Freddy. You’ll see. You’ll just see. I’ve been so …”

“We’ll find Brandy,” I said, but I knew time was running out. We needed a break and fast, a big break.

Chapter 58

Fina. Evening Three, Looking For Lorraine

After I said goodnight to Jane, I walked over to the Promenade and watched runners and seagulls circling everything in sight. I leaned on the rail and called Lorraine’s house. Robert McDuffy answered. How could she stand to look at him, let alone marry him, and what’s more, stay married to him for forty-eight years? Not that I wasn’t glad for their offspring, Denny. Granted there were the busy years when Lorraine was raising her child and Robert was out of the house playing cops and robbers. But now that he was retired, he was in her face most of the time with his whiny demands just when her life should be flowering.

“If you’re looking for Denny, he’s not here. He’s out with Zizi.”

“I know where Denny is. I’m looking for Lorraine.”

“And now you’re ruining her, too.”

“What’s the matter, Mr. McDuffy, isn’t your dinner on the table yet?”

“I don’t know why Denny bothers with you. He needs a looker and a cooker, and you lose on both counts.”

“Thanks for the compliment. Just tell Lorraine to call me. It’s important.”

“I will when she gets here.” He breathed in. “Do you know where she is?”

I could hear the lost boy in Robert McDuffy’s voice.

“I was just about to call you, anyway. I’d have called Denny, but I didn’t want to disturb him and Zizi, and you’re such a goddamned snoop, I thought you’d know where to find her.”

“Did you try the church?”

“Not there.”

“Call you back in ten minutes. She might still be in the office.”

“What office?”

I realized he didn’t know about Lorraine’s job, and I wasn’t about to explain. “Let me make a few calls. I’ll be in touch.”

When I phoned Lucy’s, Minnie said she’d left a while ago.

I felt a foggy wind pass through me.

“She seemed, I don’t know, distracted. Said she’d been talking to some of her friends at her old law firm. Said she needed to get up to speed or she couldn’t solve this case.”

So I called Lorraine’s old employer, Smith, Jarvis & O’Leary, and spoke to the receptionist. In the background I could hear the muffled noise of Court Street, car exhausts, horns, Brooklyn shouts, your usual handful of mixed nuts.

“Yeah, Lorraine stopped by, but she’s been gone a good hour at least. I knew she hadn’t paid a visit just to chat. She was upset. Lorraine and I go way back. Told me she had a new job, a part-time gig, and she was feeling like life had passed her by. Lorraine’s no dummy, but I told her she needed to get with it, technically speaking, that is. Pretty soon we’ll be able to take a pill and be wired into whatever’s happening in the world, but until then, she needs the Internet and portable stuff. Excuse me while I take this call.”

After some white noise and a few beeps, he continued. “Sorry ’bout that. Anyway, back to Lorraine. We chatted a while about how things were run in the office now. I don’t know what all we covered, but it was mostly about handheld devices and how they rule. I told her how all the paralegals were given iPads so they could be plugged in twenty-four seven. In the middle of our conversation, she got up and left. You know Lorraine, how she has that way of looking at you and not seeing you? Anyway, whatever I said made her eyeballs quiver. Her face got that Lorraine Look. That’s what we used to call it. Then she got up and walked out mid-sentence, no goodbyes, like she was on a mission. That’s all I know.”

Wherever she was, I figured Lorraine was old enough to be out alone. I took a last look at the green lady’s torch shining bright in the harbor and was about to hoof it home when my phone vibrated.

It was a relieved Robert McDuffy. “Don’t bother looking, Sherlock. She’s home, knee-deep in boxes and wires.”

I heard Lorraine’s voice in the background. “Tell her I’ll call her back in a few minutes. Got to set up this stuff first.”

In the meantime I decided to stop at Grimaldi’s for a slice. The air was hot and spicy, and the streets of Dumbo were pulsating when I arrived. It was close to dinnertime, maybe a little early, and the line into the pizza parlor was thick, but I decided to brave it. I didn’t think Denny would be home for dinner. I pictured him and Zizi sitting at a small table in the back of some dark restaurant.

One thing you should know about me, I’m not a cook. I try, but Denny does a better job. I decided pizza chased by tutti-frutti ice cream with maple syrup would help me search for Henry Gruber. On the other hand, legal stuff might give me indigestion, and I hoped Lorraine would get herself untangled soon. I looked at my watch, telling myself I’d give her thirty more minutes, and if I didn’t hear from her, I’d call. But no sooner had I paid the guy at the pickup counter than my phone started vibrating. Lorraine.