Enemies Closer (2 page)

Suddenly, Clara just wanted to curl up with the cat and take a nap. It had been a long night followed by a long day, her stomach was comfortably full of ravioli and it was so hard to believe that Maddy wasn’t just going to walk through the door and tell her where they were having dinner that Clara could almost imagine it happening.

Instead, she took off her coat and fished her phone out of its pocket. Michelle had sent a text with the name of the police officer she’d spoken with.
Maybe I should just head to the station,
she thought, not even sure what sort of clues she should be looking for here. She walked over to a small desk by the window and shuffled through the papers there. A few computer printouts of recipes, a Post-it note with a one-eight-hundred number, a list of movies on Netflix. No calendar or date book. That would probably be on her phone. An image popped into her head and Clara went back to the kitchen to confirm it. A wall calendar hung by the fridge.

It was open to February with a photomontage of crazy shoes on the top page. Clara knew the calendar because she had the same one in her apartment in Boston. A stocking stuffer from their mother at Christmas, it had photographs of avant-garde shoes along with the designer – in some cases architect was a more appropriate term – and the year of their creation.

Monday, February 23rd, was marked with the name of a restaurant and a time. Seven o’clock.

At seven o’clock on Monday, Maddy had planned to be at Gigi’s on the Waterfront, and by Tuesday, she had gone missing.

There was no indication of whom she was meeting there, and Clara didn’t know if she had actually shown up, but at least she had an idea of what to do after her visit to the police station. She was going to Gigi’s Waterfront Bistro.

Chapter Two

S
cratching the cat behind her ears and taking a last look around, Clara locked up and caught a taxi to the police department on Fifth Avenue and Cherry Street. It was rush hour and the ride took a while but Clara used the time to get her bearings. Downtown Seattle was laid out in a grid pattern fanning away from the waterfront, with avenues numbered and running north to south, while streets were named and ran east to west. As long as you knew where the Sound was, it was easy to get around.

An operator on the non-emergency line had informed her that the Missing Persons Investigation Department was located at Police Headquarters rather than one of the local precincts. When her cab arrived, she paid the fare and walked purposefully through the main entrance of the modern stone and glass building. The lobby was clean and shiny and she took her place in a line for public requests. It didn’t take long to reach a receptionist seated behind bulletproof glass. When she told him why she was there, the man frowned at her for coming in without an appointment, but Clara stared him down and he relented.

Less than fifteen minutes later a tall woman in a suit came to the waiting area and called her name.

Putting out her hand, Clara stood and said, “Clara Gardner. I’m here about my sister, Madeline Gardner.”

“Detective Judy Carlisle.” They walked through a maze of cubicles and glass-walled offices. Ugly grey desks, bulky computers and ringing telephones were reminiscent of the cop shows she’d watched on television, but it was all a lot neater and more civilized. Everyone looked busy, like they were accomplishing something important. A few obvious civilians were talking to officers, asking and answering questions. None of them were handcuffed, but Clara didn’t know if that meant none of them were criminals. In general, the scene was surprisingly calm and organized. She felt herself relax a little.

Detective Carlisle indicated a cubicle containing two back-to-back desks and a chair next to one. “Miss Gardner, I understand that your sister has been out of touch for a few days and I pulled up the missing persons report that was filed last night,” she said, emphasizing the time. “Do you have some information to add to the report?”

Clara’s confidence that the Seattle police department had gotten right on the case of her missing sister faltered a little. “Well, yes, I think I do, but I also came in to tell you that I flew all the way across the country this morning because my family and I are very concerned for Madeline, and that I’ll be in town until she’s found.”

Detective Carlisle took a long appraising look at Clara and slowly began nodding her head. “Let’s start with the information you have.”

“Okay,” she replied. “My sister had plans to go to Gigi’s Bistro at seven o’clock on Monday.”

When Clara began her sentence, Carlisle had poised her fingertips above the keyboard of her Hewlett Packard; now she paused in her typing, waiting for Clara to go on.

“That’s all that I know now, but I’m heading to Gigi’s next to see if she actually showed up and whether she met anyone there.”

“How did you come across this information?”

“I went to Maddy’s apartment today and found the notation on her wall calendar. All it said was ‘Gigi’s 7:00.’ Nothing else, but she told her business partner that she was having dinner with someone.”

Carlisle was scanning the computer screen. “Your sister is the owner of Dovetail?” Clara nodded. “And the woman who reported her missing is Michelle Perkins, her business partner?”

“She and Michelle own the restaurant together.”

“And you don’t know whether or not Madeline showed up for dinner on Monday night?”

“Not yet,” she said a little defiantly. “It’s a small place and Mondays are usually slower nights at restaurants, so I’m hoping that someone will remember her.”

“Be sure to let us know what you find.” When Clara looked taken aback, she went on, “I’ll be frank, Miss Gardner, there isn’t a lot we can do at this point. There is no evidence of a crime, and other than your sister’s unusual absence from her place of business and the fact that she hasn’t been in touch with her family in a few days, we don’t have a lot to go on.”

“Something is definitely wrong.”

“I understand your fears,” the detective replied before Clara could go on. “I do,” she said when Clara began shaking her head. “It’s been a little more than forty-eight hours since your sister was expected at her restaurant, and we’ve already done a welfare check of her apartment at” – she consulted the computer screen again – “twelve-forty-two this afternoon. There was no answer, but nothing seemed amiss in the hallway or with the door itself and the tenant who opened the door to the building had nothing unusual to report. The officer doing the check knocked on the doors of the neighboring apartments and had no response – not uncommon at that time of the day during the work week – but we’ll do another welfare check tonight.”

“If she’s missing,” Clara interrupted, “what good does it do to knock on her door?”

“It’s the first step, Miss Gardner. Now that we know where she was supposed to be on Monday night, I’ll personally check in with the staff at Gigi’s as well. Anything you find out at Gigi’s or from your sister’s apartment, you should let me know right away. All of this will help, but at this point –”

Clara was sick of hearing about ‘this point.’ “At what point do you start taking Maddy’s disappearance seriously?”

“I
am
taking this seriously. She hasn’t been gone long enough and we don’t have the authority to search her apartment or her restaurant offices, to start interrogating anyone she was close to, or to make a plea to the media. But we have already begun the protocol to locate your sister and make sure that she’s safe. I promise you, I
will
keep on this until Madeline is accounted for, but there isn’t a lot to be done right now.” The detective leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Have you considered that your sister may have gone somewhere of her own accord?”

“Yes. And she hasn’t,” Clara said definitively. She couldn’t argue with Carlisle’s words and she definitely believed the sincere expression in the woman’s eyes, but she wasn’t going to let up. “Be prepared to hear a lot from me until she’s found. I’m not going away.”

“I’ll count on it,” said Carlisle and handed Clara her card.

She left the police station feeling marginally better than when she had entered it. At least she’d said her piece and knew that the cops were doing something. She couldn’t really expect them to start beating down doors and shouting from the rooftops. The big thing she had learned was that she was going to have to find some evidence that Maddy had not just taken off for a few days of relaxation if she wanted the police to really start worrying. She turned toward the Sound and walked back to Dovetail to ask Michelle if Gigi’s had some relevance in her sister’s life. Maybe Maddy had a friend there, or a business contact.

It was five o’clock, eight in Boston, and Clara decided to wait to call her parents until she’d been to Gigi’s and found out if her sister had shown up there at all, but she sent her dad a text telling him that she’d spoken to the police and thought they were being helpful.
Not as helpful as I’d like,
she thought,
but they’re doing their job.

The walk back to Dovetail seemed to take forever and by the time she got there, she wished she’d taken another taxi. Susan recognized her when she came through the door and asked if she’d learned anything about Maddy’s whereabouts.

“Not really,” she replied. “She was having dinner with someone on Monday night, did she mention it to you?”

Susan thought for a second before shaking her head. “Sorry, no. It’s been so weird here without her. She’s usually in the kitchen by now making a special for us all to sample. Eddie’s in there now, helping prep until Michelle is done in the office, so I guess things are under control, but everyone’s freaked out.” Her eyes widened suddenly. “I’m sorry, do you want a table? I can fit you in ahead of the dinner rush.”

“No thanks. I’m just going to have a drink at the bar. Will you ask Michelle to come out when she gets a chance?”

Clara took a seat at the bar, turning her chair to look at the dining room. Separated from it by a counter-height wall, the shiny mahogany bar ran parallel to the first half of the dining room and ended where the kitchen began. Understated but warm with a polished concrete floor, wooden tables and chairs, big windows and lots of candles, the dining room could seat about fifty people plus another fifteen at the bar. Modern yet cozy, Dovetail was a popular restaurant in downtown Seattle with a small menu that changed with the seasons. The only thing missing was Maddy Gardner.
And, that,
thought Clara,
makes all the difference.

The bartender came around the corner with a case of wine. It wasn’t quite 5:30 and he was finishing restocking the bar before the restaurant opened for dinner. “My apologies,” he began but stopped when he looked at Clara’s face.

“I’m Clara, Madeline’s sister.”

For a second the bartender just looked at her, then said, “Joe. The bartender. I’m sorry, you look so much like Maddy that for a second I thought…” He trailed off, looking disappointed and sad. He was a clean-cut young man in his early twenties. Not very tall but with broad shoulders and a strong, not quite stocky, build. His brown eyes dipped to the floor for a moment while he struggled to finish his sentence.

“We look a lot alike,” Clara said. “Susan did the same thing when I came in this afternoon.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “You must be worried sick. I don’t work on Tuesdays, but when I came in on Wednesday evening to set up and everyone said that Maddy had been a no-show for two days, I was totally freaked out. She’s
always
here.”

He said “always” with so much stress it sounded like Maddy never left the restaurant. “I guess no one found her or you wouldn’t be here.” He frowned and looked genuinely disappointed. “Can I get you a drink? Or a menu?”

She asked for a cup of black coffee and he got her a mug from the wait station at the end of the bar. “When did you last see Maddy?”

“Saturday,” he said right away. “I work Wednesday through Saturday nights. I’m studying engineering at Seattle U during the day. Anyway, Maddy is always here when I’m working. Sometimes she leaves before I do because the kitchen closes before the bar, but she’s always here when I get in.”

Not always, not anymore.
“And she was here Saturday?”

“Yeah, she was here when I got in. She left before I did, but she was cooking all night. She came out to talk to the diners and checked in with me a few times. Everyone loves her, you know.”

At least one person didn’t love Madeline,
thought Clara: whoever was responsible for her disappearance.

A big hand landed on her shoulder and Clara turned around. She knew who it was before she saw Eddie’s shaved head and grey-blue eyes smiling sympathetically down at her.

“Clara,” he said and gave her a tight hug. “How are you holding up?”

Shrugging her shoulders dismally, she replied, “Scared and lost.”

Without asking, Joe set a lowball with a finger of scotch on the bar in front of Eddie. “Thanks,” he said and turned back to Clara. “Michelle said you were going to look around her apartment and check in with the cops?”

Before Clara could answer, Michelle came around the corner and stood behind the bar. “Anything new?”

“I just came from the police station.” She filled them in on her conversation with Detective Carlisle.

“That’s something, anyway.”

The group went silent. There just wasn’t much to add. Maddy was gone and no one had any idea how to find her.

“I’m going to Gigi’s next. I’ll ask some questions, hopefully get some answers.”

“Do you want dinner?”

Clara shook her head. “I’ll get something there and unless I get a lead on Maddy, I’m going back to the hotel afterward. I need some sleep before I stop being useful.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I just don’t get it. Where could she be? What happened?” Her questions were rhetorical and no one bothered to respond. “Tomorrow, if nothing changes, I’ll move my suitcase into Maddy’s place and stay there until she’s back. Bea will like the company, and frankly so will I.”

Clara hugged Michelle and Eddie goodbye and reassured them that she’d check in tomorrow for sure and call tonight if she learned anything. Then she was off. It was only a few blocks to the bistro and she walked; by the time she arrived at the restaurant, she’d be ready to sit down for a while and get something to eat.

She walked along First Avenue until she passed Pike’s Place Market and then veered down toward the water. The sun was setting over Elliott Bay and a gentle, salty wind blew her hair back from her face. She breathed in the distant scents of fresh fish and cut flowers, coffee and the perfume of a woman passing in the opposite direction. For a second, Clara felt as if the entire world was breathing with her. As if everything was as it should be.

But the moment faded as her gaze moved from the golden light over lapping water to the cars impatiently waiting for the light to change. The smell of gasoline and the day’s emotional detritus overwhelmed the soothing fragrance of the market.

In fact,
nothing
was as it should be. For the tenth time that day, Clara called her sister. For the tenth time that day, a monotone voice told her the voicemail box she had dialed was full. Please try again later.

A solitary tear spilled down her cheek and she wiped it away, taking a few deep breaths to prevent any more from coming. If she started crying now, everyone at Gigi’s would know it the moment they looked at her. Her eyes were already red from lack of sleep, her skin pale, her hair a windblown mess. She would not suffer the looks of pity that tears would bring.

She stopped in front of a shop window, giving herself a few more seconds’ rest, a few more deep breaths, and then carried on until she was seated at the bar in Gigi’s Bistro on the Waterfront, dinner menu at hand, glass of pinot noir on its way.

“Here you are,” said a handsome man in his mid-thirties, setting a balloon glass in front of her and giving it a swirl.

“Thank you,” said Clara, and took a sip.

“Is Maddy joining you?”

Clara almost choked on her wine. “What?”

“Oh my god. I’m sorry, you look just like a friend of mine and I know she has a sister…”

She wiped the look of shock and horror from her face before she spoke. “Don’t worry. I am Maddy’s sister. Clara.” She put out her hand.

He took it and introduced himself as Cole, the floor manager of Gigi’s. “I thought you must be. You look so much alike.” He studied her for a second and said, “Is everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Madeline is missing,” she blurted without thinking, “I flew into town today to find out where she is.”