Alice in Jeopardy: A Novel (4 page)

“Mrs. Glendenning?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Come with me, please.”

Alice feels as if she has been arrested for shoplifting.

Detective Wilbur Sloate is a gangly man in his late thirties, early forties, Alice guesses. He is wearing a rumpled linen suit with a polka-dotted blue tie on a paler blue shirt. His hair is what Alice’s mother, rest her soul, would have called dirty blond, a shade darker than Eddie’s was. It is parted neatly on the left side of his head. He rises the moment Alice is led into his office.

“Mrs. Glendenning,” he says, “please have a seat.”

“I want to know why I’m here,” Alice says.

“For your own good,” Sloate says.

“That’s what my father used to say before he whopped me one.”

“Look, I can tell you we have reasonable cause to believe a crime was committed, and I can tell you we believe you’re withholding evidence of a crime, and I can tell you you’re hindering an investigation. I can tell you all of those things, Mrs. Glendenning, and you can tell me to go straight to hell and walk out of here right this minute. But that won’t get your kids back if they were kidnapped.”

Kidnapped.

The first time anyone has said the word out loud.

Kidnapped.

Alice says nothing.

“I want to help you. I know they told you not to call the police. I know they made death threats. But Mrs. Garrity did the right thing by calling us. I want to help you. Please let me help you.”

“How?” she says.

“We can put a tap on your phone, get our people in your house. They won’t know we’re listening, they won’t know we’re there, I promise you. They don’t have to know we’re in this.”

“They may
already
know! You brought me here in a goddamn
police
car...”

“We were very careful, Mrs. Glendenning…”

“Careful? A police car pulled right up in front of Charlie’s house! Why didn’t you take an ad in the paper?”

“I asked them to show the utmost discretion. Mr. Hobbs’s house is in an isolated, heavily wooded part of Willard Key. There were no cars parked on the approach road, no sign of anyone watching the house. Officer Cudahy checked the perimeter carefully before he drove in. And when you arrived here, we brought you in through the back entrance of the facility. I feel certain that the people who kidnapped your children don’t know you’re here.”

Kidnapped.

His using the word again makes it real all at once.

Kidnapped.

Her children have been kidnapped.

Jamie and Ashley have been kidnapped.

She suddenly bursts into tears.

“Here,” he says, and yanks a tissue from a box on his desk, and hands it to her.

“Thank you,” she says.

“Want to tell me what happened?”

She tells him.

“Have you
got
a quarter of a million dollars?” he asks.

“No.”

“How much
have
you got?”

“About three thousand.”

“So what makes them think you’re rich?”

“They probably think I collected a fortune.”

“How do you mean, ma’am?”

“My husband drowned eight months ago. He had a double indemnity policy with Garland.”

“Is that an insurance company? Garland?”

“Yes. Garland and Rice.”

“How much are you looking at?”

“Well… two hundred and fifty thousand, actually. When they pay it.”

“You’re expecting the exact sum they’re asking for? I would say that’s some kind of a rare coincidence. Who else knows about this big death benefit you’re supposed to be getting?”

“My attorney… and his partners, I guess. And people at the insurance company, I suppose. But they all know it hasn’t been paid yet.”

“Anyone else? Have you mentioned to anyone else that you’d be coming into two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?”

“Well… my sister. And I suppose she told her husband.”

“Where do
they
live?”

“In Atlanta.”

“What’s he do for a living?”

“Drives a truck. When he isn’t in jail.”

“That’s a joke, right?”

“No, it’s the truth.”

“He’s done time?”

“Yes. But not for anything serious.”

“What was it?”

“Two dope convictions.”

“Trafficking?”

“No.”

“Cause that’s serious, trafficking.”

“This was simple possession.”

“Do any of his pals know about this big insurance policy?”

“Pals?”

“Any of his former cellmates? Any of the yardbirds he buddied with? Wherever it was he did time.”

“I don’t know.”

“Be nice to find out,” Sloate says, and nods thoughtfully. He’s really trying to dope this out, she thinks. But he seems so very… country-boy. If this were New York or some other big city…

But this isn’t New York.

This is Cape October, Florida, and my children have been kidnapped, and at noon tomorrow a woman with a voice like a razor blade will call again and ask me if I’ve got the money. And all Alice can think is
I don’t have the money, I don’t have the money, they will kill my children.

“How about your sister?” Sloate asks. “What does she do?”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree. She loves my kids.”

“Does her jailbird husband love them, too?”

“I’m telling you you’re mis—”

“What does she do, your sister?”

“She works in a bank. She’s straight as an arrow. Look, I really don’t like the direction—”

“It wasn’t
her
on that phone, was it?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Mrs. Garrity said you told her the woman sounded black…”

“Well, she might have been black, yes.”

“Does your sister have a Southern accent?”

“No.”

“You said she lives in Atlanta.”

“Yes, but she moved there to marry Rafe. She’s originally from upstate New York, same as me.”

“Rafe. Is that his name?”

“Rafe Matthews, yes. My sister is Carol Matthews.”

“When’s the last time old Rafe was in jail?”

“He got out two years ago.”

“Been driving a truck since?”

“Yes.”

“When he’s not in jail, is what you said.”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t think he’d kidnap your kids, is that it?”

“Of course not!”

“Me, I don’t trust anybody who’s done time. My own brother done time, I wouldn’t trust him. Let’s give your sister a call.”

“Why?”

“Find out where old Rafe is.”

“Why?”

“Man might be in Florida, who knows? Georgia’s not all that far away, you know.”

“Rafe doesn’t have a blue car.”

“Maybe the lady who called you does. Is Rafe playing around?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. My sister loves him.”

“That ain’t always insurance. Let’s call her, okay, say hello. Would you like a drink? I have bourbon.”

“No.”

“Calm you down a little?”

“I’m calm.”

“You don’t seem calm.”

“I’m just scared, is all. If anything happens to my kids…”

“Nothing’ll happen to them. Just tell your sister you were thinking about her, decided to call. Don’t mention the kids being missing,” he says, and hands Alice the phone.

She dials Carol’s number, and waits. One of her nephews picks up. Either Michael or Randy, she can’t tell which.

“Hi, honey,” she says, “this is Aunt Al. What’re you doing up so late?”

“Watching TV,” he says.

“Your mama know that?”

“Oh sure.”

“Who’s this I’m talking to?”

“Randall.”

“How’re you doing, Randall?”

“School sucks,” Randall says.

Eight years old.

“Is she there?”

“Yeah.”

“Could you get her for me, please?”

“Sure, just a sec,” he says.

She waits.

“Hello?”

“Carol, hi, it’s me.”

“Hey, Alice, how are you, honey?”

“Fine, fine, just thought I’d check in.”

“I’m glad you did. It’s getting kind of lonely up here.”

“How come?”

“Rafe’s off on a long one. I kind of miss him stompin around. How are the kids?”

“Fine, just fine.”

“Did Jamie get the
Myst
book I sent him?”

“The
what
?”

“The
Myst
book.”

“What’s a mist book?”

“The video game.
Myst.
M-y-s-t. It’s a little booklet Randall found very useful in deciphering
Myst.
”

“Oh. No, it hasn’t arrived yet.”

“I sent it United Parcel, Jamie should be getting it any minute now.”

“No, not yet.”

“How is he, Alice?”

“He’s fine.”

“Is he… honey, is he talking yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“Poor darling.”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you bring him up here for a while? Being with the boys might work wonders.”

“Maybe so. Maybe when school lets out.”

“I’d love to have him here, Alice.”

“Thanks, sweetie, I appreciate that.”

There is a silence on the line.

“When did Rafe leave?” Alice asks.

“Two days ago. What’s today?”

“Wednesday.”

“So he left Monday.”

“Where’s he off to this time?” Alice asks.

“Down your way, actually, was the first stop. Then it’s over to Louisiana, Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, and back home.”

“You say he’s down here now?”

“Probably been and gone by now.”

“Here? In Cape October?”

“No, did I say the Cape? He was heading for Jacksonville. Then Tallahassee and Mobile. I think is what he said.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… has he called you?”

“He never calls when he’s on the road. He drives practically day and night, all he has time to do is sleep and grab a bite to eat. Anyway, he should be home by the weekend.”

“That’s good.”

There is another silence, longer this time.

“Honey?” Carol says. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no. What could be wrong?”

“You sound… I don’t know… funny.”

“I’m just tired. I had a long day.”

“You selling many houses down there?”

“Oh, scads.”

“Maybe I’ll come buy one.”

“Be a good idea.”

“Honey, I got to go now,” Carol says. “I hear Michael screaming about something. We’ll talk soon.”

“Right,” Alice says.

There is a click on the line. She hands the phone back to Sloate.

“Where is he?” Sloate asks.

“Mobile by now.”

“Was he here on the Cape?”

“No. Jacksonville. Mr. Sloate, I don’t think he came here to steal my kids. My sister would kill him, he ever did something like that.”

“How about one of his jailbird pals? You think he might have mentioned to one of them that there’s this beautiful widow in Florida, has two kids, and has just come into two hundred and fifty grand?”

“You’re scaring me, Mr. Sloate.”

“I don’t mean to be doing that. I’m just trying to figure out who could’ve got it in his head that kidnapping your kids might be a way to get at those big bucks you’re supposed to’ve come into. Which you haven’t come into
yet,
by the way. But they don’t know that, do they?”

“No, they don’t.”

“Come on, let’s take you home. Get this thing rolling. Find out who these damn people are,” he says, and rises briskly from behind his desk.

If anyone is watching
the house on Oleander Street, he will see only a dark-haired woman driving a black Mercedes ML320 up the street. He will see the car pulling into the driveway and stopping to wait for the garage doors to go up. The dark-haired woman is Alice herself. The Mercedes is the car supplied to her by Lane Realty, one of the perks of being a real estate broker.