Jubilee's Journey (Wyattsville #2)(77)

Although Olivia insisted she was in no mood for snacking, the plate was near empty when Clara declared there was only one person who could do something to help.

“You’ve got to call Jack Mahoney again,” she said.

“I can’t. I’m certain he’s still pretty annoyed with me because I barged into Anita’s apartment when he told me to wait in the car.”

“Pshaw,” Clara huffed. “He wouldn’t stay mad over a little thing like that.”

“I also said a bunch of things about how difficult it was to have the responsibility of raising a child.”

“Oh.” Clara reached for the last cupcake. “How insistent were you on that?”

“Pretty insistent. I thought if I could discourage her…”

They discussed the possibility of a fundraiser to pay for a lawyer but nixed it because there was not enough time. One by one they went through the list of people they knew or their friends knew, but not one was in a position to help. Finally, when there was nothing but crumbs left on the plate, Clara said, “You’ve got to call Mahoney.”

Olivia spent the next half-hour rehearsing what she was going to say. She’d start with an apology, then explain how it had simply been her jangled nerves that pushed her into talking and acting as she had. Once he’d forgiven her, she’d tell of Jubilee’s heartache and say how much the girl needed her brother. After she’d won him over to her way of thinking, she’d address the issue of getting help for Paul.

Luckily she’d kept his home number, because on a Saturday it was unlikely he’d be at the station house. She dialed the number and waited. It rang five times; then a woman answered.

Not expecting this, Olivia blurted, “Is Mister Mahoney there?”

“He’s outside,” Christine answered. “Who’s calling?”

“Olivia Doyle. It’s an emergency.”

“Hold on.”

As she waited Olivia heard the woman, who was obviously Mahoney’s wife, holler for him to hurry in, there was some kind of emergency. “It’s that Missus Doyle,” she’d said.

There was the clunk of the receiver being lifted from the table; then Mahoney spoke. “What’s the emergency?”

Although Olivia thought she was prepared, the words jumped out of her mouth in random fashion, with each thought not giving the previous statement time to settle.

“You’ve got to help,” she pleaded frantically. “Jubilee knows about her brother, and the poor child is hysterical. Somebody’s got to do something!” Her plea continued for almost a minute before she began to wind down.

“What brought this on?” Mahoney finally asked.

Olivia explained the hospital incident and moaned, “I’ve promised Jubilee that you’ll do something to help. I gave the child my word.”

“I don’t know what I can do,” he replied. “My hands are tied. Captain Rogers took me off this case. There’s nothing—”

Olivia started all over again. “There’s always something,” she said. “A way to prove…”

Finally, when Mahoney was weary of listening to her, he agreed to call Detective Gomez and speak to him. “He’s in charge of the case,” Mahoney said, “but I’m warning you, he’s none too sympathetic to Paul’s situation.”

“Oh, dear,” Olivia murmured.





When he hung up the telephone Mahoney went back to pruning the azaleas, but the urgency of Olivia’s voice stayed with him. Less than an hour later he changed into a pair of slacks and drove to the station house.

Captain Rogers sat at a desk piled high with papers. “What are you doing here today?”

Mahoney shrugged. “This Wyattsville thing is still bothering me. I need to take one last look at it.”

Rogers shook his head. “I’m thinking all you’re gonna do is stir up a can of worms and make more enemies.”

“A few questions, that’s it. A few questions, then I’m out of their hair.”

“Go on,” Rogers grumbled. He dismissed Mahoney with a quick wave of his hand.

Mahoney’s next move was to call Gomez.





Hector Gomez was feeling none too good about the case as it was. When the story in the Wyattsville Daily suggested the department had gone soft on Klaussner’s shooter, the captain came down hard on Gomez.

“Sloppy work,” he’d said, and any accolades Gomez expected were out the window.

After that, Gomez had no tolerance for Carmella Klaussner and her busybody attitude. If he had any say in it, he’d let the boy go free just to spite Carmella. But of course that wasn’t possible. If she smelled even the slightest hint of leniency, she’d have her newspaper buddy all over it. Sick of working a case that had brought him nothing but grief and aggravation, Hector Gomez moved on to working a Friday night break-and-enter that was proving far less troublesome. When he lifted the receiver and heard Mahoney’s voice, he was tempted to hang up.

“Hold on,” Mahoney said. “Let me ask a few questions; then you’ll be rid of me.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Without waiting for an actual go-ahead, Mahoney started asking if Gomez had checked out the lead that Paul Jones was in Klaussner’s store applying for a job.