Minding Frankie (38 page)

Outside the Carrolls’ house all was confusion. Lizzie was there crying and clutching a small suitcase; Fiona was hovering between the Scarlets’ front door and her own. Hooves was barking madly. Dimples was answering from the Carrolls’ back garden. Declan had taken Muttie to hospital. The taxi was on its way for Fiona and Lizzie.

“I’m going up to the hospital with Lizzie to be with her while we wait for news of him,” Fiona said as soon as Emily arrived.

“Can I move baby patrol up to Dr. Hat’s house? I’m sort of in the middle of a meal there.”

“Of course, Emily. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.…”

“No, it’s fine, don’t worry. Two old bachelors and myself. This will lower the age level greatly. Good luck—and let us know …”

“Right,” Fiona said, as the taxi pulled up outside the house. She grabbed Lizzie and the suitcase and bundled her into the back of the car. “Emily, you are amazing. Key under the usual flowerpot.”

“Go now,” Emily ordered. She ran to the Carrolls’ house and picked Johnny up out of his crib in the front room and fastened him into his buggy.

“We’re going for a visit to Uncle Hat and Auntie Emily,” she said. She pushed the baby buggy out the door, locked it behind her and then put the key carefully under the flowerpot.

Dr. Hat and Michael were suitably impressed with little Johnny. The boy, exhausted from the journey, fell asleep on Dr. Hat’s sofa and was covered with a blanket. The meal continued seamlessly.

Hat admitted, when he produced dessert, that he had not made the meringues himself but had bought them in a local confectionery shop.

“I think he’d have gotten away with saying he made them himself, don’t you, Michael?” said Emily.

Michael was flushed with wine and good humor. “I’d have believed anything Hat were to tell me tonight.” He beamed at them. “Never saw such a change in a person. If that’s what retirement did for you, Hat, then lead on, I say. And I do admire the way you all look after these children. It was never like that in our day—people were stressed and fussed and never believed that anyone else could look after a child for more than two minutes.”

“Ah, they have it down to a fine art,” Dr. Hat said proudly. “Whenever Johnny and Frankie need a minder, they’re all here on tap.”

“Frankie?” Michael asked.

“She’s my cousin Noel’s daughter. He’s bringing her up as a single father and doing a great job of it too. Actually Noel has a date tonight. All of us chattering spinsters have great hopes for this girl Faith. He’s entertaining her in his own apartment.”

“And so Faith is meeting the baby tonight?” Michael asked.

“No, she knows the child already; she goes in to study there, you see. But the baby is out for the night to give them a bit of space, I think.”

“So who’s minding Frankie tonight?” Michael asked. His question was innocent—he was fascinated by this toy town atmosphere, with good Samaritans coming out of every house in the street.

Emily stopped to think.

“It can’t be Lisa. She’s going out with the dreaded Moira. The twins are out on the town. The Carrolls have gone to a butchers’ dinner. Noel’s parents, my uncle Charles and aunt Josie, are in the west … who
is
minding Frankie?” Emily felt the first constriction of alarm in her chest.

If Noel had been going to bring in someone from outside the circle he would have told them. Moira had been behaving like a Rottweiler at the thought of any new face on the horizon.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll call Noel,” she said, “just to set my mind at rest.”

“You’d interrupt the boy’s first proper date with Faith?” Dr. Hat shook his head. “Think, Emily, she must be somewhere.”

“I have run out of options, Hat—let me call Noel.”

“I only want to say you’ll be annoyed with yourself when it’s all perfectly all right.”

“No. I’ll be able to sleep easy,” she said.

“Noel, I’m so sorry,” she began.

“Is anything wrong, Emily?” He was alert to her tone immediately.

“No, nothing. I was just checking something. Where is Frankie tonight?”

“Lisa took her down to Fiona and Declan’s earlier. I’m having a friend to dinner.”

“To the Carrolls’ house?”

“Is everything all right, Emily?” he asked again.

“Everything’s fine, Noel,” she said and hung up immediately. “You two mind Johnny here. I must have left Frankie in the Carrolls’ house. There was only one baby in the crib.” She was out the door before they could ask any more.

Emily ran down St. Jarlath’s Crescent at a greater speed than she had known to be possible. What had Fiona said? She hadn’t said “babies.” She had said “baby patrol.” Her hand shook as she reached under the flowerpot for the key and opened the door.

“Frankie?” she called as she ran into the house.

There was no sound.

In the kitchen there was a second crib with some of Frankie’s toys in it. Frankie’s buggy was parked beside it. There was no sign of the child. The strength left Emily’s legs, and she sat down on a kitchen chair to support herself.

Someone had let themselves in and taken Frankie.

How could this have happened?

Then the thought struck her.

Of course! Fiona had come back home to check on things. Yes, that must be it.

She ran to Muttie and Lizzie’s house. It was dark and closed. She knew before she started hammering on the door that there was no one there. Now she was really frightened. Fingers starting to shake, she dialed Fiona’s mobile number. As the number connected, she heard a phone start to ring from inside the Scarlet house. It was Fiona’s ring tone—she recognized it. After a few seconds the ringing stopped and she heard the voice-mail message start.

Declan. She had to call Declan.

“Emily?” He answered straightaway. “Is everything all right? Is it the children?”

“Johnny’s fine,” she said straightaway. “He’s asleep on Dr. Hat’s sofa.”

“And Frankie?” Declan suddenly sounded alarmed. “What about Frankie?”

But Emily had already started running.

They tried to be methodical about it but panic overwhelmed them; the list was checked over and over. Signora and Aidan knew nothing about where Frankie was, but would join in any searches. No point in trying to contact Charles and Josie: they were miles away and couldn’t do anything; they’d just go mad with worry. It would be ages before Paddy and Molly would be home from the butchers’ dance. Paddy would be fueled with brandy and good cheer; Molly’s shoes would be too tight. Who could have come into the Carrolls’ house and spirited Frankie away? She couldn’t have got out herself and Emily had been back into the house and searched the place from top to bottom. Anywhere, any small space a child might be able to crawl into—she must be here somewhere.

She wasn’t.

Could somebody have been watching the house? It seemed less than possible and there was no sign of a break-in. There must be a rational explanation. Should the police be called?

Having left Faith in the flat to answer any calls and white-faced with anxiety, Noel ran in and out of all the houses in St. Jarlath’s Crescent. Had anyone seen anything? Anything at all?

He had sent Lisa a text and asked her to call him from the ladies’, out of Moira’s earshot. Lisa was shocked at how frightened she felt
when he told her the news. For the time being, she was
not
to come home. It didn’t matter where she went, as long as she kept Moira occupied. She felt sure that Moira must be able to tell something was wrong; nailing a smile onto her face, she went back to the table.

Up at the hospital, Lizzie wandered up and down the corridors asking plaintively when she was going to be able to see how Muttie was getting on. Fiona persuaded her to come back into the waiting room and sit down. They would wait for Declan to come.

He arrived twenty minutes later. “Well, he’s stable now but they’re going to keep him in for a while.” His voice was grim. “They’ve made him comfortable and he’s sleeping,” he said to Lizzie. “You’ll probably not be able to speak to him until tomorrow but he should feel better after a good night’s rest. We should all go home.”

Lizzie was pleased with the news. “I’m glad he’s getting a good rest. I’ll leave his suitcase in for him for tomorrow.”

“Do that, Lizzie,” Fiona said, realizing that there was something Declan hadn’t told her. Could this night get any worse?

It was a time of frantic comings and goings. Michael stayed with Johnny as Hat and Emily went through the whole thing over and over. At least a hundred times Emily must have said that she should never have gone along with the silly phrase “baby patrol.” She should have asked what it meant and how many babies were involved.

Hat, in her defense, said that it was all Fiona’s fault. Imagine having two babies in different rooms and not mentioning it! It was unheard-of.

Noel was almost out of his mind with grief and worry and rage—what were those idiotic women doing, risking his daughter’s safety
like that? How could they be so stupid as to abandon her in that house, leaving her prey to—who knew what? And as for him, it was all his own fault. Stella had trusted him with their daughter and he’d let her down, all because he’d wanted to spend some time with a woman. Now some monster, some pervert, had taken his little girl, and he might never see her again. He might never hold her in his arms and see her smile. He might never hear her voice calling him “Dada.” If anyone had hurt her, if anyone had touched a hair of his Frankie’s head … And in the middle of St. Jarlath’s Crescent, Noel knelt down on the pavement and wept for his little girl.

Lisa managed to escape Moira on two occasions by going back to the ladies’ room, but she couldn’t go on doing this all night. She decided to persuade Moira to go to Teddy’s birthday party at Anton’s.

“But I won’t know anyone,” Moira had wailed.

“Neither will I. Most of them will be strangers to me, friends of silly April, but come on, Moira, it’s free drink and it’s your birthday too. Why not?” And as Moira agreed, Lisa dragged herself together. She wished that she was at home with Noel helping to coordinate the search. There
must
be an explanation. Lisa had heard very little except a trembling hysteria from Noel about what could have happened.

“Noel, don’t hate me for saying this, but in the name of God, don’t go back on the drink.”

“No, Lisa, I won’t.” His voice was clipped.

“I know you’re cross with me, but I
had
to say it.”

“Yes, I realize you did.”

“Go back to where we were before I said it. She’s fine. There’s been a misunderstanding. It will be sorted.”

“Sure it will, Lisa,” he said.

·   ·   ·

Sergeant Sean O’Meara had seen it all and done it all and, if he was honest, he would say that most of it was fairly depressing, but this occasion was just bizarre.

An extremely drunk man called Paddy Carroll was explaining over and over that he had been at a butchers’ dinner and someone had spiked his drinks. He had started to behave foolishly and so he agreed that his wife should take him home in a taxi. The wife, a Mrs. Molly Carroll, said that she was not a serious partaker of alcohol herself and had been delighted when her husband agreed to come home with her, as her feet were killing her. But when they got home, they were bemused to find Frankie asleep in the crib and their own family—son, daughter-in-law and grandson—nowhere to be found.

They had tried to contact several people, but hadn’t been able to speak to anyone who might know what was going on. They’d tried to find the child’s father but had arrived at his apartment block not knowing which flat he lived in. What sort of people don’t put their names on doorbells, asked Paddy Carroll, looking around him accusingly. What sort of people don’t want people to know where they lived? So what were they to do?

“So, you want us to find this Noel Lynch. Is that it?” Sergeant O’Meara asked. “Had you ever thought of ringing him?” And he handed the phone to Paddy Carroll, who suddenly looked even more confused.

Faith was pacing up and down at Chestnut Court. She had a sheet of paper beside the phone and she perched nervously beside it, trying not to jump when it rang. Anyone who phoned in was asked for their telephone number, but she had little information to give out. Yes, Frankie was still missing; no, Noel wasn’t there, he was out looking. No, they hadn’t called the police yet, but the time was fast approaching when they would have to do so. They had agreed that if Frankie were not found within the hour, Faith would call the guards. There wasn’t long to go.

Noel had phoned her eight times already, knowing as he did that she would call him the moment there was any news.

She checked her watch again. It was time. She had to call the police. Hand shaking, she reached for the phone, and as she did so, it rang. Her stomach lurched. Anxiously she answered.

At first, she thought it was a crank call. The man’s voice on the other end of the phone sounded muffled, incoherent, angry, she thought at first, but soon she realized he might be drunk. No, Noel wasn’t there, he was … No, he had been at home earlier in the evening but … No, his daughter was missing and the police were about to be called.…