Best Defense (19 page)

When I returned, Dot stood under a shade tree, sipping a cola. I pulled over, and she got in. “Any luck?” I asked.

“Got a free soda and a couple of bucks, but that's about it.” She frowned, then continued, “Simonson has a long hallway that leads to the front door so I couldn't really see into the house. A maid opened the door and said
madame
wasn't home. There weren't no evidence of a child in the hall.”

“A maid?” I said. “I hadn't considered it, but wouldn't that work against Simonson being the kidnapper? I mean, she'd have to come up with some reason for Ashley being there, some cover story for the maid.”

“Don't you reckon she got all that worked out before she stole Ashley? She might be as good a liar as she is a kidnapper.”

“That's what I'd say,” Dabba threw in from the back seat. “Can't expect no kidnapper to tell the truth.”

All I could do was agree.

“If you want, I can check her garbage after everybody goes to bed,” Dot said.

“We'll see,” I said. “But first we have another address to check. It's on Magnolia.”

“I know that street,” Dabba said. “Ain't a bit like this one.”

Dabba was right. Apparently, Ms. Mankosky hadn't survived as well as Ms. Simonson. The neighborhood had a lower middleclass look about it. Several of the houses needed a fresh coat of paint. The yards were green, but there was a lack of quality shrubs. Most of them needed trimming and shaping. The Mankosky house was one-story, with a zero-lot line. I figured no more than three bedrooms. Again, the windows were dark, and again, I couldn't tell why. Since there were no hurricane shutters, I didn't figure it to be tinting, though. If you couldn't afford shutters in South Florida, why waste money on tinting? My guess was someone pulled the blinds, and that someone could be hiding something—like Ashley.

“What do you think?” I asked Dot.

“I can give it a try, but, neighborhoods like this, folks don't like to open the door.”

“Any other ideas?”

“Swing around the corner and lemme see if there's an alley. Maybe that's where the garbage truck makes its run. If so, I can check a few cans.”

I did as recommended, but there was no rear access. Apparently, garbage stayed in the garage and only appeared on trash day.

“Okay,” Dot said. “Let me out, and I'll bang on the front door. Give me thirty minutes.”

“I can do this neighborhood,” Dabba said. “Let me take it.”

“No, let's stick with the plan,” I said. “You stay with me.” She didn't appear to like it, but she complied.

I stopped, and Dot climbed out.

Thirty minutes later, Dot was back. “No one answered the door. I thought I heard someone inside, but can't be sure. I walked around the house, but couldn't see a thing. The blinds on all the windows is closed.”

“Did you check any other houses?”

She cut her eyes at me. “Of course. You think I'm some kind of rookie at this? Nobody answered on either side.”

“Humph,” Dabba said. “Anybody could have done that. I'm hungry. Let's find a McDonalds.”

thirty

An hour later, we
sat in a fast food joint, Dot and I watching Dabba eat. Dot had a soda and large fries. I kept it down to a soda, but Dabba went for the biggest combination on the menu. It had only been about three hours since our Mexican feast, but Dabba went at it like it was her last meal. I smiled at her gluttony, assuming the life she lived taught her to eat when she could because there might not be more for a while. No way I could argue with her.

My phone rang. The caller ID showed an area code I didn't recognize at first, then it clicked—New York—Maddy.

After my hello, she said, “Call Chief Elston. They pulled a print off the cigarette pack. He wants to talk to you about it.”

“Couldn't he tell you who it is?”

“He said it's more complicated than a simple ID. He's still uncovering information on the man. Give him a call at his office.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks for hounding him.”

“Before I let you go, I have to ask. Where did you find those friends I dropped off for you? I swear, we have
homeless
in New York that dress better than they do. And they sure didn't major in communication. When I tried to talk to them, all they did was grunt.”

I wanted to laugh, but held it. “Yeah, they're pretty special. But you'd be amazed at the skill set they bring to the game.” No lie in that. The homeless know things normal citizens never consider.

“Call if there's anything else I can do,” Maddy said. “I'll be at the house.” She hesitated. “Even pick up those people.” Her distaste dripped off each word.

I killed the call, then punched in Chief Elston's number. “What's up?” I asked when he answered.

“We ID'd the guy who assaulted you. His name is Larry Lawrence.” He chuckled. “Actually, it's Lawrence Lawrence. Guess his parents had a sense of humor.”

“Yeah, sick one,” I said.

“We got a solid match from the cigarette pack. This guy's a big, mean SOB who has spent more time in stir than on the street since he turned eighteen.”

My ribs must have heard what he said because they slapped me with a pain to say they agreed.

“But that's not the interesting part.” He paused, then finished with a flourish. “He was Mankosky's cellmate for two years. Rumor has it he was either Mankosky's boyfriend or his bodyguard. Either way, nobody messed with Mankosky when Lawrence was around.”

“What happened? Mankosky took a knife, didn't he?”

“Yeah. I wondered the same thing. Took me a couple of hours to make contact with the warden. Turns out Lawrence was in the infirmary with the flu when Mankosky bought it. Of further interest, though, is Mankosky's killer hanged himself in his cell. The warden said they classified it as suicide since he was all alone, and they couldn't prove anything different.”

“You're thinking Lawrence evened the score?”

“It's one possibility. Most of his crimes had to do with assault—sometimes during commission of another crime, but more often, because he felt like it. Be careful, Beth. As I said, he's a mean SOB with no qualms about hurting people.”

I remembered his attack the previous night. “I believe you. But bear in mind, I'm not a piece of pink fluff, either. Now, where is he? Where does he live?”

“That's a problem. He got out of prison about a year ago. For six months, he checked in with his parole officer like clockwork. Then he quit. The P.O. went to the address Lawrence had given, and it was a blind. He called the phone number and—”

“Dummy number, right?”

“You're right again. The natural thing is to jump all over the P.O., but these people have so many parolees to keep up with I'm surprised they do as well as they do.”

“I'm guessing your bottom line is the department has no idea where Lawrence is.”

“Sorry, but that's it.”

I looked at Dot and thought of closed windows with drawn blinds. I thought of a widow whose living status had dropped since her husband went to prison, never to return. I thought of a lower middleclass neighborhood on Magnolia Street, where she lived. I thought of an alliance that might appear ordinary on the surface—the grieving widow and the best friend of her husband. Then I remembered the ranking of suspects Hammonds put together at my urging. Number one on that list was Herbert Lowery Mankosky. Maybe his wife was filling in for him after his death. An image of the house re-formed. I pictured Ashley in one of those rooms, waiting for her parents to come after her.

“I know where he is,” I said. “And tonight, your people will capture him.” I paused, my mind racing, looking for a plan to end this thing without Ashley being hurt. “I'll get back to you, Chief. I gotta do some hard thinking.”

“Oh no you don't. Where is he? Is he the kidnapper? Talk to me, Beth. You're still just a PI. I'm still Chief of Police.”

“Sorry, Chief. I have to sort this out. You've dropped a load on me, and I need to get everything in order. Hang tight. I promise to get back to you.”

“Okay. Just don't go vigilante on me. This is still a criminal matter. Don't make me arrest you.”

I chuckled. “Now, you sound like Sargent. You know I'm a team player.”

“Like hell,” he said as I punched off.

I leaned forward in the booth. “Finally a break, Dot. We have work to do.”

“Me, too,” Dabba said through a mouthful of burger. “Gonna git my Linda back.”

“Yeah, you, too,” I said, wishing I could say anything except that. Somehow, I had to ditch Dabba before the witching hour. I felt sorry for her, but having her around, waving that gun of hers, was far from number one on my list of favorite things.

When Dabba finished her meal, we moved outside and sat at a table in the shade. I soon realized what a smart selection I'd made. We were beside a screened and covered children's playground. Dabba left us for a chair beside the enclosure where she could watch the kids play. She looked so sad, I almost reached out to her—almost.

“Okay, Dot, here's the situation.” I filled her in on what the chief told me and my supposition that Ms. Mankosky had Ashley and was in an alliance with Larry Lawrence. I finished by saying, “We're getting Ashley back tonight. Then we're saving John Hammonds four million dollars.”

“I like it,” Dot said, smiling. “What's your plan? What's my part?” She looked around. “And, uh, what you doing with Dabba?”

I pushed the hair off my forehead, sighing in the process. “The first answer is I don't have one yet, the second is I'm not sure, and the third is I don't have a clue.”

“Hot dang. The way we work best. Don't know what the hell we're goin' to do.”

I took a notebook from my purse, flipped it open, and began to doodle. “Here's what I'm thinking. Lawrence should be gone from the house by eleven. I figure he'll want to be in his hole so he can watch the money delivery. That'll leave Mankosky and Ashley. We—”

“And any other members of the gang,” Dot said.

I thought about it and the threats in the ransom notes. She was right. “Yes. And any others. But if you were running the show, wouldn't you have your people keeping an eye on as many of the drop sites as possible? I'd want to know what the police were doing, how they were handling it.”

“Yeah, makes sense.”

“And if I'm wrong, I'll have to take my chances.”

“You? What am I, roadkill?”

“No. You're my diversion. While you're getting someone to answer the front door, I'll be slipping in the back. Once I'm in the house, I'll have the element of surprise. And my Walther is a powerful persuader.”

“And me?”

“You come busting through the front door and grab whoever opens it. You still have my .38, don't you?”

“One of the things I love about you, dearie. You don't complicate things. Can't get much simpler than that. I like it.” She pulled at the straw in her soda, and a slurping sound was her reward. “But …”

“Yeah?”

“You ain't told me what you're doin' with Dabba.”

“You're a pain in the ass, Dot.”

“I know, dearie. But you love me for it. So?”

I looked at Dabba, who appeared mesmerized by the children. “I can't get rid of her, so I'll keep her with me. We can make it work.”

“I hope you're right, dearie. I sho' hope you're right.”

We sat for a moment without speaking. I don't know what Dot was thinking, but my mind was picturing the break-in at Mankosky's.
If it went right, we'd leave there with Ashley. But—that was the nasty
word I couldn't shake—if it went wrong, what would Ashley's fate be?

A woman left the enclosure where the children were playing and spoke to Dabba in a loud voice, “You're scaring my little girl. Why are you staring at her? You just quit it—
now
.”

Dabba opened her mouth, but I jumped in. “Sorry, ma'am. She just likes to watch children play. We're about to leave.” I switched to Dabba. “Come on. It's time to go.”

Dabba looked at me, then at the woman. “You got a pretty little girl. I used to have one, too. Somebody kidnapped her, and I never got her back.”

She stood and shuffled away, leaving the woman with an embarrassed look wrapped around a gaping mouth.

We shifted our location to a Starbucks where I called Chief Elston and told him my plan. He was not happy, but gave in when I threatened to call John Hammonds. He agreed to arrange for a four-man team to cover each drop site, from at least four blocks away. They would do nothing until he gave them a go-ahead, then they would swoop in, secure the money, and detain everybody in sight. The idea was to grab a bunch and shake out the guilty later. I hoped Bob had spread the word that none of his homeless should be in the four areas—except my watchers. I was confident they would be so well hidden, not even another homeless person could find them.

My part, other than rescuing Ashley and capturing Ms.
Mankosky, was to let the chief know when I had physical control of Ashley. I also told him my priority was Ashley. If I had to let the woman go, she could run. Then she'd be his responsibility.

He was adamant he needed to have someone with me, and I
was just as adamant I had all the help I needed. Finally, to throw him
a bone, I agreed he could have a team no closer than four blocks away from Mankosky's house, and they could take over once I secured Ashley.

“Beth, there's one thing you better be aware of. I don't know how you're planning to get into the Mankosky house or how you plan to grab Ashley, and I probably don't want to know. But, if it goes south, and you have broken any laws, you'll be treated like any other citizen. No favors. Understand?”

I exhaled a puff of air. “Yeah, I get it. But I don't think Mankosky will be pressing charges. She'll be too busy ducking.”

“Fine. That's settled, then. Now, who do you have working with you?”

I looked at Dot and Dabba and winked. “Some real pros. They could teach your boys some lessons.”

“So, who—”

“Dropped call,” I said and closed my phone. When it rang almost immediately, I turned it off.

I leaned back, reviewing the
plan
. A nagging point leapt to the front. Suppose I couldn't get in the back door. Maybe they had deadbolts. Maybe they had a chain on the door. Not getting that door open fast enough was the difference between success and failure.

I activated my phone and called a friend who ran a cop supply store. He and I had done business in the past when I needed something slightly out of the ordinary for normal citizens. In return, I ran down a couple of deadbeats who owed him money.

When he answered, I said, “Mo, Beth here. I need something.”

“So do I—a million dollars so I can retire. You got it for me?”

“If I had that much money, I'd retire and not have to do business with your shady operation.”

“Hey, it's not shady. I sell cop supplies to our law enforcement officers. Nothing illegal with that.”

“I know,” I said. “That's through the front door. What about that back entrance?”

“Enough, enough. You're on a cell phone, aren't you? What do you need?”

I told him, and he only groused for a minute or so before giving in. We agreed I'd pick it up within the hour.