Cast into Doubt (28 page)

‘Well, that depends. Are you working today? I didn’t even ask when I called you last night.’

Rosellen shook her head. ‘I’m catching a train to Baltimore. My aunt’s having a family party this afternoon.’

‘I’m sorry I got you up so early,’ said Shelby.

‘I told you,’ said Rosellen. ‘Anything you need, just ask.’

‘I won’t forget this,’ said Shelby. ‘So, what you should do is get out of here, and pretend you never even saw me.’

‘What are you doing, Shelby?’ Rosellen asked. ‘You’re making me nervous.’

‘Believe me, I’m the one who’s nervous. Hopefully I will be able to explain it to you very soon. Right now, I just need access to a toll-free number.’

Rosellen stood up. ‘OK. I trust you. I hope everything goes the way you want it to.’

‘Fingers crossed,’ said Shelby.

Rosellen looked up and down the hall, and then waved as she slipped out.

Shelby assumed Rosellen’s vacant chair, and picked up the receiver on the phone. She dialed Lianna and Harris’s home number and waited as it rang. Her heart was pounding. She had received this kind of a call herself one time, and it came early on a weekend morning, when she was barely awake. She remembered feeling confused by it, and that was the effect she was hoping to have on Harris Janssen. Last night she had practiced repeatedly, using a fake British accent as she recited the scenario. People were always intimidated by a British accent. Besides, she couldn’t take the chance that they might recognize her voice.

She listened to the ringing, hoping that Harris was still asleep, or only just waking up. She held her breath, and reminded herself that she was not the one who had committed a crime.

‘Hello,’ said Lianna. Her voice sounded slurry with sleep.

‘Hello, may I speak to Dr Harris Janssen.’ Shelby was pleased with her British accent. It sounded natural. All those British television series that she liked to watch, she thought.

‘For you,’ Lianna murmured.

There was the sound of fumbling on the phone, and Shelby heard Harris saying, ‘Who is it?’

‘Dunno,’ Lianna said.

In a minute his voice came through the receiver loud and clear.

‘Dr Janssen here.’

‘Hello, Dr Janssen. My name is Kim Teller and I’m calling about your credit card account.’

‘For God’s sakes, it’s Sunday morning. Don’t you people know what time it is? Spare me the special rates. Whatever it is, I’m not interested.’

This was precisely the reaction Shelby had anticipated. ‘Please don’t hang up, sir,’ said Shelby calmly. ‘This is not a solicitation. This is account security. I’m sorry about the hour but I needed to be sure to reach you. If there’s a problem, we need to address it immediately. I am calling about some suspicious activity on your account.’

Harris hesitated. Everyone knew about identity theft these days. Everyone had heard of someone whose account number was purloined by thieves. Shelby could visualize him recalibrating his attitude. ‘What activity?’ Harris asked in a meeker, more worried tone.

‘Well, as you may know, we monitor the charges on all our customers’ accounts so that we can alert the customer to any charges that seem uncharacteristic. It’s a precaution we use to attempt to avert identity theft, which, as I’m sure you know, has become epidemic.’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Harris.

‘Now, Dr Janssen, you recently used your card to make several routine purchases for goods and services in the Philadelphia area, which is normal activity on your account. However, an account manager noticed that a cruise on Sunset Cruise lines for two was charged for that same time period and, since one can’t be in two places at once, it set off an alert process, which is why I’m calling you.’

Harris was silent. For a moment.

Shelby’s hand was damp where it held the receiver. ‘Now let me hasten to assure you, Dr Janssen,’ she said in a soothing tone, ‘we’re simply trying to protect your interests. Identity theft is an enormous problem in our industry. All we want to do is to check that these transactions are all known to you and that you have no wish to query them.’

Harris hesitated. ‘There’s no problem with my account,’ he said firmly.

‘You’re quite certain that all these charges are legitimate.’

‘It’s fine.’ His tone was terse and edgy, as if he couldn’t wait to hang up the phone.

‘All right. Thank you very much for your time Dr Janssen. I’ll take the warning off this account. And I am so sorry to have disturbed you.’

‘No problem,’ said Harris gruffly.

Shelby hung up the phone. She was trembling all over. You bastard, she thought. It
was
you.

For a long time, Shelby sat hunched over in Rosellen’s chair, shaking from head to toe, trying to absorb this new reality. Harris Janssen had arranged her daughter’s death. Somehow she had thought that when she found out this information, she would spring into action, ready to avenge herself and her child. But now that the moment had arrived, she felt completely empty and sick at heart.

Last night, all she could think about was her desire to expose the plot that had led to Chloe’s death. She had vaguely imagined herself bringing her information to the police and enlisting them to arrest this man. Now that the moment was here, she realized that she could not walk into the nearest police precinct and expect someone to listen to her tale. Her theory was based on the flimsiest of evidence. She had a dead man who had lied about winning a trip, and a respected doctor whom she had conned by pretending to work for a credit card company. It was all speculation. And it related to a crime that had been committed thousands of miles away, in the middle of the sea. The police of Philadelphia had their hands full. Bodies riddled with bullets were routinely found floating in the river or buried under trash in the vacant lots of the city’s worst neighborhoods. Hadn’t she just heard about one on the news? If she tried to explain about Chloe, they would probably laugh at her.

It was as if she had made the whole journey for no reason at all. She had hunted for Chloe’s killer, and now that she knew his identity, she felt utterly bereft. There was no one who shared her conviction, or even shared her life enough to care. What now, she thought? No answer rose in her mind. The inside of her head felt fogged over. All she could feel was an immense depression descending on her.

She was too late. It was all too late. If only she had insisted that the police pursue all the possibilities when the crime occurred . . . But there was no way she could have known. She thought back to the perfunctory investigation in St Thomas, the bland reassurances of Chief Giroux and Agent DeWitt. And then, a possibility occurred to her and, with it, a flicker of hope. Agent DeWitt, who had aided Chief Giroux, was from the FBI. The FBI probably had a computer database of all their investigations, as well as an office right here in Philadelphia. They had offices in every big city in the U.S. Maybe if she went there, she could find a sympathetic ear – someone who would be interested in the idea of a planned murder. Of course the first question they would ask her was ‘Why?’ And she had no answer. Still, the prospect of visiting the FBI gave her a mission. After all, they were already involved. Perhaps she could reengage them.

‘You’re an early bird.’

Lost in her thoughts, Shelby had not heard Elliott Markson enter the office. She looked up at him guiltily. She had worn her workout clothes in, not expecting to see anyone but Rosellen and some maintenance people at that early hour. ‘Mr Markson,’ she said. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here on a Sunday morning.’

‘I don’t sleep well. And I have a lot of time on my hands,’ he admitted. ‘At least if I come in to the store, I feel like I’ve made something useful of my day.’

‘I know what you mean,’ Shelby said.

Markson, dressed in one of his expensive suits, looked at her steel gray tank top and warm-up jacket with raised eyebrows. ‘This is an odd time to return to work,’ he said.

Shelby was ready to start making excuses, and suddenly it all seemed too much for her. She wanted to speak the truth out loud, even though she knew where it would lead. Her boss would think she was losing her mind with this tale of a contract murder in exchange for health care. And, he would be angry that she was using the company’s facilities to pursue some fantasy of vengeance.

‘No,’ she said, ‘I’m not here for work.’

Elliott Markson folded his arms over his chest. ‘Then what are you doing here?’ he asked.

Shelby sighed. She was fresh out of lies, and decided to be frank. If he fired her for it, so be it. ‘Well, you know that my daughter disappeared on a cruise. Since it happened, I’ve come to believe that she was murdered. I’m attempting to find a way to prove it. I devised a plan to try and trap the man I suspect in a lie. I needed to use a toll-free number so I used the one here,’ she said bluntly.

She waited for an angry, or at least a sarcastic response, but it didn’t come. She looked up at him.

He was gazing at her without rancor. ‘Did it work?’ he asked. ‘The phone call?’

‘You think I’m crazy, don’t you?’ she said.

‘I barely know you,’ he said. ‘But, you don’t seem crazy.’

Shelby looked away from him, and placed a hand on the phone receiver, remembering the shock of that conversation with Harris. The affirmation of every horrible thing she suspected. ‘Well, yes. In a sense, it did work. I’m more convinced than ever that I am right.’

‘What are you going to do about it?’ he asked.

His matter-of-fact response surprised her. She thought about it for a moment, and then made up her mind. ‘I think I will go to the FBI,’ she said, with a decisive nod. ‘They were involved in the initial investigation.’

Elliott frowned and then he looked closely at her. ‘Perhaps I can help,’ he said. ‘I have a personal connection actually, at the FBI, here in Philly.’

Shelby frowned. ‘Really?’

‘If you like, I can give him a call.’

Shelby looked at him in surprise. ‘I thought that was against the new company policy.’

Elliott looked pained, and Shelby immediately regretted her flippancy. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I appreciate that. I really do. I am all alone in this.’

‘If you think it would help,’ he said stiffly.

‘That would be great,’ she said. ‘Really. Having someone, a name, to contact there would be a huge help.’

‘I’ll call him at the office tomorrow,’ Elliott said. ‘I’ll have him get in touch with you.’

Tomorrow, Shelby thought. This can’t wait until tomorrow. But she knew better than to say it. It would have to wait. ‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am,’ she said sincerely.

‘Happy to help.’ He turned to leave the office and then he turned back. ‘We need to get you back to work,’ he said.

THIRTY-ONE

S
helby drove into the parking garage in the basement of her apartment building, inserted her card which raised the barrier bar and slowly cruised down the rows of parked cars toward her space. She didn’t know how she was going to stand the wait for twenty-four hours to speak to Markson’s contact at the FBI. But she knew she had to wait. This was her best hope for some real help with muscle behind it.

Shelby knew she had to resist the overwhelming urge to drive directly to the Janssens’ house and confront Harris, throwing it all in his face. As tempting as it was to imagine herself shouting at him, exposing him, she knew it was a bad idea. A man who was ruthless enough to arrange a murder was way too dangerous to be confronted on his home territory. Besides, he would only deny it, and there would be no satisfaction in that. She would lay it out in front of the proper authorities. She wanted justice for Chloe. She couldn’t let her anger rule her actions.

Shelby glanced at the dashboard. It was still only eight thirty. She suddenly realized that she was starving as she pulled into her space beneath the building. She had been up for hours already, and had hardly slept the night before. The other tenants of her high rise were obviously getting a slow start on this gray, chilly April Sunday. Why not sleep in, Shelby thought? She wished she had someone to sleep in with. She was not one to bemoan her lack of a lover, but since Chloe’s death she had realized how lonely her life had become. Chloe was not only her daughter, but her closest confidante. You need to get out and see people, she told herself. You need to get back to work.

She decided that once she had placed everything she knew in the hands of the FBI, she should consider getting back to work at Markson’s. She found herself thinking about Elliott Markson, wondering why he too was free to come to work early on a Sunday morning. He was proving to be more complex than the overbearing boss she had heard about through the grapevine. True, he was not a genial
paterfamilias
like his uncle. But there was something honorable and genuine about him. She had thought this morning, when she hung up on Harris, that there was no one she could explain all this to. But during that brief interlude, when Elliott Markson stood in the office door, she had the sudden sense that she could explain herself to him.

Shelby’s stomach growled, and she hoped she had something edible in the cupboards or the refrigerator in her apartment. She’d been away so much that she hadn’t had time to stock the place. She and Jen had made tentative plans for a Sunday lunch, but she was too hungry to wait for lunch. She’d find something to throw together, she thought. She got out of her car and locked the door. Just as she was about to turn in the direction of the elevators, she felt something press her in the back.

‘Do not scream,’ said Harris Janssen.

Shelby jumped, and dropped her keys on the concrete floor. ‘What are you . . . ?’

‘It is a gun,’ he said. ‘Don’t make me use it. Just come with me.’

Shelby shook her head. She had to feign ignorance. ‘What in the world are you doing?’ she asked.

‘Don’t,’ Harris whispered. ‘Don’t pretend.’ As he spoke he was nudging her toward the entrance to the garage. Shelby looked all around her, longing to see another resident who might come to her aid. But the garage was as quiet as a cemetery.