Authors: Carol Tibaldi
“Ex-husband,” she said.
“Sorry. Ex-husband. Does Mr. Austin have any enemies?”
Laura shrugged. “In the movie business people either love you or hate you. He’s a famous actor, so he has plenty of both.”
“What about your aunt? Are you and Mr. Austin having any problems with her?”
“Why are you asking about my aunt? She has nothing to do with this.” The line of questioning irritated her. “Why are you asking all these questions unrelated to Todd? Shouldn't you be investigating clues or something?” The doctor's car pulled up outside the front door and Laura stepped back from the detective. “I'm sorry. I have to bring the doctor inside. Can we continue this later?”
As she accompanied the doctor to the house, she couldn't help thinking about the circus the press would create over Todd’s kidnapping. Their tragedy would entertain the world.
Chapter Five
Erich Muller leaned back in his chair, his feet propped on the city editor’s desk. Tilting his head to the side, he peered across the desk at Daniel Spencer, who was busy editing an article about Mayor Walker and the corruption at Tammany Hall.
Muller sniffed to get his attention, but Spencer didn't show any sign of having heard.
“Phillip Austin’s infant son has been kidnapped,” Muller said calmly. “Bet the underworld’s involved.”
Spencer’s head shot up. “What else do you have?”
“Not much. He was snatched from the Austin estate around eleven thirty this morning. Kidnapper knocked the nanny out and took off with the kid.”
Spencer frowned and crossed his arms. “It’s past one o’clock. Why is this just coming over the wires now?”
“Who knows? But my gut tells me this could be messy.”
“What makes you think the mob’s involved?”
“The mother is Virginia Kingsley’s niece.”
“Look into it, Muller. Bergen!” Spencer’s voice cut across the newsroom. “My office. Now.” He turned back to Erich just as Peter Bergen stepped into the room. “The two of you need to find out what’s going on. Bring me back something I can sink my teeth into, chapter and verse. The unabridged, illustrated version. Now get out of here. East Hampton is way the hell out in East Jesus.”
***
Erich whistled through his teeth as he drove the Model A along Willow Pond's long, winding driveway. The colonial mansion stretched over one hundred acres, with rolling hills in the back and a meticulously landscaped garden in front. Erich had never seen anything like it before.
Reporters, photographers and police officers roamed the grounds like ants at a picnic. There were so many cars there already he had to pull up onto the grass and park inches from a well kept flowerbed. He looked around for a familiar face but didn't see one, so he scouted for the youngest cop he could find. He was in luck. A freckle-faced kid who looked fresh out of the police academy stood nearby.
“Excuse me, officer, do you know if anyone’s spoken to the child’s nanny yet?” he asked.
“You’ll have to talk to Detective Wilson, same as everyone else.”
Erich sighed and nodded his thanks. It figured Ben Wilson would have caught the case. The man was as useless as he was uncooperative.
The pond for which the estate had been named was sandwiched between the East wall of the house and a thin thrust of trees and bushes that ran along the road. Phillip Austin had built it because one of his close friends had drowned in a swimming pool, and Phillip wanted his family to have what he considered a safe place to swim. Whatever the reason, it was a great choice as far as aesthetics went.
Peter Bergen stuck his camera between two trees and took a picture of a toy boat bobbing by the edge. He shifted position and snapped a couple of pictures of two plastic ducks floating toward the middle. Just a few hours ago the scene might have been idyllic.
Erich toured the circumference of the pond, looking for anything out of the ordinary. It didn’t take him long to figure out how the kidnapper had come and gone. The grass on the far side of the pond had been flattened into a neat path between the edge of the water and the road. It must have been so easy. Upon closer inspection, he discovered a toy mouse on the grass a few feet from the pond; a squeaky toy that must have belonged to the boy. Good ol' Detective Wilson hadn’t even noticed it yet.
An anonymous cop approached and warned him away from the crime scene. Erich headed for the house, but slowed when he heard muffled conversation coming from the garage. Since no one seemed to be paying attention to him, he veered closer to the building, ears wide open. The voices belonged to a man and an agitated woman, but he couldn’t make out what was being said.
Suddenly the air around him was lit by a series of camera flashes. Voices called out as the door to the garage opened and Laura Austin slipped out. She managed to sprint into the main house before the reporters caught up with her.
Peter spotted Detective Wilson and stepped into his path, his own flash popping. Wilson glared and turned away, almost bumping into Erich, who fell in step behind him.
“Do you have any suspects, Detective? Any idea where the baby might be?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out. Having a bunch of jackass reporters all over my crime scene ain’t helping.”
“Have you considered a connection to the mob?”
Wilson shot him a sidelong glance. “If we turn up any leads that suggest that, you can be sure they’ll be investigated.”
“What about Virginia Kingsley? Are you going to question her?”
“At this point that’s none of your concern. Now get out of here. I mean it.”
Erich hadn't become one of the city's most respected reporters by doing what he was told. He stuck to Wilson like a fly on honey. “Honesty isn’t your strongest trait is it, Detective?”
“And tact isn’t yours, Muller. Go interview the maid or something.”
Erich pressed on. “With the Kingsley family’s connection to organized crime, it sounds like you'd better come up with something soon.”
“Don’t tell me how to do my job. Now get out of here before I have you arrested.”
“Has there been any demand for ransom?”
“I mean it, Muller. Another word and all you’ll need to worry about is your own bail.”
Erich shook his head and jammed his notebook into his pocket. Maybe he should have gone after Laura Austin instead.
***
Virginia stopped just inside the kitchen and narrowed her eyes when Detective Wilson approached her. “Great. First the press harasses me and now you. I’m here for my niece.”
“Yes, I’m sure you are, Miss Kingsley. I just have a few questions to ask you first.”
“Don’t you have a kidnapping to investigate?”
A mocking smile stretched over Wilson's face. “Maybe you could help our investigation along by telling us what you know.”
She matched his expression. “What I know is my niece needs me. I have no idea what happened to Todd or why, but one thing we can be sure of is he isn’t here. So I suggest you stop wasting time, Detective, and stay the hell out of my way.”
“Take it easy, Miss Kingsley. Let’s not overlook your role in this.”
“My role? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t considered the possibility that this might be the doings of one of your so-called business associates. I'm sure you have a number of … friends who might, shall we say, reach out to you in this manner.”
Virginia glared at him, but said nothing. Until now she hadn’t considered that possibility, and she didn’t like where her thoughts were leading.
The detective assumed a businesslike air. “The truth is, Miss Kingsley, you have a reputation that gets where you go before you do. I wouldn’t be surprised—”
“We all have reputations, Detective Wilson,” she snapped. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”
She started up the stairs, trying not to appear the slightest bit bothered by the detective's comments. She forgot about him altogether when she saw her niece. Laura was curled up on a bed in one of the guest bedrooms, clutching Todd’s teddy bear.
“Laura, honey, I am so sorry. I got here as fast as I could.”
Laura looked at her with swollen eyes, her pale cheeks lined by tears. “I … I don’t understand this. He's just a little boy. Who would do this?”
Virginia sat quietly on the bed next to Laura and stroked her niece’s silky blonde hair.
“I should have been with him,” Laura said, sniffing hard. “I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Laura.” Virginia cupped her niece's chin in her hand, turning Laura’s face toward her own. “A criminal did this. Blaming yourself isn’t going to help find Todd, honey. Getting through this is going to be hard enough without making yourself even more miserable in the process.”
The words came out more sharply than Virginia had intended, but Laura brightened just the same, if only a little. She took a deep breath and told Virginia everything she knew, which wasn't much.
“Do the cops have a picture of him?” Virginia asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe Mrs Nickerson gave them one.”
“I wouldn’t be sure with these idiots.”
Virginia regretted the words as soon as she spoke them. Laura needed hope, not cynicism. But Laura was already thinking along the same lines.
“That's what has me worried. I have spoken to two detectives and God knows how many policemen, and not one of them gave me any confidence that they know the first thing about what they're doing.”
Virginia patted Laura’s knee. “Come on. Let’s find a picture to give them. See if we can get them moving.”
Laura knew exactly where Phillip kept his photo album. After all, his bedroom had been hers as well. She pulled the book from the bottom drawer of his dresser and tried to control her trembling fingers as she removed a picture of Todd. The boy sat on the grass, squinting into the sun. He wore a train conductor’s outfit and cap and the biggest smile in the world.
“This one?”
Virginia nodded. “That should do. How about this one, too?”
Laura stared at the picture her aunt held out, but Virginia didn't think her niece saw anything. When she spoke, Laura's voice was soft and slow, almost hypnotic. “You know, it’s strange. I can’t get the last thing I read to him out of my mind.”
“He'll be reading to himself soon. What was it?”
Laura's thumb caressed the photo while she spoke. Her eyes were glued to the image of her son. “A poem by Milne. I read it once and it’s etched in my memory.”
James, James
Morrison, Morrison
Weatherby George Dupree
Took great care of his mother
Though he was only three.
“After I read it to Todd he ran around the apartment laughing and repeating it over and over again. He was so happy. You should have seen him. And now ...”
“Just think how happy you’ll both be when you have him home again,” Virginia said, patting the back of Laura's hand. “Meanwhile, don’t torture yourself like this.”
Laura sighed heavily and gave Virginia a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. “Maybe torturing myself is a comfort in some weird way.” She sat straight and took a deep breath, then waved the two pictures at her aunt. “Now let’s go find that detective.”
Chapter Six
A white Rolls Royce limousine raced along the extended driveway of Willow Park, stirring up dust. At precisely six-thirty, Phillip's limousine pulled up outside the front door to the mansion. The car door hadn't even opened before throngs of early morning reporters and photographers converged on him.
“Is there a Hollywood connection to your son’s kidnapping?”
“Is Virginia Kingsley ...”
“Do the police have ...”
Phillip said nothing, just smiled through the window as photographers snapped picture after picture. Before getting out of the car, he glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror. Phillip had never met a mirror he didn't like. He would have posed for longer had Laura not knocked on the window behind him. She looked furious.
Phillip lowered the window and met her eyes. “How could you leave Todd here alone?” she hissed.
He looked away, then stepped out of the car and into the crowd of reporters. He gave her another quick glance. “He wasn’t alone,” he said in his defense, and marched toward the door.
When Laura stepped inside, she noticed he still stood in the middle of the room, wearing his hat. His expression seemed restless. As if he didn’t know what to do next.
“What's with the long face, Phillip?” she snapped. “Feeling guilty for leaving Todd? You should.”
Laura knew her words hurt him. She wanted them to. All Phillip ever wanted was to be the center of attention, and now she wanted him to suffer the consequences. He shot her a wounded look, but his eyes glimmered with a deeper pain. Her resolve weakened slightly.
“You know, if this hadn't happened,” he said, “Mrs Nickerson would be right here, feeding Todd his breakfast. Somehow this empty kitchen makes it all more real.”
“Oh, it’s real. Tell me, Daddy of the Year, what was so important in Washington?” Laura demanded, crossing her arms.
Something about Phillip always made her suspicious, whether it was warranted or not. But the tortured look on his face caught her off guard. The other hurtful things she wanted to say stuck in her throat. For a moment she saw him as the gentle man with whom she'd fallen in love.
They had met at Bacchanal during the spring of 1927, and their whirlwind courtship ended in marriage six months after that. Laura was seven months pregnant with Todd when they returned from their honeymoon. The next morning, Phillip slept with someone else.
Now he swept off his hat and raked his fingers through his hair, looking far less confident than in those days. “I’m sorry, Laura. I only planned to be away overnight.” He sat down at the kitchen table and rested his head in his hands. “I should have—”
She sighed and swallowed her fury. “I know. Almost every thought I have begins that way. Never mind.” She sat down next to him, but not touching. “All that matters is finding Todd.”
The cook set a plate in front of Phillip, piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon and two corn muffins. Nothing ever affected Phillip's appetite, no matter how great the crisis. Laura sipped her tea and picked at a muffin, staring across the room at Todd’s highchair. His favorite teddy bear lay on its tray, fuzzy limbs stuck out like a star. Laura clearly recalled the look of joy on Todd's face when she had placed the bear in his arms on Christmas morning.