Web of Deceit (3 page)

She’s right. I
do have feelings for Elliot. I’ve been fighting them since our first case
together. It’s just not a good idea to mix business with pleasure. We have
become such good friends. I wouldn’t want to mess it up. I would rather have a
crush forever than lose my best
…

The phone chirps
as a message arrives. Beth’s chest tightens, and she flips it open with
excitement and dread. Her eyes fall on the small screen.

“gr8, I m w8ng luv
;-)” The message’s caller ID is blocked.

What? I need to
text him back right away and let him know what happened. Or he knows that I was
out with Sam tonight. He’s messing with me. I’ll play along …
She chooses
to reply, “b home n 5 babe,” and presses
Send
.
Babe? I’m such a dork.
Why am I so mixed up about this? It’s simple. Sam set me up. Her phone wasn’t
dead. She will do anything to win a dumb argument. I bet the idea popped into
her head while typing Kyle’s hot risqué
…

“Eight–fifty,
lady,” the cabby says in a raspy voice.

Startled back to
the world, Beth pulls a ten out of her purse and hands it to him. “Keep the
change.” Grimacing, she opens the door and braces herself against the cold.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Beth
steps onto the sidewalk and wraps her coat tightly around her, pulling the
collar close to her ears. She wastes no time making her way toward the bright
warm facade of the Barstow. The building stands in the city’s cold January
night with a Victorian elegance from a time past.

“Good evening,
Miss Doyle.” Floyd’s friendly voice seems to warm the air as he gestures her
toward the door he is opening.

“I assure you,
Floyd, calling me by my first name will not get you into trouble.” Beth smiles
and rushes inside.

“Yes, of course,
Miss Doy … Beth.” The stocky middle-aged African American’s smile fades a bit.

It would seem
after thirteen years of service one of them would relent, but instead it
becomes more of a ritual each day.

Although tempted
by the convenience of the elevator, Beth prevails and takes the stairs.
Free
exercise, humph. It seems like a better idea in the morning after two shots of
espresso.

On the seventh
floor, Beth glances to the right.
That peace lily I put at the end of the
hall under the window could use some water. I’ll let the maid know.
She
pulls the apartment key from her purse.
I wonder if Elliot is still awake.
Beth
opens the door and hears a woman’s laughter.
Oh, apparently I’ve been
worrying for nothing. Elliot has obviously been busy.
She advances into the
kitchen.

“Hi, hon,” Elliot
says. “How’s Sam?”

“Great, she’s
still celebrating the big day to come.” Beth adds a strained cheerfulness to
her voice as she ambles to the refrigerator and grabs a bottled water.

“I’ll have to come
next time.” Elliot glances at the attractive blond standing in Beth’s kitchen
as if unsure how to introduce her. “This is Kelly.”
Not smooth. “
She
works at the coffee shop on Boylston.”

“Oh, Odell’s
place; we know him well.”

“It’s just a
part-time job,” Kelly says, making an excuse. “I’m really an actress.”

“That’s great …
I’m beat.” Beth feigns a yawn. “Heading to bed. See you in the morning. Nice
meeting you, Kelly.” She half hears them say goodnight as she climbs the flight
of stairs leading to the second level of the suite.
Huh, that was odd. No
mention of the text. I read too much into it—one of my gifts I guess. Wow, an
actress this time. It’ll never last. Ever since he left the Force, he seems to
go for shallow little wannabe girls. I’ll talk him out of her over breakfast …

Beep—beep.

Morning
already?
Beth stumbles across the unlit room toward the red glow of the
alarm clock.
Three
am
… odd.

Beep. Beep.

My phone.
Beth reaches for her phone on the dresser next to the alarm clock. Two new text
messages.
What?
!
With trepidation Beth presses
OK
.
Both
with blocked ID again.

u
tease :-(

Grrr
!
She
presses the arrow to the next message.

ul b sorry
>:-<,

Distraught, Beth
slams the phone onto the mahogany dresser top.
Whoever sent these messages
is the one that’ll be sorry when I find out who it is. Everyone knows I need my
sleep. This is out of control. I can’t believe Elliot would do this. Doesn’t
make sense. I should confront him. No … maybe he’s been drinking. He seemed
fine in the kitchen.

Beth moves with
caution to the tall, sturdy oak door, locks it and double-checks the windows.
She involuntarily surveys the naked street below. Restless minutes pass
without insight or illumination.
I need to get some sleep.
She settles
quietly back into her queen-size, heated water bed, wrapping her arms around
her pillow and holding it tight.
There has got to be a reasonable
explanation. Sam or Elliot wouldn’t do this. It doesn’t feel right.
Her
head falls into the pillow, still in her grasp, as her thoughts linger …

Knock. Knock.
Knock.

“I’m coming.” An
eleven-year-old Beth places her Nancy Drew Mystery Novel down on the coffee
table next to the sofa and hurries to the door. Beth opens the door a crack and
peers through. “May I help you?” Beth asks the gangly hotel manager, who is
avoiding her eyes and gazing down at the floor.

“Hi, Beth … do you
know … where your parents went tonight?” Anthony trips over his words,
continuing to evade eye contact.

“Yes, they went to
a Bible meeting with the Perkins downtown. Why do you ask? Is everything OK?”
Beth asks as she opens the door wider, confronted with two policeman standing
behind Anthony.

“This is Officer
O’Malley; he’d like to talk to you.”

“What’s wrong?” A
hurt grows inside, a knowing that something is very wrong.

“Hi, Beth, do you
have any relatives close by?” Officer O’Malley asks.

“No. Why? Anthony,
I don’t feel comfortable. I think you should leave and come back when my
parents come home. They will be back at any moment.”

“That’s why I’m
here,” Officer O’Malley says.

Ring. Ring.
Ring. Ring.

“I’ll be right
back; that must be them now.” Beth runs to the phone, hoping her parents are on
the other end. “Hello?”

“Hi, Beth, this is
Mrs. Perkins; is your mother there?”

“No, I thought she
was with you. I think something is wrong. My dad’s employee is here and a
policeman is with him.” Beth glanced over at the door with tears of confusion
rising to the surface.

“I’m using a lobby
phone; I’ll be right up.” Mrs. Perkins ends the call.

Why would she
be here?
Beth slowly places the phone on the receiver and returns to her
unwanted guests. “That was my friend’s mom. She’s on her way up. Maybe she can
help you,” Beth says, wanting her discomfort to end.

“Beth, can you
tell me what your parents were driving tonight?” Officer O’Malley asks.

“Their car; why?”
Beth asks, losing patience.

“Was it a green
Lamborghini?”

“You obviously
have talked to Anthony ahead of time, so stop beating around the bush and tell
me what’s going on.”

“There … has been
an accident, and the man and woman in the green vehicle didn’t make it.”

“What!? You’re
wrong; they will be home any moment. As a matter of fact, they probably took
the limo instead. You need to leave. I’ll have my parents call you when they
get in.”

“Beth, he’s
telling the truth.” Anthony interjects. “I’m so sorry, but … your parents won’t
be coming home; they didn’t make it.”

“It’s a lie!
You’re wrong!” Tears stream down her face and drip from her chin. “My parents
will be home any moment! Go away!”

“Beth!” Elizabeth
Perkins hurries out of the elevator rushing to Beth’s side. “What’s going on?”
She places her arms around Beth, trying to calm her down.

“There’s been an
accident, and Mr. and Mrs. Callahan didn’t make it,” Anthony answers.

“No …”

“It’s a lie! They
will be home any second!” Beth kicks the door hard. “AUGH!!!! Everyone, leave
now!” She collapses into Mrs. Perkin’s arms and sobs.

“Oh Beth, I think
they are right; that’s why I’m here. I thought I saw your parents’ car … It
didn’t look like … They’re telling the truth.”

“No! No! No!” Beth
pushes away from Mrs. Perkins. She pounds on the suite door with her fists and
kicks it again, oblivious to the pain. “Wake up, Beth! Wake Up!” she says to
herself, hoping, almost begging for it to be a dream.

“Oh, sweetie.”
Mrs. Perkins tries to comfort Beth.

Knock. Knock.
Knock.

“Beth, are you
awake dear?

“Mom? Is that
you?”

Beth’s mom,
Claire, enters the room. “Yes.”

“Mom!” Beth says
with excitement as she leaps from her bed to meet her mother in the middle of
the bedroom.
Beth wraps her arms around her mother and embraces her.
“Oh,
Mom, I have missed you so … much.
They said you wouldn’t be coming back,
but I knew they were wrong.” Beth weeps in her mother’s arms.

Her mother doesn’t
say a word; she regards Beth’s eyes with a peaceful smile as she leads her to
the bed and sits down beside her.

Sniff. “
Where’s
Dad?” Beth asks as she rubs her eyes.

“He’ll be in
soon.” Her mother gently pushes Beth’s long auburn hair away from her face.

“It was terrible.
They told me you were dead.” Beth reaches over and squeezes her mother again.
“I’ve missed you so … much.
Wait a minute. I’m not a child anymore.
That means … you really are dead.
Why do you have to be dead?” Tears
begin to flow down her cheeks.
“Since you’re in the know, what’s it
like?”

“You wouldn’t
believe me.”

“I want to know.”

“Blessed is the
name of the Lord.” As the words come out of her mouth, Claire begins to change
in front of Beth’s eyes.
The gray in her dark brown hair disappears,
along with her crow’s feet and laugh lines
––
all the signs of her
mother’s age disappear.
“It’s easy; just praise the Lord.”

“I’m dreaming.”

Knock. Knock.
Knock.

“What?” Beth
musters.
I miss you, Mom.

“Hon, meet me at
the coffee shop at eight,” Elliot says.

“What?” Beth
whines.

“Coffee
shop—eight!” Elliot says loudly enough to be heard through the door.

“’K!”

Elliot’s footsteps
fade as he descends the stairs.

Beth pulls the
comforter over her head.  While drifting back to sleep she hears the distant
thump of the apartment door closing.

Two hours later, the alarm screeches, waking Beth from a
sound sleep.  She throws the covers back and smacks the alarm silence button
twelve feet away in under four seconds.
Shower, coffee, meet
Elliot at eight. Mrs. Freedman at nine. Great, one hour before the chaos starts
… plenty of time.

Elliot, stretched
out on one side of the plush leather sectional, stirs.
Kelly is lying on
the adjacent section next to the windows on the south wall covered in the soft
gray blanket Elliot retrieved from his room.
He gazes at her beautiful
features lit by the flicker of the natural gas flame from the fireplace.
Beautiful,
but … not.
His eyes squint to make out the time on the missionary clock
above the mantle.
Four-thirty; she’ll be late.
“Kelly.” He rolls upright
and leans to shake her shoulder.
“Kelly,” he says louder.

Kelly opens her
eyes slowly.
“What time is it?”

“Four-thirty.”

“I’m gonna be
late. I am supposed to be there at five on Friday’s.”

“You can be late
this once.”

“Not if I want my
job.
This’ll be number four.”

“Four? Last month,
this week, or jobs?”

“Augh!”
Kelly
jumps to her feet.

“
Relax, use
the shower.
I’ll take you. You’ll be there with time to spare.” Elliot
attempts to calm Kelly with a wide smile.
“The towels are in the linen
cupboard.”

Kelly is already
closing the bathroom door behind her.

Fifteen minutes
later, Elliot finishes his quick shower in the upstairs guest bathroom. On his
way to the stairs he stops in front of Beth’s door to knock and yell through it
for her to meet him at Odell’s.
Odd, her door’s locked. It’s usually open.
The
fireplace warms the upper floor of the suite during the winter.
The
Barstow might be an elegant old hotel, but some of the basic utilities still
need to be modernized.
The radiators upstairs do not always do an adequate
job heating when the temperature dips into the teens or below.
Did she hear
me? She can be such a bear. I’ll call if she doesn’t show.

“Are you ready?”
Elliot asks Kelly, who is waiting by the open door.

“Are you kidding
me?” Kelly says to Elliot, pushing him through and allowing it to slam behind
them.

Later, Elliot sits
at his usual booth in the back of Odell’s Coffee Bar.
The booth has a
dark cherry laminate table top with a low-hanging, yellow and green
stained-glass light fixture.
The case file Beth gave him is spread out.
Too engrossed to savor the smell of the fresh gourmet coffee, Elliot’s eyes
twitch back and forth as he reads the details.

He flips a page
and yawns, then stretches and continues to read,

Mrs. Freedman’s
granddaughter, Vicky, and her mother were abducted last Thursday, the third of
January. Vicky is eleven. Her parents were dysfunctional. Her biological father
left when she was four. Guys move in and out every couple of years. Grandmother
tried to take custody of Vicky several times. They live in a small house in
Dorchester. Her mother has been unemployed for five years. Vicky’s mother had
been chatting with this guy on the Internet and they decided to meet. She left
to meet him at eight
pm
on the
second of January. Vicky woke up at five
AM
the next morning, and her mother was not home yet. Vicky called her
grandmother, and the grandmother called the police. Because of the mother’s
record, the police didn’t take the report seriously, but told the grandmother
they would send an officer to stay with Vicky while they waited for Mrs.
Freedman.