Let's Play Dead (26 page)

The phone rang. Eric answered it and then called out, “It’s Mrs. Heffernan.”

“I’ll pick up.” I matched my actions to my words. “Hello, Arabella. Thank you for sending the lovely gift basket. What’s up?”

The tone of Arabella’s voice immediately set alarm bells ringing. “Oh, Nell! Caitlin’s missing.”

“What do you mean, missing?” Had Caitlin suddenly decided that this whole museum mess was too much to handle? Had she and Jason fled to a happy island in the sun?

“Jason tells me that he saw her at breakfast and she seemed all right. Maybe a little stressed out, but we all are at the moment, aren’t we?” Arabella laughed ruefully. “But she never arrived at work, and she’s not answering her cell phone.”

Was Arabella overreacting? Caitlin couldn’t have been out of touch for more than a couple of hours. Maybe she had gone somewhere to clear her head. I stalled. “Is that unusual?”

“No, she’s usually very conscientious. And she told Jason she was on her way to work when she left. Oh, Nell, I’m afraid something’s happened to her!”

Since we still hadn’t figured out who or what the attacks at Let’s Play were directed at, it was all too possible that there was something sinister about Caitlin’s disappearance. Should Arabella talk to the police?

She had already thought of that. “I called that awful detective, and she said that Caitlin was an adult and we weren’t even sure she was missing, so there was nothing she could do. Then she hung up on me.”

That sounded like Detective Hrivnak, but I had to agree that from her perspective it was a reasonable response. So, we couldn’t expect any police help right now. “What do you want me to do, Arabella?” I had to ask, even though I had no idea what I
could
do at this point. “Do you want me to come over?”

“Could you?”

“I’m on my way. See you in half an hour.” I hung up and stared at my phone.

Eric appeared in the doorway. “Trouble?”

“Caitlin’s gone missing. Maybe it’s nothing, but Arabella’s upset. It seems unlikely anything’s happened, but on the other hand, if there really is something wrong and I didn’t go over to help Arabella, I’d hate myself.”

Eric nodded in agreement, then said tentatively, “Maybe this is out of line, but do you want me to come along? Maybe I can help?”

It wasn’t a bad idea. He had known Caitlin during a difficult time in her life, and he might have some insights. “Okay, why not? After all, you know Caitlin, too.”

It was after two when we finally left the building, bundled up against the harsh wind. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still densely grey. Even so, I decided it was too much trouble to try to extricate my car from where I’d parked, since it was unlikely I’d find parking easier near Let’s Play, and all the cabs were occupied. “I guess we’re walking. Will you be warm enough?” Eric’s thin leather jacket was obviously intended for Virginia winters, not Philadelphia city gales, and the cheerful wool scarf wrapped around his neck wasn’t much help.

“Don’t worry about me—just keep moving fast and I’ll stay warm!”

We did. It took about twenty minutes to reach Let’s Play, and the young woman at the front desk sent us up to Arabella’s office. When we reached it, Arabella bounced out of her chair and came over to hug me before I’d even taken off my coat.

“Oh, Nell, thank you for coming! I know I seem silly, but I’m so worried. Oh, excuse me—who’s this?” She’d finally noticed Eric, hovering behind me.

“I’m Eric Marston, Ms. Pratt’s assistant. I was at Bishop’s Gate with Kathleen—Caitlin.”

Eric stepped forward and offered his hand, and Arabella shook it cautiously, studying him. A frown flashed across her face and disappeared quickly. “Did you know her well?”

“Not very, but I thought maybe I could help.”

I dumped my coat on a chair and turned to face Arabella. “Sit down and tell me what you think is going on. Why are you so worried?”

Arabella sat behind her desk and glanced briefly at Eric before starting to talk. “Caitlin’s very responsible, very organized. She always plans, and she always does what she says she will. She told Jason that she was leaving for work.”

“How does she get to work? Drive? Train?” Arabella had said something about Camden, across the river, when we first met, but I wasn’t sure what that commute would be like.

“Sometimes she takes the train. Sometimes she and Jason come in together, but not today. She drove her car today, and Jason took the train in later. He’s still taking it easy, and he’d just gotten up when Caitlin left.”

“You’ve talked to him?”

“Of course. Do you think we should include him now?”

Why not? The more the merrier. Although on some level I believed that Caitlin would walk in at any moment and ask what all the fuss was about. Maybe she was out somewhere picking up supplies for the exhibit opening—assuming, of course, that it was going to open on schedule. Arabella picked up the phone and called someone to track down Jason. “He’s still working here?” I asked.

Arabella nodded. “Just finishing up the last details. Thank goodness he wasn’t seriously hurt. Caitlin would have been devastated.”

“How long have they been seeing each other?”

“A year now?” Arabella said, clearly distracted. “Caitlin moved out of the house in June, I think, and they’ve been sharing a place ever since.”

“Does she enjoy working here?” I wondered if Arabella would be truthful.

“Until this recent mess, I would have said yes. You must think it odd, that she’s here. Fears of nepotism and all that. Eric—have I got it right?—I know you must have heard what she thought of me a few years ago, but we’ve worked hard to get past that. When I offered her the job at Let’s Play, she was clearly the best qualified candidate for the position. She majored in business administration in college, but she took a minor in early childhood education. I was so happy when she joined us! And she’s done a great job! She handled Hadley so much better than I could have—I simply have no patience with that woman. Oh, Jason, there you are.”

Jason was slouching in the doorway. “Hi, Arabella. What do you need?”

“Jason, you probably don’t remember Nell Pratt, given the circumstances under which you met—she was here when you were hurt. And this is Eric . . . ?”

“Eric Marston. I’m Nell’s administrative assistant. And I knew Caitlin years ago, at school in Virginia.”

“Jason, you haven’t heard from Caitlin, have you?” Arabella asked anxiously.

He shook his head. “Nope, and my cell’s been on.”

“She seemed fine, as far as I could tell, when she came by yesterday,” I volunteered. “Did anything happen after that, that might have upset her?”

Jason shrugged. “She got home a little late, but she seemed up. She mentioned seeing you, Nell, and she said you’d given her some good ideas. Caitlin’s worked really hard on this exhibit. She felt guilty about my accident, too, since she’s the one who brought me in to help—she knew I needed the work.”

“You’re a graduate student?” I asked.

“Yeah, at Penn. Money’s kind of tight, so when Caitlin said she needed some temporary help finishing up the exhibit, I jumped at the chance.”

“No aftereffects from your shock?”

“Nah. I had a headache for a day, but that’s about it. Caitlin takes this whole exhibit very seriously—it’s the first one she’s handled by herself, and I think she wants to prove herself. And she’s very detail oriented, which is why she was so bothered by the electrical shorts. That’s something that shouldn’t have happened, period.”

“Jason,” Arabella appealed to him, “do you have any idea where she might have gone? She didn’t say anything about an errand? Something she had to pick up? Did she talk to anyone after she got home last night?”

“I don’t . . . wait, there was a phone call, around nine. She picked up but didn’t talk long.”

“Did she say who it was?” I asked.

“I think she said it was her father.”

“What?” Arabella exclaimed.

I was equally, if more quietly, surprised. I tried to remember exactly what Nolan had said about contacting Caitlin, and remembered again how he’d kind of ducked the question. “This wasn’t the first time she’d heard from him, was it?”

Jason looked between Arabella and me. “No, I don’t think so. She’s been writing to him for months. Sorry, Arabella, she didn’t want you to know.”

I turned to Arabella. “She never told you?”

“No!” she snapped. “She knows how I feel about him. He abandoned us and never looked back. I’ve had nothing to do with him for years, decades even. How did they ever find each other? I wouldn’t have known where to look for him.”

“He’s never contacted her? He
is
her father,” I said, trying to defuse the situation.

“He never tried,” Arabella said. “Not that I would’ve let him when Caitlin was younger. I can’t say what went on when she was in college, but she never mentioned him to me.”

“I think she started it,” Jason said. “It’s not hard to find people with the Internet nowadays, and Ireland’s not that big.”

“Do you think that’s why he really came back—to see Caitlin?” I asked.

Jason shrugged. “I don’t know. She told me he’d been in touch, but she was kind of secretive about him. She didn’t want to bring him to our place, and I’m not sure she wanted him to meet me. It was like she wanted him all to herself, at least for now. Why, do you think maybe she’s with him?”

“She used to talk about him at school,” Eric said, speaking for the first time. I’d forgotten he’d even come along. We all turned to look at him, and he shrank back in his chair. “I got the impression that he was a sort of heroic figure to her. He was some kind of noble revolutionary who’d been forced to flee the country because he was being pursued by the authorities for his political activities—and because her mom pushed him away. The fact that he never got in touch with her meant she could idolize him without pesky reality getting in the way.”

Arabella looked devastated. I stepped in. “Do you know how to get in touch with him?” I asked her. “I think he needs to be part of this conversation. Either Caitlin’s with him, or he might know something.”

Arabella shook her head, her jaw tight. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask, when I saw him.”

“Jason, do you have any idea?”

“If I was home, I could look at the phone and see the listings for recent calls. Sorry—can’t do it from here.”

I thought for a moment. James no doubt had an address for him, but I didn’t want to drag the FBI into this situation—yet. Barney Hogan had said he knew Nolan slightly, had seen him around town recently. Maybe he knew where Nolan was hanging out these days. Shelby would have Barney’s number. I stood up. “Excuse me—I’m going to make a call.”

I stalked out into the hall outside Arabella’s office and called Shelby on my cell phone. When she answered, I said without preamble, “I don’t have time to talk right now, but can you give me Barney’s phone number? Does he have a cell?”

“Yes, ma’am—that’s how I reach him.” She read me off the number, which I copied on a scrap of paper.

“Thanks. I’ll fill you in when I have time.” I disconnected, then immediately called Barney, waiting impatiently through five rings. Thank God he finally answered. “Barney, it’s Nell Pratt. I can’t explain right now, but do you know where I can find Nolan Treacy at the moment?”

Barney, bless him, didn’t waste time asking stupid questions. “He’s made himself at home at O’ Reilly’s, on Chestnut. You want me to roust him from there? I’m only a couple of blocks away.”

“Would you? And if you don’t find him there, could you let me know, and spread the word that his ex needs to talk with him? It’s about his daughter.”

“I’ll do that.” He rang off. A no-nonsense man, exactly what we needed at the moment.

I went back to Arabella’s office, where three sets of eyes swiveled toward me. “I’ve got someone looking for him. It may be a while. Does anyone have any more ideas? Jason, any friends Caitlin might contact? Arabella, is she close to anyone here at the museum?”

They both hesitated, just as the phone on Arabella’s desk rang. She looked at it as though it were a snake, then reached out a hand and snatched it up. “Hello?”

I watched as her face fell. Not Caitlin, then. But not bad news, either.

“Nolan, you get yourself over here now! If Caitlin’s not with you, she’s missing, and you’ve got to tell me what you know.” Arabella listened for a moment, then hung up. “He’s on his way.”

Arabella had calmed down a bit by the time the front
desk called to say that Nolan had arrived. We’d spent the intervening time going over the same sparse information. Caitlin hadn’t called, and she still wasn’t answering her phone. I had no constructive ideas, so I devoted some of my time to watching the rain dribble down the windows of Arabella’s office. If the temperature dropped much, it would turn to sleet.

Nolan appeared in the doorway to the office, a cliché tweed cap dangling from his hand. Arabella didn’t rise to greet him. She was sending a clear signal: this was her domain, and she was in charge here. The rest of us nodded at him.

“What’s going on?” he demanded. “Something about Caitlin?”

“She’s missing,” Arabella said flatly. “Would you know anything about that? I understand you’ve been in contact with her for some time. A fact you neglected to mention to me.”

It was interesting watching Nolan trying to decide what tack to take with his clearly angry ex-wife, as expressions chased across his face. Resentment? Contrition? In the end he said, “She tracked me down, said she wanted to know me better. I
am
her father.”

Arabella pointed to a chair, and Nolan sat. “Yes, and a lousy one,” she said. “Funny, you never had much time for her before.”

Nolan held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’ve admitted that, and I’ve apologized—to you and to her. I was wrong. I was young and stupid. But what’s that do for us now? Tell me, why is it you think she’s gone missing?”