Closet Confidential (38 page)

The day seemed to be a hundred hours long so far even though it was just after nine o’clock. It didn’t help that the weather had changed from sunny and warm to hot and humid as evening arrived. I felt sticky and exhausted and imagined we were in for another muggy, rainy night. Luckily Hannaford’s was open late. I swung by and grabbed some eggs, cheese, bacon, frozen entrees, and the makings for stir-fries, as well as take-out barbecue chicken and potato wedges. If Jack was going to play poppa, the least I could do was make sure he didn’t starve. I picked up a premixed salad in case I turned over a new leaf. And some ice cream in case I didn’t. Hannaford’s was beautifully air-conditioned.

I ate half the potato wedges in the car on the way home. There are times when plates are overrated. I was pleased to see that Jack was already home when I got there. As I eased the Matrix into my driveway next to Jack’s dung-colored Mini, my head was still whirling with thoughts of Pepper, Nick, Anabel, Lorelei, cops, and keys. I got out of the car, juggling my briefcase and my haul from Hannaford’s. For some reason the front door was open and the lights were ablaze on both floors. A small black shadow dashed in front of me. My jaw dropped along with the bag containing the eggs.

What was that? The familiar shape headed for the backyard. Truffle! A similar one dashed in the opposite direction. Sweet Marie heading straight for the road! I dropped everything and dashed after her, shrieking, “Treat! Cheese! Cookies!”

Five minutes later, I held the quivering little brown dog and trotted back to find Truffle. My terror was matched by my fury. What was Jack thinking leaving the front door open? He must have left my apartment door open, too. Was this the responsible daddy behavior? Truffle turned up in the backyard, hiding under a bush. He inched out when I lured him with a potato wedge.

I would have stomped up the stairs, but as annoyed as I was with Jack, I didn’t want to take a chance and wake up the baby, if by any chance he was asleep. Jack’s apartment door was open, the lights on. I headed up to my own open door. I let the dogs down, but they huddled against my ankles, whimpering. “What’s wrong with you two?” I said.

I nudged them through the door, shut it, and headed back to salvage what I could of my food, currently scattered on the ground. Back at the top of the stairs, I managed to open the door, trip over the dogs, close it, and get the bags into the kitchen. “Jack,” I whispered in what I hoped was a compelling voice. “Where the hell are you? And what were you thinking letting my dogs out? They could have been killed.”

No answer from Jack. Probably hiding under the bed, I decided.

Little Nick’s gear was clearly in evidence, but he was not. I knew that Jack was quite capable of taking his new obsession for a moonlight walk so I didn’t panic. I planned to let him have an earful when he stumbled in. My darling naughty dogs might have been flattened. I showed my affection by giving them quite a bit of stuff that falls under the category of Not For Dogs. I slumped on the sofa and they joined me, snuggling, glad to be rescued or at least glad to be given cheese. As I sat there, still pondering what was going on and hoping that I’d get a call from Tierney, I became conscious of an unfamiliar noise. A groan? I got up, annoying the dogs, and followed the sound. The pooches stuck close to me. The sound seemed to be coming from my large lovely linen closet. I hesitated and then told myself not to be silly. I grabbed the door handle and opened it.

I shrieked.

Jack was curled almost double on the floor. He moaned. I pulled at his arm frantically. He was obviously alive, with blood flowing from his head wound.

“Jack!”

He moaned again. His eyes stayed closed. I grabbed the phone and dialed 911. Mona answered. “No jokes, Mona. Jack Reilly is injured, my apartment, linen closet.”

Mona Pringle, who seemed to live at her job, said, “What—?”

“Head wound. Like Pepper’s.”

“Oh my God!”

“Send an ambulance fast. And police.”

“Will do. And you should—”

“Mona? Listen to me.”

“I have to advise you to—”

“Forget the advice and listen. Jack was looking after Pepper Monahan’s baby. The baby’s vanished. Make sure the cops know that.”

Jack’s pulse seemed strong to me. Although I begged him not to move, he dragged himself out of the closet, mumbling about the little dude. Had Nick taken the baby? But why? He never even looked after the child. Did he plan to use Little Nick as a bargaining chip? And if not Nick, who?

The EMTs arrived before the police. I’d been hoping Brad Dykstra would be one of them, and I was happy to see that he was. He and his partner checked out Jack. I’d never seen Jack panic, but he was shouting, “I can’t go to the hospital. What about the little dude?”

I ached to go with Jack, but I knew I had to locate the baby. “Don’t worry. I’ll find him,” I said as both the EMTs tried to calm him. I was glad Jack didn’t realize the terror I felt for Little Nick.

Brad’s face was grim when I explained about the baby.

“What’s taking the cops so long?” I complained.

“Search me,” he said. “This is pretty serious stuff. You ask me, these guys are real bozos.”

“No argument here,” I said.

I didn’t want the pooches to escape again on this night of calamity. I leashed them and followed as Jack was taken down the steep stairs and loaded into the ambulance.

Our neighbors are all either pleasant, low-key middle-aged couples, or young families. Eight or nine people were gathered in nervous clumps watching the ambulance load up Jack and speed off. Still no police. I hurried over to the nearest group of murmuring watchers and whisperers. A flurry of questions about Jack followed. I asked, “Did anyone see anything? Did you notice anyone go into the house with Jack? It’s very, very important. I am hoping the police will be here soon and we need to tell them.”

My next-door neighbor, a pleasant young woman called Sarah, said, “But the police have already been here.”

“What do you mean? The police haven’t been here.”

She nodded and her red curls bounced. “They were, and the officer carried the baby out. Jack had told me he was looking after the child of that injured police detective. The one whose husband tried to kill her. I guess they came to take the baby back.”

“My God,” I said. “I don’t think so.”

She stared at me. “Yes! He had the baby when I looked out the window to see what the noise was about. It’s hard to miss a baby having a screaming fit.”

It didn’t make sense to me. Little Nick loved Nick. Pepper had said so. Wouldn’t the child be excited to see his father? Not screaming his baby head off. Had he bonded with Jack? Or had he been traumatized when Nick injured Jack? How had I been so stupid as to give Nick the benefit of the doubt all this time, to defend him against accusations that he could have injured Pepper? Something very bad must have happened inside Nick Monahan’s brain, and whatever it was, he had to be stopped. I tried not to imagine that he could hurt his child. But I’d never been able to imagine that he would attack Pepper, either.

A low rumble of thunder sounded. We both glanced up as a jagged slash of lightning lit the sky. I turned away from a lot of excited talk and called 911 again.

“Mona! Where are the police? The ambulance came, but there’s not a single cop.”

“But that was a hoax,” Mona said. “You should know better, Charlotte Adams. What are you, addicted to 911?”

People backed away from me as I bellowed, “What do you mean a hoax? Jack has a head injury, a lot like Pepper’s only not so severe. That’s no hoax! Where did you get such a stupid idea?”

“Apparently it was a hoax.”

“I was here. It’s anything but a hoax.”

“But the police are saying—”

“What police?”

“I don’t know. We just got word.”

“Wouldn’t someone come by anyway? To verify? The EMTs are here, dealing with an injured man.”

My mind was whirling. Did Nick still have the connections to call the station and tell them something was a hoax? Could he have still been able to delay the cops’ arriving? I shook my head at my own question. I could have believed it of a more intelligent person, but Nick could never have carried off the subtle manipulation of the police communication system without a snag, especially now in the state he was in, with an APB out for him.

Mona said, “They know what they’re doing, Charlotte.”

“Not this time, they don’t. Call it in again and tell them my apartment is a crime scene, attempted murder and kidnapping. I’m calling Todd Tyrell now with this. He’ll be orgasmic to hear that the cops won’t come out for something like this.”

Mona said, “Wait, Charlotte!”

But I hung up and called the easy-to-remember number for WINY’s eyewitness-news hotline. I described the injured man, the stolen baby, and the police decision not to show up. It wouldn’t win me any friends in the police force, but it might get some action.

The rain started pounding down as I left a message for Tierney telling him what I thought of his so-called police force. I added that I was heading to check out the Bounty Inn, where I thought Nick might be. It was the last motel on my list and I was desperately hoping to find him and Little Nick. The dogs were too traumatized to leave at home. I put them in the car and sped off down the street. Still no sirens, but I passed a WINY media van whizzing toward my violated home.

I kept going toward the south end of town and the Bounty Inn. On the way, I called Sally to see if she could have Benjamin check up on Jack. I left a message for Margaret, asking her to let her lovely Frank know what had happened.

“I might need a lawyer again,” I added. “If I get hauled in again, at least this time I won’t be in my pajamas.”

I pulled up in front of the Bounty Inn fifteen minutes later. It was a middle-grade motel, slipping into the lower ranks as the grubby vinyl siding and weedy driveway spoke of the need for an upgrade. I fished the photo of Nick out of my handbag, told the dogs to behave, and splashed through the driving rain to the front entrance, unable to avoid two giant puddles as I ran. I still had the purple key in my hand as I hurried across the worn red and green plaid carpet, trying not to breathe in the scent of too many cigarettes and spilled drinks from the bar off the lobby.