Missing Brandy (A Fina Fitzgibbons Brooklyn Mystery Book 2) (11 page)

Trouble is, I did. Not that my family was ever influential like the Liams, just that I abhorred the family obligations that went with marriage. The thought of all those dinners to attend, the image of Robert’s pale face and flabby ass sitting at the head of the table, was one more nail in the coffin of Denny’s dreams.

If Lorraine picked up on my mood, she didn’t let on. She was like a horse cantering down memory lane. “Robbie was a sergeant at the time, not too high up, but important enough so that he had to attend certain functions when they wanted a show of blue. The cardinal himself was there. In those days, he and his bishops and priests sashayed around something fierce, turned out in those long chains with gold crosses wedged into their belts, blood-red robes swishing, mind you, and patent leather shoes. And they didn’t forget to wear their ermine-lined capes and hoods. Rocks for rings, and you had to genuflect to kiss them. I can still feel their cold stones brushing against my teeth.”

“You’re talking about the Al Smith Dinner?” I asked.

She shook her head. “The poor man’s version in Brooklyn, some political function or other. The restaurant was over on Water Street. Picture it, here comes poor Robbie and me. Lord, when I saw all the mink and diamonds and limousines, I wanted to slink back home, but the view of Manhattan was breathtaking. I won’t forget it.”

Lorraine got that soft look on her face with the memory of it, and I could see where Denny had gotten his soul.

She continued with her Liam family saga. “Denny was a toddler then, but the Liam clan were there, all of them sitting at the front table with the cardinal. Must have given plenty to the church, what with the seaport in the distance, their grandchildren running all over the hall or petting in the corner. And in particular, there were Madeleine’s two children, Mitch and Caroline.”

“Let me get this straight. Mitch was Brandy’s father?”

She nodded. “Growing up, he and Caroline were brats, the both of them. Full of themselves, but Mitch had a smile I won’t soon forget. And their mother, Madeleine, was almost old enough to be my mother, but still a stunning woman. We worked on a committee together that I chaired one year, if you can believe it, little old me. That was when she helped all the parishes in Brooklyn with their fundraisers. Her sport, I suppose.” Lorraine shook her head. “Madeleine was not like her husband. I warmed to her, even though I was jealous of her gowns and her finish. How is she, by the way?”

“Half in the bag, I understand.”

“Pity. Happens more and more, I hear tell. When I knew her, she had that clear skin and bold Irish wit, you know, and when she entered a room, everything stopped.”

“And Brandy loves her.”

“I’ll bet she does. The old lady would make sure of that, and to the detriment of the love between mother and daughter. Some people can be lovely and so well-turned out as far as the public eye is concerned, but they take with every breath. Mitch was unaware of that, what to call it, that
grasp
of his mother. He doted on her. Hear tell he paid for the upkeep of her house, servants, all the medical help she must need. Trisha must foot the bill now, unless there’s still some of the old money left.”

Lorraine stopped talking and stared into Joralemon Street for a time before speaking again. “But as I say, some people have a way about them, born with a certain canniness. Take all those eighteenth-century French mistresses, that’s who Madeleine reminds me of, but with a lilt to her voice. Those women had the head and heart of the king, don’t you know, and so did Madeleine and she never got over it. Even mothers-in-law know how to steal, don’t they? Well, my dear, I’m babbling on now. I know you’ll find the child, but if I can help in any way, please call me. Please do. I often think of the day we spent in New Jersey. I’ll never forget it.”

I felt my heart pounding and wondered why the sky was turning yellow until I took a deep breath. “I could use your help big time. Right now we’ve got no leads, no real ones, and Brandy’s been missing almost twenty-four hours.”

“Who’d want to take her?” she asked.

“That’s just it. If she wasn’t abducted by human traffickers, then it was someone who held a grudge, someone connected to one of her parents.”

“Hurt in some way by their legal practice?” Lorraine asked. “I know Mitch defended some pretty seedy characters.”

“Yes, he’d just recused himself from defending a well-known local thug when he died suddenly. His death was never investigated other than by a cursory autopsy. And Trisha is a named partner in a law firm.”

Lorraine didn’t miss a beat. “We need to go through their case files. I’d be perfect for the job because of my background. I miss my work so much. Of course, Robbie insists on calling me a legal secretary, but what does he know.”

Lorraine was a hidden treasure. Before she married Robert McDuffy, she was a paralegal at Smith, Jarvis & O’Leary. “As luck would have it, I have a desk loaded with briefs and Trisha Liam’s password to her files.” I thought fast. “You could take a look at them now. They’re right around the corner. And I could use your help when I interview Madeleine Liam later this morning, but I’d hate to tie up your whole day.”

Lorraine’s face was glowing. “You could help me with something. Yesterday I bought myself one of those phones, the kind that do everything. Robbie doesn’t know about it yet, but I’ve saved a little on the side. Tell me, how do you work these blasted things? Here, I’ve got the paperwork somewhere. Stupid of me, the directions must be in there, don’t you think?”

Lorraine handed me an iPhone still wrapped in cellophane while she rooted in her purse looking for the Getting Started book. While we walked to Lucy’s, I activated it. Then I added her home phone, Denny’s cell, and my number into her Favorites. I showed her a few tricks and turned the sound to vibrate.

“Leave it turned on all the time. When it vibrates, press the screen, put it to your ear, and talk. Try calling me.”

I answered my cell when it vibrated. “And Lorraine? This means you’re on the payroll.”

We spent the next few minutes arguing, but in the end she agreed to be reimbursed.

After I got her settled at one of the desks and introduced her to Minnie, I left, watching through Lucy’s window as Minnie showed Lorraine the coffee maker. They were both laughing about something. For the first time since talking to Trisha Liam last night, things were looking up. We’d find Brandy and in one piece. God, I hoped we would.

I was now responsible for the welfare of a growing cleaning crew and two office employees, Minnie and Lorraine. Lucy’s Cleaning Service was pulling in a tidy sum, and my detective agency was off to a promising start. Maybe, just maybe, Brandy had a chance. I imagined Mom in her last frenetic days and wished she could see me now. As I hurried down the street, I felt a puff of wind graze my face.

Chapter 19

Brandy. In Chains

A door opens. Rough hands untie my feet.

“Bathroom’s in here.”

The man, the nice one, pulls me up by my shoulders, and his fingers dig into my arms.
“You’re hurting me, you buzzard.”

“Sorry. Stand still until you get your balance.”

I wait in the dark for my insides to stop spinning.

“Ready?”

I nod.

“Now go this way.”

He pushes me to the wall.

“Feel the wall with your shoulder.”

I lean on the wall to stop my head from splitting open. I step and slide, bend over. I’m going to pee before I get there, I know I am.

“Toilet’s through this door, this way. Wait until I open it. I want you to remember how well we treat you. I’m not getting back at you. I like you. This is none of your doing.”

Whatever. The door slams shut, and I feel the barf bowl with my legs. It’s cold and it smells, not as bad as me, though. The smell is like the boy’s john, old pee. Got to get this rope off my wrists. Got to, or I’ll have another accident. I can hardly pull my pants down. Swell. My head’s going to crack open before then. Where am I? I’ve got a test at ten thirty, and I can’t see anything.

“I can’t see,”
I yell out to him
. “Please, I won’t leave you, but I’ll get sick if I can’t see. I’ll have another accident, I know I will.”

“Sit down on the seat.”

“Untie my hands, I’ll pay you. I’ve got twenty dollars in my pocket.”

“I don’t want your money.”

The man opens the door and fumbles at my wrists.

“Your hands are free for now. But don’t take the tape off your eyes. I’ll know if you do, and you won’t like what I’ll do to you.”

The door shuts again.

Hands and arms free. Stiff. The man’s pretty dumb—he fell for it.
Don’t forget to wash and flush
, I can hear Mom telling me.

I bump my head a couple of times, but I make it out of there. I hold my hands out, stretch my fingers, and stumble to the bed.

“Dream on if you think she’s going to pay you to get me back,”
I yell into the dark.
“Moths fly out of her wallet.”
That’s one of Dad’s lines. I can see him grinning.

“I’ll have to tape your mouth, too, if you don’t stop talking.”

In the dark, the man’s voice sounds sad.

“Slap her, that’s what she needs. I’ll go in there and—”

Another voice. The mean one’s outside my room.
The door rattles, like he’s coming for me.

“Put that knife away,”
I hear the nice one say.
“Give it to me.”

“No. It’s mine.”

“Get rid of it.”

Muffled talking, the way grown-ups do when they don’t want you to hear. I feel my heart doing flips. They’re fighting right outside my door. There’s a thud—is it me or outside of me? More angry growls. I hear them going down the stairs. Walls shake with their steps.

Now it’s quiet. Too quiet.
And the voices disappeared down the hole with the rabbit.
That’s what Dad would say after Mom finished with whatever lecture she was giving me. He’d look at me with that face of his, the one Mom called his motley grin. That was when she was cool, too. Then Dad died, and Pah-tricia disappeared down the hole with the rabbit.
And that’s the end of the story so go to sleep.
Mrs. Coltran thought the rabbit hole thing was from
Alice in Wonderland,
but I never could find it in the book. It must have been Dad’s special concoction. He did special concoctions all the time, like his fee-fi-fo-fum line he sometimes said during the news.

My stomach’s empty. I wonder if they’re going to feed me. Got to give them names. They won’t seem so bad, that’s what Dad said. He helped me name my other monsters, the nightmare ones. Goblin, Prancer, Sheepskin. Hey, what do you expect, I was five. But none of those names fit these guys.

It’s better if I talk out loud, but I’ll whisper so the nasty one doesn’t hear, the stupid buzzard. I can pretend the dark is a person. Dad. Just talking to you is better than nothing. That way, I won’t go bonkers, like that one custodian at school, or Heather’s grandmother who still knows how to cook but that’s about it, or come to think of it, Granny Liam, only I pretend to Mom she’s not so bad.
You’ll get out of here if you play it cool
, I can hear Dad telling me. Grown-ups got me in here, dumped me into this place, and so far, they don’t seem very bright, nothing I can’t handle.

Dad had this way about him. He’d be reading me a story and he’d start making it up as he went along. At first I thought it was the story, what did I know, but soon I got wise to him.
If you don’t make it up as you go along, how can you defend criminals
, he asked me once. I wonder if he’d defend whoever’s doing this to me.

I can’t help myself. I have to talk.
“Where am I?”
Nothing. I knew it, they won’t answer; grown-ups never do when it counts.

Then I feel someone outside my room. I’m getting good at this being blind thing. The door handle turns. I hear footsteps getting closer. I lie still, so still, like in the morning when I don’t want to get up and I try to fool Mom into thinking I might be dead or something, and even when she shakes me, I don’t respond. But I smell his breath close to my face. I will my lids not to stutter. Sweet baby Jesus, something’s pressing against my neck.

“Watch it, or I’ll squeeze you a little too hard.”

Chapter 20

Fina. Morning Two, In Teresa’s

The breakfast rush was over so there were only a few customers in Teresa’s, but I spotted Cookie sipping coffee and juice and sitting in our usual booth. I hadn’t seen her since we last worked together. I handed her a check for her work on the Mary Ward Simon case, but she slid it back.

“Gonna have to speak to your mom,” I said, reaching over and shoving it in her bag. “By the way, how’s your throat? I can still see marks on it. The hospital told me it might take weeks for the bruising to disappear. At least take my check, if not for your work, for your pain and suffering.”

She shook her head, gulping her juice. “I spoke with Betty at Packer Collegiate. You remember her, don’t you?”

Before I had a chance to reply, the waitress brought our pancakes and my juice and coffee. I could smell the rich buttermilk as I watched blueberries oozing out of the dark places between cakes. “I don’t care if my teeth turn purple,” I said through the pancake. “So tell me about Betty. I haven’t seen her in, what, five years. Does she still look the same?”

Cookie nodded. “Only more so. Bouncy and cute. Remember how we could always get around her when we were late?”

“Speak for yourself.”

“You were never late?”

“I didn’t say that—she caught me every time.”

“You’re such a glutton.” Cookie stopped eating long enough to examine her teeth in a pocket mirror. “Anyway, they have a lot more bells and whistles since we were in school. I felt like I was old enough to be my own grandmother trying to understand their system. I got about half of what she was trying to tell me.”

I sipped my coffee, trying to wake up. At twenty-two was I getting old?

Cookie took a bite of her pancake. I could tell she liked the food from the smile on her face. Apples and cinnamon and sour cream oozed from the corners of her mouth before she dabbed them with a napkin. “These days nothing gets past them. Betty had the call logged into the computer with all the information.”