Night Vision (25 page)

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Authors: Ellen Hart

BOOK: Night Vision
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Gordon held up his hands, looking wide-eyed and innocent.
“Arrest him!” demanded Joanna. “He tied me up. He's been harassing me for months!”
The lead cop scratched the back of his head, then looked at Gordon and said, “I think you better come with us.”
“This is ridiculous,” muttered Gordon. “She's a liar. You can't believe a thing she says.”
“I need to call my lawyer,” said Joanna. “He knows what's been going on.”
“You got a weapon?” asked one of the other cops.
“No,” said Gordon.
“Yes,” said Joanna. “A gun. In his boot, by the foot of the bed.”
“Better get dressed, Ms. Kasimir,” said the lead cop. As he began to gather things up, he found the snarl of used duct tape.
“She likes it rough,” said Gordon, cracking his neck. “Nothing illegal about that.”
J
ane drove back to the Linden Building through rush-hour traffic, an Antigone Rising CD blasting from the speakers in her Mini, feeling like a three-hundred-pound man was standing on her chest. Everywhere she looked there was a crisis.
Parking in the back lot, Jane showed her ID to the guard at the back door, then she and Mouse raced up the stairs to Cordelia's loft.
“What took you so long?” said Cordelia, grabbing Jane by her leather jacket and yanking her inside.
Mouse jumped up on one of the chairs.
“What's wrong?”
“Hattie!”
“What
about
Hattie?”
“Didn't I tell you?”
“No, as usual you left me with one of your dramatic pauses.”
Cordelia slumped onto the couch. “Octavia called.”
“And?”
“They want to keep her another night.”
Jane pressed her lips together and swung her fists in the air, stifling a scream. “I nearly had a heart attack and that's all it is? Hattie's spending another night with Octavia?”
Tears streamed down Cordelia's face. “Yes. That's
all.
”
Seeing the tears, Jane felt like a insensitive creep.
“My life is over, but it's nothing.”
“Listen, Cordelia, I'm sorry. These past few days have been kind of overwhelming for me.”
“Me, too.” She rubbed the tears off her cheeks.
“I'm sorry. Really.” Jane sat down next to her. As soon as she put her arm around Cordelia's back, Cordelia broke down into full-out wails. “Tell me what your sister said, Cordelia. I want to hear it all.”
She cried for another minute, then sniffed, dried her tears on Jane's shirt collar, and looked up. Still sobbing, she hiccuped her response. “She … she said that … that they were having such a good time—”
“She wanted to keep her another night.”
“Yeah. I … I already said that.” Her eye makeup ran down her cheeks, creating a dark rainbow.
“That's all? Did she say when they'd bring Hattie back?”
“In the morning.” She sniffed. “But that's what they've said before and they still have her!”
“Did you get to talk to Hattie?”
“No. Octavia said that Radley had just taken her down to the swimming pool.”
It sounded like Octavia was specifically choosing times when Cordelia couldn't talk to Hattie. It might be jealousy or it might be something else. Jane wasn't sure what that something else might be, and not knowing made her feel uneasy. “Have you tried to call Octavia's cell? Tried to talk to Hattie?”
“Octavia won't answer her cell. It's standard procedure. People leave messages for her and if she's in the mood, she calls back. If not, forget it. Oh, and I've called and left at least ten messages for Cecily. I don't know why she hasn't returned any of them. When I've called the suite at the hotel, they're either not there, or Octavia makes up some excuse why Hattie can't come to the phone. Last night she told me I was making a mountain out of a molehill. Me!”
“Well, I mean, maybe you are?”
“Of course I am! It's what I do!”
“Did you call your lawyer?”
“She said I had to talk to an adoption attorney. She gave me a couple of names. I called and left messages but nobody's called me back.”
“Look, Cordelia, if they don't return Hattie in the morning, I'll go talk to them.”
“You'll never find them.”
“I will. Don't worry.”
Cordelia took a couple of deep breaths. “I knew you'd make me feel better.”
“That's what friends are for. Hey, speaking of friends, do you know if Joanna's here?”
Grabbing the Kleenex box off the coffee table, Cordelia pulled one out and wiped her eyes, then blew her nose with a big honk. “Yes. She refuses to leave the building. I had to call off rehearsals again today. I might as well call them off for the duration. Until you and Nolan figure out some way to put Luberman behind bars.”
Jane didn't want to tell her that they weren't doing so great with that. “I think we should stay in for the evening, too.”
“It's my poker club night. People will be arriving around eight. You can sit in if you want.”
“I'll see.”
“Or you could make us sandwiches if you had the time.”
“I'd be happy to do that.”
“Little tea sandwiches like you do. With the crusts cut off. Cream cheese and nuts and olives. I've got everything.”
“Doesn't sound very pokerlike.”
“Or you could do that Austrian omelet with the jam inside. That's yummy. People never think of eggs as a dessert. Or, hey, I've got some fresh salmon. You could do a salmon mouse. With little toast points. I don't have any fresh dill, but I have dried.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe we should get out the deep fryer—do those little balls of dough you fry and then roll in cinnamon and sugar. They're incredible.”
“We could do that.”
Jane let her talk. A little food porn always calmed Cordelia down.
 
David cupped the phone between his shoulder and ear as he lay on his bed in Joanna's loft, talking to Diego. It was just after eight. He'd shared a pizza with Joanna and Freddy, and then Freddy had taken off for the airport. He was flying back to L.A. for a few days but planned to return to Minnesota—and to Joanna—by the end of the week.
“She was a total basket case, and then Freddy appeared,” said David, scratching his chest through his shirt. “Poof. I mean, Luberman's still out there, but she's like a different person today. Almost happy. Talking about the future.”
“I can't believe they're together again after all these years,” said Diego. “But anything that brings you home sooner is great by me.”
“Exactly.” There was so much David wanted to say but couldn't. Not yet. He'd given Dr. Dowd's words a lot of thought this afternoon as he stood in Jane's house watching the last coat of poly being applied to the new oak floor. The icy truth was, Dowd had said what was happening to him
could
be a treatable sleep disturbance, but, and it was a big but, it might also be a symptom of a deeper psychiatric disorder. David felt as if he were perched at the edge of a precipice watching the ground weaken and drop away beneath his feet. There was no firm purchase anywhere he looked.
“David? You still there?”
“I'm here.”
“I haven't talked to you since you got back from Nebraska. You said you liked Jane's new girlfriend.”
“Yeah, she's nice.”
Even though she almost blew my brains out.
“She's attractive but not as good-looking as Jane.”
“I miss you, babe. Come home soon.”
“I will.”
“Promise?”
“I won't stay away a second more than necessary.”
They spoke for a few more minutes and then said good-bye.
David didn't feel like turning in for the night just yet. He passed
Joanna's closed bedroom door on the way to the kitchen. The pizza box still sat on the center of the table. Removing the last slice, he sat down and pulled the final contractor's bill out of his back pocket. He studied it while he finished the pizza.
Jane hadn't seen the basement redo yet. Maybe he'd swing her by there late in the day tomorrow. By then, the floors would be safe to walk on in their stocking feet. He'd gone a little wild with some of the new furniture and electronics in the rec room, but he was pretty sure she'd like it.
As David was watching a rerun of
Law & Order
in the study, Joanna emerged from her bedroom to join him. She sat down on an overstuffed leather armchair, rearranging her peach satin bathrobe over her legs.
“You look, I don't know, sort of wired,” said David, surprised to see her so wide awake. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was quarter of eleven. “Couldn't get to sleep?”
“I need a cigarette.”
“Sorry, I'm all out. You can always go next door and get one from Faye.”
She made a sour face. “Faye's mad at me.”
“Why?”
“She thinks I'm making a big mistake getting back together with Freddy.”
“It's none of her business.”
“I know. But it really seems to bug the hell out of her, and you know Faye, she's not shy about giving advice. I think I'll just stay away from her for a while.”
David shrugged. “I can go out and buy you a pack.”
“No. Stay put. I don't want to be alone.”
“Okay. Whatever.”
They watched TV in silence for a few minutes.
“I ate the last piece of pizza,” said David during one of the commercial breaks, forcing a little-boy guilty look. “Sorry. If you're hungry, I could fix you something.”
She shook her head. When the program resumed, she began tapping her fingernails on the arms of the chair.
“What's wrong, Joanna?”
“Everything. I wish Freddy hadn't left.”
“I'll protect you,” said David, beating on his chest with his fists.
“Great.” But then her expression softened. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Look, Luberman can't get in here. You're safe.”
“Safe,” she repeated. “I don't even know what that means anymore.” She rose and drifted out of the room.
David followed. He was worried. All her confidence seemed to have walked out the door with Freddy.
Standing at the bank of windows, she stared up at the night sky. “I wish he was dead.”
“Me too. Hey, did I tell you Milan Mestrovik wants to take Gordon out. He actually talked to me about it. Asked if I wanted to help.”
Joanna turned around. “He actually said that?”
“He thinks everyone who loves you—and that includes him—should band together and take care of Luberman.”
“Murder?”
“He didn't use that exact word, but his meaning was pretty clear.”
She pulled her robe more closely around her. “To be honest, that guy makes my skin crawl.”
“No argument there.”
A cell phone trilled.
“That's mine,” said Joanna with a sigh. “It's over there on the end table. But I can't talk to anyone, unless it's Freddy. Will you answer it?”
David scooped it off the table and flipped it open. “Hello?”
“Ah … hi … is this … Joanna's cell phone?”
It was a woman's voice, not one he recognized. “Who's calling?”
“My name's Hillary Schinn. I'm a journalist. I met Joanna at Flying Cloud airport the day she flew in. She agreed to do an interview with me. I'm sorry I'm calling so late.”
“Just a sec.” He muted the phone by pressing it to his chest. In a whisper, he said, “Hillary Schinn?”
“Who?”
“Says she's a journalist. Met you at Flying Cloud field.”
Joanna looked down, repeating the name to herself. The light finally dawned. “Get rid of her. No, wait. Tell her to call me tomorrow.”
David repeated the message.
“Great,” said Hillary. “Fabulous. Fantastic! What time?”
“Afternoon is probably best.”
“Thanks so much!”
“Boy,” said David, snapping the cell phone shut, “you sure made her night.”
Joanna eventually drifted back to her bedroom. David watched TV until around midnight, then listened outside her door, hoping she'd finally fallen asleep. He stood next to the front closet and slipped on his jacket, feeling in the pockets for his car keys and handcuffs, and then left the loft for the night. He waved to the peephole in Faye's door before he headed to the back stairs, assuming that she was, as usual, performing her role as resident busybody.
 
Just before two, David's eyes snapped open. Looking around to get his bearings, he saw that he was in his car in the parking lot. “Am I awake or asleep?” he whispered. He truly didn't know. He tried pinching himself.
“Ouch,” he said, staring up at the roof of the car. His seat was reclined. Reaching around, he pushed a button and the seat came up.

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