Best Defense (5 page)

I considered what he'd said. “Could happen. Hammonds admitted he defends some pretty scurvy people.”

Ralph continued, “That might mean the little girl's already dead and her body hid some place she can't never be found. Wouldn't that give the guy the best revenge on Hammonds?”

“No way,” Dabba said, jumping in hard. “She's alive. I feel it in my bones. She's alive, and I ain't gonna put up with nobody saying no other shit.”

“I didn't mean nothin',” Ralph said, leaning away from Dabba. “I was just speculatin'. It don't mean she's dead, but you gotta admit, there's some nasty people getting out of prison every day.”

As Dabba took the floor, arguing with each of the others who dared to be pessimistic, I studied her. The woman was a force. Then I remembered her. She walked away from the first case I brought to Bob and his friends, saying it meant nothing to her. Perhaps she had to be emotional to participate. And emotional she was. Her eyes flared, but there was no fear there. If anything, she reflected determination with every gaze, every word. Even Dot deferred to her.

They fell back into silence, then Dot said, “I agree with Dabba. We're gonna find that little girl.”

With that, each of the others said they wanted to help.

Bob said, “Okay, we're in agreement then. We're at your disposal, Beth. I suggest everyone stay here tonight and get as much sleep as you can. We have to be ready to roll in the morning, to start looking for this woman.” He tapped the sketch. “When the kidnappers make contact, we have to be there for Beth. She'll need eyes in back of her head.”

six

I walked out of
Bobby's Bar, feeling like bowling balls sat on both shoulders. No case had ever seemed so impossible. The well-being of a five-year-old depended on me and so far, I had nothing. True, I had gained allies, but without information to feed them, I had little reason to think they could help.

With the future so uncertain, I grabbed a moment for David. I didn't care what he was doing, I needed to talk to him, and talk to him now. I dialed his number.

“Beth. So good to hear from you,” he said when he answered. “Aren't you up rather late?”

That sounded like a strange greeting, but I charged on. “I just wanted to hear your voice. I miss you and wish you were here. This is turning into one long week.”

“Yeah, me too,” he said.

Reality, or what I took to be reality, dawned on me. “Are you with someone? Can't you talk now? Where are you?”

“I'm in a cab on the way to the hotel. Phil Houston and Herb Warring are with me. We decided to share the tab since we're all staying in the Hilton. A group of us went out to dinner. It was a fascinating day. Some really good lectures.”

Rats. Obviously, he was unwilling to talk in front of the other doctors. Guess he didn't want them to know what a romantic he could be. So much for the solace I sought. “I understand. I just wanted to hear your voice and tell you how much I miss you. You go on with your evening. Maybe we can talk tomorrow.”

“Beth, I agree in every way. I'll try to call in the morning during a break. You get some sleep and take very good care of my favorite lady. I'll see you this weekend. Good-night.”

The phone went dead, leaving me hanging on the thought of a real conversation with him in the a.m. Then Ashley's plight took over again, slamming me back into depression.

Time to check in with Hammonds, even though I had a promise he or the police would contact me with any new information. For all I knew, the authorities might have talked him out of involving me. Besides, if there were no new developments, I'd have time to slip home, clean up, grab a few winks, and be ready when the kidnappers called. I punched in his number.

After several rings, while I pictured the police starting the recording equipment, a dog-tired voice said, “Hello, Beth. Nothing new here. They haven't made contact yet. I'm going slightly crazy with the waiting.”

“You need to grab hold of yourself, John. It's going to be a long and frustrating boat ride. You're the anchor around which we have to work.”

“Yeah, I know. The police keep telling me it's not unusual for the kidnappers to delay contact for a day or two—or longer. That doesn't make it any easier though. Do you want to talk to the duty cop?”

“Sure. Put him on. And, John … you need rest. You have to force yourself.”

A new voice came on the line, causing me to cringe.

“Hey, it's my favorite skirt-PI. Solve the case yet? Can I go home and get some sleep?”

Sargent. Just my luck to catch him with the duty. I knew I had to keep it official, rather than what I really wanted to say. “Anything new?”

“No. My mission is to stand by so I can keep you informed, and I have nothing to report. Is it okay if I don't stand at attention? Do you have anything to share with me?” His sarcasm dripped from his words.

So much for his having gained respect for me. Well, two could play that game. “If I knew anything, I'd call Chief Elston,” I said in my most caustic manner. “Just don't forget my phone number.” I flipped my cell closed. That man was just too insufferable.

I checked my watch again. One-thirty. I opted to use some time to make myself presentable for whatever the future held. Plus, I had some new hardware I wanted to pick up.

I headed for home where I crawled into the shower, enjoying the sting of the hot water as I thought about what to do the next day. First thing, if the kidnappers had not made contact, would be to go by Ashley's school and conduct some interviews. Maybe I could unearth something the police had missed, or trigger some forgotten detail. After that, I could canvas near the school with the picture, hoping the woman stopped somewhere along the line and would be remembered. Meager plans, but all I had.

After drying my hair, I slipped into a large T-shirt and a pair of men's boxer shorts, my favorite sleeping attire. Not what I'd use if David were there, but he was in California, and I was in South Florida. I might as well be comfortable. A few minutes later, I was in bed, and sleep pushed everything away.

_____

Somewhere far away church bells rang, and the sound irritated me. I wanted to shut them off, to tell them to quit clanging those damn clappers. There they went again. Shrill—too shrill. Not church bells.

My eyes flew open, and I registered the sound again. My bedside phone. I squinted at the caller ID and recognized Mom's number.

“Mom? What is it?”

“I … I'm sorry to wake you. I just don't know what else to do, who else I could call. I can't bother Harve. I mean, he has to go to work in the morning. He needs his sleep with that tough job he has. And you know Dolores is no help. She's a sweet daughter-in-law, and she gave me two wonderful grandchildren, but—”

“Mom. You're babbling. What's wrong?”

Harve is my brother, Delores his wife. They are Mom's favorites, even though they live in Wisconsin. And, of course, his job was more important than anything I did. They had two kids while all I had was a failed marriage to Sonny-the-Bunny. The divorce was the reason I was in Florida. Texas wasn't big enough for the two of us.

Sonny-the-Bunny? I nicknamed him that because of our bedroom encounters. You can fill in the blanks. But that's not why we divorced. I caught him playing his rabbit tricks with a doe other than me. I'm big on monogamy—especially in a husband.

“I misjudged him, Beth. He acted like such a gentleman at first.”

“Who, Mom? Slow down and tell me the whole story. Take a deep breath and start at the top.”

She inhaled, then exhaled into the mouthpiece, causing me to push the phone away from my ear. “The man I've been dating is sitting in his car outside. We've been out three, no four times. He's nice, fun to be with, but not … well, not someone I have that kind of interest in, if you get my drift.”

I got her drift. No sex.

“Anyway, tonight he wanted to come inside when he brought me home. I said no. We both knew what he wanted, and I didn't want to play. He got mad and said he wasn't leaving until I
put out
. Now he's parked across the street, a couple of houses down the block. He's been there for three hours.”

I looked at the clock—three a.m. That meant he'd been there since eleven, Dallas time. “Call the police. Tell them you have a stalker. They'll flush him out.”

“Beth, I'm not a stupid teenager. I did call. They sent a patrol car, but when it came down the street, Lanny drove off. Thirty minutes later, he was back.”

“Lanny? That's his name?”

“Yes. Lanny Strudnocker. And don't start on me. It's a perfectly good name.”

I muffled a snicker. When this was over, I'd make sure she paid for this one. Imagine, my mother out with a Strudnocker. I'd never let her live it down.

“And he's there now?”

“Yes, and I'm afraid he'll break in. He …” She took a deep breath. “He had a bottle in the car. If he's drinking … What do I do if he tries to force his way in?”

Time for me to pay better attention. Mom was serious. “Do you still have that .38 revolver in your nightstand?”

“Yes … no. It's on top of the nightstand.”

I rolled my eyes. Mothers can be so specific. “Good. Make sure it's loaded. Is your bedroom door closed and locked?”

“No. I want—”

“Forget want. Close and lock it now. Put that old straight-backed chair you keep in the bedroom under the doorknob. Then crawl in bed, put the phone in your lap, and listen. If you hear anything at a window or an outside door, call nine-one-one and report an attempted burglary. If he gets in without your hearing him and tries your bedroom door, put a slug through the door, chest high. If that doesn't stop him, wait until he steps into the room and blow him away. Don't hesitate. Just do it.”

“But Beth, Lanny is not—”

“No buts. You either put a bullet in him or be ready for rape and maybe worse. I'll call around and see if I can cash some IOU's. There must still be someone on the Dallas force who owes me. As soon as I have something lined up, I'll be back to you. Understand?”

“Yes, but—”

“Don't but me, Mom. Can you do it? I can't get help until I know you can take care of yourself.”

“Yes.” This time her voice sounded stronger. “If he hits that door, he's a dead man.”

“Good. Center of mass, Mom. Aim for center of mass—just like at the shooting range. Hang on. Help is on the way.” I hung up and rubbed my eyes, digging out the last vestiges of sleep.

I had tried to sound more confident than I felt. I'd been gone from the Dallas police force for three years and gone from Dallas for two. While I'd had conversations with old friends in the department, they had become more infrequent as time passed. Whom could I call? Whom could I expect to be on duty at two in the morning? And, it didn't help that Mom lived in Richardson, not Dallas proper where I had carried a badge.

I pulled my phone index from my nightstand and flipped through, looking for a name, any name that could help me. Nothing, no one, acquaintances once, strangers now. Then, pay dirt in the L's. Pam LaToya. Yes, Pam was a possibility. She was a detective on the night shift, or was the last time I spoke with her. We'd been pretty tight when I assisted on one of her cases while still a uniform. After I quit the force and became a PI, I trapped an embezzler and handed the collar to her. She owed me.

I dialed the number, hoping she still worked night shift.

seven

“Dallas Police Department, Northeast
Operations, Officer Morrison speaking,” a voice said into my ear.

At least the number was still current. That was a relief. “This is Beth Bowman. I used to be a uniform on the force. I'm trying to reach Detective LaToya. Is she available?”

“Bowman? Elizabeth Bowman? How the hell are you, Beth? I haven't heard a word about you in two-three years.”

Stunned, I tried to recall how the officer had answered the phone. Nothing. I was so intent on Pam I hadn't listened. One of my
many failings—not assimilating what I hear. “I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name. Who is this?”

He laughed, a sound that triggered a memory.

“Ike? Ike Morrison, is that you?” He had the most distinctive laugh I ever heard—somewhere between a serious case of the hiccups and a horse's neigh.

“Of course. Who'd you expect? You think the chief answers the phone here?”

Memories flooded in, images of an experienced officer who served as my unofficial mentor when I was a bumbling rookie. Ike Morrison seemed to materialize every time I did something dumb. He'd pat me on the back and say, “Same kinda mistake I made a bunch of years ago. I'll square it with the sergeant.” And he would. I might get a lecture, but Ike would stand beside me and help me absorb the wisdom in the words.

“What are you doing there?” I asked. “I thought you'd be retired by now, emptying every fishing hole in Lake Lewisville.”

“Naw. I tried it, but only lasted a year. Came crawling back, begging for any position they'd let me have. Since I'm so danged ancient, they gave me a night desk. I'm guessing you didn't call to renew old acquaintances though. Why do you need to contact Pam? You do know she kicked over to computer fraud, don't you?”

“No. I didn't know that.” I paused, hoping Ike still felt like stretching out a protective wing. “I'm looking for a favor. I live in Florida now, but my Mom's in Richardson. There's a stalker outside her window, and she's scared out of her wits.” I told him about her call, leaving out nothing, including the response to her nine-one-one call. I drew another distinctive laugh when I mentioned the name Strudnocker.

“She really went out with someone with that moniker? Tell her I have several unmarried friends with much better names. If she's anything like you, I can set her up in a heartbeat.”

“I'll let her know, but first I have to get her out of this mess. She dated him, now she's terrified of him. Can you do anything to help me?”

There was silence on the line as I pictured him sorting through possibilities. “Best I can think of is for me to clock out and go over and keep an eye on her. I have a patrol car and wear the uniform. It should be enough to encourage him to leave.”

“That would be wonderful,” I said. “But can you just walk away?”

“Sure. What are they going to do, retire me?” He rolled out the laugh again. “However, young lady, we're only solving her problem for the rest of tonight. Unless the guy does something overt, we can't arrest him or provide protection for your mom. What're you going to do come daylight?”

“I'm working on it. One problem at a time. How soon do you think you can be there? I have her sitting in bed with a gun pointed at the door. I'd like to tell her the cavalry is on the way.”

“Yeah,” he said, chortling. “Old, out-to-pasture cavalry. Sure hope I don't have to get in a foot race with him. He'd win, hands down.”

“Thanks, Ike. I owe you a fishing trip. Come to Florida, and I'll
charter you a boat.”

“You got it. Here's my cell number. I need yours, your mother's,
and her address. I'll call as soon as I'm in place and your stalker has hit the road.”

He read off his ten-digit number, and I wrote it down, feeling like the weight of the world was lifting off my shoulders. Then I reciprocated by giving him the info he needed.

“I'll call and let Mom know. What do you think—half hour?”

“I'm standing up right now. If you'll get off the phone, I'll be out
of here.”

It was my time to chuckle. “I'm gone.” I hit the disconnect button, then threw back my head and exhaled, a feeling of
all is well
enveloping me. It felt like I'd been holding my breath forever.

Easy part over. Now I had to call Mom and get her under control. I only hoped there were no bullet holes in her door yet. There was little doubt in my mind that the slightest noise would launch a round down range. Once my mother says she'll do something, it
will
be done.

When she answered, I said, “Mom. Hang on a bit longer. Things are under control.”

“Thank you, Beth. I'm so relieved. I don't have to call your brother, Harve.”

Thoughts ripped through my head best not repeated in mixed company. “Yes, Mom. Harve can get a good night's sleep.” I hesitated, then surged on. “Here's the deal. Ike Morrison, a Dallas policeman from my past will be outside your house in a few minutes. If your boyfriend doesn't leave, I'm sure Ike will come up with a reason to make him very uncomfortable. Ike will stay there as long as he thinks necessary to protect you. Does that work for you?”

“Oh, Beth, that sounds perfect. I had confidence you would come through for me, and this Ike sounds like such a gentleman.”

Sure, as long as it didn't inconvenience Harve. “Now, that takes
care of tonight. We need a plan for tomorrow and the next nights. Any ideas?”

I grimaced, thankful she couldn't see me, held the phone away from my mouth, and took a deep breath to gather my courage. Then I said into the mouthpiece, “Maybe you could visit Harve and Delores for a week or so. I'm sure your Snodbucket will grow discouraged with your absence.”

“Strudnocker. Strudnocker, not Snodbucket.” The line went quiet, then Mom said, “No. That won't work. Last time I visited them, it was awkward. They had to double up the kids in the same bedroom. They only have a three-bedroom house, you know.”

Crap. I had played my ace of spades, and she trumped it. Where to go next? “Mom, you have to get out of Dallas. Ike is going out on a limb tonight. I can't ask him to hang around forever.”

“Well, you could invite me to Florida. I mean, we never get to spend time together. This would be a perfect opportunity for some mother-daughter time. I could meet your boyfriend. If there's a chance he'll propose, I should really meet him first, don't you think? You remember what a big mistake you made the first time—even after I tried to tell you. I could catch a flight out in the morning.”

Damn. Trapped like a salmon charging up stream. I had leapt right into Mom's net. My mind spun like a centrifuge, but no fresh ideas popped out.

“Beth? Are you still there? You
do
want me to come, don't you? You can show me the beach. I have this great new bikini I found on sale a few weeks ago. If you like it, I can give it to you. It's pretty daring. Your boyfriend will love it.”

Just what I wanted, seeing my mom in a
daring
bikini—or worse yet, my being in one. I had the perfect drawer I could bury it in. There was only one thing to say so I said it, “That's a great idea, Mom. Book a flight in the morning, then call me with your arrival time. I'll pick you up at the airport.”

“That won't be necessary. I prefer to rent a car. I'll need some way to get around while you work your cases. You are working, aren't you?”

My suspicious mind said this might not be spontaneous. It sounded like she had everything worked out in advance. Was there really a Lanny Strudnocker outside her house? Whatever, s
he was still my mom, and I had to believe she had a problem. “Call
with your schedule, then call when you land. I'll meet you here at the house.”

“I need your cell number. You've never given it to me.”

Crap. Another trap I'd walked into. It's not that I didn't want her to have my number. I just couldn't afford her interrupting a surveillance or other case activity with one of her premonitions. But, like they say, when caught in a blueberry patch with blue lips and a blue tongue, just admit you're stealing blueberries. I gave her the cell number, then hung up with the excuse I expected a call from Ike at any moment.

Everything was coming together. Well, if you can call having my mother as a houseguest for an indeterminate amount of time coming together.

Don't get me wrong. I love her as much as any divorced daughter can love a mother who views marriage and kids as
the
number one priority for her offspring. Harve had not disappointed her. I had, and she let me know at every opportunity. That didn't mean she was one to say, “Get married and have babies.” No, she was much more subtle. I would hear things like, “Oh, Harve's children are so perfect. If
only
you could find a man to have babies with—after marriage, of course.” As if locating the perfect mate was as simple as shopping on the Internet.

Ouch. I remembered that David would be back Saturday, and there was no way I could keep from exposing him to Mom if she
was
still visiting. I had no doubt she'd be ready to propose for
me and stand in as Matron of Honor or Best Man—or both. Whoopee, my life wa
s taking a turn—straight down.

My phone rang. It was Ike letting me know he was in place, camped out in front of her house. As he had come down the street in his black and white, he saw a car pull away from the curb. Small and white, probably Japanese, was the best he could come up with.

I thanked him, hung up, and called Mom. “Okay, Mom, things are under control. If you look out the window, you'll see—”

“I see it. A police car. It's parked right across the street. It showed up a few minutes ago, and Lanny drove away. Is he going to stay there? Is that Morrisette you told me about?”

Some day, I might get to tell Mom a story without her taking over, but I doubt it. “Not Morrisette, Morrison. The driver's name is Ike Morrison. He's an old friend of mine. He'll stay until he's convinced your boyfriend is not coming back. Does that work for you?”

“I suppose. He won't fall asleep, will he?”

“No, Mom. He won't fall asleep. Now, I have to go. Get some rest.
Don't forget to call me with your travel details as soon as you work them out.”

I disconnected and turned off my light. I needed sleep, as much as I could get to prepare for the next day, especially Mom's arrival. Sunrise promised to usher in a humdinger. Then I remembered I still had Ashley's kidnapper to track. Oh boy, that raced past humdinger straight toward madcap. I was heading into a day like no other I'd ever had.