CALL MAMA (11 page)

Harvey called his superintendent's office to ask for a rendezvous, as soon as possible.

“Can't you just tell me on the damn phone, man? I'm busy. Can't you schedule this for a less cluttered time?”

The superintendent was a brusque man who liked to run things his way.

“It's a sensitive issue, sir, one I need to discuss with you in total privacy. It's concerning disturbing news of the Mears kid.”

“Ok, meet me here in an hour and make it brief. I have a lunch function to attend with the mayor and he hates being kept late.”

Superintendent Benson slammed the phone down on Harvey.

“You might want to postpone lunch when you hear what I have to say, sir.” Harvey spoke to a dead line.

He called Carr's office to update her on events.

“I'll go alone,” he said, “to keep this among as few people as possible.”

Superintendent Benson was visibly shaken on hearing what Harvey had to say.

“Good God, man, this is too much. Who else knows?”

“Only myself and Carole Carr, sir, she was with me when we questioned Brenda Mears. Detective Carr is the most discreet person I know.”

“Bloody well better be. Make sure she keeps her mouth shut because this could ruin the guy.”

Harvey thought how locating young Lucy seemed to have been dismissed by his boss at the stroke of a pen now that there was a more pressing mess to solve.

Superintendent Benson took the mayor aside. Mayor Carson was a burly man, more used to bullying than being bullied. His bulbous nose and rotund appearance told of a life of regular lavish civic lunches where alcohol was consumed in abundance and rich food in plentiful supply.

“I have alarming news to give you, sir. Can you spare me five?”

“As soon as this wretched lunch is over meet me in the library.”

The mayor heard the news with unbelievable shock.

“This is preposterous and has to be concealed, it can't be made public. Who do you trust with this?”

“Harvey and Carr are trustworthy, sir, they won't breathe a word.”

“Get them over here now.”

The two arrived promptly, listening and nodding in agreement, as details were hammered out between their two superiors.

“No need to remind either of you of the gravity of this assignment, complete silence on it, not a word to your families or colleagues. We don't want any bigmouth talking in the pub or any pillow talk. Explain your absence only to your family, tell them it is a routine task and you will be away a few nights, hopefully less. The department is being hammered financially with this case. Wrap it up as quickly as possible, find the guy, ask the questions and get the hell back here.”

“Yes, Mayor, we fully understand the implications of it—”

“As for your colleagues,” cut in Superintendent Benson, “assign them a task to keep them well occupied and away from the office, so that there's no attempt to contact you two for several days. Keep them busy.”

***

Back at base, Harvey's squad were each assigned a task that he hoped would keep them occupied for many hours, days even, and make them unaware of his and Carr's absence. Once the squad had departed to their various tasks, the two waited until the coast was clear, collected their belongings and drove in Carr's sedan to Chicago O'Hare to catch a flight to Washington D.C. As they pulled away from the precinct, Kip O'Rourke, suspicious that his bosses had said nothing of their own duties for the forthcoming days, had held back, unseen, to observe their move.

Carr's sedan? Now that's unusual for them not to use a squad car, what's going on here then?

He promptly called his mate.

“Something's going on here, Sonny. Carr's heading out with the boss in her sedan, heading north. Can you pick up a trace? They never use personal vehicles for police work.”

“I'm on to it, trust Sonny on this! Keep your phone free. I've already picked up something suspicious from Harvey's trace. He called Superintendent Benson who sounded panic stricken and said he had to call the mayor.”

Kip thought,
What are these guys up to, calling the super and the mayor and keeping it quiet?

Sonny wished he had bugged Harvey's jacket. He caught snippets of crackling conversation as the sedan headed towards O'Hare.
I should have invested in better stuff
. Sonny gasped when he picked up what they were talking about…
Holy shit, this is big!

“Kip, they're heading to O'Hare. I'm gonna follow them. My snooper was right about what we discussed. Oh man, this is gonna blow things apart!”

He spotted them at the check-in desk for Washington D.C. and called his editor for permission to fly to D.C.

“You think this newspaper has a bottomless pit for you to go on endless road trips? Remember the last one, Vegas? You were dead cert you'd found a lead on the Sharkey murder. Remember? Total crap, Sonny, and cost us dear!”

“Trust me on this one, boss, it's big… it's a lead on the missing Mears kid.”

“Better be good then, Sonny, or there's no job for you to come back to. I want receipts for all your expenses.”

Sonny purchased his ticket to Washington D.C. and called his buddy Kip to fill him in on what he had heard.

“Say that again? You saying he definitely is the father of that kid? Man, this will ruin him.”

“Listen up, Kip, this is what I need you to do…”

Kip O'Rourke listened to instructions from his buddy.

“Got it, Sonny. I'll keep this line open and let you know the minute I hear any more buzz from here at the precinct. Same goes for you, keep the info coming.”

The travellers, weary and physically exhausted, stopped often to sleep. Lucy was again given a mild sedation to help relieve her of the tediousness of the relentless expedition. They were well behind the schedule set for them.

***

The buoyant politician answered questions fired at him with the skill of a master orator. A reporter, sidling nearer the podium, caught his eye and prepared to fire his query. Ross smiled innocently, ready for the guy's question.

“Sir, tell us about your family. How do they feel about the prospect of perhaps living in the White House?”

Ross laughed. “The boys are as excited as Linda-Mae and me. Plenty of room for growing kids to run around.”

The reporter hadn't finished. “Sir,” he continued, “and your daughter? Will she move there with you?”

“You misunderstand,” he replied. “I have two sons, Jake and Ben, great kids, a credit to their mom here.”

He hugged his beaming wife in affirmation. As he was about to take another question, the reporter, not to be easily dismissed, asked, “Sir, with respect, I refer to your fifteen-year-old daughter, Lucy Mears, heiress to the Mears Empire of Chicago. Where is she, sir? Have you hidden her away? She's been missing for ten weeks now.”

The hall fell silent, gasps were heard. Ross S. Witherspoon looked stunned, his face ashen. Slowly, very slowly, the agonizing truth dawned on him. He looked at the bemused faces of his supporters who willed him to make things right for them.

“Hell, no!” Steve Wilkes reacted quickly, guided his prodigy by the arm and commanded, “Get the hell out of here, use the back door.”

He led the numb man and his startled wife towards the rear of the building. Uproar descended in the venue as the implication of the disclosure hit home. The abduction of Lucy Mears was well documented. Very few people in that auditorium would not have heard of her. Suddenly, an event that began hundreds of miles from their cosseted lives took on a momentous sense of urgency. Voices rose from the incredulous crowd. Volume increased as disbelief turned to bewilderment. People turned to each other, questions flying around the room as the faithful supporters tried to make sense of events.

The reporter who instigated the chaos was nowhere to be seen. He had discarded his jacket, donned a “Vote for Ross” sweater and mingled unnoticed in the mayhem, secretly recording the uproar, which went directly to his editor.

“Good man, Sonny,” the editor whispered to him as the special edition was published online.

Linda-Mae Witherspoon dissolved in tears at her husband's faltering confession.

“I was young, honey, a juvenile fling, so long ago. It didn't mean a thing. I never knew about the kid. That bitch told me she'd got rid of it. She tricked me. I even gave her money for an abortion. Oh, hell, this will ruin me, my future's gone up in smoke.”

“Your future?” screamed the distressed wife. “What about my future, what about the kids? I've given everything to you: time, money, unflinching support. You have shamed us, Ross.”

Steve Wilkes, coming between the warring couple, looked directly at his client.

“Ross, you assured me you were squeaky clean and I believed you; nevertheless and thankfully, I had my guys check you out. This only came to my attention an hour ago and it's too big to handle. Lucy Mears! The kid's been on every website, newspaper and TV channel for weeks. Every voter in the country knows of her. I have to ask you, man, do you know anything of her abduction and whereabouts?”

“Good heavens, Steve! I didn't know of her existence until ten minutes ago. I've been too busy to watch TV or read anything online or in newspapers other than poll ratings. You have to believe me.”

At the Witherspoon home, Linda-Mae's parents were transfixed to their TV, glad they had sent the boys to the den to play with their latest gizmo. Visibly shaken, they were at first sceptical at the confusion, furious with the reporter for spreading bullshit, then concerned for their daughter as the truth dawned and they realized their son-in-law had not denied the allegation thrown at him.

“If this is true, he's finished politically, isn't he?” asked Betty Sheringham of her stunned husband.

“Truth is, honey, he is finished now. Hope to hell he's not involved in that poor kid's disappearance. We need to be strong for Linda-Mae and the boys. The backlash of this will be horrific.”

The backlash was indeed horrific, reverberating through the country. The presidential campaign, now in tatters, came to an abrupt standstill.

***

In Chicago, Myra Hill was in her office at Mears Empire with her TV on in the background as she worked at her desk while occasionally following her favoured candidate's campaign. She ran screaming to her boss's office, calling for her to come immediately. Brenda, hoping against hope for news of her daughter, rushed in expectantly, only to be caught in an unimaginable maelstrom.

“This is outrageous!” she cried. “How dare they bring my child into this? Who the hell released this information?”

Her team, alerted by the shouting, rushed to Myra's office and looked on bemused, knowing nothing of Brenda's past affairs and never ever questioning Lucy's parentage.

“I should have confided in you guys before now. I guess I wanted to wait until Lucy was old enough to understand. I indeed dated Ross Witherspoon for many months. He dumped me, told me to get rid of the baby, threw some money at me and never entered my life again, that is, until now. He honestly knew nothing of Lucy's existence. Who? Who has disclosed this?”

“Oh honey,” comforted Justin, hugging the weeping woman. “We're all here for you, always will be.”

***

Harvey and Carr arrived in Washington D.C. and planned to stay out of sight while President-elect Witherspoon finished his speech and had taken some questions. They aimed to speak to him at the end of the session. They arrived at the venue as furore erupted.

“What's going on?” asked Harvey as they struggled to enter the building where people were stampeding out, each clutching a phone to their ear as, one by one, the incredulous supporters related their own versions of events to the world.

The detectives made their way to the rear of the building in time to see the shamed public official and his wife escorted to a car, which took off at high speed. Harvey's phone rang. Superintendent Benson hollered down the line at him, “Who the hell was that reporter? Who told him about this?”

Harvey had no reply for his irate boss.

“Get your butts back here as soon as and report directly to me; you'd better have some good answers for me.”

Unable to make contact with Ross S. Witherspoon or his staff, they returned to Dulles. On the flight back to Chicago, Harvey and Carr caught up with news of the Washington fiasco from the web. They knew no more than that which had been reported in the media.

Over the next few days the political world was in turmoil. A new candidate would have to be found. Time was of the essence and voters' trust had to be restored. No mean feat!

The Witherspoons did not return to their home. Instead, they were driven to the Sheringham's lakeside retreat, where they hoped they would have time to calm down and assess their situation. No one looked forward to the reunion. When the horrendous news broke, the grandparents promptly gathered things together and, with the boys in the car, headed for their lakeside home, the boys excited at the prospect of an unexpected holiday.

“What about school, Grandpa?”

“That can wait for now, Ben.”

***

As Steve Wilkes continued his instructions to the couple, Ross S. Witherspoon sat with his head in his hands, bemoaning his past dalliance, his political future in shreds.

“Don't use your mobile phones till we check, could be bugged, my guys are working on it. Who let this story out?”

“It's over,” mumbled the disgraced man.

***

Once Brenda had calmed down sufficiently, she called Molly, saying she was heading home. By the time she reached her Lincoln Park home she had to run the gauntlet of reporters, TV crews and sightseers.

“Any truth in what's been said, Ms. Mears?”

“Where's your daughter then, have you hidden her away with her father?”

“Are you in collusion with Witherspoon?”

Hurtful questions assailed her ears as she fought her way to her home.

“Close the shades, Nora,” she instructed as she rushed indoors. “Make sure all doors are secure, we don't want peepers.”

“We did that when we got the first whiff of reporters, but the landline has not stopped ringing,” sobbed Molly.

“We can't leave it off. Lucy might try to get in touch. I take it you both saw the fiasco in Washington?”

“We did. Can we reassure you, neither of us revealed any information at any time to anyone,” continued Molly.

“Molly, Nora, with all my heart I believe you. My gut tells me one or other of those detectives spilt the beans, probably for cash. Meanwhile, we keep our heads down. Don't leave the house, either of you.”

***

Benson, fuming with rage, steam almost emitting from the top of his balding head, interrogated the detectives, blaming them fully for breaking the sensitive information to the unknown reporter. He was unwilling to give them any slack.

“The mayor is incensed at this mess, on at me every hour to sort it out, wants my head on a plate. I'll sort it out, damned sure I will. How much were you guys paid? Heck, I thought you were my most trusted colleagues. You're both suspended, as from now. Hand in your badges on the way out. Stick around your homes for further questioning. I haven't finished with either of you!”

“Sir,” Carr attempted to protest. “Sir, we did not do this. You are accusing us unfairly.”

“Unfair!” screeched Benson. “The future of the presidency is in jeopardy because of you assholes.”

“Sir, we are not to blame. You're way out wrong on this,” Harvey protested, his face red with rage.

“Suspended. Now get out, this interview is over.”

The aggrieved detectives had no option but to leave Benson's office.

As they made their way along the corridor, Kip O'Rourke, who had an eldritch knack of appearing where least wanted, came out of his office and in all innocence spoke to his superior officers.

“Hey, you guys. You ok? Thought I heard raised voices from the boss's office, anything I can do?”

Harvey growled at the loathsome man, “Yeah, get out of our way.”

Benson sent for O'Rourke.

“Officer O'Rourke, you are temporarily promoted. I'm putting you in charge of the Mears case. Get this fiasco solved, as soon as. Use whatever resources you have at your disposal. We've been let down by two trustworthy officers, Harvey and Carr. Their treachery has shocked me to the core. You think you know people – just goes to show, Kip lad. Burn the candle at both ends.”

“Yes, sir, we are all hurting at their double-dealing, but you can rely on me. I'll solve this mess.”

“Good, man, good, now get going.”

An elated Kip O'Rourke settled himself in Harvey's office, re-arranged the room to suit, and gloated.

“Well, Carole Carr, got yah!”

Still sneering, he summoned his team but nor before pouring himself a congratulatory drink from Harvey's desk drawer.

“Cheers, Kip boy!”