Dead Canaries Don't Sing (36 page)

“She was in good enough shape to dial 911.”

“Where are you taking her?”

“Port Townsend. Norfolk Hospital.”

I watched him leap into the ambulance. I immediately got back into my own car and headed toward my cottage.

My head was spinning as I raced inside. Stay calm, I told myself. You’ve got to think.

As I opened the door, Max and Lou pounced. “Not now, guys,” I told them urgently. “We don’t have time.”

I made a beeline for the phone. The red light was blinking.

A message from Betty? I wondered. A plea for help—and I wasn’t here?

I pressed “Play.”

“You—have—one—message.”

As the tape rewound, Prometheus launched into his usual tirade. “Damn you,
awk
!”

“Quiet!” I pleaded.

“
Awk!
Jesus H. Christmas!”

I turned up the volume.

“Hey, Jess. It’s me, Jimmy. I’m on duty right now,
but I thought I’d stop over this evening and take you
for that ride I promised. Probably about eight, if
that’s okay. Hope I catch you in. Later!”

So it hadn’t been Betty who called, only Jimmy. I dialed Nick.

“Come on, Nick, answer . . . Nick? It’s Jessie. Betty’s on her way to Norfolk Hospital. They’re bringing her in an ambulance right now.”

“Oh, my God. Stroke? Heart attack?”

“Worse,” I croaked. “Someone came into her house and assaulted her. Betty’s hurt, Nick.”

As I raced to the hospital, I felt as if I was in one of those awful dreams, the kind in which you’re desperately hurrying and everything around you is moving in slow motion. Every traffic light was red, and there seemed to be an unbelievable number of cars on the road.

When I finally made it to the hospital, I dashed inside. I had to remind myself that I wasn’t the only person who was under stress as I stepped out of the way of people in wheelchairs and young couples carrying newborn babies.

I careened down the hall blindly, still managing to hold it together. But as soon as I spotted a familiar face, I lost it.

“Oh, Nick! This is so horrible!”

“She’s a fighter, Jess. And they think she’ll be fine.”

“You talked to her doctor?”

“Yes. He said her injuries aren’t bad. It’s more the shock of what happened that he’s worried about.”

I sank into one of the plastic chairs lining the hallway. “What
did
happen?”

“Apparently somebody broke into her—”

“They didn’t have to break in. She keeps the back door unlocked during the day. Remember when I barged in on the two of you? Anybody could have walked in.”

“However he got inside, he wasn’t there to steal anything. Or, from the looks of things, even to hurt her very badly.”

“What’s left?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

“He must have been trying to scare her.” He swallowed. “Or somebody else.”

“Like me,” I groaned. “This is all my fault.”

“Jess, you could never have anticipated that something like this would happen.”

“I should have known Betty was going to become more enmeshed in this, that the creepy phone call was just the beginning.” I lowered my voice. “Nick, I found out what Tommee Frack was involved in.”

I related my entire conversation with Wade Moscowitz. When I’d finished, Nick murmured, “This is worse than we ever imagined, Jess. More complicated, too. Now we know there are a lot of people who would have loved to keep Tommee Frack from ‘singing.’ Powerful people, too. Which explains why somebody’s been trying to scare you away since the beginning.”

“All these ‘warnings,’ even before this,” I mused. “The phone call and the break-in and and the feather and being followed by that Jeep—”

“I almost forgot! I finally heard back from my contact at the DMV. He traced the license plate.”

“And—?”

“You’re not going to believe this, but there’s a black Jeep Cherokee with the New York State license plate BLD-0917 registered under the name Vincent Pascucci.”

I blinked. “Officer Pascucci? Jimmy’s partner?
He’s
the one who’s been following me?”

“Excuse me.” A nurse carrying a clipboard poked her head out of a doorway. “Are you here with Elizabeth Vandervoort?”

Nick and I both jumped to our feet.

“Is she all right?” I demanded.

“She’ll be just fine. You can see her now, if you like. She’s a little doped up, but she can manage a quick visit. It’ll be good for her to know you’re here.”

As we walked through the Emergency Room, passing a row of beds separated by curtains, Nick took my hand.

“You all right?” he asked gently.

“I’ll feel better after I see for myself that she’s okay.”

Betty’s eyes were closed. She seemed very fragile and very small. No glittery eye shadow illuminated her tired-looking eyes, and the pale green fabric of her hospital gown made her skin look ghostly white.

“Betty?” I said softly.

She opened her eyes. I let go of Nick’s hand and took hers. “You look great,” I assured her, only lying a little. “How do you feel?”

“Like someone who’s been banged on the head with a bowling ball.” She forced a little smile. “But they tell me the damage was minimal. According to that nice doctor who was just in here, I should be tap dancing again in no time. What’s even more important is that I’ll be fine by January.”

“January?” I repeated.

“For my trip to Tahiti, of course!”

“So that’s where you decided to go.”

“I couldn’t resist the thought of those men in loincloths with the palm fronds.” For a brief moment, the familiar twinkle lit up her eyes.

“Do you know what happened?” Nick asked somberly.

“I was arranging flowers on that table I keep in the front parlor, the one with all the picture frames and knickknacks. The next thing I knew, someone shoved me. I fell across the arm of the couch and hit my head against the edge of the table, which is probably why I feel like I just drank a whole bottle of champagne all by myself.”

“That’s the drugs. They gave you something for the pain.”

“Got a huge gash in my side, too, where I smacked into the corner of the table. Guess I won’t be wearing my bikini on
this
vacation.”

“You didn’t hear anyone?” I asked.

“No. It wasn’t until he came up right behind me and I saw him in the mirror that I was even aware that anyone else was in the house.”

“You saw him?” Nick and I exclaimed in unison.

“Well . . . not exactly. I keep a small mirror in a silver frame on the table, stuck in with all the photographs, and I caught just a glimpse of him as he came up behind me.”

“What did you see?” I demanded.

“Just his shoulder and chest. But I know he was tall. Towered above me, in fact.”

Tall. Towering. Those didn’t sound like words that described stubby Officer Pascucci.

“Are you sure, Betty?” I wondered if the incident had left her confused.

“Positive.”

“But you said yourself the mirror was tiny.”

“A mirror’s a mirror, Jessica. They don’t lie.”

“But—”

The nurse reappeared and reached for the curtain hanging above the bed. “I’m going to have to ask you folks to leave now,” she said firmly. “We’re taking her up to her room now. I think she’s had enough excitement for one day.”

“She’s going to be all right, though, isn’t she?” I asked anxiously.

“Sure she is. We just want her here overnight so we can keep an eye on her.” She winked at Betty. “I know the type. Stronger than an ox.”

Betty laughed softly. “Jessica already knows what a tough cookie I am.”

I squeezed her hand gently. “Take good care of yourself, will you?”

“I’ll be out of here in no time.” She squeezed my hand back. “And you and Nick will come pick me up when they release me, right?”

“Yes, Betty. Nick and I will come. Together.”

Nick and I headed out of the ER, this time walking a couple of feet apart.

“I think she’ll be fine,” he said.

I only nodded. This was all my fault. And even though I’d wreaked havoc with the life of one of my best friends, I had nothing to show for it. As far as the investigation was concerned, I’d come up completely empty-handed. Although I thought I knew
why
Tommee had been murdered, I still didn’t know who’d killed him.

When we reached the exit, Nick said, “Want to get something to eat?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got to get home. I’ve got other plans.”

“Oh.” He sounded hurt. “I figured you’d enjoy the company. That you wouldn’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Actually, a friend of mine is taking me out.”

“Don’t tell me. Our man in blue.”

I was in no mood to play verbal volleyball with Nick. “His name is Jimmy.”

“You’re going out with him? After what Betty said?”

“Surely you’re not referring to the fact that she claims the person who assaulted her was tall!”

“That doesn’t make you nervous?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“But that Jimmy Nolan guy is tall and he works with Pascucci,” Nick insisted. “Doesn’t that give you second thoughts about getting in a car with him alone?”

“Aside from the fact that Jimmy is one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met, he’s a cop! Who could be safer?”

“Pascucci’s a cop, too, remember? You don’t know anything about this guy, Jess. For all you know,
he
could have murdered Tommee Frack!”

“Right.” I infused my voice with as much sarcasm as I could. “Now
there’s
a likely scenario. Next you’re going to tell me he’s the one who stole my notebook.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The notebook I used to write down every piece of information and evidence I had. All my conversations, phone numbers and addresses, everything you told me about Frack and his murder. . . . It’s missing.”

“You mean missing as in
misplaced
? Or missing as in someone deliberately took it?”

“All I know is that this morning, I realized it had vanished. And the thought occurred to me that maybe whoever broke in last night took it.”

“Jessie, this is getting—”

“For heaven’s sake, I probably just left it somewhere! Or the dogs ate it. At this point, I don’t know what’s real and what’s simply the product of my imagination. But one thing I do know is that Jimmy had nothing to do with any of it.”

“Listen to me,” he argued. “I’ve got a lot more experience than you. The main reason people get murdered is that they foolishly trust another person. They figure he’s someone he’s not—and they don’t find out they’re wrong until it’s too late.”

Maybe Nick was a little jealous, and maybe he had a right to be. But trying to tie Jimmy Nolan into the bizarre events of the past few weeks was absurd. Especially if the core of his argument was the fact that, unlike Pascucci, he happened to be taller than five foot six.

“Take Frack,” Nick persisted. “Don’t you think he opened his door to his murderer without giving it a second thought? Aren’t you convinced that whoever killed him was somebody he knew, somebody he had no inkling was dangerous?”

“Goodbye, Nick,” I said firmly. “I really have to go.”

“May I ask where Prince Charming is taking you?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re going for a ride.”

He sighed. “In that case, have fun.”

“Don’t worry,” I retorted. “I always do.”

Chapter 18

“People who keep dogs are cowards who haven’t got the guts to bite people themselves.”

—August Strindberg

Just as he’d promised, Jimmy showed up promptly at eight. Punctuality was something I liked in a man.

Politeness, too. I was tickled that he held the car door open for me as we embarked on our little adventure.

“Hop in, young lady, and get ready for a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I guarantee this will be an evening unlike any other you’ve ever had.”

“You’d better deliver,” I teased. “I’m counting on you.”

By this point, I was actually looking forward to that ride in either the James Dean car or the pink convertible. I desperately needed the chance to do something mindless and fun. My only regret was that Nick wouldn’t be there to see me cruising around town with Jimmy.

As we rode along Cross Country Road, I decided to relax. The events of the long, difficult day still swam in my head, but I wanted to forget, at least for a while.

I was almost at that point when Jimmy slammed on the brakes, pitching me forward so hard my seat belt cut into me. He was leaning on the horn, its angry bleating accompanying the ear-splitting sound of tire rubber screeching against pavement.

“Oh, my God!” I cried. I watched in horror as we narrowly missed crashing into the back fender of a car that had just run a red light and shot in front of us.

“Jesus H. Christmas!” Jimmy yelled. “What an asshole!”

“Wow! That was close!”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine, thanks to your reflexes.”

Aside from my frantically pounding heart, the only casualty appeared to be the heel of my left foot. The sudden lurching of the car had sent something flying out from under the seat, hitting me with what felt like a sharp edge. I reached down to pick it up.

My notebook.

I stared at it.

“Oh, yeah, that’s yours,” Jimmy said. “I forgot to mention that you left it in my car the other night.”

He glanced over at me, smiling.

“Thanks,” I said, smiling back.

But I was thinking,
That’s impossible . . . isn’t it?

I struggled to recall the last time I’d seen my notebook . . . Monday evening, right after I’d found the feather on my windshield. As soon as I came home and found Jimmy’s message on my answering machine, I’d sat on the couch and recorded everything I’d learned that day at the Athertons’ and Pomonok Properties and Jonathan Havemeyer’s office.

Afterward, I’d gone out with Jimmy. There was no way I’d brought my notebook along. Not when I clearly remembered ordering myself to take the night off from Tommee Frack.

I started to feel cold.

Is it possible that Jimmy’s the one who broke into
my house? To take my notebook?