Eye of the Beholder (21 page)

“Give me the skinny.”

“The custodian at the mosque caught a couple of vandals in the act of spray-painting the floor where the worshippers kneel. He hollered at them, and the next thing he knew they attacked him and then ran off.”

“Is he hurt?”

“Beaten pretty badly—taken by ambulance to Seaport Community. I was just on my way over there, hoping to get his statement.”

“Have you been to the crime scene?”

“Yeah, the imam’s pretty upset—not just about the mosque being desecrated, but because of what was written on the floor.” Al arched his eyebrows. “ ‘Muslims are demons and deserve to die.’ ”

“That ought to light someone’s fuse.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” Al said. “The imam also found a neck chain with a Star of David on the floor. Must’ve fallen off one of the vandals.”

“When did this happen?”

“About an hour and a half ago—just in time to mess up the evening call to prayer at the mosque. Those two clowns probably timed it that way.”

“Any idea how they got in?”

“Not for sure. But my guess is the custodian was busy working and didn’t have the door locked. There were a few other people working in the offices, but no one saw anything.”

Will took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
So much for Margaret’s meatloaf
. “Okay. Let’s go over to the hospital and see what the victim can tell us.”

Guy Jones sat at his desk, trying to reach a good stopping point. He glanced at his watch and realized it was already five-thirty—and he still hadn’t heard from Duncan.

He pulled Duncan’s business card out of his pocket and dialed.

“Yeah.”

“This is Guy. Where are you? Why haven’t you called?”

“I’ve got a slight problem. I think Kinsey gave me the slip.”

“What do you mean, you
think
?”

“She pulled into the Lamplighter Motel and parked in front of the room on the end. I drove around the back of the building, thinking I’d stay out of sight till she went inside. I didn’t have her out of my sight more than forty-five seconds. I guess that’s all she needed.”

Guy tilted his chair back. “I guess I’ll just have to play it her way. I don’t know why I cared where she was staying anyway. It’s not like I was going to rush over there.”

“Hey, it wasn’t a waste of time,” Duncan said. “I’m pretty sure she’d been staying there. I couldn’t get anything out of the manager, so I hung around and watched. Some dude in a black Lexus pulls up in front of the room and knocks on the door. Then he
starts banging on the door, shouting obscenities and threatening to beat the tar out of her.”

“Did he call her by name?”

“Not any name I can repeat. But I got his license number. A cop friend who owes me a favor says it’s registered to a thirty-nine-year-old white guy named Rob Blakely. I’m sitting outside his house as we speak. No sign of him yet.”

Guy jotted the name on his desk calendar. “Blakely must be the loan shark. I wonder how he found her.”

“Can’t be that hard. Maybe he’s got his own cronies keeping track of her.”

“Why do I get the feeling I’m in way over my head? Maybe I should just call the police and let them handle it.”

“Handle what? I’m sure they’re gonna care about a gambling junkie who borrowed from a loan shark. Call them if it makes you feel better, but I don’t think it’ll solve anything.”

“Well, I don’t want Kinsey to get her legs broken.”

“Loan sharks are lowlife, but if you pay them what you owe, they typically disappear.”

“Are you saying I should loan Kinsey the money?”

“Nah, that’s your choice. I’m just telling you what I know.”

Will stood with Investigator Al Backus, looking down at the battered face of the mosque’s custodian, who had been admitted to Seaport Community Hospital for observation.

“Sir, are you
sure
you can’t single out any distinguishing features of either of the vandals?” Al said. “The smallest detail can be helpful.”

The custodian shook his head. “Sorry. Only what I’ve already told you. One was much taller than the other. They wore ski masks—and black shorts and T-shirts, I think. It all happened so fast.”

“Did they say anything to you?”

“Not at first. When I caught them spray-painting the floor, I shouted at them. That’s when they charged me and knocked me to the ground. They kept punching me and kicking me over and over. I thought they were going to kill me. Finally one of them said, ‘Come on, that’s enough. Let’s get out of here.’ But the guy kept punching me till the other one pulled him off. Then I heard them run away.”

“Can you describe his voice?”

“Deep. Young. Really nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Would you know it if you heard it again?”

“Maybe.”

“Did anything they did or said lead you to think they might be Jewish?”

The custodian snickered. “Other than they defiled our mosque and beat up on a Muslim?”

“The imam found a Star of David on a gold chain on the floor of the mosque,” Backus said.

“The infidels probably dropped it on purpose—just another way for them to defile what is holy!”

“I know this must be hard. We’re going to do our best to find out who vandalized the mosque and did this to you.”

“Allah will not be mocked. They will pay.”

“Yeah, well, how about giving
us
a crack at them?”

The nurse came into the room and injected something into the custodian’s IV. “You promised not to stay longer than ten minutes.”

“So we did.” Al gave her a phony smile, then looked down at the custodian. “We
will
get to the bottom of this. All we ask is your patience and cooperation. We may need to ask more questions later.”

The custodian nodded, his eyes heavy.

The nurse stood staring at Will and Al, her hand on her hip. “That morphine will make him useless to you for a few hours. The doctor said he needs to rest.”

“Yeah, okay,” Al said. “We’re leaving.”

Will got up and followed Al into the hallway. “We need to be prepared for retaliation.”

“Maybe not. I doubt the Muslim community wants to draw attention to itself right now.”

Will put his hand on Al’s shoulder and began walking down the long corridor. “Yeah, right. Have you ever known a Muslim to turn the other cheek?”

Guy walked into his room at the Holiday Inn Express and laid his briefcase on the desk. He took off his suit coat, hung it on the back of the chair, and pulled off his tie. He flopped on the bed, his thoughts racing faster than his pulse. Everything in him wanted to call Ellen and tell her what was going on. But he doubted she would go along with lending Kinsey the money. Was he supposed to just let Kinsey fend for herself?

Ellen hadn’t been there to see the terror in Kinsey’s eyes or to hear Duncan tell of Rob Blakely beating on her door at the Lamplighter Motel. If loaning Kinsey fifteen thousand dollars would make all that go away and save her from heaven knows what, wasn’t it the right thing to do? The poor girl was desperate. It had to be humiliating for her to admit to him the mess she’d gotten herself into.

Guy felt clammy all over. Which sin was greater: not telling Ellen or abandoning Kinsey into the clutches of an angry loan shark?

Lord, I’m in so deep I don’t know what to do. Please help me make the right decision
.

Guy fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. How was he supposed to find time to do everything on his plate: make the bank withdrawals, meet Kinsey, hire a bodyguard, counsel clients, meet with the partners, be in court, keep up with paperwork, ride herd on the temp, get settled in a new apartment?

He got up and ordered a pizza, then flipped on the TV to CNN Headline News. He changed into shorts and a T-shirt, only half listening until he heard the name Seaport mentioned. He picked up the remote and turned up the volume.

“… This small town in the Florida Panhandle just can’t seem to stay out of the news. Last evening a group of teenage boys threatened to behead the children of a Muslim couple in one of the city’s parks; and late this afternoon, vandals spray-painted a racial slur on the floor of a local mosque, then beat the custodian and fled.

“All this following the FBI’s arrest last week of five Arab men, accused of disguising and transporting bomb-making materials and a surface-to-air missile on a fishing boat. The FBI also questioned a Seaport oncologist, Dr. Ali Tehrani, and his nephew Bobak Tehrani, in connection with that incident. Sources told CNN that the FBI expects to make more arrests in the case.

“In Washington today, President …”

Guy took his cell phone out of his shirt pocket.
For cryin’ out loud, Ellen, the guy’s being named on CNN!
He pushed the auto dial and let it ring once, then changed his mind and turned off his phone. Not now. Not tonight. He just didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

Ellen Jones sat in the living room at Owen and Hailey’s, thumbing through the latest issue of
Newsweek
—not that she remembered a word she’d read. She couldn’t get Guy off her mind.

Owen came in the living room and sat in the La-Z-Boy. “Hailey’s already gone to bed. I can’t believe she was that wiped out just from a job interview. She doesn’t seem to have any energy right now.”

“She really wants to find an HR position, Owen. She doesn’t find it easy to stay busy at home.”

“I’d think she’d be happy to let me handle the pressures of a career. Surely she could find
something
to occupy her time.”

Ellen smiled. “Don’t you think Hailey wants to feel as though she’s doing something significant—not just occupying her time?”

“She could do volunteer work.”

“I’m sure she could. But she wants to work in her chosen field. Would you be happy abandoning your CPA background for something to fill in your days?”

Owen pulled up the side lever on the La-Z-Boy and pushed himself back, his feet elevated. “I’m not the one who’s going to be a stay-at-home mom someday. I
have
to advance my career.”

“I understand that. But Hailey shouldn’t stop advancing hers because you might have children someday.”

“I guess you’re right.” Owen seemed to be studying her. “You’ve been quiet tonight. You worried about Dad?”

“I’m trying to leave him in the Lord’s hands. But I’m definitely concerned. I hope he decided to hire a bodyguard.”

“You still mad at him for letting Kinsey stay at his apartment?”

“I’m disappointed he used poor judgment.”

“You seem mad.”

Ellen caught his gaze. “Owen, I’m not going to talk about this with you. Your father and I have a number of issues we’re working on.”

“Like the Tehranis?”

Ellen turned the page on her magazine. “I told you I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Mom, you can’t blame Dad for being upset. Dr. Tehrani’s name is all over the news.”

“Yes, and we all know how reliable the news is.”

“Why are you being so stubborn? You’re not all that close to Mina.”

“It’s a principle, Owen. Why should I be coerced into distancing myself from the Tehranis just because the media decides
to create a story? Mina and Ali are warm, caring people and they’re not involved in anything wrong.”

“Is it worth antagonizing Dad over some neighbor you met when you were out jogging? Why do you care?”

“Because
God
cares. Since when are we as Christians supposed to act like the world? Mina and Ali are not plotting evil against the United States, and, in fact, are making a positive contribution. I refuse to shut them out just to satisfy your father’s ego or the unwarranted suspicions of others!”

“All right, all right, sorry. I was just asking.”

Ellen turned the page on the magazine, her temples throbbing, and glanced up at Owen. She closed the magazine and put it on the end table. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I just feel so strongly that we aren’t supposed to judge any group of people by the actions of fanatics. I can’t speak for the rest of the Muslim world, but Mina and Ali are fine people who don’t deserve to be persecuted.”

“People are scared, Mom. They don’t know who they can trust.”

“So we should assume all Muslims are guilty until proven innocent? That’s your answer?”

Owen lifted his eyebrows. “It’s probably safer.”

Guy was aware of an annoying ringing noise and his stomach feeling as though it were on fire. He sat straight up, his eyes heavy, and realized his cell phone was ringing. He groped his pocket and fumbled for the Talk button.

“Hello.”

“It’s Duncan. Did I wake you up?”

Guy glanced at the digital clock and could barely make out the numbers: 11:10. “Uh, yeah, I guess so. I must’ve dozed off. What’s up?”

“I’m sitting a few houses down from Blakely’s. He’s had six
visitors just since he got home around 9:00. Pretty scuzzy-looking characters—all males, all driving pricey vehicles: luxury sedans, sports cars, cowboy Cadillacs.”

“What’s a cowboy Cadillac?”

“One of those big good ol’ boy trucks with all the extras—costs almost as much as your Mercedes. Thing is, all of these guys went in empty-handed and came out carrying a bag.”

“You think they’re Blakely’s cronies?”

“I don’t know. I need to get a little closer to this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t ask.”

Guy got up and grabbed the bottle of Maalox off the desk and popped two tablets in his mouth. “What’s the big secret?”

“It’s not a secret, just a hunch. Go back to sleep and let me do my thing. I’ll call you when I have something.”

“How am I supposed to sleep with this big mystery hanging over me?”

“You’ll sleep better than you would if I told you every possibility running through my mind. I don’t like to speculate till I have more facts, and there’s no way I can know anything for sure without more time. You want me to stick with this or not?”

“Of course, I do. Still no idea where Kinsey is?”

“No, sorry. But our one link to her is Blakely.”

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