Molly Brown (15 page)

“I hope so.”

*
  *  *

“So, what you got?”

He’d received M
arty’s call when he’d all but given up on him. He’d been about to chase him down but found himself distracted by the number of Gerry’s texts clogging his phone. He’d copied down the list of addresses, dates and other trivia Gerry had unearthed and passed the list to Lizzie. It was keeping her busy, moving cups and saucers and condiments around the table, replicating the stacks of books in Molly’s room. It was keeping him busy just watching her. While they were both occupied they didn’t have to think about the real issues. He sensed a ‘we need to talk’ conversation was on the cards, but right now he was disinclined to listen. So, it, whatever it might be, had gone unsaid.

He rose from the table
, the cell phone pressed to his ear, and trailed a hand gently across her cheek. Turning, she pressed warm moist lips into his palm. He allowed his imagination to stray in anticipation of a protracted making up, cocked his head and smiled. “Coffee?” he mimed and she nodded. They were in for a long night one way or another.

He checked the coffee pot on the stove and wandered to the window, his mind everywhere but where it should be. Marty was speaking and he pulled his attention away from Lizzie and back to the phone.

“Sorry, buddy, I was distracted. What did you say?”

“I
said, I got Gibbons dropping the girl off at an address which is registered to Frankie. Pretty sweet out of town pad. I think you know where this is going, don’t you, Tommy? You worked Vice for long enough.”

Connell felt his shoulders sag. It seemed his past was coming back to haunt him. “Oka
y, so get Gerry to send the boys in.”

“It’s not that simple, Tommy.”

He dropped his voice to little more than a hiss. “Marty, I don’t want to hear that. I don’t want to hear how fuckin’ difficult things are. Nothing is ever simple. Just figure it, will you? I need this to be over.”

“Hey, what’s wrong, Tommy?”

Connell glanced back at Lizzie. Her head was down studying Gerry’s list, one slender hand holding her curls away from her face. Her cheeks were stained with her earlier tears.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Tommy, this is Marty, your buddy. When I ask what’s wrong, I expect you to tell me. You give me your shit, I give you mine. That’s how friendship works.”

“You got shit?”

“Not right at this moment, but when I do you can be sure I’ll share. So come on, let me have it.”

Connell stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door closed behind him. He slumped against the wall and took a steadying breath. “I don’t know. I’m worried about Lizzie. I’ve never seen her this way. Not since
... well ... anyway … The Musgrave thing has really spooked her. I mean, jeez, why am I doing this, Marty? I can’t lose her ...”

“Hey, buddy, slow down. You’re not going to lose her. You and she are made for each other.”

“Well, something’s going on. I can see it in her eyes. Like there’s something she’s not telling me.”

“That’s nothing new.”

“No, I mean it, Marty. There’s this ... I dunno ... sadness.”

“Do you want me to ask Charlene if she knows anything?”

“How would Charlene know anything?”

“Tommy, come on
, get with it, they’re women. Don’t even try to understand them. They commune telepathically. It’s all those hormones. They sense when one of their number is in trouble and gather like a rabid pack to tear us poor guys limb from limb. They’re probably at it now, giving it with the ohm ... ohm ... and re-coloring their auras.”

Connell smiled into the phone. H
e could imagine Charlene doing just that, but knew in his heart that Lizzie’s problems were all down to him. “Thanks, buddy it’s probably nothing. Forget I mentioned it. Maybe she’s just homesick, missing her sister.”

“Or maybe she’s just sick of hanging around waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

“Waiting for you, Tommy.” Marty paused and Connell let the silence grow, not sure how to fill it. “So, Tommy,” continued Marty, “I hate to drag you away from Lizzie when you both need a little lovin’, but this thing with Frankie, I figure you might want to dig a little deeper.”

“Why?” He was done with digging, he was six feet down already, but when Marty, the most cautious guy he knew, suggested it, he knew there’d be a damned good reason. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it. Not now, when he’d other things on his mind.

“Because
there’s got to be a connection.”

Connell sighed. He wasn’t going to get away from it, no matter how much he might want to. “A connection with what?”

“I’m not sure, but you’re looking for a truck driver and Frankie’s running some big trucks.”

“So, let Gerry follow it up.”

“Sure, you could do that.”

“But?”

“Think about it. Why didn’t you tell Gerry where Molly was?”

“Because he’s holding back.”

“Exactly.”

“Marty, what’re you saying? Gerry’s always holding back, it’s the way he is. It doesn’t mean anything other than the fact he doesn’t trust his own shadow.”

“And do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Trust him?”

“Marty, you’re spooking me here. Of course I trust him.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“Since when?”

“Since it went down at the warehouse.”

“Not exactly. He sent me a bunch of texts. He’s scr
eaming at me to give him a call but that’s usual stuff for Gerry.”

“Does he know where you are?”

“Yes. No. He thinks I’m at the apartment. I didn’t intend heading back here.”

“Let him think that.”

“Huh?”

“Let him think that you‘re in town. Spend the evening cozying up with Lizzie and sorting out your problems. Hey, show her how much you missed her. Promise her the sun and the
moon if you have to, she’s worth it. But tomorrow you need to have a word with Frankie.”

“You’re telling me to lie to Gerry and speak with Frankie. What do you know that I don’t?”

“I’m not sure, Tommy, but maybe by tomorrow I will.”

Chapter Sixteen

He was aware of Lizzie’s scrutiny as he took his seat at the table. She chewed nervously at her bottom lip, her hand straying to her hair as she twisted the curls gently between her fingers.

Connell sagged inwardly;
he knew that expression. He wanted to hold up a palm and stop everything, to rewind to a time before he’d hooked back up with Gerry. It had been a mistake thinking he could pick up where he’d left off. They’d promised each other to forget about it and to never speak of it again after the business with Mo and Butler. They’d kept themselves locked away from any horror in their idyllic retreat, the perfect happy family, and now he’d shattered their idyll by bringing reality home with a resounding crash. He couldn’t afford for any of this to touch Lizzie or Joe.

“What do we have?” he asked, reluctant to involve her further, but wise enough to know that excluding her would merely increase her anxiety.

Lizzie sighed softly. “This may be a coincidence but the pattern created by the stacks of books on the floor of Molly’s room matches exactly the location of the crime scenes. It’s as if each stack represents a building on the map.”

Connell nodded. He’d suspected as much
but he didn’t have a clue how the child could have known. The information was not in the public domain, and even if it were, why would that be of interest to a ten year old?

“That’s not all, “continued Lizzie. The number of books in each stack corresponds with the floor or house number where the bodies were found.” She glanced at him, “I know you removed the newspaper bookmarkers, but I’m assuming they were origina
lly placed in the correct stack in the appropriate book. So Musgrave’s marker would have been in the stack that corresponded with the courthouse, and as he was found on the third floor, his marker would have been placed in the third book on the stack.”

Connell couldn’t recall where all the n
ewspaper markers had been. Most he’d collected from the floor after the room had been ransacked. “So you’re saying she mapped out the crime scenes with the books? After every murder, she clips the cutting and creates another stack?”

Lizzie reached for her coffee. Wrapping her hands around the heat of the mug she inhaled the rich aroma. She shook her head gently. “No, if it were just that, well, it would be a little weird, but I really don’t think that’s what she’s doing at all. I think there’s far more to this.”

“Huh?”

“How many murders have there been?”

“Eleven.”

“And how many clippings?”

“Ten, so far, but Molly wouldn’t have had a chance to get anything about Scott, the latest one. I doubt it made the newspapers before I picked her up.”

“Scott, is he the policeman, t
he one you’d been following?”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m guessing he was killed at the library.”

“Close enough -
in the alley adjacent to it. How did you know?”

“Because the stack of books was obviously prepared in advance.” She pointed to a sugar shaker and its corresponding location on the map.
“There, you see, that’s the library and there’s only one book on the stack. Presumably when she did get the clipping she’d have placed it beneath the book as Scott’s body was found on the street.”

“How would she have known the location before it happened?” Connell’s voice trailed off as he recalled the pink pajamas which had mysteriously vanished from Molly’s apartment and turned up at her lair in the bowels of th
e library. He had wondered then at her connection with the Lizard guy.

Lizzie shrugged impatiently. “That’s not all.”

“What do you mean?”

“There were twelve stacks.”

Connell rounded the table, leaning over her shoulder to check the locations. He counted them out and saw how she’d crossed each one off on the map she’d drawn, how she’d printed the name of the victim and allocated the appropriate clipping. Stack number twelve was not as closely aligned to the others, which were crammed together in a tight location. Number twelve had occupied a position adjacent to Molly’s broken closet door. At the time it had meant nothing to him. He’d simply stepped over it while checking the closets contents. Now, seeing it represented on the map, it meant a whole lot more. On the map it clearly announced its true purpose. It marked the position of his apartment building. Three books representing the three floors of the partially converted industrial lot.

Lizzie lif
ted her gaze from the map, wide-eyed, fear replacing confusion. “Connell, what’s going on?”

“I have no idea.”

“Then you need to find out. For some reason, you’re involved in this and Molly knows all about it. Promise me you won’t go back to the apartment.” She reached for his hand, slender fingers quickly entwined and held in a reassuring grip.

He thought of Marty’s recent puzzling warning, to lay low, to avoid Gerry’s calls and stay
off his radar. He trusted Gerry and had no idea why Marty, the most trusting guy he knew, was suddenly so cautious. Once again it appeared he was missing information that might prove vital. More likely, and certainly more palatable, was the notion that Marty had his wires crossed and was pissed at Gerry for some reason and overreacting.

He gestured at the map and Lizzie’s notations. “Look, I know this looks weird, but there’s got to be another explanation. There is absolutely no connection between me and the killer. There’s no reason why he would want to add me to his list. We’re reading stuff into this that isn’t there. But
, hey, supposing I did pull the last invite to the party, which is a pretty crazy assumption. The guy is methodical, he kills one per week. He’s already done for Scotty and we’ve got another six days before his next outing, if there is one. Six days is plenty time to work this all out and talk to Molly.”

“But what if she doesn’t want to talk to you? Children are delicate creatures, their understanding of right and wrong, truth and lies
, develops over time and through exposure to the right influences. Molly is disturbed, traumatized. She may never want to talk to anyone.”

“She’ll come around, I’m
sure of it. She came with me. Surely that’s a start.”

“How do you know she didn’t do that with all the victims? She could just be targeting you, keeping you close.”

Connell shook his head, recalling Molly’s fear of the alley, how she’d almost attempted to shield him against whatever evil she perceived.

“Now, who’s getting c
arried away? She’s a little kid who maybe knows stuff she shouldn’t, but that’s all. We just have to make sure that she tells us what she knows within the next few days.”

He avoided acknowledging the warning bells that jangled mercilessly in his head and ignored the shift in his gut that screamed for his attention. Instead, he dipped his head and brushed a kiss across her lips. Rising to his feet before she had a chance to respond, he pulled her up against him and slipped a hand around her waist to ensure
he kept her close. “It’s late. We aren’t going to solve this tonight. Come on … I’ve missed you.” He cocked his head and sent her his winning smile. He knew it had the desired effect when she colored slightly and shook her head with obvious exasperation.

“Your life is in danger -
again - and all you can think about is sex?”

“No, Lizzie. All I can think about is you.”

*
  *  *

The next morning Molly had gone.

Her bed was empty her books had disappeared. There was nothing left in the room to suggest that she’d ever been there except for a drawing of a l
ion under her pillow.

Connell picked up the scrap of paper and held it carefully between finger and thumb, trying and failing to work out what was going on in her head. She wa
s trying to tell him something for sure, but why she couldn’t just come out and say it was anybody’s guess.

He took the stairs two at a time, narrowly avoiding Joe’s discarded shoes. The kitchen was silent. There was no sign of Lizzie or Joe either. He doubted they’d all gone out without letting him know, and similarly doubted that Molly would have agreed to go anywhere with them.

He checked his watch as he headed for the door. Six-fifteen. Too early for kindergarten but not too early for Joe to be up and about. They hadn’t been introduced last night but Joe had his own rules on making friends.

He was running as he reached the barn, panic taking over from rational thought. After spending the latter part of the night beating himself up about the danger he was exposing his family to, he’d just woken to his worst nightmare.

By the time he got to the barn he was convinced the worst had happened and was relieved when he ran into Lizzie coming out with a basket of eggs under one arm.

“What’s up?” she a
sked as she steadied the basket. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Molly’s gone.”

Lizzie smiled. “No she hasn’t.” She laid the basket down and took his arm. “Look, she’s just making friends with Toto.”

Lizzie held the barn door ajar
, allowing Connell to peer into the dusty space. Off to the left, perched on a bale of straw, was Molly. Spidey lay next to her, his head in her lap. More surprising was Joe sitting cross-legged next to her, chin on his hands, elbows propped on his knees, listening as she read aloud from one of her books. It was the first time Connell had heard her voice and it stopped him in his tracks.

She read fluently, though he had to strain to hear across the expanse of the barn. A little kid with an equally small voice, it was barely more than a whisper. Whatever, she had Joe enthralled and that took some doing. He didn’t usually stay still for long. Joe preferred to live out his own adventures rather than sit down with a book and be told about someone else’s.

Connell crossed the barn and took a seat on the bales next to Joe. Molly paused mid-sentence.

“Hey
, guys,” said Connell. “I see you’ve been introduced.”

Joe grinn
ed. “Molly’s here on vacation, so I figure I should stay home from kindergarten and play with her. We’re going to do loads of cool stuff and I told her she can share my tree house and my den, and Spidey, ‘cause she likes Spidey.”

Spidey’s tail thudded against Molly’s leg. She closed her book carefully with a marker to note the page and gently stroked Spidey’s head. The dog wriggled happily. Connell thought he detected a soften
ing in Molly’s blank expression but couldn’t be sure.

“Molly’s been tellin’ me a story,” continued Joe, “
‘bout fairies and witches and flying houses and scarecrows that talk …” he took a big breath. “And guess what, Daddy? There’s a dog just like Spidey. Isn’t there, Molly?”

Molly dropped her gaze and chewed anxiously at her lower lip. Her free hand strayed. Plucking a stalk from the bale
, she clutched it so tightly it snapped in her fingers.

“Sounds like a cool story, Joe. I was listening from the barn door. Molly, you’re a very good storyteller. Would you like to read a little more?”

She shook her head quickly.

“I’m
going to be the tin man,” interrupted Joe. “That would be neat, like a superhero with armor. Cousin Louis can be the scarecrow, ‘cause that’s just lame and so is he. Who’d want to be made of straw and have mice in your pants?” He giggled and Molly’s lips twitched ever so slightly.

“Oh yeah
, and who’s going to be the wizard - Molly?” asked Connell. He watched her carefully, not thinking for one moment that she’d reply, but was surprised when she lifted her head and met his gaze.

Once again Molly was saved by Joe’s exuberance. “Parker
, of course. He’s a million years old and he knows magic.”

“He does?”

“Yeah, he says he’s working magic on the surprise …” Joe clamped his own hand over his mouth, his giggles bursting through his fingers like water through a sieve.

Connell dragged his attention away from Molly and back to his son. Joe was always up to something, mostly mischief, but it worried him that he was keeping secrets with the old man. Parker was harmless in the sense that he didn’t mean har
m, quite the opposite in fact, but his mind was beginning to wander and Connell wondered how much of the day was spent reminiscing and reliving his youth. He didn’t want Parker recounting tales of executions, imagined or otherwise.

“Have you and Parker been keeping each other company, Joe?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what’s the surprise?”

“Aw, Daddy,” groaned Joe, clamping a hand against his forehead dramatically. “Don’t you know that a surprise is a secret?”

“Sure I do, I’m just hoping it’s a nice surprise. I know you, Joe. You’r
e not planning frogs in our bed or worms in my shoes, are you?” He turned to Molly with a smile as Joe whooped with laughter. “Joe is a joker, Molly. I’m relying on you here to keep him out of trouble.”

She flicked her gaze between Connell and Joe. Dimples formed in her dusty cheeks as she attempted to hide her smile. She gave a small shrug and Connell caught a glimpse of Lydia’s stubbornness. He supposed it was communication, a step in the
right direction, but a long way from where they needed to be if he was going to find out anything useful.