Authors: Hilary Norman
“Why in hell not?”
“Because he’s en route between one convention in Los Angeles and another in Honolulu.”
“What about his office?”
“The office closed at six today for an early weekend, and his answering service is referring emergencies to another physician.”
“He must have staff – a secretary. Someone must have access to his files so we can find out what he put in Lally. Where is Ash’s office, for Christ’s sake?”
“In Pittsfield, but no one’s going to be there till Monday morning.”
“What about the hospital where Ash did it?”
“Place called the Taylor-Dunne in Holyoke. I already tried them.” Sheldon sounded exhausted. “They said Ash always uses his own stock of pacemakers. I’m sorry, Joe, but
until he arrives in Honolulu and checks into his hotel, there’s nothing more I can suggest.”
Still failing to reach Toni Petrillo by phone, Joe made the decision to stretch the commander’s few hours by taking the earliest available flight out of O’Hare on
Friday morning to Albany, New York, and catching Route 90 south-east to Stockbridge. It was lunchtime when he arrived at Lally’s house, letting himself in with his spare key. There, in the
sitting room, watering his sister’s plants without a care in the world, was Toni Petrillo.
“Where have you
been
?”
“And hello to you, too, Duval.” Toni, five feet two inches tall with springy golden hair, innocent blue eyes and chubby cheeks, always took an insouciant attitude with Lally’s
big brother in order to hide the outsize crush she’d had on him since childhood.
“I’ve been calling you for almost twenty-four hours.”
“Really?” Toni was surprised. “I’ve been home – at least when I wasn’t at Hugo’s or here.”
“Then why didn’t you answer the phone?” Joe asked belligerently, and swept right on. “Where are they?”
“I presume you mean Lally and Hugo.” Toni set down the copper watering can on the sideboard, Nijinsky wound around her ankles, rubbing.
“Don’t be cute, Toni. Where are they?”
“On vacation.”
“ I know that, but where?”
“Why? What’s up?” For the first time, Toni looked concerned. “What are you doing here, Joe? Did Lally know you were coming?”
Joe took off his anorak and tossed it onto the settee. “Toni, for the last time, tell me where they are.”
“They’re in Florida.”
“Florida?” It was one of the last places he’d thought of. He pictured matrons sunning themselves on Miami Beach and new alarm filled him. For Lally to have submitted to Miami,
she must have been really sick. Not that that was nearly as important as it ought to have been, given the circumstances. He refocused on Toni. “Where in Florida?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must know.” Joe glared at her.
“I don’t.” Toni’s mood notched up a gear from concern to anxiety. “Joe, I don’t know because Lally didn’t know herself. She and Hugo decided at the last
minute, and all she told me was that they were flying to Miami, and that they were probably heading for the Everglades, or maybe the Keys.”
“Jesus.” Joe remembered reading somewhere that the Everglades National Park alone covered well over a million acres.
“Joe?” Seeing his expression, Toni’s anxiety shot all the way up the scale to fear. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I need to find Lally.” His voice was very strained. “And fast.”
“Can’t you tell me why?”
“No.” He grew gentler. “Toni, think back and think hard. Did she say anything –
anything
at all that might narrow it down a little. We’re talking about
thousands of square miles.”
Toni shook her head, then brightened a fraction. “I did hear Hugo complaining in the background – something about hating alligators. Lally laughed at him, but you know how soft she
is, she’d never make him do anything he really hated.” She paused. “Joe, does this have to do with her being sick? She’s fine now, she’s going to be okay – ”
“So you think they might have gone straight to the Keys.”
Toni stared at him. “I don’t know.”
Joe sank down in an armchair. The light flashing on Lally’s answering machine caught his eye, and he stood up again. Six messages. Only one was his. He rewound the tape and listened. Two
of the messages were from mothers of pupils, wanting to know when Lally would be starting classes again. Three were from a man called Chris, wanting to know where Lally was. His voice was warm, but
growing increasingly urgent by the final message.
“Who’s Chris?” Joe asked Toni.
“Chris Webber. His daughter’s one of Lally’s star pupils.”
“He didn’t sound like he was calling as a father.”
Toni hesitated only briefly. “I think he’s interested in Lally.”
“Is she interested in him?”
“Yes, and no.”
“What does that mean?”
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
Joe was in no mood for evasion. “Are they seeing each other?”
“No.” Toni hated talking about Lally behind her back. “Nothing’s happened between them.”
“But he’s married, right?” A brief flicker of anger passed through Joe, but he doused it. Concerns like that belonged to normality, to a life in which his sister wasn’t
walking around with a time bomb inside her.
“Is Lally in some kind of danger, Joe?” Toni was growing more afraid. “You have to tell me at least that much. I don’t understand what’s going on.”
Joe’s mind was working. “Where can I find Webber?”
“He lives just outside Stockbridge, on 102.”
“Where does he work?”
“He’s an artist, he works at home. Joe, it isn’t like that – there’s nothing to get heavy about. Chris’s wife is – ”
“I’m not concerned with their relationship, Toni,” Joe interrupted. “Lally might have said something about the vacation to him.”
“But you heard him – he doesn’t even know they’ve gone.”
“She still might have dropped something.” Joe was back on his feet, picking up his anorak. “Do you have his address?”
Toni was up, too, the local directory in her hands. She tore a corner off the
Berkshire Eagle
, wrote down the address and phone number and gave it to Joe. He zipped up his jacket and
walked out to the front door.
“This isn’t fair.” Toni was near frantic. “You can’t just leave me like this. At least give me something I can do.”
Joe relented a little. “Poke around, see if you can find anything to help – maps, or maybe they marked some guide books, or wrote something down, whatever. And keep thinking back
– maybe she said something you didn’t think was important, something you’ve forgotten.” He stooped and planted a kiss on her head. “I’m sorry, Toni, I wish I
could share this with you, but I can’t.” He opened the door, then turned around. “If Lally or Hugo were going to call you, they’d try you at home, wouldn’t
they?”
“Or at the café. But I don’t expect them to call.” She thought. “But what if my phone’s broken? You couldn’t get through.”
“When you’ve finished looking around here, go home and have the operator test it – tell them it’s an emergency – give them my name if it helps. And tell
whoever’s working at the café to make sure that if Lally or Hugo call, they take a contact number and tell them to stay put. Stay
put
– you got that?”
“I’ve got it.”
Joe had expected to dislike Webber on sight, but he didn’t. The man was home alone, apparently painting, judging by the smell of varnish and the fresh smears of colour on
his blue fisherman’s sweater. Two friendly German Shepherd dogs stood behind him, wagging their tails at the sight of a visitor. Joe watched Webber’s face as he introduced himself. At
the mention of Lally’s name, the other man seemed almost to light up. There was no wariness, no shadowing of guilt. Joe knew right off that Chris Webber was in love with his sister, and that
he had no problem with Joe knowing about it.
Chris knew nothing whatever about the vacation.
“I didn’t even know they were going.”
“But you knew she’d been sick.”
“Yes.” Chris saw Lally’s grey eyes duplicated in her brother’s sharp face. “You didn’t?”
“No.”
“I saw her last Saturday.” Chris tried to be reassuring. “She was in really good shape. These pacemakers are wonderful things. The doctors say she can do anything now that she
could before.”
They were still standing in the hall. The atmosphere between them was thick enough to cut.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Chris asked.
“You can.”
The kitchen was big and airy. The draining board was crowded with pots and pans washed but not put away. A loaf of bread stood on a board on the oak table, surrounded by crumbs, a mug of stale,
cold coffee beside it. Joe wondered about Webber’s wife, and another touch of anger bristled down his spine, but he put it firmly away.
“I need to find Lally urgently,” he said. “You’re absolutely sure she said nothing about a vacation when you last saw her? Has she ever said anything about wanting to
travel to Florida?”
Chris shook his head. “I haven’t known Lally well for long. And no, she never talked about travelling anywhere. I kept leaving messages because I was getting anxious about her not
being there – in fact, I was going to go to the café later on today if I didn’t hear from her.”
He poured fresh coffee into two cups and set them down on the table. With his right hand he brushed the crumbs into his left, and tossed them into the waste disposal. The two dogs hung around
for a moment, then lay down together in the far corner.
“Can I get you something to eat?”
“No, thank you.” Joe noticed the clock on the wall. It was almost two o’clock. “Can I use your phone? It’s long-distance, but I’ll get time and
charges.”
“No need.” Chris moved a white telephone with a long cord from one of the work tops and set it down next to Joe. “I’ll be in the next room.”
Joe called Hagen Pacing and asked for Cohen.
“Joe, where are you?”
Joe told him.
“And Lally’s in Florida?” Cohen was dismayed.
“Probably in the Everglades or the Keys, but no one knows where.” Joe swallowed some coffee. “Did you check to see if Dr Ash is a Hagen customer?”
“Yes, and he is – but apparently he buys from other companies too, so it doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”
“But we can’t rule it out. Has Dr Sheldon been trying to reach me?”
“No, but Jackson wants you. Ferguson’s been on Chief Hankin’s back.”
“I’ll go see Sheldon again, try to talk the local force into letting us into Ash’s office in Pittsfield.”
“When are you coming back?”
“As soon as I’ve located Ash or Lally.”
“You’re not thinking of going to Florida?”
“If I have to.”
“You have to be here, Joe. You’ve a task force to run.”
“We’re talking about my sister’s life,” Joe said tightly.
“They can find her without you.” Cohen knew how stubborn Joe could be, and he was talking fast. “You don’t even know Florida – and even if you do find her, and even
if her pacemaker was manufactured by Hagen, that’s even more reason to find the son of a bitch who did it, so the medics can decide how to get it out of her safely.”
“I have to get off the phone now, Sol.”
“You have to call the commander.”
“I will.”
“Ferguson wants to talk to you.”
“Tell him I’ve nothing new to say.”
“You can’t just let everyone down, Joe, you know that.”
“I know that my sister’s life is in danger.” Joe kept his voice down. “I know there’s an outside chance that any moment now she could die, just like Marie Ferguson
or Jack Long or the fireman.”
“Joe, let me help with this.” Cohen became more urgent. “Go see the doc, try getting into Ash’s office or whatever, and meantime, we can contact the Florida State Police
about searching for Lally.” He, too, lowered his voice. “If you get suspended, it’s not going to help her or any of the others. You’ve got to stay inside the investigation,
you have to.”
“I’m going now, Sol.”
“Call the commander.”
“I will.”
“Now.”
“Soon.”
“And mind you stay in touch.” All Cohen’s affection and concern were in his voice. “Good luck, Joe.”
“Thanks.” Joe put down the receiver.
“What’s going on?”
Joe looked around, startled. Webber stood in the doorway, his face pale, his expression shocked.
“I heard what you said. What’s going on?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Sure you can.”
Joe shook his head. “It’s a police matter.”
Chris came and sat down at the table. His hand were clenched into fists. “You said Lally’s life is in danger.”
“I didn’t know you were listening.”
“I was on my way in to get a rag.” Chris’s voice was cold. “If you didn’t want me to hear, you shouldn’t have made the call in my kitchen.”
Joe didn’t answer.
“What happened to those other people?” Chris persisted. “Marie Ferguson and Jack Long and the fireman. Who are they? What happened to them?”
“I can’t tell you,” Joe said again.
“If Lally’s in some kind of danger, I want to know.”
“Do you consider you have some kind of special right over my sister?”
“No right at all, except that I’m in love with her.”
Joe looked at the ring on Chris’s left hand. “Does your wife know?”
“No.”
“Are you living together?”
“My wife’s in a clinic,” Chris answered steadily, “being treated for alcoholism. And before you ask, nothing at all has happened between Lally and me. She doesn’t
even know how I feel about her – or at least I haven’t told her.” He paused. “You said on the phone that she could die at any moment. So I take it we have to find
her.” His jaw was set tightly. “I want to help.”
“You can’t.” Joe stood up. “I have to go.”
Chris got up, too. “You can’t.”
“Are you going to stop me?”
“Are you carrying a weapon?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll certainly try to stop you if I have to.”
Joe looked the other man in the eye for one more moment. He was a married man with one daughter that he knew about, and he’d fallen in love with Lally while his wife was sick, and he knew
he ought to have despised him on sight, and at another time he’d probably have punched him in the mouth. Yet right now, with all that was happening, he found himself trusting Webber, and it
made no sense to do that, but it was another one of those gut reactions, and he knew he was going to go with it.