Ghost on the Case (Bailey Ruth #8)(10)


She swiped at her face with a handful of tissues. “Anyway, I promised Daddy.”

“You’ve kept your promise and”—I was emphatic—“you will keep your promise. We will find Sylvie. In fact, we may be able to find her right now if you can answer two questions.”

Susan leaned forward. “Ask me anything.”

“Who could arrange to open the outer door to the study tonight?”

For an instant she looked eager, then she shook her head. “On a regular night it would be a very short list. But tonight? Everybody who’s anybody in Adelaide is at the dance in the grand ballroom. Plus there’s catering staff. Someone could slip downstairs and go into that wing. The study door to the hall isn’t locked. It would be easy.”

My hope was dashed. I thought perhaps the kidnapper might easily be singled out. I asked swiftly, “How many people know you can open Wilbur Fitch’s safe?”

Her face was suddenly still. Her eyes widened. “Everyone in town probably knows about the box of money. Wilbur loves to say offhandedly, You need five thousand for the Thanksgiving dinner for the homeless? I’ll go home and get it.”

“I doubt a casual bystander is aware Wilbur’s secretary could open the safe and bring the money. I doubt a casual bystander even knows you work for Wilbur Fitch.”

Realization transformed her face. “You mean someone I know took Sylvie?”

“Yes.”

There was a feeling of coldness in the small kitchen as Susan realized Sylvie’s captor must be someone she knew, not a nameless faceless stranger. The kidnapper was knowledgeable about her little sister and knew as well that Susan had access to the shoe box full of money.

“When did Wilbur reveal that you can open the safe?”

Susan stared as if I’d suddenly perched a crystal ball in my lap. “How did you know?”

“Sylvie is a very unlikely kidnap victim to be held for ransom.”

Susan scarcely breathed. “Only Wilbur knew I could open the safe. Until last week.”

“Did Sylvie know?”

That almost brought a smile. “Sylvie loves me and she wants to know about my day, but she asks whether I saw a deer in the park on my way to work or if I’ve heard the new marimba album or would I like for her to make a lemon meringue pie or, and this is really important to her, what is a better color for a unicorn, sea green or sunrise vermilion. I ask her if she’s learned the lines for a play she’s going to be in or whether the new professor really understands Faulkner. She knows I work for Wilbur, but she only has a dim idea what he does, and she assumes that being a secretary is a lot of keyboarding. She lives in a world of color and emotion. The neat thing is, Wilbur does, too. It’s just a different world. He’s considering a plan now to start up a new company to manufacture no-frill cars. Alan Douglas—he’s the vice president of projects and designs—came up with the idea that loads of people don’t want to pay for cars with TV screens and audio systems and so much electronic capacity a customer needs a three-hour tutorial before driving off the lot. Alan’s different. You never know what he’ll think of next. He’s tall and lanky and diffident. And nice. I was surprised Wilbur was interested because he’s made his fortune from computer parts. Everything in our office is the latest, but he says Alan’s onto something, that marketers get it wrong sometimes. Sure, people with money want to be cool and have the latest gadgets, but there are plenty of people who like to eat in diners and shop at Stein Mart and get their books from the library. Like Sylvie and me. I’ll buy one of those cars if it happens, and if Wilbur decides it’s going to happen, it will. You’ll roll the windows up and down with a handle, click a knob to turn on the radio. Ditto the heater. You’ll use a key to unlock the door and start the car. Alan wants to squeeze out every unneeded computer part. Wilbur says computerizing the world is a big damn risk, that computers can be hacked, jammed. They glitch. Alan brought him a proposal entitled ‘Keep it SIMPLE.’ The name of the new company will be SIMPLE Cars. Alan has a slogan ready: Save money for your dreams. Drive SIMPLE and keep the extra cash. Wilbur had a big luncheon last week in Alan’s honor. That doesn’t mean he’ll agree to the project, but he likes for his employees to be innovative. And, of course, Wilbur likes having people for luncheons. He enjoys holding court in the dining room. It’s pretty spectacular, very similar to the dining room at Hearst Castle. High ceiling. Banners hang from the walls. A long oak table seats twenty. There are huge paintings and a stone fireplace and tall silver candlesticks on the table. I love the banners. There’s a checkerboard flag from NASCAR, the Oklahoma flag, a Dodgers pennant, the racing colors from a stable he owns. The biggest one is white silk with FITCH in big red letters. He often entertains at lunch. Sometimes it’s business, sometimes family, sometimes both. That’s how it was last Monday.”

“You were there?”

She shook her head. “Sometimes I run errands over my lunch hour. Sometimes I have to eat at my desk. When I do that, he insists I leave an hour early in the afternoon. That day I had lunch out on the terrace. It was a beautiful fall day. The kitchen brings lunch to me if I ask. I was just finishing a bowl of soup when he called me on my cell. My ringtone for him is a bugle blast so I knew it was Wilbur. I always hold the phone a bit away from my ear because he has a deep voice and he booms. I heard him clearly. Everyone at the table heard him. He said, Susan, I need for you to open the safe. Look next to the money box. There’s a velvet bag. Red velvet. Perfect for a king’s ransom. Guess it would have been an emperor’s ransom back then. I want to show off those Roman coins. They came out of an old shipwreck they found off Malta. I got the best coins of the lot. Bring the bag to me ASAP. He clicked off. I went straight to the study, opened the safe, got the velvet bag. I took the bag to the dining room. Everybody looked at me as I walked in.”

Carolyn Hart's Books