Molly Brown (4 page)

“Miss
Rogers?”

“Molly Brown’s
class teacher.”

Cool. Miss
Rogers could see him privately anytime.

He was reminded of his brother’s wife, Rachel, when he met her. She was pretty, with peachy skin and kind eyes
, and he decided that she was probably every kid in the school’s favorite teacher. She was his favorite teacher and he’d only just met her.

He grinned at her. “You wanted to see me?” How many times had he said that? How many times had he been hauled before t
he teacher for some misdemeanor? It seemed like yesterday.

She smiled back at him and tiny lines crinkled around those beautiful eyes. They hinted at the number of times she used that smile and he was warmed by the notion that little Molly Brown would have experienced the benefit of it.

“Please take a seat,” she said, and he nodded and sat on a seat designed for someone a fraction of his size. He attempted a nonchalant slouch, which was difficult with his knees under his chin. He noted her amusement and gave up with a shrug.

“You know something about Molly?” he asked.

“I know she’s a very vulnerable child and needs to be found as quickly as possible. I understand that’s what you’re trying to do.”

“Any idea where I should start looking?”

Miss Rogers closed her eyes while she thought and Connell wondered if she did the same in class. He imagined the mischief the kids would get up to while they were closed and the angelic faces when they were open. He wished he was a kid again, all that fun and no responsibility.

“I guess Molly’s favorite place would be the library.”

No surprises there. “Here at school or the public library?”

“Both.
I took the class last year to the public library. I’m not sure whether she would remember the way if she hadn’t been back, and somehow I doubt that anyone else would have taken her.”

Conn
ell nodded. He doubted it too. “What’s the story with the books?” He smiled at the unintended pun and she smiled back.

“S
he likes to read,” replied Miss Rogers. “I suppose she identifies with the characters. It’s a safe world to inhabit. When things get scary, she just has to close the book.”

“Okay, I get that, but why just one book?”

“You mean ‘The Wizard of Oz’?”

“Yeah, she must have over a hundred copies and her sister reckons that’s all she ever reads.”

Miss Rogers smiled a little sadly. “Most of those will have come from here. We had a series of thefts. I decided not to say anything. When Molly is loved and secure, I’m sure we’ll get them back. Molly’s not a thief but she is desperately sad and insecure. She has no good role models, no father figure, or mother figure for that matter, hence her continuing obsession with Oz, the good fairy and the Wizard.”

“What about Mr. Brown?”

“In and out of jail, and when he’s not inside he’s keeping one step ahead of his creditors. The mom is no better. It’s very sad. We’ve let Molly down ... I’ve let her down. I just hope you can find her.”

“Lydia told me
Molly was off to see the Wizard.”

“I suppose in her mind she is. She’s decided
, for whatever reason, that it’s time to leave Kansas.”

“What do you think would cause her to up and leave like that?”

“Perhaps if she was scared or unhappy, or maybe she’s just off on an adventure. Sometimes children get mixed up between what’s real and what isn’t. If Molly has convinced herself the Wizard is real, she might well believe she can find him and he’ll solve any problems she has.”

“You think she might attach to any old guy she meets?”

Miss Rogers considered the question for a moment “No, I think he would have to be someone she can identify with.”

“Great, so we’re looking for the Wizard of Oz
, or a guy with straw hair and a carrot for a nose?”

Miss
Rogers smiled kindly and shook her head. “No I don’t think even Molly is that simplistic. If someone has Molly, then he’s going to be a very unique individual. Molly has ignored all attempts at communication by everyone here. It would take something, or someone, very special to breach the defenses she’s created.”

Con
nell stood ready to leave. Miss Rogers was very naive. Any individual, unique or otherwise, could take a child by force. His only hope now was that little Molly Brown was hiding out at the library, adding to her collection. 

He turned back when he got to the door.
“Do you think Molly Brown is weird?”

Miss
Rogers smiled. “No, I think Molly Brown is unique.”

Connell returned her smile. She was definitely, his favorite teacher.

*
  *  *

It was meant to be late night at the library, but although only four o’clock, most of the people had already left, or maybe the place was never busy. What did Connell know? It wasn’t a place he frequented. He had a real urge to speak loudly, just for the heck of it. Or maybe drop a book or slam a door. He was regressing, and if he didn’t grow up and learn how to behave, he was going to get himself in trouble. When he caught the elderly librarian’s attention, she peered at him over the top of her glasses and the look in her eye was enough to shush him before he committed any major infringement of library etiquette.

He cleared his throat as loudly as he dared.
“Ma’am, I’m looking for a particular book. Maybe you can help me out?” He tried his most charming smile, the one usually guaranteed to work magic on anyone, but she merely harrumphed, narrowed her eyes; and the largest cat he’d ever seen jumped onto the counter and settled itself beside her. Connell was momentarily distracted as the cat proceeded to lick its paws with a raspy tongue.

“You think I’ve got time to run around finding books for people who are too damned lazy to look for themselves?”

Connell dragged his attention back. Wow, she was one prickly lady and that cat was something else - maybe a hybrid, or genetically engineered. More weirdness. “No, ma’am, not at all. I was hoping you could just point me in the right direction.” One day very soon he was going to bring Joe in here with a ball and let him bounce it as loudly as possible all down the hall.

“What you lookin’ for? Crime Thrillers? Hist
ory? Travel? Sport? Porn? We haven’t got none of that in here. You want porn, you need to look at the top shelf at the corner liquor store. C’mon, you gotta give me a clue. I haven’t got all day.”

Did he look like he’d come in looking for porn? Maybe he needed to clean up, get a shave. Connell shoved his hands in his pockets and gazed around. He probably could have found what he was looking for by himself, but hey, she was getting paid for her customer service skills
and she sure needed the practice.

“I was looking for a copy of The Wizard of Oz.”

The cat flexed its claws against the counter top and the woman adjusted her glasses and looked at Connell a little harder. “You come about that kid?”

“What kid?”Connell snapped to attention.

“Why, the kid who doesn’t understand that this is a lending library, not a ‘take what you like and don’t bother bringing it back’ library.”

Connell pulled out the photo of Molly. “Is this the kid?”

The woman took the photo from him for closer scrutiny. “Sure, that’s her. Funny little thing, isn’t she?”

“When was she here?” he asked.

The librarian checked her watch. “I’d say about thirty minutes ago.”

Connell swung around. He couldn’t believe he’d been so close and just missed her. “Did you speak with her? Did you notice which way she went? Can you tell me anything?”

“Hey, it’s just a couple of books - hardly the crime of the century.”

Connell took a breath and resisted the urge to shake the woman. “She’s ten years old, she’s missing from home and I need to find her. What can you tell me?”

“Are you a cop?”

“Yes,” he said,
because he just didn’t have the time to explain the private consultancy crap.

“Let me see your ID.”

“What?” This woman was killing him.

“If you’re a cop, you gotta have ID.”

Connell shook his head. “Okay, I’m not a cop, but I am assisting them.”

“Are you sure about that? You sure you’re not no sick pervert, chasing little girls round town?”

Jesus!
Connell slammed his hand on the counter top. The noise reverberated around the cavernous space and the cat hissed and jumped for cover.

“This child is vulnerable. She’s in danger
, and the longer you screw around with me, the more likely it is that she’ll be picked up by an actual pervert.” He swung around, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. “What is wrong with you people, with this town, that you can’t see when a child needs help?”

“You got a dirty mouth
, son,” tutted the librarian.

“
I got a dirty mouth ....”
He shook his head in disbelief. “You know what, forget it ... but when you pick up your morning paper and that little girl is plastered all over the front, I hope you feel real good about yourself.”

He turned his back on the woman
and hoped he was heading in the right direction once he got out of the building. Thirty minutes wasn’t long; he could catch up with her but not if he was going the wrong way.

“I gave her five bucks,” said the woman and Connell stopped and turned.

“She comes in here most days, never says anything, just sits in a corner and reads. When she thinks I’m not looking, she’ll try and lift a book. Today she looked hungry and a little sad, so I gave her five bucks, told her to head on over to MacDonald’s and get herself a burger. If you hurry, she might still be there.”

“Thank you,” said Connell with a quick grin, his faith in human nature restored. He reached over the counter, planted a kiss on her wrinkled, powdered cheek, turned her notepad around and scribbled down his cell ph
one number “Her name is Molly. If I miss her and she comes back, will you call me?”

The librarian flushed pink and nodded. “I hope you find her.”

“I hope so too.”

Connell ran from the library, dodging people and traffic as he covered the distance to the fast food outlet. He was out of condition, well fed and spoiled. No amount of yard and stock work - and he’d had plenty of that over the past year - could prepare him sufficiently for racing round town like a madman. He burst in the door and stopped, caught his breath and scanned the crowded restaurant. Unless she was hiding under a table
, she wasn’t there. He was too late. He crossed to the counter and shouldered his way to the front amidst grumbling and dirty looks.

“We got a line here, buddy,” said the kid behind the counter.

Connell pulled out the photo of Molly. “’You seen this kid?” The counter assistant ignored him, the grumbling continued and Connell felt a shove from behind. He turned, cocked his head at the guy behind, and the guy took a step back. “I said have you seen this kid? She was just here. Did you serve her?”

“I see lots of kids. T
hey all look the same to me.” The boy began to turn away.

Connell leaned over the counter and caught him by his collar. “Look at the damn picture!”

“Okay, okay, she just left ...”

The crowd at the counter parted and stepped back in alarm as Connell turned on his heels and set off again.

After four blocks he was forced to stop before his lungs gave out. He braced his hands on his knees, dragged in some air and wished he’d kept up his gym subscription.
Shit
. Wherever Molly Brown had gone, he wasn’t going to find her today.

But
she was still alive, she wasn’t being held captive, and maybe she wasn’t quite as weird as people seemed to think. She hung out at the library and ate at MacDonald’s - not that different after all.

Chapter Four

Connell finally called Lizzie from the car. “Hiya, babe,” he breathed into the phone when she picked up. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“What have you done, Connell?” He heard the humor in her gently reproving reply, imagined her sweet smile, her cute little dimples.

He allowed his mind to drift and imagine some more. “Done? Nothing. I just told you I love you.”

“Okay, I love you too. So what are you about to do?”

“You are so suspicious.” He smiled and settled down in his seat, closed his eyes briefly and basked in the warmth of her voice. She knew him far too well. They hadn’t been apart this long since they’d gotten together properly, become an item, and shared a house, a bed - a life. He hadn’t realized just how much that actually meant until he’d heard her voice. “I missed you, sweetheart. What’ve you been up to?”

Lizzie laughed softly. “You mean apart from pining away over the man who was supposed to be home first thing this morning?”

Pining, it was a nice thought but ... “Honey, I’m just keeping you on your toes ... absence makes the heart ... and all that. So, what you been doin’ without me?”

“This and that.”

“Oh, yeah?” He was sure he’d heard that one before.

“The baby’s finally arrived and you missed it.” He could hear the uncontained fizzle of excitement in her voice.

His eyes shot open. “Come again?”

“The car. D
on’t tell me you’ve forgotten already.”

Oh sure
. He relaxed again. The car she’d had shipped from England, her very own racing green Mini Cooper. She’d had it since she’d passed her driver’s test at seventeen and she’d been bending his ear about it for the last month. Maybe now it had finally arrived, she’d quit talking about it and get out and drive it, although he wasn’t sure why anyone would want to drive anything so small.

“How could I forget?”

She ignored the irony. “I can’t wait to take you out for a spin. You’ll love it.”

Despite her undoubted enthusiasm, he was sure that he wouldn’t. He’d seen the way she drove and could think of other things he wo
uld rather do … but when you’re in love …

“
Sounds wonderful,” said Connell as he checked the mirror for any undesirables who might still be lurking. Although he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of them since he’d gone into the school, he wasn’t convinced they’d given up and gone home. More likely they’d upped their game and were lying in wait where he least expected them. The answer, he figured, was to ensure he was expecting them everywhere.

“What have you been doing, or shouldn’t I ask?”

Connell knew for a fact she wouldn’t want to know, not when Gerry Gesting was involved. “Sure you can ask. I’m just tying up some loose ends. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“And you’re okay
...?”

He heard the slight tremor in her voice and his gut tightened. He hated
being the cause of her anxiety but couldn’t avoid it. “Hey, I’m fine, quit worrying. I’ve been eating properly, drinking in moderation and only swearing when absolutely necessary.” Well, two out of three was pretty good, he thought.

“And Gerry, has he been looking out for you?”

No, Gerry had been doing his usual, throwing Connell to the wolves and sitting back to see who got bitten.

“Sure he has.”

“Okay, I suppose you’re forgiven.” She could never stay mad at him and he knew it. “Are you on your way now? Joe’s missed you. I don’t tell bedtime stories the way you do.”

She
was doing herself an injustice. Connell knew he was definitely second best in Joe’s eyes. “I’ve just got one more thing to check out and then I’m on my way.” He glanced at his watch - it was after five. “I’ll be home by eight. Keep Joe up and I’ll put him to bed when I get there.”

“Love you
...” said Lizzie.

“I love you more,” replied Connell with a grin, “and I’ll prove it when I get home. See you late
r, babe.” He pocketed the phone and hoped that Joe had had a tiring day.

“Very touching.” The voice was gravelly, encrusted with sarcasm and Connell recognized it straight off. Snitch, aka Detective Gibbons, the supposed brains of the loser t
ag team. He should have recognized their self-important swagger. Couldn’t believe he hadn’t made them earlier. Still wasn’t sure why he hadn’t. He’d sat and watched them go into the apartment and he’d still been watching when they’d come out. How come he hadn’t recognized them right away when they’d come back and decided to follow him? Okay, so they’d kept themselves far enough away so he couldn’t see their faces, and it seemed they’d switched cars, but all the same he was slipping, and slipping of any kind was a dangerous business which usually resulted in someone face down on the floor.

Connell tightened his grip on the steering wheel, turned slowly and discovered he was looking straight into the barrel of a rather large sawed-off shotgun. Hardly police issue. He raised his eyes to its owner who was equally large
, and despite his badge, not too police issue either.

“Get out of the car, Romeo.”

Connell had to give credit where it was due. They were certainly improving their game. He’d only just checked and they’d been nowhere in sight, and now, suddenly, they were practically on his lap. He feigned indifference and bided his time.

“Hey, guys, you
want to take that out my face?” His own gun was in the glove box. He considered the odds on being able to reach it before the shotgun parted his hair. Unless he’d been magically empowered with the ability to freeze time, he guessed the odds were pretty lame.

The car door was wrenched open and he was dragged from the vehi
cle and slammed back against it with a little more than reasonable force. This was pretty unreasonable considering these guys were supposed to be cops; taxpayers these days were definitely getting the short end of the stick, he thought briefly. Heavy-handed cops were one thing, cops with sawed-off shotguns were something else entirely. Connell’s natural optimism took a dive.

Along with his aversion to bad cops he’d recently developed a similar intolerance to guns, particularly when in the possession of those with dubious intent. It was amazing how a bullet in the chest could influence a guy’s outlook on life, which explained why his own gun was in the glove box instead of secreted about his person. Connell had to admit
, however, that in situations like this a gun in the hand was worth two in the glove box. Someone was obviously pissed with him, and past experience had told him that pissed off people were generally at the end of their limit, patience-wise.

“So
what’s the deal, guys?” Connell smiled pleasantly and squared himself up, set his feet slightly apart and prepared himself for something. Although he wasn’t quite sure what that might be, he was sure it would hurt.

“The deal?” Gibbons stood back a step and winked at his partner. “Hey, Scotty, this guy thinks we make deals with Internal Affairs.”

“Big mistake,” replied Scott, shaking his head in pantomime fashion.

“Maybe you’re a little confused,” said Connell. “I’m not Internal Affairs.” He was about to explain the ins
and outs of private consultancy but somehow didn’t think that Snitch and Snatch would appreciate the subtleties.

“No, but you’re Gesting’s little lapdog.”

Connell was insulted - bull terrier maybe, but lapdog, never.

“And you’re sniffing in shit that you shouldn’t.” Gibbons reversed the shotgun and punctuated his words by thrusting the stock forcefully into Connell’s belly.

Connell had been correct in his initial assumption; it did hurt. In fact it brought tears to his eyes and it took all of his will power, along with his excellent prior preparation, to remain nonchalant and on his feet.

“You boys are the one’s making a mistake,” he gasped
. “If you think Gesting’s the only one who can smell your stink …” He smiled through gritted teeth and swallowed the wince that tried valiantly to escape. “Give it up before it gets any worse. Tell me who’s paying you to look the other way and save me the job of working it out. ‘Cause guys, I will find out and then you’re basically fucked, and you can be sure there’ll be no deals on the table then.”

Gibbons laughed out loud. “Connell, you’re so full of
shit, a washed out ex-cop who can’t even pick up his own gun. What’s the matter, Tommy boy, scared it’ll go off in your face?” He joyfully landed another blow and this time Connell struggled to stay upright but struggled even more to maintain his composure. “You run on home now, Connell, and keep your nose out of business you don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you think,” he wheezed. “I understand there’s money to be made by turning a blind eye and the lure of the greenback is very tempting.” He paused and sucked in a much needed breath. “What I don’t get
, though, is why you’re not combing the streets looking for a lost kid. Where’s the money in that?”

Gibbons cocked his head and raised his weapon. “What kid?” He shot an amused glance at his partner. “Do you know which kid he’s talking about
, Scotty?” Scott shrugged and Gibbons turned back and tightened his grip on the shotgun. “Forget the kid, Connell, unless you want to lose one of your own.”

Connell raised his head, blinked slowly and looked Gibbons straight in the eye. He felt the thrum of something nasty begin
to rise inside and allowed it full rein, the pain in his gut forgotten. Nobody, but nobody, got away with threatening his boy. The last person who’d made the mistake of doing that, well ... the less said about that, the better ...

“Fuck you!” he snarled, launching himself away from the car, which in hindsight was misguided, considering the car was the only thing keeping him upright. He was r
ewarded for his dubious bravado with the butt of the shot gun slammed against his temple. He did drop then, like a stone, and when he was down, Gibbons stood back with a grin and waved his partner forward.

“Scotty, I believe you had something you wanted to say.”

“Sure thing, buddy.” Scott, who lacked the eloquence of his partner, let his boots do the talking for him. It was a short but succinct conversation, and when it was over, Connell was left to ponder rather painfully on the disadvantages of looking into things that he shouldn’t.

Gibbons squatted down
, with some difficulty due to his bulk, and took hold of Connell’s hair in his meaty fist, yanking his head roughly from the ground. “Go home, Connell, you hear me? We see you around here again and we won’t be quite so accommodating. I’d hate to see you get mixed up in something dangerous and have to go tell your little English girl that you’d met with an accident. Poor little thing - all alone. Who knows who she’d turn to for comfort?” Releasing Connell’s hair, he let his head smack to the ground.

So, he’d been wa
rned, and as he lay in the dirt and tried to reset the default button on his senses, he accepted that although Gibbons and Scott may have assumed they knew him, they didn’t know him well enough if they thought he would give up that easily. Those guys were involved in something more than backhanders for favors and now he was going make it his personal mission to find out exactly what that was. More significantly they’d made their biggest mistake ever. They’d threatened the two most important people in his life, his son Joe and the love of his life, Lizzie.

He pulled himself up with the help of the car door and stood a moment, bent double, debating bet
ween pulling in much needed air and throwing up his lunch. As his lunch had primarily been of the liquid variety, the air won out and his innards settled. Blows to the belly and kicks to the kidneys he could just about live with, blunt weapons to the side of the head were something else entirely. How was he going to explain that to Lizzie?

He opened the car door, slid with some relief behind the wheel and let the tense muscles in his abdomen relax. Rummaging in the glove box he ignored the gun, pulled out a fast food napkin and wiped away the blood which had begun to trickle down the side of his face.
  He angled the rearview mirror and checked out the damage. It wasn’t as bad as it felt and the gash responsible for all the blood was under his hair, so he figured not only would he survive the injury, he’d probably survive Lizzie’s scrutiny, as long as he kept his hair neatly combed.

A movement in the mirror drew his attention away from his injury and he tensed in case officers Gibbons and Scott had decided to return for the second act.
He’d survived the first beating; he wasn’t so sure he’d be able to do the same with another. He’d have been surprised by such a prompt return, seeing as how they were so busy at the crime incorporated business, but what he did see surprised him even more.

A small child stood framed in the glass. Sticking out ears, coke bottle glasses
, and pigtails so bent out of shape it appeared they’d been braided with wire. She stood with her hands in her coat pockets, her knees slightly knocked, and simply stared at him until he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Then suddenly she blinked, the spell was broken, and Connell swung around in his seat. The alley was empty. Molly Brown had disappeared - again.