Missing Brandy (A Fina Fitzgibbons Brooklyn Mystery Book 2) (17 page)

Tugs on the East River. Stiff breeze. Gulls overhead. She gazed up and down the walk. No hat. At the very least she could scour the garbage cans. There were plenty of those.

Fortunately there wasn’t much debris in the first bin. It would have been easier if she’d had a cane, but she found a long branch and swished the stuff around as best she could. No hat. She walked a few hundred feet to the next garbage can.

She’d started rooting around in the crud when someone tapped her on the shoulder. Cookie whirled around. A patrol officer. Her stomach lurched. She was glad she wasn’t wearing the cap, but realized she still must have looked a little weird, so she ran a tongue around her teeth, panning for stray pieces of pancake. After taking off her glasses, she batted her lashes, looking straight into the policeman’s face, having already grazed around to check out his details—tall, good abs, nice buns. Quickly she flicked down to his hands. No ring. Cookie smiled.

“I guess I should explain, Officer.” So she did.

“Not a job for us,” he said and spoke into his little walkie-talkie or whatever it is they carry. “Tell me again why you were rooting through the garbage.” He smiled, and his eyes crinkled. “And I need your name and phone number.” His smile widened.

This was getting interesting. Matter of fact,
Emma
was fading into dim memory. She slid her eyes to his left hand again just to make sure. Nada. Definitely turning into a banner day.

Clancy, that was the name on his little brass plate over the pocket. Great pecs. She could look at him forever.

“I called Sanitation,” he said. “They should be here soon, but I’ll stick around to make sure they help. You might as well wait, too. You’ll want to supervise them. You’re working for Fina Fitzgibbons? She’s subcontracted to Jane Templeton on an abduction case, I hear.”

Cookie managed a nod and a quick smile before correcting him, trying to look as sweet as possible. “It’s Fina’s case.”

Her phone started buzzing. Fina. Cookie filled her in on what she’d seen, and told her where she was and what was happening. Soon, too soon, the DSNY truck stopped at the foot of the Promenade, and a crew carrying plastic bags lumbered toward them.

Chapter 30

Brandy. In Chains

When I wake up, my head is throbbing, my curls are pulling, and there’s a fresh piece of tape over my eyes. He didn’t have to slap me, but I guess I won’t try to pull the tape off, not until I’m out of here. I’ll show those buzzards. I hate them both.

I need food. I can smell it in the room, soup mixed with something. Yuck, it stings my nose. The top of the dresser, that’s where he usually leaves stuff for me. I feel around, easy, slow, and hear the chink of metal, a spoon, a warm bowl. It tastes like soapy chicken soup. Barf on that. Haven’t they ever heard of peanut butter and jelly on saltines?

They don’t know how to cook. And besides, if the nice one’s the runner, first thing when I get back to school, I’m going to tell everyone how not nice he is. He smiles, but he’s not nice. I hope by now the cops are coming. Mom won’t pay them, she’ll never pay, but she knows the police. Like that one time when we were broken into, and my elephant was stolen and a lot of files, and Mom called the police. They came and fixed everything. That’s what Phillipa said. Not the police, but the ATT or ADT or whatever, that’s what Mom said. She installed a new system.

Got to get out of here. For all I know, the police are on their way to rescue me before the runner gets me. Is the runner the nice one or Mr. Mean? Shhh. Listen hard. Do you hear them? There’s a car coming. I know it’s Mom. Or Dad. They’ll come for me, I know they will.

I must be going bonkers. I’ve heard that voice before. It could be one of my teachers, but I’m going crazy, barf on that. None of them would have the nerve except maybe that rancid gym teacher. At least nobody can see me. I wish you were here, Dad. You’d squeeze him so hard the buzzard’s blood would ooze out.

I’d jump out the window, but I know by now the cops are coming. They’re probably on their way now. Shhh. Listen hard. Do you hear the car? There’s a car someplace. I know the sound, like something whispering on the road and disappearing. It’s coming closer. Whoosh, it’s coming down the road. I know they’ll come for me, I know they will.

The door opens. I feel him standing there.

“It’s time to teach you a lesson.”

It’s not the runner. It’s the other one, the stony mean asshole with the breath.

I feel the blade against my throat.
“Help! I can’t move. Dad. Mom. Help me, please, please. Help me, somebody!”

The runner doesn’t come. The blade stings.
“You’re choking me, you damn buzzard!”

Chapter 31

Fina. Morning Two, Granny Liam

I met Lorraine outside of Madeleine Liam’s townhouse, a Greek revival down the street from Brandy’s home. In a moment, a tallish woman dressed in black with a white apron answered the bell and showed us up a few steps into a parlor decorated in expensive Victorian. I smelled the must of centuries and looked around the room at the bay window fronting the quiet spring of Columbia Heights.

Clothed in a silk moiré dress and wearing a tiara as if she were about to attend the president’s ball, Madeleine Liam sat in her wheelchair in the bay, glancing out the window and rubbing her fingers over a diamond necklace. With one arm she clutched a purse to her bosom, and when the maid reminded her that she had visitors, she shot a dazed look from me to Lorraine.

“Something’s happened to Brandy; I can feel it. She didn’t come to see me last night, and she always does. What have you done with her?”

Lorraine stepped forward and bent toward the old woman. “It’s been several years, Madeleine. You haven’t changed a bit. I don’t suppose you remember me, but years ago we worked on a project together at Mary, Star of the Sea.”

Madeleine’s eyes darted around the room. It seemed as though she couldn’t remember herself, let alone a visitor. “Why would I remember you? Where have you taken her?”

Lorraine persisted, her voice low and sweet, conspiratorial. “Lorraine McDuffy. Mary, Star of the Sea,” she repeated. “We met at the River Café, and you sat next to the cardinal. How I envied your poise.”

Madeleine’s eyes slowed, and her face took on something of a resolving glow. Her purse slipped to the floor, forgotten, until the maid picked it up.

“Lorraine, isn’t it? From Star of the Sea Women’s Auxiliary.” She shot a triumphant look at her maid. “You see? I never forget a face. And we raised so much money for the poor creatures at St. Nora’s. Of course I remember you. I never forget a kindred spirit. So lovely to see you again. Lovely Lorraine. Your husband was a bit of a thug, though. Police sergeant, as I recall. What are you doing here, and where’s my purse? Have you seen it?”

The maid held out Madeleine’s bag. “Here it is, Granny Liam.”

A withered claw reached out and grabbed it. Her eyes darted right and left.

“Now, come here, dear, I want to tell you something, and I don’t want the others to hear.” She reached down into her dress, brought out a lace handkerchief, and dabbed her forehead. “Shhh, behind that curtain, see them moving? That bulge in the drapes? Can’t be too careful. They follow me, surround me. They’d love to catch me up and take my money.” She pointed in the direction of Trisha Liam’s townhouse. “It’s all her doing.”

A bony hand clutched Lorraine’s arm, and Madeleine’s lips trembled with the truth as she knew it. She stretched toward Lorraine’s ear. “She’s gone. Flown the coop. Didn’t return my call. She has her own phone, you see, one of those new things. Carries it around with her. Said all her friends have one. I phoned her mother, and she said the girl’s missing, but can you blame her? She couldn’t abide a mother like that with no sense of humor.”

“Do you have her number?”

“Didn’t you just hear me say I called her?”

“We don’t give the number to anyone unless they’re in the family,” Angel said.

Lorraine shot me a look, like be quiet and let me do the talking, as if I were the sidekick and she the detective. “What can you tell us about Brandy?”

And I swear, Granny Liam took on another mask. Her blue eyes sparkled, and she handed the purse to her maid. “Take this bag for me, Angel, there’s a dear. Now, Lorraine, I’m glad you asked about Brandy. She needs humor and truth, lots of it. She needs a mother who listens to her, who challenges her.”

“Someone like you?”

“Precisely. I’m so glad you’re here, dear. Trisha thinks she’s doing right by the child. Oh, she’s not all that bad a mother, but she’s humorless, misguided.” Madeleine skirted her eyes around the room. “Such a terrible hostess. Can I get you something, a cup of coffee? Tea? You look a little parched. We have some lovely cookies, don’t we, Angel, and you won’t mind fetching them, there’s a dear.”

“No, we can’t stay,” I said.

“How rude to interrupt. Lorraine and I were talking, weren’t we, dear?”

“That’s my friend Fina,” Lorraine said.

“Fina you say? I had a friend once, a Fina. Fina? My how you’ve changed.”

I shook my head.

“Never mind, if you’re a friend of Lorraine, you’re a friend of mine. Come closer so I can see you.” Rheumy eyes drilled into me.

“You’re right,” I said. “Brandy’s missing. We don’t know where she is or why she’s gone away or if someone …”

Madeleine shook her head and closed her eyes as if I had the IQ of a tree. “She’ll be back. My Brandy will be back. Got some sick notion into her head, that’s all, but she’ll get sense into her skull. Just like her father in that department. He’ll be back, too. It’s that mother you’ve got to worry about. And Mitch is no better, off on some lawyer’s convention, I expect. Never took to the law, but Himself was a defense attorney and then a judge, and his father, too, and his father before him, on down the line. The first Liam came here looking for potatoes and found the law. Lucky day when Himself discovered me. Our children are spoiled, the both of them. Caroline’s no different than Mitch. Now she’s off in London or some other place with that lover of hers.”

“Tell us about Brandy.”

Madeline’s eyes got that conspiratorial look. “She has secrets, that girl, and the humor of a leprechaun. You’ve got to be bright to handle her, not like you-know-who. You’ve got to be able to look the devil in the eye and know your own soul. She’s still too young for boys, but she’s perking up to it. Shudder to think where she’d be without me. I have it, you see.” Madeleine rapped on her temple. “She likes school well enough, goes to Packer, likes all her teachers but hates gym. The other day we saw her talking to a runner on the Promenade, no better than a street person.”

I shot Lorraine a look.

“She wasn’t alone at the time. We would have stopped it, wouldn’t we, Angel?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How many times have I told you not to call me ma’am. Maddie, that’s what all my friends call me. Tell them, Angel. My throat’s a little dry, dear, and I could use my water.”

Angel handed Madeleine her water.

“He was in the middle of a group of them, Brandy and her friends. They were pointing to the bridge and laughing. The sun was too bright that day, remember?”

Angel nodded.

“When was this?” I asked.

“Last week, I think it was, Tuesday or Wednesday. I take Maddie out on nice days.”

“She wheels me all around. The exercise is good for her.” Madeleine Liam straightened her sleeves. “I told Angel to wheel me over, introduce myself, but he ran off. Looked like he was asking them for something, directions or some such nonsense, the way to the bridge, as if he couldn’t see it squatting there and staring him in the face.”

“That’s what Brandy said—he asked them for directions—don’t you remember?” Angel asked.

“You’re right, I’d forgotten,” Madeline said. “Brandy saw us. Angel pulls me over by a bench, and we sit and watch the goings on. Well, she spied us and came over.”

“She’s a good girl, Brandy. She loves her grandmother, you know. She gave her a big slobbery kiss right in front of her friends. She told us he’d asked them for the quickest route to the bridge.”

“But I know his kind,” Madeline said. “He makes things up as he goes along. Told that girl a million times not to talk to strangers.”

“But she wasn’t alone with him?” I asked.

Both women shook their heads.

“Can you describe him?” Lorraine asked.

“I think I’ve seen that runner around here before,” Angel said.

“You’re making that up,” Madeleine Liam said.

“Why would I?”

“Go on. You just this second made it up.”

“Have not,” Angel said.

“Did too,” Granny Liam said. “Now that you mention it, I think I’ve seen him on our walks.”

“You’re just saying that,” Angel said.

“Am not. I tell you, I never forget a face. My brain might be a little mothy from time to time, but I never forget a face. Curly hair, pulls on his nose when he runs.”

“There, you just made that up, Maddie Liam. How could you have seen that? Don’t go on so. These nice ladies want to help. They need the truth. They don’t need your stories. No more stories, Maddie.”

Lorraine and I watched the tennis match for a minute. “Do you remember what he looked like?”

“You’re trying to trip me up.”

Lorraine shook her head.

“Like I just told you. Long and bony, curly hair, black ringlets.”

Angel nodded, and I wrote down everything.

“What was he wearing?” Lorraine asked.

“Shorts and a tee. Crinkly material—what do you call it—cotton, but has those little square holes all over it. Long sleeves, blue, matched his shorts, and he had those bright shoes they wear these days.”

“Not the runner they were talking to, Maddie. He had on those gray running shoes with NB on the sides.”

“How could you have seen his shoes—he was surrounded by a gaggle of girls. I swear you can make up stories with the best of them. Must get it from working for me. How long has it been? I knew some of it would rub off sooner or later. People like to hear stories, I always say, so I sling it with the best of them, that’s what Himself used to say.”