Courting Disaster (21 page)

The day of her engagement party Angie was in a tizzy. Apparently the U.S. Postal Service had done its job and delivered the directions to the party on time, but not even Connie would tell her its location, only chuckling and saying it was someplace “special.” Special? What in the world did that mean? Angie was more worried than ever.

She planned to pay Connie a visit. Stan had probably received a special delivery letter, but she didn't even want to try to get any information out of him.

He was a babbling mass of confusion. Last evening after his breakdown, they'd come up with a plan. This afternoon, he was going to call Hannah's social worker for the name of a trustworthy babysitter and then he and Hannah were going out for lunch. There, he'd tell her that he liked her, but that was it, and that she'd have to find her own place to live. He'd go with her to Homicide to talk to Rebecca Mayfield. She could probably get pro bono help from Shelly Farms's law firm since
they'd been friends. Stan would do what he could to help her, but the bottom line was she needed to move out.

Angie could only hope it'd work.

In late morning, Paavo stopped by. One look at his face and she could see he was still angry with her. “Please tell me you haven't done anything else since
ruining an FBI operation and putting yourself in danger.
” Normally, Paavo never yelled. Today was an exception. “There's a murderer out there, Angie. What the hell were you and Stan thinking?”

She guessed this wasn't the time to tell him how she wanted to be helpful in his business the way Serefina had been with Sal's. “I'm sorry,” she said, and that diffused him more than any argument could have.

In no time she placed a fluffy cheese and Italian sausage omelet in front of him, then sat down and watched his mood relax. “I was worried about you,” he said, by way of apology.

“I know. You're so cute when you do that.” At his stunned expression, she continued, “So, what did the FBI have to say? I can't believe that they're involved. It makes me think I might have been right about the baby smuggling.”

He nodded, and between bites filled her in. “The FBI estimates there was a shipment every week or two. Usually two or three babies a shipment, at fifty to a hundred thousand per, no taxes. That's at least five million a year.”

“It's scary to think there are that many women willing to sell their children.”

“Or unwilling. Who knows what goes on when
these people need money or have customers? Hannah wasn't exactly willing.”

“You're right.” As she cleaned up the kitchen and they moved into the living room, she told him Hannah's story of being a foster child and deciding to keep her baby. She pretended it was something Stan had learned a while ago, since she'd promised Stan she wouldn't reveal Hannah's whereabouts to Paavo, but would give Hannah a chance to turn herself in for questioning.

Paavo stood by the window as Angie talked, looking out at San Francisco Bay. To his surprise, he found himself moved by Hannah's struggles to keep her child.

Like Hannah, he hadn't been raised by his parents. He was lucky that Aulis Kokkonen took care of him and managed to keep him out of the view of the Child Protective Services. Angie once said to him that no one simply raises someone else's kids. Aulis did, and for that, Paavo would be forever grateful. Hannah didn't have an Aulis Kokkonen in her life.

He wondered if Hannah felt, as he often did in the darkness of night when he was alone, that the reason her parents gave her up was because she was unlovable and that no one, ever, would be able to truly love her. He understood it was something many foster and adopted children felt—despite themselves.

He often wondered, in those same black hours, if one day Angie would wake up and realize she didn't truly love him, that she only “thought” she
had, and now was going to dump him the way he “deserved.” As much as he knew better intellectually, he couldn't control what his heart told him. And his heart had learned to think that way at a very young age.

In her search for love, Hannah had turned to Tyler, letting her emotions overrule her judgment until her maternal sense took over and made her run away.

She ran to Bonnette, again hoping for love. From what Angie had implied about the relationship, Hannah had made another mistake. At least this time it wasn't a dangerous one.

“If Hannah's innocent,” he said, “we'll find a way to help her.”

“You don't think she killed Tyler after all?”

“I don't, and even Rebecca is wavering now. We've got another suspect—Lance Vandermeer. Olympia Pappas saw him with Tyler shortly before Tyler's death. The problem is Vandermeer claims he was home with his wife, that the witness may have seen him with Tyler at the Athina and is confused, and there's still the problem of only Hannah's fingerprints being on the murder weapon.”

Angie was intrigued. “But you think he's a possibility?”

“I think he did it. The problem is that we don't have enough evidence to refute his alibi and get a search warrant.”

“Why would Vandermeer want to kill Tyler?” Angie asked.

“Good question. We know he wanted to sell
Vandermeer his baby, but then Hannah refused to part with her,” Paavo said. “Why that would lead to Tyler's death is a problem.”

“We also know,” Angie said, standing as she got more and more into this, “that Vandermeer had a violent temper. If he killed the baby's father and set up the baby's mother to go to prison for it, that would leave the child without a guardian and he could take her!”

“Only if he went through a private party,” Paavo added, “like the people at the Athina—because we know Social Services wouldn't let him have her. But if Hannah were arrested, wouldn't she give Kaitlyn to Stan to care for?”

Angie shook her head. “I don't think Stan would do it.” She rubbed her forehead and paced. “Think! There's got to be a reason.”

“Let's look at this logically,” Paavo said, leaning against an antique chest. “The Athina is involved in smuggling babies. Shelly Farms finds out. He tells Hannah to get away. He also wants to talk to Tyler—maybe about Hannah—then turns up dead. If Tyler killed him, it may have been because Tyler saw their meeting as an opportunity to get rid of danger to the whole smuggling operation. After all, not only was Shelly a threat to the sale of Kaitlyn, but a threat to Tyler's source of income. A whole lot of income.”

Angie nodded. “So, the other smugglers may have known Tyler was a killer—and that means he could have become a liability to them, a hunted man. Or, the smugglers might have felt they couldn't trust him for some reason. Or, maybe he demanded too much of a payoff for his crime…and that's how Vandermeer got involved!”

“It is?” Paavo asked.

“Exactly,” Angie continued. “One of the people at the restaurant could have easily convinced Vandermeer that Tyler was scamming him, would take his money and not give him the baby. Whoever did that gave Vandermeer a knife from the kitchen with Hannah's fingerprints and told him to use it on Tyler!”

Paavo stared at her. “You've got a devious mind, Angie.” Then he grinned. “And you may be right.”

“Not only that,” she said proudly, “but I know who killed him.”

“You do?”

She smiled, and after a dramatic pause, announced, “Gail Leer! She's behind all of it—and she killed Tyler in a fit of rage when she learned what he'd done to Hannah.”

Just then her phone rang. She answered. It was Gail Leer.

 

Gail stood at the bar of the Buena Vista, a popular tavern overlooking Aquatic Park. An Irish coffee was in front of her as she waited for Angie. It wasn't Angie who approached, though. It was Paavo.

The BV had two exits, one near each end of the bar. As soon as she saw him, she headed for the exit opposite. The crowd of people made it hard for her to get through quickly, and before she escaped, Paavo grabbed her arm.

“We've got to talk,” he said.

“Where's Angie?”

“She's not coming.”

“You have no reason to hold me.” She tried and failed to pull free. “I'm leaving.”

“You told Angie the FBI is on to you, that you needed to talk to Hannah. I'm here to listen,” Paavo said.

She studied his eyes a long moment, as if trying to decide whether she could trust him or not. “I'd hoped Angie would bring me to Hannah, or at least relay a message to her. Tell her I didn't know about Tyler's plans. If I had, I would have stopped him. Tell her I wasn't a part of any of it, that…that I was hoping to help her raise her baby.”

Her words surprised him and he let her go. Oddly, at that same moment, the pieces of the case began to fall together. “If not you, who was Tyler working with?”

A long moment passed. “My husband. I wasn't a partner in what he was doing, Inspector Smith, you've got to believe that! I knew about it, and in that I know I'm complicit. But I never actually did anything.”

“Who else did he work with?”

She looked stunned by the question. “Well…Michael Zeno.”

“And?” Paavo asked.

She rubbed her head. “I don't know. I once heard a name—Nadine Nadler. But I don't know who she is. I'm not even sure if she's involved.”

He thought about that a moment, then asked, “Did you ever tell Hannah you'd help her? Why leave her alone, thinking no one cared?”

She lifted her chin. “I thought there was more time. The baby was about three weeks early.
And, as I said, I had no idea what Tyler was planning.”

“Hannah may be arrested for Tyler's murder,” Paavo said. “Evidence points her way; evidence I can't ignore. I don't want to take her in, but if I find her, I don't have a choice. Inspector Mayfield has a warrant for her arrest. I'd have to honor it.”

“You can't do that to her!” Gail cried.

“She's a suspect in a murder.”

Gail bowed her head, shaking it from side to side. “She's no killer! Damn, why didn't I talk to her, have her come to me? I'd have helped her.”

Her cell phone began to ring. She glanced at the number. “It's the restaurant.”

She stepped out to the sidewalk as she hit the talk button. “Hello?” Her eyes, wide with surprise, met Paavo's. “What? She is?…All right…. Yes.”

She snapped her phone shut and put it in her purse. “I've got to go.”

He cupped her elbow. “What's going on? You're in this too deep to walk away, you know. You can talk here or at the Hall of Justice.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but then shut it. He let go as she walked away from the Buena Vista, across the street to the Aquatic Park, her breathing heavy the entire time. Paavo stayed with her, giving her time to sort this out in her mind, and hoping she'd make the right decision on her own, without him having to make it for her.

She stopped just past the cable car turntable, facing the water.

“If it's about Hannah,” he said, “let me talk to her. The safest thing for her is to give herself up,
to tell her side of the story. She needs to work with us. You know that, Mrs. Leer. Do what's right.”

She nodded, and then her shoulders sagged in defeat. “The call was from my husband,” she began in a soft and tremulous voice. “This morning, I told him I was leaving. That I couldn't believe he'd planned to sell Hannah's baby, that the FBI was lurking around—everyone on the dock saw them the other night—and that I couldn't sit back and watch him in silence any longer. Then I called Angie. I wasn't only calling about Hannah, but for myself as well. I'd hoped she'd be a go-between, that she'd talk to you and tell you my side of the story so I wouldn't be thrown into jail.”

“Yes,” he said, urging her to continue.

“Eugene called now to say Hannah's at the restaurant looking for me. She needs my help.” Tears filled her eyes. “He asked me to come back, to help Hannah—and him. He said he'd been wrong; that he'd give everything up if I'd go back to him.”

“Do you believe him?” Paavo asked.

“He's my husband.”

 

Outside the Athina, the sign in the window said
CLOSED
. The front door was locked. Gail used her key to go inside. Paavo waited in the doorway, his gun ready.

The restaurant was empty. Even the kitchen.

“Eugene?” she called. She went into the kitchen. “No!” she cried.

Paavo hurried after her, gun drawn. Eugene Leer held her, a gun to her head. “Drop it,” Paavo ordered.

“Wrong, Inspector.” Eugene nodded behind Paavo.

He glanced quickly over his shoulder. Michael Zeno stood a few steps behind him, also holding a gun.

When Angie returned from the hairdresser, she called Paavo's cell phone and pager, but he didn't answer. She tried the Buena Vista with no luck. She then phoned Homicide. Yosh was no help, so she left a message for Rebecca Mayfield.

Fear and anger warred. Anger that he did anything at all, including his job, on this important Saturday. Why couldn't he wait? Why ruin their engagement party? But much stronger was fear that something terrible had happened to him. She could think of no other reason for him not to answer his cell phone. For him not to be home by now.

He was simply going to talk with Gail Leer, then head home and get ready for the party. He'd convinced Angie he wouldn't confront Gail, that she wasn't a threat to him and their meeting wouldn't be dangerous in any way. He'd question her about Tyler and Lance Vandermeer, and suggest she turn state's evidence for the FBI.

It wasn't even supposed to take an hour.

Where was he?

 

Paavo tried to move his wrists and loosen the rope that bound them, but they'd been tied too tight, so tight they were feeling cold, as if the blood supply had been cut off. He relaxed, trying to stop the tingling sensation from continuing.

As he'd suspected, saying Hannah had arrived was simply Eugene Leer's ploy to draw Gail back. They were afraid she might talk, and when they saw Paavo, their fears were confirmed. Gail was a liability now, wife or not.

He and Gail had been taken to the boat docked behind the restaurant. Belowdecks was an eating area with beds on one side, and on the other what was obviously a nursery set up for transporting babies. Beyond the living area were tables filled with charts, maps, and radio equipment. Toward the bow of the boat was an engine room. He and Gail had been led in there, and their wrists and ankles tied. He could hear footsteps as the two men walked around on deck and he wondered if they were getting ready to leave the wharf.

If so, to where?

He couldn't allow himself to think of Angie waiting for him. It had been all he could do to convince Leer and Zeno he'd go with them quietly—for them not to fire their weapons. Each man had looked nervous and scared, and that was the most dangerous type to face.

Gail stared at the wall, tears trickling down her cheeks. She knew these men, and her reaction was chilling.

“The worst part,” she said softly, “is thinking of all that I should have done, and didn't.”

“You mean when they held the guns on us? There wasn't much we could do.”

“No. That's the least of it. I'm thinking of earlier. I'm thinking of Hannah. She always considered me her boss—a kindly boss, I hope, but nothing more. To me, though, she was a daughter. Everyone thinks I never had a child, but that's not true. I did have a child once, and I gave her up for adoption. She was born a month before Hannah.

“People always talk about the adopted child, how they wonder who their mother was and why she gave them up. No one talks about the mother. Do they really think it's possible to carry a child for nine months and then simply forget it was ever born? Do they think the mother picks up her life and goes on as if those months never happened? Do they think there's no heartache involved?”

He didn't respond; he didn't need to.

“For a while,” she said, “I fantasized that Hannah was that daughter—both girls were born in Los Angeles, after all. I looked into it. Hired a private eye. I learned my daughter had died. She'd gotten in with a bad crowd in L.A. A gang. She was murdered. No one was ever charged; no one ever will be.

“Her adopting parents were good people, but apparently they never understood Cindy. From the time she turned thirteen, she was rebellious, and over the years it only grew worse. By age seventeen, she was dead.”

“I'm sorry,” Paavo said.

“I could see that Hannah was a good girl, but she had no one to help her when she was down. I
tried to be there for her, but at the same time, I held back. Afraid to open myself, to get too close, you know? And now…now it's too late.”

He didn't want to hear that. “Don't give up, Gail. We'll get out of this.”

She shook her head. “We aren't the first ones this has happened to. I know what my husband is capable of. I've always known, I'm afraid. There are others who were never heard from again. Fish food I think is the term they use.”

Paavo needed to stop her despair, to give her a reason for fighting. “You watched Hannah and Tyler together. How did you feel about him?”

“I didn't trust him. He was too smooth, too charming. I'd seen him with lots of women, and Hannah, frankly, wasn't his type. She was nice, quiet, and plain.”

“Plain?” Paavo said. That wasn't the impression he had of her. Strangely, he'd never actually met her despite knowing so much about her.

“Yes.” Gail smiled. “But she has a sweet honest innocence that can be charming to some men. Michael Zeno was one. Before meeting her, all he'd wanted to do was run his restaurant and cook. That's what he loved. He got involved with Eugene because of Hannah, wanting money to impress her, to win her love. I feel worse about him than anyone else.”

 

Angie paced. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so worried about Paavo. Early in their relationship, he'd often told her she wouldn't be able to handle him being a Homicide inspector—
not with the long hours, the danger, the need to be on call 24/7. She swore he was wrong, that she could not only cope, but also accept it because he loved what he did, was the best cop in the city, and she was proud of him.

Now, though, she wondered if she'd spoken too soon. What if he was hurt? Or worse?

She could scarcely breathe. If something happened to him, could she ever forgive this city and the people in it for putting him in danger—or herself for having him take a phone call meant for her?

She had already dressed in her yellow Dior, matching high-heeled sandals, her hair and makeup perfect. She kept thinking,
When I finish this task, he'll be here.
But he never was.

Her parents arrived. They were early, but wanted to spend a little time with her and Paavo before taking them to the party.

Finally, she'd find out where it was going to be held. Right now, though, it didn't matter.

“So,” Salvatore said, looking around as he followed Serefina into the apartment, “where's the happy groom?” At Angie's forlorn expression, he asked, “What's the matter? Has he got cold feet already? It's not even the wedding yet.”

“He…he's late,” Angie said.

“Late? I don't believe it!” he bellowed. “And here I was trying to like him!”

“So he's a little late,” Serefina chastised Sal. “It's no crime. Is it, Angelina?”

Angie's throat seemed to close and she couldn't answer.

Seeing her expression, Sal proclaimed, “Nobody jilts my little girl. Not when I've got anything to say about it!”

“I'm not being jilted,” Angie cried. “It's just a party. Paavo had some business to take care of. I'm sure he'll be here as soon as he finishes it.”

“Are you?” Sal eyed her closely.

She fought tears. “No.”

He opened his arms and she ran to him. “What happened? A fight?”

She shook her head. “I'm afraid something's happened to him. He wouldn't do this. He'd call. I don't understand it.”

“Madonna mia!”
Serefina pressed her hands together as if in prayer. “If he could, he'd be here. I know it in my heart. Salvatore, do something!”

“Me?” He gasped.

Angie took great, gulping swallows of air, trying to keep her head clear, trying to stop the tears that threatened.
Where is he?
The question came from deep inside her.
Where?

She left Sal's side and went to the windows, trying to think. He went to see Gail Leer; they were near the Athina…

She must have been right—that Gail was the so-called “mastermind” of the whole operation, and now she had Paavo.

Hannah knew Gail and the others well. Angie needed to talk to her.

She knocked on Stan's door, but no one was home. Of course not—they were going to get a babysitter and go out so Stan could lay it on the line with Hannah if he kept his nerve. Maybe they
changed their minds and took the baby with them.

She went back to her apartment.

“We'll help you look for him, Angelina,” Serefina said. “Just tell us where to begin.”

“I have no idea,” she said morosely.

She tried Paavo's home and cell phone again, then watched the minutes slowly tick by as she paced.

Her father tried to put his arms around her and hold her the way he did when she was a little girl and upset or frightened. But she was a woman now, so instead of curling up on his lap, after a while she squared her shoulders and stepped to the window, lost in thought.

A knock sounded on her door. It was Stan and Hannah. His apartment door was also open. “Did Kaitlyn cry so much the babysitter brought her to you?” Stan asked.

“What are you talking about?” Angie looked from one to the other.

He paled. “The baby. She's here, isn't she?”

Hannah's ashen face peered over his shoulder.

“No.”

“They've taken her!” Hannah cried, growing more hysterical with each word. “Someone must have been watching us, and when they saw us leave without the baby, they knew they could easily take her. God, what shall we do?”

He gripped her arms. “Take it easy. The babysitter might have just decided to go for a walk, for some reason.” He didn't sound convinced. “Did you see or hear anything, Angie?”

“Nothing. But something else has happened,”
she said, as Sal and Serefina joined her. “Gail Leer phoned. Paavo went to see her, and now he hasn't returned, either.”

“They're on the boat,” Hannah cried. “They're taking my baby!”