Stalker (9780307823557) (12 page)

Lucas Maldonaldo’s.

Why would Mrs. Trax have Lucas’s phone number in her handbag? She must know him. How? And why didn’t he say something about knowing Stella? Was he keeping something from her?

Jennifer snapped the handbag shut and jumped to her feet, slamming the cabinet door. Lucas and his unbending, patronizing ways! Lucas, who thought she had so much to learn! She had learned that Lucas hadn’t been honest with her. She was going to face him with this and demand an answer!

When she arrived at his house, Stella’s handbag tucked firmly under her arm, Jennifer didn’t just ring the bell, she pounded on the door. She could hear his quick, firm footsteps, and the door flew open. His eyes widened when he saw her.

“You knew Stella Trax and you didn’t tell me!” she said.

Lucas shook his head wearily and moved to one side. “Come on in,” he said. “Let’s find out what’s on your mind.”

He lowered himself into what was obviously his favorite armchair from the way the faded lumps and bumps seemed to fit around him. “Sit down,” he said.

“I don’t want to sit down.”

“Sit down,” he repeated. “Then we’ll talk.”

Jennifer perched on the edge of the sofa, facing him. She held out the handbag. “This belonged to Mrs. Trax.”

“What are you doing with it?” He leaned forward.

“I knew where she hid her handbag. One night, when I slept over at Bobbie’s, I got up to go to the bathroom, and I saw Mrs. Trax put her handbag in what must have been her special hiding place in the kitchen. Mrs. Trax didn’t see me, and I didn’t say anything, but I remembered.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’ve never told anyone, not even Bobbie. I guess I was afraid to. She had told me that her mother kept the hiding place a secret from everyone, even her kids. Darryl was always after her for money, and I don’t think she trusted any of them.”

Lucas rubbed his shoulder. “Taking that handbag was a stupid thing for you to do.”

“Don’t you dare get mad at me when I’m so mad at you! I’m the one who has a right to be angry!”

He leaned back in his chair. “Anger will only get in our way. Tell me what’s bothering you, and then I’ll read you out for taking something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“I looked through this handbag without telling you, because you said it would be the property of the police, and if they had it we couldn’t see what was in it. I’ll show you what I found and you can be upset with me if you want to, but you’ll have some explaining to do to the police in any case.”

“You haven’t made sense about what you want from me.”

“I want an answer. Finally I’ve got a question that has to have an answer right away.” She pulled the little note pad from Stella’s handbag and tossed it to him. “What was Mrs. Trax doing with your telephone number?”

Lucas stared at it and looked up at Jennifer. “I have no idea.”

“Are you going to tell me you didn’t know her?”

“In a roundabout way I knew her,” he said. “I was the investigating officer on the case concerning her son Elton. I’m the one responsible for his being sent to prison on a robbery conviction.”

“Oh,” Jennifer said. She leaned back against the puffy sofa, her anger disappearing as fast as hot air from a split balloon. “You didn’t tell me that. I didn’t know.”

“It looks as though she wanted to talk to me about something,” he said.

“But she didn’t?”

“She didn’t.”

Jennifer shook her head. “Then we don’t know why she had written your phone number on her note pad. And it doesn’t clear up my questions about the credit cards.”

“What credit cards?”

Jennifer got up and took him the handbag. She walked back to the sofa and plopped on it. “Inside that bag are a wad of credit cards with other people’s names on them.”

Lucas opened the bag and methodically went through it. She could practically see a computer behind his eyes as he neatly catalogued every item he saw. While he studied the contents of the vinyl folder, Jennifer ran a finger across the coffee table.

“You never dust, do you?” she said.

He didn’t answer.

“And you don’t put anything away. All those old magazines stacked on the floor, and two dirty coffee cups, and that bottle of aspirin.” She felt a little sorry for him, because obviously he’d been used to his wife doing all those things for him, but for some reason she also felt like needling him. “You ought to get someone to clean this
place for you once in a while, if you’re not going to do it yourself.”

He glanced at her for only a second, but his eyes were as vulnerable as a child’s. For an instant he was no longer a tough cop, but someone who was hurting badly.

Jennifer, guilt hunching her shoulders, said, “Tell me about your wife. What was she like?”

He shrugged. “She was a gentle person. Patient with me. Patient with the long, irregular working hours an officer has to keep when he’s on a case.”

“I guess it must be hard being married to a cop.”

“Lila never complained.” He looked around the room. “She knew how to keep the house up. I still haven’t learned.”

“Maybe you don’t want to.” He frowned, and she added, “I mean, I was like that with chemistry. I didn’t like it, so I didn’t care if I learned it or not.” She paused. “In case you’re wondering, I did pass it.”

“That’s the least of my worries,” he said, one corner of his mouth turning down in a familiar way that made Jennifer feel comfortable again. “You know what these are?” He held up a handful of credit cards. “A couple of these cards look like the real thing, probably stolen, but most of them seem to be counterfeit cards. Look at this one—the bad printing at the bottom.”

“You mean they’re just made-up names and numbers?”

“Nope. The names and numbers are real. The whole scam is right here in front of us. Apparently, Stella was able to get hold of some carbons from actual sales. Merchants throw them out in the trash, and many commercial trash bins are open to scavengers. Someone steals a wad of carbons, and from these carbons names and numbers are taken to be used on fake cards. Then shoppers
use the cards, and the charges are simply put on the bills of the innocent victims.”

“I thought store clerks called in to check on the sales.”

“Only if the sales are over a certain amount—usually fifty dollars. So the thief spends a lot of time buying items that cost less, like small appliances, silver bowls, clothing. There are a lot of things that you can get for under fifty dollars.”

“What would Mrs. Trax do with stuff like that?”

“I doubt if she kept any of it. The stolen stuff is fenced.”

Jennifer studied Lucas. “You seem to know a lot about this credit card thing.”

“You bet I do,” he answered. “Remember—I’m a police officer, and this credit card scam has been going on for a long time all over the United States. It’s hard to catch the people involved in it, but we do know that a clever thief can charge at least five thousand dollars’ worth of items in a day’s work.”

“So that’s why Stella shopped so much.” She remembered something. “And the woman in the beauty salon said Stella even went out of town to shop.”

“And to steal a few cards and carbons, no doubt.” Lucas slowly got to his feet. He stood and rubbed his lower back. “You realize that now we have an entirely different set of circumstances, which may or may not lead to another motive for Stella’s murder by someone other than Bobbie.”

Jennifer jumped up. “So they might let Bobbie go?”

“No. Circumstantial evidence is still strongly against her. But this means another lead, another direction. If Stella was involved in a stolen and counterfeit credit card ring, then someone in that ring might have been responsible for her death.”

“Why would someone want to kill her?”

“Maybe she was getting greedy. Maybe she wanted a bigger cut.”

“Or maybe,” Jennifer said, “she wanted to tell you about it. She knew who you were because of Elton’s arrest. Maybe she was going to phone you and didn’t get the chance.”

“Could be.”

Lucas walked toward the phone. “I’ll call in. Tell them about the handbag.”

“What about that pad with your telephone number? Shouldn’t we—?”

He scowled at her. “Trying to protect me now, are you?”

“I didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“You’ve got so much to learn, Jennifer. That number might fit into the puzzle and help solve this crime. In any case, it wouldn’t be honest to remove it.”

“I was just trying to help.”

“Then work by the rules.”

“Should I take the handbag back to the house?”

“No.” He picked up the receiver. “But you’d better stick around for a while.”

“So you can ‘read me out,’ as you said? You haven’t done that yet.”

One corner of his mouth twisted into the semblance of a smile. “I’ve decided not to. You’ll get enough of that from Detective Carl Robbins.”

Detective Robbins was built something like a bear. Jennifer was sure he had probably played football in school. His hair was thick and sandy and hung in his eyes. Dog or cat hair clung to his rumpled slacks. His partner,
Detective Arturo Casals, was small and neat with a tiny black mustache that looked as though it had been drawn on his face. He scowled at Jennifer and let Detective Robbins do the talking.

And talk he did, finishing with “So what you did was not only stupid and dangerous but illegal.”

“I was trying to help my friend,” Jennifer said.

He turned to Lucas, who was leaning back in his armchair, as relaxed as though they’d been having a conversation about baseball scores. “What did this kid get you into, Lucas?”

“Jennifer didn’t get me into anything,” Lucas said calmly. “She came to me for help. After I studied the case I decided to take it, and I invited Jennifer to be my partner.” For a moment Jennifer thought he’d actually smile at her, but he sat upright and, in a tone of voice as firm as his backbone, said, “Carl, she needed some cutting down to size, and you did a good job of it, but you can lay off now.”

Carl frowned. “Trespassing, interfering with police procedure, removing property … I don’t know.”

“Well, I do,” Lucas said. “She’s given you some solid evidence in that credit card scam. Let’s just go on from there.” He gestured toward the pad of paper with his telephone number written on it. “It’s just a hunch, but I think Stella Trax was planning to contact me regarding the scam.”

“Could be,” Carl said.

“We’ll never know, will we?” Art added. “And our next question is: Who else in this town besides Stella Trax is working the racket?”

“Mrs. Aciddo,” Jennifer said.

The three men looked at her. “What else do you know that you haven’t told us?” Carl asked.

Jennifer shook her head. “I don’t know it. I just think so, because she told the reporters that she and Mrs. Trax had planned to go shopping.”

Art shrugged. “Lots of women go shopping together.”

Jennifer insisted. “But she lied about Mrs. Trax’s job at the beauty salon. She said she still worked there, only she didn’t.”

“Maybe Stella hadn’t told her she’d quit.”

“You could follow her and find out.”

“On just your hunch?” Art shook his head. “Without any solid information about Mrs. Aciddo, we can’t spend the man-hours on tailing her.

“We’ll share this with the FBI people working the scam,” Art said.

“The FBI is in this too?” Jennifer was puzzled.

“It’s an interstate crime,” Carl said. “A regular syndicate that uses credit cards to rob nationally—even internationally.”

“You found the handbag,” Lucas said. “That’s all the information the FBI needs. Right?”

Carl studied Jennifer for a long moment, then mumbled, “She couldn’t help them.” He lumbered to his feet and picked up the handbag. “We’ll be in touch,” he said to Lucas. He pointed a finger at Jennifer, so close that it almost brushed her nose. “Kid,” he said, “keep clean, do just what Lucas tells you to do and nothing more. And don’t mention any of this about the credit cards to
anyone.
Understand? The last thing we’d need would be for word to get out on the streets or for the media to know.”

Jennifer nodded, not trusting herself to answer. If they weren’t interested in finding out if Mrs. Aciddo fit into the credit card scheme, it didn’t matter. She didn’t need their help. She knew what to do. She’d follow Mrs. Aciddo and see what she could find out.

I’ve got to go back for another look. It’s the only way to get rid of this damn headache. I know why the headache won’t go away. It’s not because of Stella. It’s because of her handbag.

Yeah, I remember that big handbag she always carried with her. Wouldn’t let it out of her sight. And hid it when she wasn’t carrying it. Never trusted anyone, even the kids. Especially the kids. Especially Darryl, who nearly went crazy looking for it when she wouldn’t give him money for a fix. That’s where the stuff has to be. She’d have cards in it. Sure she would. She was holding out.

Dumb Stella. Dumb to hold out and try to cut your own deal. Didn’t you know I’d find out?

I guess you weren’t too dumb, were you? You had enough sense to hide the stuff. If the police got hold of it, the news would have been out. So it must still be there.

Now I know for sure. I’m going to the house to look for it.

The detectives drove Jennifer home. Lucas asked them to. In a way he told them to, because he didn’t want her going home on the bus and walking from the bus stop. They had a lot of respect for Lucas. Jennifer could see that. She could also see that they were wondering if Lucas was temporarily out of his head to be working with her on a case they thought was a closed issue.

She opened the back door of their unmarked car as it pulled up in front of her house and jumped out the instant it stopped. “Thanks,” she called to them, and ran up the walk to the front steps. Among the shadows she had seen the familiar broad-shouldered, hunched-over form of Mark. He was sitting on the top step, waiting for her.

As he saw Jennifer, he clambered to his feet and came toward her. “Jen,” he said, “are you okay? I was worried.”

Suddenly she was exhausted and longed for Mark
more than she ever had before. She hurried into his arms, holding him as though he were an anchor against the gale, and she were a small sailboat, skittering the tops of waves, in danger of flying out to sea.