Molly Brown (5 page)

He climbed out of the car
, and turning slowly on the spot, he scanned the alley carefully. He wasn’t sure how she could have disappeared so quickly, or indeed whether he had actually seen her or merely imagined it. A blow to the head could have strange consequences, he knew that, but she’d seemed real enough to him.

“Hey, kiddo, you hiding out there somewhere?” he called softly. “My name’s Tommy, Tommy Connell, and you don’t need to be scared of m
e. I’m just looking out for you, that’s all.” He was met with silence. “Lydia is worried about you. She just wants you to come home safe.” Again silence and he tried once more. “I really don’t want you hanging around in dark alleys on your own, Molly. It can get really scary at night. You want to come out and see if we can find somewhere better for you?”

He was deluding himself;
the alley was empty. He left the car and walked the alley’s length, checking for any doors or windows that might have been left unlocked. The library occupied one side and there were a variety of offices on the other. Everything was locked down tight. No one was going to risk defaulting on their insurance down here.

Maybe she’d headed home and maybe he should swing by there again and double check. He was already running late and he still had to go sniff around in the shit that he wasn’t
supposed to, but what the hell? If he took his time maybe it would be dark when he got home and Lizzie wouldn’t notice he’d had the crap kicked out of him - again.

Chapter Five

Lydia had gone when he returned to the apartment, and he found it necessary to utilize some of his less than lawful skills to gain entry. By the look of her empty room he figured Charlene had been successful and Lydia was safely ensconced at the shelter, but there was no sign of Molly. Connell wandered back into the sad little room, tried to take advantage of the solitude to focus on what had initially bugged him about this whole situation, but found he was once again distracted by the books.

H
e wished Lizzie were with him: she had a mind for puzzles and details that was far superior to his. As she wasn’t, he pulled out his notebook and pencil and began to sketch the layout of the room and the location of the contents.

He was no artist
, but by drawing a simple grid, he was able to plot the items fairly accurately. There were twelve piles of books, each stack of varying height, containing a random number of books. If this had been Joe’s room he could have easily explained the layout by adding some racing track to the top of the stacks and letting the cars free-wheel to negotiate the twists and turns. He doubted little Molly Brown spent her time playing with cars. He jotted down the numbers; perhaps Lizzie could puzzle it out.

He picked up the top book from the nearest column. Molly had run
out of cardboard and glitter. The bookmark was a simple folded scrap of newspaper and Connell found that incredibly sad. He added it to the one in his pocket and turned to leave, pausing when he became aware of movement just outside the apartment door.

Someone had stopped outside. The handle turned and the door opened with a slight jolt
that revealed that whoever it was shared Connell’s skills of illegal entry.

Connell crossed the hall, slipped into Lydia’s room
, and positioned himself behind the open door. Holding his breath, he kept watch through the gap between the door and the frame. He half-expected kids, Terry and his buddy’s perhaps, who’d heard the property was empty and ripe for a little burglary.

But it wasn’t kids who came quietly into the hall.

The man was taller than Connell and bone thin. He wore a dark suit on his gaunt frame and his shoulders were slightly stooped in the posture that very tall individuals often adopt to assist their anonymity. He paused just inside the door and gently closed it behind him.

Connell let out a slow measured breath, raising his brows in alarm when the man cocked his head in a reptilian manner and scented the air. Oh shit, this guy was some kind of serious freak and he was blocking the only exit. Not for the first time that day, Connell wished he’d gotten treatment for his little gun problem
, and instead of it being locked in the car, he had the aforementioned weapon safely secured in his sweaty palm.

The man turned away, presumably content that nothing threatening lurked in the shadows
, and Connell accepted that the guy’s lizard senses were probably on the money. Connell certainly didn’t feel threatening, his intimidation factor having already hit zero. In fact, if anything, he felt a mite unnerved. He watched from the doubtful safety of the door as the man crossed into the living room and began to go through the various scraps of family life. Systematically he scanned the contents of every drawer and cupboard, and turned over the various pots and dishes scattered around the place, in his search for ... something. Connell was puzzled; this wasn’t a random burglary.

He crept forward as far as he dared in an attempt to see and understand what was going on. When the man rolled back the fireside rug and lifted a loose board, Connell’s curiosity overcame his natural instinct for survival
, and he left Lydia’s room, moved carefully along the hall, and flattening himself against the outside of the living room wall, he watched through the crack in the door.

The guy lifted out a collection of paper
s and envelopes with torn edges which were gathered together with a rubber band. He sifted through them with the ease of a man who knew exactly what he expected to find. He gave a tight smile when he found it and slipped the envelope into his pocket before returning the remaining papers and rolling back the rug.

He stood and gave a last glance around the room before turning and heading for the door.

Connell would have had every chance to duck back into Lydia’s room, and maybe follow from a safe distance, if Marty hadn’t chosen that precise moment to call his phone. Connell hadn’t lost all common sense - he’d had the forethought to put the cell on silent before he’d entered the apartment - but when it vibrated against his leg at such an inopportune moment, his involuntary intake of breath could be heard almost as loudly as his escalating heartbeat.

Okay, there was only one way to deal with a situation like this - bluff. Connell stepped into the open doorway, squared himself up and confronted the man.

“You want to tell me what you’re doing here?” he demanded and was disappointed when the man stared back at him impassively. Okay, so still zilch in the intimidation department. He began to understand how men of a certain age felt when their equipment failed at crucial moments. He tried again. “Who are you? What you doing’ messing around under the floor?”

The man merely cocked his head and looked Connell up and down, slowly - too slowly. Connell got the uncomfortable sense of being scrutinized and found lacking. The ma
n blinked once when he was done and returned his gaze to Connell’s face. His dark eyes added to the illusion of otherworldliness and Connell half-expected additional lizard-type lenses to sweep the orbs clean.

Despite the real urge to take a step back, Connell shook his hackles out of hiding instead and took a step forward. The man reciprocated with lips that twitched with amusement and a reproving shake of his head. With surprising speed for such an ungainly individual, he shot out his hand and thrust a taser, close range, into Connell’s chest. Connell went down for the second time that day and the intruder calmly stepped over him and left the room.

*
  *  *

“Tommy, you gotta get yourself an answering service or learn to pick up your cell. I’ve been calling for the last half hour. Where you been, buddy?”

Connell rearranged himself with his back p
ropped against the wall and rubbed his chest and shoulder painfully. With friends like Marty he didn’t need enemies.

“Oh, just lying low,
you know how it is. What you got for me?” He checked his watch; he was definitely running late now and he still wasn’t done. Lizzie was not going to be happy.

“What do you know about Frankie Vasin?”

Huh?
“He owns the lease on my apartment building, along with a few others in slightly better locations,” replied Connell.

He flexed his arm and hand. Damn tasers should be
banned, if it was a taser. It felt more like a beefed-up cattle prod, and considering he was nowhere near the weight of a steer, it had certainly knocked out his stuffing. Who the heck carries a taser anyway? Maybe old ladies might have a need to carry a little zappy thing in their purse along with a can of mace, but not weirdo lizard house breakers. Just what was the story there? The guy had been looking for something specific, and found it by all accounts. Connell was confused and admitted, reluctantly, that these days it didn’t take much.

“Yeah, but what do you know about him?” pressed Marty.

Connell dragged himself back and tried to concentrate. His skin burned and he pulled his shirt away from it.

“Buddy
, you still there?”

“Sure
... I’m thinking,” muttered Connell.

He knew Frankie
and his buddies had lost a boatload of money when the markets were down. He also knew Frankie was an arrogant prick who had tried to play games when he’d tried to sell back his apartment to Frankie’s company. Connell had wanted out of the city in a hurry two years ago and Frankie thought that gave him a license to steal. Connell had declined his pathetic offer and leased it out instead. No way was some jacked-up developer going to steal from him. But that was the extent of his acquaintance. He didn’t know the guy any more than he knew the Mayor or the Chief of Police.

“Frankie’s mom is from some pizza ‘n’ pasta country,” he said eventually, “and his daddy was some kind of Eastern European gangster.  What can I say? Frankie is the product of a mixed marriage and a broken home. You
r basic spoiled little rich kid who’s more than a little partial to vodka.”  Okay, so maybe he knew more about Frankie than he thought he did. “Why?”

“The license plate is registered to Frankie’s company,” said Marty.

“Oh yeah?” Now that was interesting. Connell sat himself up a little straighter. “So why is Frankie loaning out his car to crooked cops?”

“Your guess is as good as mine
but I don’t reckon he’ll be doing it out of the goodness of his heart, do you?”

Conne
ll wondered at the connection. Couldn’t quite fit Gibbons and Scott in the same picture as Frankie ‘I’m so wonderful’ Vasin. Gibbons was too fat, Scott was too ugly, and Frankie liked to surround himself with beautiful people. “Why would they need to use Frankie’s car, anyway? What’s wrong with taking one from the pool?” And why were they driving around in Frankie’s car when they were still on duty. It didn’t fit unless they’d specifically delayed answering the call about the disappearance of Molly Brown until they were off duty. If that was the case, then he had to wonder why.

“Maybe they didn’t want questions asked about the mileage,” replied Marty.

“Or they didn’t want to leave incriminating evidence in the trunk ...” He needed to get a look at that car. “Gibbons and Scott took time out this afternoon to warn me off,” said Connell, “which makes me think I may be stepping on some toes.”

“You okay, Tommy?” Marty had that
‘Oh no not again’ tone, and Connell felt the need to reassure him.

“Sure, Marty, just a little shocked at the turn of events.” He rubbed at his shoulder which had come out in sympathy with his scorched chest and struggled to his feet. “The thing is, Marty, the
y seemed to know a lot about me and Joe and Lizzie. How would they know that kind of stuff? Why would they want to know it?”

“You’ve had your head in the sand for a while, Tommy. People know what happened to you, especially cops, and the fact you threw in your badge is bound to make some folk wonder.”

“Wonder about what?”

“About which side you’re on, Tommy.”

Connell scowled. He’d had this the entire time he’d been on the force, this uncertainty about how close he trod the line. He hadn’t liked it then and he didn’t like it now.

“Does anyone actually care which side I’m on?”

Marty smiled. “Well, sure, especially those who are concerned that you’re not on theirs.”

“Gibbons and Scott?”

“For starters.”

“You think I’m on
to something?”

“I think you know you are. So what’s the plan, Tommy? You
going to do as you’re told and lay off, or do as you please and keep sniffing around?”

Connell pulled back the
rug with his good arm and tugged up the loose board. “I don’t know, Marty, but I’m being paid to keep sniffing.” He pulled out the papers and scanned through them. “I reckon I might wrinkle my nose on the way home, just in case I happen to pick up the scent of something rotten.”

“And the kid?”

Connell checked his watch again. “I think I have an idea where she might be hanging out. I’m going to swing back that way first.”

“Seems to me like you’re
doing a lot of swinging, Tommy. You want to make sure the rope doesn’t snap.”

Connell smiled and shook his head. “Always the optimist.”

“No, Tommy, always the realist. You need some help?”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

Marty laughed. “Probably both, but in this instance it’s a question. Do you want me to help you?”

Connell sin
gled out a letter from the pile and let the others fall to the ground. It was from a loan company, an invitation to borrow probably more than the family could earn in a lifetime. It was partly completed, with full names, dates of birth and social security numbers. “Yeah, Marty, I could do with some help. Could you do me a trace on a missing husband and wife?” He read out their details.

“I thought it was the kid who’d run away?”

“Yeah, well, everybody’s playing hard to get around here.” Connell crossed back into Molly’s room and his eyes were drawn to the little bed. The pillow was on the floor and the pink pajamas were missing. “I gotta go, buddy. Call me if you get anything.”

“Tommy?”

“Yeah …”

“Remember
the rules have changed, pal. You haven’t got a badge now to back you up. You get in trouble, you’re going to have to hope Gerry is there to bail you out.”

“Sure, Marty, I know what I’m doing.”

“Really?”

“Sure.”

“And is it worth it, Tommy?”

“It’s worth a child’s life at the very least
so, yeah, I think it’s worth it.”