Читать книгу Freeing the Magician - Dawn Leger - Страница 3

Detective Friday, or Ty as I called him when he was off-duty, and I had been sniffing each other’s pheromones since I’d stumbled upon a murder in the fall. I got way too involved in the investigation and, oh yeah, I ended up shooting a couple of guys dead and being held captive at one point. The shootings were purely self-defense, and the entire experience was pretty traumatic. I was threatened, chased, held hostage, assaulted, and ended up on an operating gurney having my spine fused in several places. And my buddy Michael was run over by a car, so he was a victim, too. But although he said I drove him crazy, Ty seemed to really get me and I thought we were heading toward a mutually agreeable, adult-type friendship. Until the arrival of my long-lost husband.

I owed Michael big time, so if I could find out something about who sent him this card that would be good. We had both lost a semester’s worth of teaching, and Michael had a complex fracture of his left leg, so he went through more pain and suffering than any friend should have to endure. I put on a nice face and opened the precinct door carrying a dozen doughnuts, a box of Mrs. See’s chocolates, and the bottle of wine from Michael’s fridge.

“You again?” The desk sergeant buzzed me in. “Killed anyone lately?”

“No, I did my quota for the year, so I have to wait for January,” I said. “Is Detective Friday upstairs?”

“Yep. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see you,” he said.

I slipped him a small bag from Dunkin’ Donuts with a cruller and a regular coffee. “Merry Christmas,” I said.

“Thanks, Doc.” His face muscles contracted into something resembling a smile.

I stopped at the entrance to the detective’s area and located Ty among the men. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits, and the noise level in the room was high. I made my way slowly through the maze of desks.

“Oh, look who’s here, Friday. It’s the little professor. What have you got there, Doc? Some sweets for your sweetie?” Detective Gardner stepped in my path and loomed over me. “Where’s my Christmas present, Professor?”

“I brought doughnuts for everyone,” I said. “Here, why don’t you take one and pass the box around?” I shoved the box at him and tried to sidle past.

“Not so fast. What are you really doing here? Come to try and pay your debt with Detective Friday? Since he covered up your crimes and destroyed evidence for you? Hey Friday, your girlfriend’s back, looking for more… ”

“Shut up, Gardner,” Ty cut him off. “Cassie, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I had something to ask you,” I said. “It concerns Michael Simone. Do you remember him?”

“Sure, how’s his leg doing? Is he still out of commission?” he asked.

“Um, he’s better, almost one-hundred percent. Look, this really is police business. Can we talk somewhere private?”

He looked around at all the faces watching our exchange. “What’re we, chopped liver?” one guy asked before turning away.

“Have a doughnut, Shaughnessy,” he said. “Show’s over guys.”

We went towards the interview rooms, and I hesitated when Ty held open the door for me. He smiled. “We can leave the door open if you like,” he said.

“That would be good, thanks.” I went in and sat in the chair opposite the usual “prisoner” side, and that made me feel better. I’d been held here for questioning after finding Neville Carstairs’ body, and it had seemed like one of the longest nights of my life.

I put my gifts to the side of the table and took out the card. Leaving it in the plastic sandwich bag, I briefly explained the scenario to Ty and handed him the card.

“So, we were wondering if you could look into it, maybe check for prints or something?” I asked.

Ty pulled some gloves from his pocket and took out the envelope, then looked at the card. “There’s nothing threatening about this,” he said. “What basis do I have to spend taxpayer money running tests on an innocuous greeting card?”

“Oh,” I said. I leaned back in my chair. “The fact that this person doesn’t exist isn’t interesting to you at all?”

“It seems like a practical joke. Maybe from one of Michael’s old school friends or something,” Ty said. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do for you.”

“Is there something I can do?” I asked. He frowned. “No, I mean, is there a lab where a private citizen can get something like this tested?”

“Are you planning on becoming some kind of private investigator? Is that what this is about? You got a taste of it and now you think…”

“No, I don’t think anything,” I said. “Remember, I got hurt by that case, too. I just want to do a favor for my friend. He’s worried about this. It’s weird. Don’t you agree that it’s weird? And he was a little freaked out about it. So I told him I would talk to you, and here I am. Talking to you.”

“I see that,” he said.

“You know, this is kind of what I do,” I said. He cocked his head to the side. “I mean, as a researcher. I am a trained investigator. As an art historian, I used to track down the provenance of pieces and research the history of the time and place in which they were produced. That’s what a Ph.D. is for.”

“Oh,” he said. “I always thought it meant ‘piled high and deep.’ ”

We looked at each other.

“Funny. So, no dice on the analysis, then,” I said, breaking the silence.

He shook his head and handed the baggie back to me.

“Any suggestions about a lab?” I asked.

“I’ll ask around, see what I can find. How’s that?” he replied.

“Great, that would be helpful,” I said. I indicated the packages. “These are from Michael. He insisted that I bring you some Hanukkah gelt. I’m driving him up to visit his mother for the holidays this afternoon.”

“Oh, that’ll be nice,” he said. “Have fun.”

I stood up. This had clearly been a bad idea, I realized. I’d better get out of here before we used all the air in the room.

“So, you have a nice Christmas, then,” I said. “And thanks for taking the time to talk with me. I know you probably didn’t want to see the likes of me in here again…so I’ll get out of your hair now.” I turned to go, and felt his hand on my shoulder.

“Wait,” he said.

I turned back and looked up into his deep blue eyes. “Yes?”

The door opened wider and hit me square in the back of the head. I saw stars. Ty lowered me down into a chair.

“Gardner, did you ever hear of knocking?” he shouted. “Cassie, are you all right? Do you need an ambulance?”

“Geez, why would she need an ambulance? I just tapped her a little with the door,” Gardner said. “What is she, made of porcelain?”

“Titanium, actually,” I said. I looked at him. “They put titanium in my spine, and some cement, but no porcelain.” I turned to Ty. “I’m fine. I just got a little wobbly.”

“What did you come in here for anyway, Gardner?” Ty asked.

“Oh, yeah, thought you would like to know. They just brought in a perp on a robbery charge, a crash and grab in the jewelry district. Young one, quite a little fighter. Sort of reminds me of the doc here. And I happen to hear, coincidentally, that she’s claiming to be Thornton’s sister. Maybe you want to go down and post bail, Doc?”

Ty looked at me, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “A sister?”

“Not mine,” I said. “I’m an only child…as far as I know.” I stood up. “Let’s go meet this kid, find out where she comes from. Maybe I will bail her out, just for laughs. You know, it can be a little Christmas gift.”

Ty barked at me. “Don’t you dare,” he said as he followed me down the hall.

Gardner brought up the rear, opening the candy box. “Look, guys, Mrs. See’s!”

When I spotted the girl in the cell, my heart did break a little for her: She was such a mess, but so determined to put on a good show. Her thick mane of hair had probably not been properly washed or brushed for quite a while as it was clearly matted with knots underneath the gleaming chestnut surface. Her face, beneath a veneer of street dirt, was rosy with cold and her lips were badly chapped. And her clothes, a hodge-podge of Goodwill pickings, might be entertaining in a magazine layout but barely covered her thin frame.

“Can we get her one of the doughnuts?” I whispered to Ty. “I bet she hasn’t had a decent meal in days.”

He shook his head. “Let me see what they have on her. Stay here. Do not talk to anyone,” he said.

I sat on a bench, leaned against the wall and did my best disappearing act, pulling up my collar and donning my seldom-used glasses. I studied my cell phone for a few minutes and then allowed myself to return to my perusal of my “sister.” To my surprise, she was no longer seated on the bench in the cell, and I did a quick scan of the other female prisoners before I came upon her again, standing in the opposite corner, looking directly at me.

I met her stare with my own, and we sat this way for several minutes. Gardner interrupted the contest when he came and planted himself in front of me. “So, do you recognize her?” he asked.

“No, I’ve never seen her before,” I said. “Would you move out of the way? Have you got an ID?”

“Friday is talking to the officer who brought her in. She was yelling about getting her phone call, kicking and screaming, and then once she got inside, she clammed right up. Said she would just wait for her sister to come and get her, and that was the end of the story. What do you think about that?” he asked.

I shifted, trying to see around him. “Would you sit down, or step aside, please?”

“Oh, am I in your way?” he asked. He scratched his crotch. “I’ll just move over here.”

I hit him with my bag and he finally stepped aside. When I looked back in the holding cell, she was gone.

“What did you do with her? Where did she go?” I asked. “What were you trying to stop me from seeing? Jesus, what is wrong with you, Gardner?” I got up and went over to the desk in search of Ty, who was now looking annoyed at me as well as the uniformed officer he was speaking to.

“What do you want? Can’t you just wait five minutes? I’m in the middle of something here,” he said. “Gardner, why don’t you go upstairs and do some work for a change?”

“Oh, this is too much fun,” Gardner said. He picked another candy from the box and popped it into his mouth.

“I’m sorry for bothering you, but I was just watching the girl and this clown stepped in front of me and when I made him move aside, she was gone,” I said.

“She’s gone?” Ty asked. “Where would she go?” He turned to the other cop. “You didn’t authorize her to be transported yet, did you? There’s been no bail hearing yet.”

“I did not approach her, I swear to God. I was simply sitting on the bench watching her,” I said.

“Gardner, what do you know about this?” Ty asked.

“I know nothing!” Gardner said, turning and heading to the stairs.

“Let’s go and see,” Ty said.

I followed the two officers over to the holding cell where the younger man called out a name, Giselle Carros, and Ty looked at the faces of all the women standing and sitting inside. No one came forward. I didn’t see her, nor did Ty. He called over the desk sergeant.

“Was anyone removed from the holding cell in the last ten minutes?” he asked.

The man shook his head. “You have to be more specific,” he said. “I got lawyers, I got uniforms, I got ADAs, and I got detectives coming through here, and some of them are taking people out to interview rooms, and some of them are signing people out, period. You can check the log, but don’t ask me to tell you all the comings and goings for the last ten minutes, ’cause I ain’t got enough time for that in the next ten minutes.”

Ty took the log book and sighed. There on the second line from the top was the name, Giselle Carros. And who signed her out? He took a long look at the page and stuck it under my nose. There was a signature—it wasn’t mine—but it clearly spelled out my name: Cassie Thornton.

“I know, I know,” he said. “It wasn’t you.”

“I was being sexually harassed by Gardner at the time,” I said. “But you must have cameras in here, so you can look at the tape and see who was impersonating me. Right?”

“Why don’t you just get in your car and go pick up your friend, and head out for your little vacation,” he said. “I’ll look into this, and when I find out who this is, I’ll let you know. Okay?”

I think I actually growled at him. I believe I might have frightened him. And then, to top it off, I did something that really scared the bejesus out of him—I agreed.

“Okay. You call my cell if you need me,” I said. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

He followed me out of the station and stood next to me while I dug in my bag for my keys. Reaching around, he opened the door to the new powder blue Prius.

“Oh, it was open?” I said. “Thanks.”

“You don’t need the key to unlock the door. You just have to have it in your bag,” he said. “I believe all you need to do now is push the ‘on’ button to start the car, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “I just got this car and I haven’t figured out all the features yet. Newfangled thing.”

“I’m glad they replaced your Mini,” he said. “Too bad it got blown up.”

“I know, I really liked that car. But this is better. I don’t have to hunt for gas stations all the time.” I looked up at him. “So, I’m off. I’ll check in with you when I get back.” I pulled the seat belt across my chest and secured it. “Bye.”

Surprisingly, he leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Drive safely,” he said. “Be careful. There’re a lot of bad drivers out there.”

I smiled.

“Oh, and don’t think that you’re going to go and find this girl, either,” he said. “I am on it—and I have someone ready to make sure you’re leaving town. So forget about it.”

“Oh, Ty, remember the good old days when you wouldn’t let me leave town? And now here you are, forcing me to go away?” I said. “It’s tragic, isn’t it?”

He stood up, laughing, and knocked on the roof of the car. “Call me when you get there, okay?”

“You mean your minions won’t report in?” I smiled, trying to soften the sarcasm. “Will do, officer!” I drove away with a toot.

Michael was waiting for me in his lobby with a large duffle bag and a shopping bag from Macy’s. “What took you so long?” he asked.

“Sorry, I was delayed at the police station,” I said. I hefted the bags. “What the hell do you have in here? How many pairs of shoes are you bringing?”

“Just three,” he replied. “And some sneakers. And a pair of slippers. And some dancing shoes, just in case… ”

“Very funny,” I said. “But really. An iron, a hair dryer, and several books. Is that about right?” I tossed his duffle in the back seat and placed the shopping bag in the trunk area. “I have some cold water, do you want one?”

“No, let’s stop for coffee on the way out of the city. My treat,” he said. “Now, tell me what held you up at the precinct? Some intense questioning by our favorite day of the week?”

“Hardly,” I said. “He wasn’t very friendly, and that asshole Gardner was dogging us, so I could hardly get a private moment with Ty, and then the strangest thing happened.”

“You know, Cassie,” Michael said. “I’m starting to realize that those words are actually pretty commonplace in your life.”

I stopped at an intersection. “Where do you want coffee from, Peet’s or Ahmad’s?”

“Go to Peet’s, it’s easier,” he said. “So, continue, what’s this strange thing?”

“Okay, I’m telling Ty about the card and asking him how I can go about getting it tested—it was a no-go on the PD running tests on it, in case you didn’t guess that already—and he was giving me his usual spiel about me not being a detective and all, and Gardner interrupts to say, ‘Hey Thornton, guess what? Your sister just got arrested in a smash-and-grab robbery.’”

“You don’t have a sister,” Michael said.

“That’s what I’m saying. How strange is it that I’m there asking them to investigate a card from your pretend sister when someone pretending to be my sister shows up downstairs! Isn’t that wild?”

He sniffed while I pulled the car to the curb and jumped out at the coffee shop. I ran inside and returned shortly with two steaming lattes. We sat in the car and sipped them for a few minutes while the windows steamed up.

“No muffins?” he asked.

“Really?” I said. “What do you want?”

“Never mind. I should start watching my weight anyway.”

“No, I’ll go back in. How about a couple of biscotti? They’re not fattening. And anyway, start dieting in January. It’s against the law to start watching your weight in December. It’s not natural. So, biscotti—chocolate or plain?”

“You have to ask?”

“Sorry. One of each. Anything else for the road? How about another coffee to share?” I asked. He nodded.

When I returned we each ate one biscotti, and then I divided the coffee between our two cups. When we were almost done, I said, “Ready to go? Or do you want to do a bathroom run before we get on the highway?”

“Just a minute,” he said. “I want to clarify this. So, you went in to ask Ty about the card from my imaginary sister Kristen, and while you were there, someone came in pretending to be your sister.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how bizarre that sounds?” he asked.

“Uh-huh,” I said. “Oh, and she didn’t just walk in, she was arrested. This sister of mine.”

“What did she say her name was?”

“Giselle. Giselle Carros,” I said. “And no, I’ve never heard that name before. And I don’t believe I have a sister, but I can’t be sure. My mother could have had other children that I don’t know about.”

“So I have a Kristen and you have a Giselle. And we’re off to celebrate Hanukkah in the land of the Pilgrims! Let’s hit the road, my friend. This sounds like a Bing Crosby ‘White Christmas’ show.”

"Maybe more like Chevy Chase's 'Christmas Vacation,' " I said.

"Hey, we should rent that," Michael said. His mood seemed to be improving as we drove up the West Side Highway.