Death on a Silver Platter (24 page)

She gulped air. Her heart was pounding.

“Just take it easy, Soph. You’re going to be fine.” He removed the tape from her hands and feet. By the time he was done, Sophie could hear sirens.

“Mick stayed behind to call the police,” said Bram. He took the gun from Margie’s hand, but kept it trained on Roman.

In the darkness of the alley, Sophie could see that Roman was still on the ground, his head leaning against a Dumpster. The right side of his face was covered in blood. Score one for Ethel.

Sophie felt like she’d gone ten rounds with a jackhammer. Not even a minute passed before the police stormed in. Lights flashed. Guns were drawn. People shouted. A paramedic came and checked her over, pronouncing her bruised but otherwise sound. Questions were asked. Roman refused to talk, but Sophie tried to answer as best she could. She said that Roman was the one who’d strangled Tracy. He’d admitted it to her. For some reason, he thought she’d called him, accused him of the murder. Sophie explained that it wasn’t true. She had no idea where he got that idea, but that was apparently why he attempted to stuff her in the back of the van and do whatever he planned to do with her. Ethel had been the bait.

Sophie leaned against Bram as Roman was finally handcuffed and led away. The alley had been lit up like a stage set. Police photographers were taking photos. Forensic examiners were checking out the van.

“Come on, Ethel,” said Bram. “Time to go home.”

Ethel had been sitting in the van during most of the interrogation, the tennis ball clamped tightly in her mouth, but she hopped out as soon as everyone began leaving.

Mick and Margie were walking ahead of Sophie and Bram toward Mick’s new car.

“How did you know I was in danger,” asked Sophie, “when I didn’t even know myself?”

Bram had his arm around her shoulder. Squeezing her tight, he said, “The phone number. We didn’t put your cell phone number on Ethel’s tag. We put our home number on it. As soon as I remembered that, I knew something was screwy. I found Margie and Mick and we followed the path I assumed you’d take from the hotel. When I heard all the commotion in the alley, we—”

“Rushed in.”

“Well, we didn’t rush. We tiptoed until we could scout out what was going on. But we tiptoed
fast
.”

Sophie leaned her head against him as they came out of the alley and started for the home. “Are you saying you didn’t get your ribs?”

“Nope. When I ducked out, there were still two people in front of me. I don’t think I was meant to eat those greasy, fabulously unhealthy ribs, Soph.”

“So, you’re saying you believe in fate?”

He kissed the top of her head. “When it comes to you, yes, I most certainly do.”

35

On Wednesday morning, Sophie stayed in bed until after nine. Her run-in with Roman Marchand had left her feeling bruised and battered. The right side of her face was swollen and red from being slapped, and she’d received a gash in her thigh when he’d dumped her into the van. Every muscle in her body screamed from being stretched in the wrong direction. The police had requested that she come down to the station around eleven to give her statement. If she had to arrive on a gurney, she’d do it. She had to make sure that Marchand was put away for a long, long time. It was the only way she’d ever feel safe again.

Sophie had tossed and turned all night, thinking about what she’d say, reliving the event in order to describe it in detail. When she’d landed inside that van, inside the clanging metal hole, she felt as if she’d been dropped into a void, a place from which nobody ever returned. She was still a bit shaky, but she’d recover. Tracy, on the other hand, never would.

“I think I’m going to relive last night a thousand times,” said Sophie.

She and Margie were sitting at the breakfast table, the dregs of their breakfast spread out in front of them. Bram had gone into the kitchen to get more coffee.

“It was actually pretty clever,” said Margie, nibbling on a piece of toast. “Marchand kidnapped Ethel so that he could get to you.”

“Clever. Right.” Sophie shivered.

Bram returned to the dining room and poured everyone more coffee. “I talked to my buddy, Al Lundquist, this morning. He said the police found the kid Marchand paid to call you, Soph. He was sixteen. Marchand gave him fifty bucks to tell you he’d found your dog. The kid didn’t see anything wrong with it. He had no idea what Marchand was up to.”

“I still don’t understand why he was after me,” said Sophie, twisting her coffee mug in her hand. “I saw him staring at me at Tracy’s funeral, but I didn’t figure it meant anything—well, anything other than that he was rude. It’s just . . . I can’t get over what he said to me before he tossed me into that van. He said that I’d called him, told him I knew he’d strangled Tracy.”

Margie stopped nibbling her toast. “He did?”

Bram gave her a hard look. “Do you know something?”

“Well . . .” She tried to smile but it died on her face. “Actually . . .”

“‘Actually’ what?” said Sophie.

Margie jumped up from the table and padded back to her bedroom.

Bram and Sophie exchanged confused glances.

A minute later, she was back, a cell phone in her hand. She set it on the table and pushed it across to Sophie. “I was going to tell you about this yesterday morning, but you’d already left to go shopping with your mother. That’s your cell phone. You’ve got mine.” She tittered. “Just so happens, they’re the same model. They must have gotten switched sometime in the last couple of days, while I was staying with you and Dad.”

“I found this one on the side of the tub,” said Sophie.

“Hmm, well, yeah, I was using it in there. I must have taken yours then because I couldn’t find it. Oops. Stupid me.” She shrugged and giggled.

“But what’s your point?” said Sophie. And then it hit her. “Marchand called
your
number to tell me about Ethel. Why would he do that?”

“I didn’t realize it until just this second, but now I get it.”

“Then share it with us, Margie, please,” said Bram. His politeness covered his anger.

“Well,” said Margie, looking distinctly uncomfortable as she fiddled with her toast. “I called him. That night. The night Tracy was strangled.”

Bram’s eyebrows dipped ominously. “Explain.”

“Well, when I got back to my apartment, my cell phone was lying next to her on the nightstand. I picked it up and put it in my purse. It was mine. I usually keep it with me, but I’d left it in the apartment that night. I didn’t think it had anything to do with anything. And I needed it. Anyway, then I came upstairs to get you. But later that night, after we all got back from the hospital, when I was in bed trying to get to sleep, it occurred to me that maybe Tracy had called someone with my phone. I checked the calls I’d made recently, and the last number wasn’t one I recognized.”

“So you called it,” said Sophie. A great yawning pit opened in the center of her stomach.

Margie nodded. “A man’s voice answered. I didn’t recognize it. I asked who I was talking to, but all I got was silence. That’s when I said, ‘I know who you are and I know what you did.’ ”

“My God,” said Bram, nearly spilling his coffee. “Whatever possessed you to say that?”

She shrugged. “It was just an impulse.”

“How did the man respond?”

“He hung up. I figured he thought I was some stupid prank caller bugging him in the middle of the night. I mean, just because I didn’t recognize the number didn’t exactly mean much. I make a lot of calls, especially now because Carrie and I’ve started setting up our business.”

Sophie had an irresistible urge to bounce the cell phone off Margie’s forehead.

“So you must have reached Marchand,” said Bram. “What’s your caller ID say?”

“M. Baldric.”

“Roman thought
my
last name was Baldric,” said Sophie, remembering the day she and Elaine had talked to him at Alex’s house.

“So he assumed you’d called him that night,” said Bram, turning to Sophie. “That’s how this whole chain of events got started.”

“Do you realize you nearly got me killed!” Sophie’s eyes shot daggers at Margie.

“Geez, chill, okay? How was I supposed to know I hit the jackpot? Got the real killer on the line. And hey, maybe someone should give me a little credit. I mean, without that call, he might have gotten away with murder. Nobody was looking at him as a suspect,
were they
?” She bugged out her eyes. “I mean, come on. Rub a few brain cells together. I did everyone a favor. It was a brilliant piece of work.”

“You’re nuts if you think I’m going to thank you for making that call,” said Sophie.

“Margie has a point,” said Bram.

Sophie whirled to look at him. She was aghast. She couldn’t believe her ears. She’d been beaten up and forced into the back of a van, minutes from death, and he was taking his daughter’s side?

“I knew Tracy had been madly in love with some guy last summer,” continued Margie, pulling the toast apart and dunking half of it in a pool of grape jelly.

“How did you know that?” asked Bram.

“She needed someone to confide in and I’m a good listener. We spent a bunch of time together. I’m the one who gave her a lift the night she ran away from her grandmother’s place.”

“You drove her to that motel?” said Bram.

Again, she shrugged. “She asked for my help and I figured, what the hell.”

“Go on,” said Sophie, trying to keep the coldness out of her voice.

“Well, Tracy never gave me the guy’s name, although I knew it wasn’t Mick. She said the relationship had gone south and now she hated him. She was going to make him pay for what he’d done to her.”

“What did he do—other than get her pregnant?”

“I didn’t know about the pregnancy part. But he told her he loved her. That she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known and he couldn’t get enough of her. She assumed that meant they’d get married. It was only a matter of time. But when she pressed him about it, he blew up. Told her to back off, that nobody was going to tie him down again. I inferred from that that he’d been married once.”

“Why did she marry Mick?” asked Bram.

“She didn’t entirely clarify that point. I guess she was a lot like me. Kind of impulsive. And frankly, I think she wanted to be able to tell Marchand that somebody loved her enough to marry her. That she was a married woman now and he could take his dick and stuff it in the nearest mailbox for all she cared.”

“Honey,” said Bram.

“It’s true. It’s the way she felt. Maybe it had something to do with the pregnancy, too. Maybe she figured she could convince Mick that the child was his. Except, she didn’t feel romantic about him. The idea of sleeping with him made her nauseous. Now me, on the other hand, I think he’s pretty cute. And really sweet. A lot better catch than Marchand, but then everyone’s got different tastes.”

“Why didn’t you tell us any of this?” asked Bram.

“I promised Tracy I’d keep her stuff a secret. I couldn’t break a promise. Personal integrity is everything to me, Dad.”

Sophie tried not to fall off her chair.

Margie added some cream and sugar to her coffee and stirred. “Well, all I can say is, ‘All’s well that ends well.’ ”

“What on earth ended well?” said Sophie. She’d just about had it. “Two people are dead. An entire family has been turned upside down by a mother’s infidelity and a man’s pedophilia. And I was almost killed by a homicidal maniac.”

Margie gulped her coffee, then stood. “I’d like to continue this conversation—I really would—but Mick is picking me up in ten minutes and I need to change.”

“Where are you headed?” asked Bram.

“House hunting,” said Margie. “Mick needs somewhere to live. He’s arranged for a real estate agent to show him a couple of places on Summit. He asked me to go with him.”

“
Summit?
” repeated Sophie. These were the most expensive houses in St. Paul. He was certainly having a good time with his wife’s inheritance.

“Are you two an item?” asked Bram.

“Nah, just friends. But I love looking at houses. A girl can dream, can’t she?” She kissed her father, then bounced out of the room.

Sophie rested her chin on her hands. She was exhausted by Margie’s exuberance. Dare she use the word
shallow
in front of Bram? She didn’t think so.

After Margie had disappeared into her bedroom, Bram said, “Life does go on, sweetheart.” He wrapped his warm hand around hers.

“I guess.”

“Margie didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

“But she sure as hell did.”

“I know.” He ran his fingers along her arm. “But the two men responsible for those deaths are now behind bars. That’s a good outcome. Oh, I forgot to tell you.” He pulled his chair up closer to the table. “Al told me something else when I talked to him. Now that the police have both murderers in custody, more of the real story is coming out. Elaine Veelund gave the police a statement last night. She told them that she’d talked to Zander yesterday, and he’d admitted he was a pedophile, that he was the one who’d preyed on Tracy when she was a child. Of course, now that he’s got himself a lawyer, he’s denying he ever said any of it.”

“Figures.”

“But here’s the thing. Apparently, Tracy was blackmailing Zander. She threatened to tell her grandmother what he’d done to her if he didn’t help her.”

“Help her with what?” Sophie hadn’t talked to Elaine after the phone message she’d left yesterday. Apparently, she’d missed a lot.

“Well, he stole a gun and a rifle from her grandfather’s gun collection for her. And then later, she demanded that he go buy a video camera. She was apparently going to use it the night Marchand came to Margie’s apartment. I assume Tracy was planning to get him to say something incriminating on tape so she could prove he was the father of her child. I have no idea how she planned to use it, but it was definitely payback time for the way he’d treated her. Marchand discovered the camera and that’s why he went off on Tracy. He took the camera with him when he left.”

“How come the police know all this?”

“Because they found the camera at his town house. And guess what?”

“What?”

Bram’s smile was triumphant. “He never erased it. The entire attack is on tape.”

Sophie’s mouth dropped open.

“But here’s the real kicker. Apparently, Tracy had never used a video camera before. Neither had Zander. She told him that when he bought it, he needed to learn how to use it so he could teach it to her. And what did he take a video of?”

Sophie closed her eyes.

“Girls at a playground. Six-, seven-, eight-year-olds. Except for the beginning few minutes, the whole tape is nothing but little girls.”

“Not exactly proof of pedophilia.”

“No, but if you add it to everything else, it’s one more nail in his coffin. The police think they’ve got a great case against Zander for Millie’s murder.”

“But there was no eyewitness,” said Sophie.

“That’s true in a lot of cases. Why does it bother you so much?”

“It just does.” She couldn’t explain it. It was just a feeling she had. She knew Elaine thought the police had been dragging their feet, that they should have arrested someone a lot sooner. But Sophie had the opposite reaction. She felt the police had acted too fast. There were so many people who had strong motives for wanting to see Millie dead. Sure, Zander was one of them, and the case against him was fairly straightforward. He was as good a guess as any. And he
was
a pedophile, someone who belonged in prison. Still.

Bram picked up their coffee cups and motioned for Sophie to follow him into the living room. Once they were settled on the couch, with Ethel and her tennis ball fast asleep on a pillow by the door to the patio, Bram put his arm around Sophie. “I know you’re angry with Margie, and you have every right to be, but if she hadn’t followed up with that call, Marchand might have gotten away. And if he’d returned to Canada, as he was planning, the camera would have gone with him.”

“You’re right. I am angry with Margie. I think you better give me some time to work that one out.”

“Sophie, if anything ever happened to you, I don’t think I’d live through it. But you’re okay. You’re here and you’re safe. After what happened last night, I want to dance a jig, shout from the rooftops that my wife is alive and well. And,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, “Nathan Buckridge is dating Elaine Veelund, tra la, tra la. I hope they sail off into the sunset, preferably to some faraway island without phones or mail service.”

Sophie had been thinking about what her mother had said the other day—that in this world you couldn’t love two men. Or maybe, more accurately, you could love them, but you couldn’t have them both. Sophie had made a vow to love and honor Bram for the rest of her life. And she did love him. So much, sometimes, it hurt. If only Nathan could find happiness. Sophie didn’t believe he ever would with Elaine, but it was out of her hands. Sophie had made her choice. Taken a vow. For better or worse. For richer or poorer. But she wanted to add to those promises now. She vowed not to be stupid—or sentimental. She vowed never to take her life with Bram for granted.