Necessary Decisions, A Gino Cataldi Mystery (10 page)

Scott stared at her taut body. “I might have to join you in that shower. Are you staying the night?”

“That depends on what you have in mind.”

“Dinner at Artista, perhaps a play, followed by a magnificent night in bed.”

“I’ll be here.”

Scott rushed breakfast, his mind racing, fueled by the promise of sex. He wanted to take her upstairs and lie in bed all day, but he had to get to work. He was amazed Michelle hadn’t called. He helped Jennifer clear the table and rethought his decision to go to work. If it wasn’t for that clinical trial problem…

“I’m going to shower,” Jennifer said. “I’ll be here when you get home.”

He kissed her goodbye, admired the view as she climbed the steps, and thought again about staying home. But then he shook his head and returned to the kitchen. As he reached for his briefcase, the phone rang. He looked at his watch.

Late again. Must be Michelle.

He grabbed the phone and said, “I’m on my way, Michelle.”

***

Number Four stared at the script, already confused by the start. He hated to improvise. “This isn’t Michelle. Listen closely. We have your daughter.”

“What? Who is this?”

“I said, we have your daughter. So listen.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Is this you, Ted?”

“This is no joke. Get a pen and paper and write this down.”

“Mister, I don’t know who you are, but—”

“Shut-up. Do you hear me? Shut the fuck up, or I kill her.”

Scott pulled a pen and pad from his briefcase then checked to make sure the recorder was on. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“Do you have something to write with?”

The voice sounded calmer now. Scott fought for control of his emotions. “I’m set. Go ahead.”

“You are to get seven million dollars and—”

“What? I don’t have that kind of money.”

A long pause. “Mister, we know you don’t have it yet, but you can borrow on it.” The man on the phone paused. “I’m not going to say it again. Shut up and let me finish.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“Seven million dollars in non-sequential serial numbers, hundred-dollar bills, no tracers on the money or in the money. We’ll know if you try to track us. Have it ready in forty-eight hours. We’ll call tomorrow with instructions on the transfer.”

“Wait! I need to talk to my daughter.”

“The next time we call, you can talk to her.”

The line went dead. Scott stared at the phone. He dialed Alexa’s cell, certain she would answer. After three rings, worry began to build. “Come on, Alexa. Pick up.” When she didn’t answer, panic set in.

School
. He had the number for the principal’s office in his contact list. A woman answered right away.

“This is Scott Winthrop. My daughter, Alexa, goes to school there. I need to speak with her.”

“Hold one second, Mr. Winthrop. I’ll call her classroom.” She came back on a few seconds later. “No one is picking up. I’ll have to send someone down, Mr. Winthrop. Give me a number, and I’ll call back.”

“No! I need you to check now.” He got hold of himself. “Please, this is an emergency.”

“Of course, sir. Hold on.”

The few minutes it took for her to get back to him seemed like an hour. “I’m sorry, Mr. Winthrop, but Alexa didn’t show up today.”

He hung up without saying goodbye then dialed 9-1-1.

“Nine-one-one operator. What is your emergency?”

Scott breathed deeply before speaking. “My daughter has been kidnapped.”

“Sir, did you say she has been kidnapped?”

“Yes, they just called. What do I do? Who should I call?”

“Hold on, sir. I’ll patch you through to someone who can help.”

Scott spent no more than five minutes on the phone before they said they would send someone over. He got off and called work. “Michelle, I won’t be in for…I don’t know, probably the whole day.”

“Is something wrong, Mr. Winthrop? Anything I can help with?”

“No, it’s personal, Michelle. Anything urgent yet today?”

“Nothing we can’t handle, Mr. Winthrop. I’ll call you if necessary.”

Scott hung up and walked around the kitchen. He called Alexa’s cell three more times but got no answer. “Where are you, Alexa? Where the hell are you?”

Chapter 17

A New Assignment

M
y phone rang as I drove down the freeway. “Gino Cataldi.”

“Gino, it’s Coop. Where are you?”

“Almost at the station, why?”

“See me as soon as you get in.”

“What’s up?”

“Just stop by. We need to talk.”

Ten minutes later, I pulled into the station parking lot and went to see Coop. “Hey, Cindy, she in?”

“And waiting.”

I walked in, surprised to see Chief Renkin. I nodded to him. “Chief.” Then to the captain, “Coop, what’s up?”

Renkin got up from his chair and shook hands with me. “Are you getting anywhere on those home invasions?”

Is that what this is about?

“Not yet, sir. But now that Delgado’s with me, we’ll find them.”

“I hope so. The Marshall boy has taken a turn for the worse.”

I shook my head. His attack had been an unnecessary part of the invasion. “We’ll get them, sir. You can tell Mr. Marshall that.”

Renkin looked at the side of my head. “Is that from the poker game robbery?”

“It is, sir.”

“What the hell is going on in this town?” He sat back down after that, and Coop took over.

She held a folder in her hand, which she referred to, then looked at me. “You worked a kidnapping case up north, didn’t you? When you were in Philadelphia?”

I gave both of them a sharp look. Something was going on, and I wasn’t in on it. I wished I’d gotten a heads-up from Cindy. “I worked two of them. Why? Somebody get snatched?”

Renkin looked to Coop then to me. “Not just somebody. Scott Winthrop’s daughter.”

“I don’t know him.”

“Winthrop is CEO of a new biotech firm in The Woodlands. He has an extremely high-profile IPO getting a lot of media attention. We need it handled properly.”

“Does he live up there?”

Renkin nodded. “I know what you’re thinking—out of our jurisdiction—but we’ve been asked in.”

“Why?”

“They’d rather us handle it quietly,
without
calling in the FBI. This IPO could mean a lot for Houston. Their success could lure other start-ups here. And that is just the kind of business we’re looking for—clean, with high-paying jobs.” Renkin shot me his famous hard look. “Can you do it?”

“I can, Chief, but I’ve already got a case. Remember?”

Renkin’s eyes narrowed. “Of course I remember. The Marshalls are friends of mine.” He got up and paced. “This takes priority. Give the Marshall case to someone else.”

“No way.” I couldn’t let them take the Marshall case, not with Number Three involved. He was
mine.

“Detective!” Now Renkin
was
pissed. “You’ll take whatever case I assign you.”

I had to play this right. I took a few deep breaths, calmed myself. “I’ll take the kidnapping if you keep me as lead on the Marshall case. Somebody else can run the day-to-day.”

Coop was shaking her head before I finished. “No.”

“Then give the snatch to the feds. I don’t want it.”

Renkin glared at me; he was good at that. “You’ll take what I assign, Detective.”

“I said I’d take it, but you have to let me keep the Marshall case.”

“Why?”

“Because they took his
damn
watch,” Coop said.

I ignored Coop and looked at Renkin. “What’s it going to be, Chief?”

Renkin gave Cooper a sideways glance then reached out his hand to shake mine. “Captain Cooper will give you anything you need. Call me personally if necessary.”

After Renkin left, Coop gestured to the chair. “Have a seat, Gino.”

“I should go, Coop. We can’t afford to delay on kidnapping cases.”

She moved some papers around on her desk and stared at me over the top of her glasses. “This will only take a minute, Gino. The priorities on this case may be different than what you’re accustomed to.”

I sagged in the chair.
Here comes the bullshit.
“Explanation needed.”

“We need to catch these kidnappers—true. And we need to bring this girl back alive and unharmed—even more true.” She leaned forward and flashed her famous grin. “But we need to keep this quiet—most true of all.”

“So you don’t want me calling the FBI?”

“Or the reporters, or your dead mother, or anyone else.”

I stood. “I think I got the picture. Give me the address and whatever else you’ve got on this.”

She handed me a small folder. I headed for the door. Before leaving, I turned back to her. “I’m going to need help on this. Julie for research, Fat Charlie to chase down leads, and a couple of foot soldiers for leg work. If it gets to a drop, I’ll need a lot more.”

She took off her glasses and sighed. “Who do you have in mind?”

“Delgado and whoever else you can spare. I’ll tell Delgado. Have whoever else you get call me right away. And I want Ramirez and her partner on the Marshall case.”

“You can be an ass when you want to be, Cataldi.”

“Thanks, Captain. I appreciate the support.” I left before she got more pissed off. I figured Renkin forced her to give this to me. I would have preferred Tip on the case, but that would have been pushing it too far.

As I drove up the freeway, I decided to visit Mary. In two days, it would have been our twenty-second anniversary. I figured being a little early wouldn’t hurt. I pulled off the freeway, and within ten minutes, entered the cemetery. A short walk had me standing in front of her grave. I knelt. Blessed myself. Something I wouldn’t have done a year ago. The rope necklace I’d made lay draped over the headstone, our names formed from knots. Mary loved things made from rope.

“I know you’re probably surprised to see me, Mary. Nothing’s wrong with Ron, so don’t worry about that. He’s doing okay…good, actually. Living in a halfway house with a couple of other guys. And I’m doing okay. I don’t even know why I stopped. Maybe because I need help. I got put on a kidnapping case.”

I lowered my head, searching for the courage to speak the words. “I don’t know if I can do another kidnapping. Not the way the others turned out. Maybe I’m not smart enough to work a case like this. So I’m asking for your help to bring this girl home safe.”

I shifted my weight from one knee to the other. The ground was damned hard already, and it was only May. By the time summer was over it would be baked concrete hard.

“You remember how bad it was in Philadelphia? How those girls suffered? I can’t have that again. I don’t think I could make it through that without you. If you can’t do anything yourself, see if you can pull some strings, call in favors…anything. I’m counting on you.”

I started to get up but remembered the other reason I’d come. “One more thing, Mary. I got this other case I’ve been working and…” Tears built in my eyes. “They took my watch, baby. The special one you gave me. I’ll get it back. Somehow, I will. Let’s make a deal. You help on the kidnapping, and I’ll take care of the watch.”

I stayed for a few more minutes, talking about old times. And about Ron. Then I dried my eyes, leaned down, and kissed the part of the necklace with her name. “I love you, Mary. Happy anniversary.”

I blessed myself, got up, and headed to the car. Already I felt better.

It took me forty minutes to get to Scott Winthrop’s house. As I drove, I imagined what he’d look like. I played this game often and found out I was wrong more than I was right. But I had nothing else to do; besides, this usually helped me adjust to the scene. If I was wrong, it alerted me to be cognizant of my surroundings—things weren’t what they seemed. If I was right, it was like drawing a pair of aces in Texas Hold ’Em. It probably wouldn’t happen again for a while—so I had to be alert, cognizant of my surroundings.

Winthrop.
The name conjured images of east-coast money and Anglo-Saxon heritage. A name that might figure prominently in the Newport, Rhode Island, white pages. He’d probably be about my height—almost six feet—fit, and immaculately dressed. His nails would be manicured, and he would be clean-shaven, no matter the time of day.

I pulled up to the house, parked in a circular driveway paved in stone, and walked up a stone pathway to the house. The path was meant to resemble an old cobblestone street. Upon closer examination, I realized it
was
an old cobblestone street. He must have paid handsome money to have it dug up from somewhere. The house was a sprawling mansion five families should have shared—five rich families. It was as big as the Marshalls’ house but even more…elegant, if that was possible. I rang the doorbell then braced myself for the panicked, grief-stricken father to answer.

The man who answered fit my image almost exactly. He was about six feet, perfectly fit and proportioned, with a warm smile and not a hair out of place.

Almost got it right
, I thought, because Scott Winthrop was black. I don’t know why that threw me.
Was it the name?
I wondered, or was it because he was living in a mansion? I made a mental note to check my prejudice meter.