Losers, Weepers Read online

  “That’s fine for you, Dana. In a week, you won’t be limping or showing any scars. And, of course, it gets Harry off the hook, too. But are you that sure Zoe is okay? Aren’t you being just a teeny weeny bit selfish, lover?” She had the good taste to lower her head. But I wasn’t finished.

  “Think about this: nobody now knows where these two men took her. You don’t know where they came from. What if they get the money from Reed, kill Zoe and disappear? You have no idea where they might go. Then how would you feel? What kind of publicity do you think that would get, once I tell what I know? Would you still be saying, ‘No harm, no foul?’”

  “She’s right,” Harry said slowly. “The police have to know. Maybe they’ll keep it quiet until she’s found, at least. They sometimes think that’s better for some reason. And maybe once we’re all sure she’s safe, Reed will drop any charges.” He looked at me hopefully.

  I wasn’t ready to let them off the hook yet. They had pulled a stupid, childish trick, and quite possibly, it had backfired disastrously. At best, they had caused a lot of worry and trouble.

  So I answered, “Sure, he might, unless he wants to pursue a little matter of conspiracy to extort. And I forgot to mention attempting to bribe me. I’m leaving now. Do either of you need a ride? No? Well, I’m sure we’ll talk again soon. Thank you for the coffee.”

  I picked up Fargo’s lead and we left. I felt a great desire for some quiet time. Maybe it was warm enough to sit in my backyard with a cold Bud and someone with the good sense not to babble . . . like Fargo or Wells.

  The ride home was slow. There were still plenty of tourists on our narrow streets. My mind, however, was not in an unhurried mode. By the time I reached the house I had worked myself into an uneasy feeling of pity mixed with anger and seasoned with despair for most of the principals in the case.

  Reed was simply being pulled apart: his sexy new wife on one side, his sensible family on the other. He was trying to placate everyone, including the kidnappers, and that never worked.

  Even Merrilou had a point. From all I had heard, Zoe was quite capable of making Merrilou’s little “mother” act look as silly and feigned as it was—and would prefer to do so as publicly as possible. And Zoe did have a history of staying out long past any reasonable curfew. Where and with whom?

  Certainly I knew that many teenagers made those “nothing will ever separate us” pacts of friendship or love. My last year in high school I had been through it. My girlfriend, Polly, got a summer job at a resort in Maine. We agonized over the impending separation. We wrote pages of letters about everything from the cat’s new kittens to turgid declarations of our undying love and faithfulness. They worked about as well as most declarations of that sort. By August, I had met and fallen for a different girl. Polly, to my total surprise, had gotten pregnant by a wealthy older guy, married him and now lives on a giant ranch in Arizona, along with several kids. Happy? I hope so. At least I’m sure her allergies are.

  The Dana/Zoe/Harry triumvirate would likely work out about the same way, assuming no tragedies occurred and none of them actually went to jail, which I really did doubt.

  Tweedledee and Tweedledum were the only ones for which I could feel no sympathy. For one thing, they weren’t kids, and if they were straight, I doubted Zoe stood a chance of not being raped. And more than once. For another, they weren’t in this plot with a one-for-all-and-all-for-one attitude. They were simply after a fee, if indeed, they planned to turn the other nine hundred and ninety thousand over to a cute teenage girl who had simply sat in an empty house for two or three days to earn it. There was something frightening here, something in this silly plan held a whiff of evil. But I couldn’t trace the odor to its putrid source.

  Yet.

  Finally, I was home, greeted with indignant meows from Wells. She and Fargo sniffed and circled as if they had never met, and then in some canine/feline agreement, walked to the back door and virtually said, “Treat.” I let us all in, took care of treats and water bowls and popped a cold beer. Treats all around and well deserved.

  We all trailed back out and found places in the sun. I sipped the beer and lit a cigarette, and tried to remember how many it was. Maybe three. Maybe six. It was hopeless to try to count when I tossed them around to others like Mardi Gras doubloons from a float. I was tired, but it was no day to take an afternoon nap. I needed help rather quickly, and so, I feared, did Zoe.

  I reached in my pocket and, miraculously, my fingers closed on my cell phone. Usually I left it in the car, or the bedroom, or the kitchen, or the clothes hamper or just about any place I was not—including, once, the washer. It was time to talk to my brother, but first, I’d check with the Catletts.

  I looked in my pocket notebook for their number and dialed. Reed picked up on the first ring. “Hello, Reed, it’s Alex Peres. Sorry to startle you, I just wondered if we had anything new.”

  “Not much. Overnight I got a cell phone in my mailbox with a note that said all future calls would come in on it, for some reason. But it hasn’t rung yet, and I wish to God it would. I want this wrapped up.”

  “It’s surely one of those prepaid phones, so we can’t trace the call. They’re getting cagey.”

  “Yes, this is going on too long, Alex.” He sounded worried, but stronger. Maybe he was getting his act together. “I think you are right. I’m going to call the police and the hell with whether it’s a joke or not. The worst it can do is make a bunch of us look like fools, and that’s not fatal.”

  “You’re making me very happy, Reed, but first let me tell you what I’ve picked up.” I told him most of my afternoon, leaving out the kids’ names and the part about Dana getting shoved out of the van. I didn’t think he needed to know the two men had made very sure only they knew where Zoe was, and had used considerable violence to make it so.

  “And so, Reed, just one other small thing. It is possible the kidnappers are watching you, and it will be obvious if you go to the police or if they come to your home. At this point, they might as well think they are dealing only with you. We’ll get the phone company to put a tracer on your landline just in case. For other matters, I’ll be around. Doubtless the ’nappers already know I’m involved. Okay?”

  “Yeah,” he said reluctantly. “I guess that makes sense.”

  “Everybody knows Sonny is my brother. If he and I are seen together it probably won’t ring any bells. So I’ll bring him up to date and let him decide who sees whom and how.”

  I took the last sip of the now-tepid beer, made a face and continued. “I’ll talk to Sonny, and he or I will get back to you tonight. If you hear from Zoe or the Tweedles, let me know. Here’s my cell number.”

  After we hung up, I carefully put the little phone back in my pocket and went inside to call Sonny. First, I would try my mother’s house, where he technically lived. It was about all he could afford with an ex-wife and two kids draining off a good portion of his salary. Fortunately his other ex-wife had remarried, which helped. Now if we could just find a suitable husband for the first one.

  If Sonny wasn’t at Mom’s, I’d try Trish’s apartment. She was Sonny’s current affair, a nice young woman, bright, as independent as Sonny and apparently blessedly uninterested in marriage. She was a lawyer, assistant to John Frost, and seemingly headed for a successful career in criminal law. If Sonny wasn’t there, I’d call the station and let them chase him down. They’d know where he was.

  He was at Mom’s, surprisingly, until he told me why. “Got a card from Mom in New York. The opening of the show is tonight, and she’ll be home Monday. I’m just, uh, doing a little housecleaning. Not that it really needs much. Just a little vacuuming and dusting, you know.” His voice got oily like it always did when he was lying or wanted something.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. I have something that may take you away from your domestic chores. You’d better get ready to shell out some bucks to The Super Scrubbers, or just borrow a fire hose and a backhoe from the town. Can you come over soon? Pa
rk in Carla’s driveway and wear dark glasses or something so you don’t look like you. Come over the back wall.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Never more so.”

  “Give me twenty minutes to grab a shower. I’ll be there.” I could feel his entire demeanor change from naughty little boy to competent young professional. I’d have been willing to wager he stood straighter and his shoulders were squared. No good-bye, I just heard the dial tone.

  It required a double take for me to recognize him. He came sauntering across my backyard with a slightly effeminate sway, and sporting black sunglasses. He was wearing sandals, white duck calf-length trousers and a wide-stripe Cote d’Azur black and green polo shirt topped by a white Greek fisherman’s cap. I wondered if he and Trish were planning a European trip.

  We went inside, and he removed the cap and glasses. I asked him about the clothes and he laughed. “No trip this year. But Trish and I met a couple down at Brewster that we enjoy. They are a little more formal down there. I don’t think I’d wear these clothes in Provincetown unless I felt like defending my virtue. Now what’s the deep secrecy all about?”

  I’d made a pot of coffee and poured us both a mug. Then I sat and told him. When I finished, he sighed. “I wish Reed had called me right away. Now that they’re on the prepaid cells, it pretty well eliminates any trace. Dammit. Parents just will try it alone. Usually the cops can save the kid, even if they lose the money. And even then, we often recover a sizeable amount and catch the doers. It’s so strange. The parents wouldn’t set a broken leg, or try to fix the microwave or the furnace. They’d call a pro. But when it’s their kid—surely more important than the microwave—they get all secretive and think they can handle it better themselves.”

  “It is not sensible or smart, Sonny, but when it comes to kids, most people panic easily. Some tough guy on a phone says he’ll kill your kid if you call the cops. What do you do?”

  I lit a cigarette and pushed them and the lighter across the table. I figured I might as well save his asking. “You think of the rather dull-looking cop with a wilted shirt collar who gave you a parking ticket last week, and you don’t rate him very high against a bunch of professional criminals threatening your child. You think if you come up with the money, it’s a simple cash transaction.”

  “I guess.” Sonny sighed, then straightened. “Okay, we’ll tap their house phone just in case. We’ll set up a tape for incoming cell calls. Mitch or I will see if there’s anything they forgot to tell you.”

  I laughed. “You’d better talk to Miss Scarlett. She’ll chew up Mitch and spit out the seeds.”

  “He’s getting better. And tougher. We’ll see.” He sipped his coffee, smiled approval and reasoned, “I can understand Harry Maddock getting himself involved in this Grade C drama. Kid’s kind of shy, except with a hockey stick. And his family is anything but rich, but what the hell is with the Portman girl? Dan Portman’s got more money than God.”

  I shifted in my chair. It was turning into a long day. “She wasn’t going to use any of the ransom money. It appears that she’s loaded in her own right. Although there are evidently some restrictions on how much she can tap at a time. She was just being supportive. According to her.”

  “What’s her family setup?”

  “There is none that I could see. Daddy Dan travels a great deal. Mums is off on the Costa del Sol with a very handsome, very young man. I don’t know why they split up and thought I better not ask. Dana rattles around in that big house with her grandmother and the servants most of the time. Occasionally Dan takes her with him on a European buying trip.”

  Sonny shrugged. “Aw, poor baby. Nothing to do but sit around and count the bearer bonds. We’ve got plenty of local kids in worse situations. But how about Zoe, is she nuts?”

  “I have no idea. To my knowledge, I have never seen her. But if I had her stepmother, I might advertise for kidnappers to come and get me, too.” He was beginning to irritate me.

  “Kids today, they don’t know how lucky they are.” He leaned back, the chair resting on the back legs, which always aggravated me. “We didn’t do things like that growing up.”

  “Put the damn chair down. And since I am approximately only fifteen years older than they are, I don’t consider myself from another planet. Neither should you. Who was it at age sixteen who had the bright idea of building a rocket ship and blew the roof off our garage?”

  He crossed his arms and stuck out his chin. “No comparison. That was a scientific experiment that needed more research, not some idiotic, childish, criminal plot.” He smiled smugly.

  “And, Mr. Einstein, just where did you get the gunpowder for the rocket?”

  The phone rang, sparing him from admitting he had stolen it from our neighbor who liked to make his own bullets for his antique rifles.

  I picked up the phone and found I was speaking to Rob Catlett. “Rob, my brother, Lieutenant Peres, is here. Do you mind if I put the phone on speaker?”

  “Not at all. I just wanted to update you. I’ve got a feeling Dad is trying to handle this himself. I think he’s out now, meeting the kidnappers, and I’m pretty sure he’s got two hundred thousand with him. Or nearly, anyway.”

  “Where did he get the money?”

  “Right after lunch, Mr. Ellis from the bank came over with two big guys carrying two big briefcases and another carrying a shotgun. They went into Dad’s office and locked the door. You can’t hear much from there, but I could tell Mr. Ellis was arguing about something. Then he came out, saying he’d have the rest in a day or so, and that this hundred and eighty grand wasn’t lunch money, so Dad should call the cops. He said he was worried about Zoe. Dad said Zoe was his daughter and he’d take care of her. So Ellis and the gorillas left looking grim.”

  He took a deep, shuddering breath and picked up his tale again. “Then Dad and Merrilou got into it. She kept wanting him to call Mister—I mean Reverend Bartles and his wife, so that they could all pray for wisdom. Then Nana said we didn’t need prayer, we needed somebody to knock some sense into Dad and to shut Merrilou’s mouth. Merrilou kind of lightly smacked Nana. I grabbed Marvin before he could clock Merrilou. Dad banged the silver coffeepot down on the table so hard he broke off the handle and made a gouge in the table. He screamed we should all go to our rooms and if he heard a word out of anybody, he’d lock in whoever said it. Alex, can somebody help us? There’s going to be a murder over here.”

  I looked at Sonny and he spoke up, calm and reassuring. “This is Lieutenant Peres, Rob. Sounds like everybody is very much on edge at your place. You can’t really blame them. It’s a nerve-wracking spot to be in. I’ll be over in a few minutes, and we’ll see what we can do to get some positive action going. Right now, just stay quiet and try to keep your brother and grandmother quiet. Maybe I can get your dad to accept some assistance.”

  “Not now, you can’t.” Rob giggled nervously.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “A minute or so after the blow up, the cell phone rang. Dad grabbed it and ran into his office and slammed the door and locked it. And, by the way, he yanked the recording tape off of it.”

  Sonny muttered, “Shit,” but Rob just continued his report.

  “I went out and tried to listen under the window, but it was closed. However, a few minutes later he went out to his car, carrying the briefcases like they were heavy.”

  “What kind of car?”

  “Lincoln Town Car,” Rob said. “Maroon, oh-seven model. Oh, I meant to tell you, the handle of his gun was sticking out of his jacket.”

  “He’s got a gun?” Sonny rolled his eyes at me and made that twirling motion to his temple with his forefinger. I agreed. The man had flipped. “What kind of gun does he have?”

  “I—I really don’t know. It’s a big old pistol his father had during World War Two. But I think maybe it’s German. Granddad captured it or something.”

  “Oh, God, probably a Luger that would take out a tank. Where is he now?�
��

  “I don’t know. He just drove away.”

  Sonny slumped and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he straightened and spoke, sounding composed and in control. “Okay, Rob, you’ve done a good job getting all this data together. I’ll be along in a little while, after I’ve made a phone call. Keep cool. Everything’s going to be okay. ’Bye.”

  “Dear God,” I said.

  “Apparently is not in His Heaven, and very little is right with the world. Is there more coffee?”

  Chapter 8

  Whenever a mechanic, a doctor or a cop tells me everything is going to be just fine, I begin to sweat. There were a dozen scenarios that could be playing out right now, and only one of them was good. Of course, with the tape disconnected, we now had no way of knowing where or when Reed was to meet the Tweedles, although, given his speedy departure, one would imagine it was eminent. Was Zoe with them? Would they accept the lesser ransom and free the girl? If not, would Reed try to shoot the Tweedles and rescue Zoe? If Zoe was not with them, would Reed try to force them to tell him her whereabouts with his trusty pistol? Did the Tweedles have guns and would everyone shoot everyone else?

  I finally realized Sonny was gesturing for the phone and handed it to him. He punched my speed dial for the police station. “Nacho, it’s Sonny. Patch me through to Mitch wherever he is.” Mitch was Sonny’s right-hand man, a young detective sergeant with a natural instinct for the job. There was a considerable pause, and Sonny’s mouth grew tighter by the second.