Ghost on the Case (Bailey Ruth #8)(20)

Sam stared at the box. “Was there anything else in your trunk?”

I knew he was inquiring about the missing coins. I was tempted to bend near and tell him Susan took only the shoe box, but that could wait until later.

“Anything else?” Susan looked blank.

Judy Weitz said quickly, “A pair of leather gloves.”

Susan was impatient. “I wore the gloves when I opened the safe and held the box.”

Sam was brusque. “You are in our custody for the present. I intend to obtain a search warrant—”

“A search warrant?” Susan looked shocked. “What for?”

“To search your home.”

“You mean I can’t see Sylvie until you get a search warrant?”

“That is correct.”

“I have to see her, find out everything that happened last night.”

“We will find out what happened.”

“She’s just a kid. She doesn’t ever see bad things, doesn’t believe in bad things. I have to be there when you talk to her. Look”—and now she was angry—“you can search whatever you want to. I don’t care. I give you permission. Search my house and car and the garage and any place you wish, but I am going to go home and see my sister.”

“We have your permission to conduct a search?”

“Yes. You can look anywhere you want.”

Sam held her gaze. “In addition, you agree to remain silent when I speak with your sister.”

“Yes.”

Sam pushed back his chair. “Judy, interview the others who are waiting. Detach two officers to conduct a search of Ms. Gilbert’s home and belongings.” He leaned close to Judy, gave an instruction inaudible to us, stepped away, and looked at Hal. “Drive with Ms. Gilbert to her house.”

? ? ?

I was comfortably seated in Sam’s front passenger seat when he thumped heavily behind the wheel. He put out a hand, touched my shoulder. “I thought you might be here. As if this thing wasn’t already screwy enough.”

“I’m here to help.”

He snapped his seat belt in place, punched the starter. The engine made an odd squealing noise.

I was startled. “What’s that?”

“I’ve had it to three garages and they mutter about the brakes but the brakes work fine.”

“The engine sounds like an eggbeater with a bent prong.”

He gave a rumble of laughter. “That’s good. That’s what I’ll tell them when I take it in next time.” But the burst of good humor was quickly gone. He shot a quizzical look at the apparently empty passenger seat. “You aren’t here about my car.”

I went right to the point. “Everything Susan’s told you is true.”

A heavy sigh. “Outstanding citizen murdered. Safe rifled. Secretary comes up with wild tale about kidnapped sister and ransom money and dumps the stolen box of cash on the table. Slam dunk to arrest, charge, convict. Except for this voice—nice voice—that tells me to back off. The mayor will want an arrest ASAP. If I tell her I have it on good authority that the secretary’s on the side of angels, she’ll want to know, Whose authority? If I told her about you, I’d be in a psych ward before she could chortle, Hurray, got rid of him at last.”

We turned off Broadway into the area of more modest homes.

“I’d like to ignore you, pretend you aren’t”—a thoughtful pause—“who you say you are. But I figured out a long time ago that the world is more than I see. Sometimes I’ll go into a room and I smell gardenias and there’s a shaft of light near a window and just for a heartbeat I see my sister Leah. She was killed in a car wreck. Twenty-two years old. But I see that glimmer and I know she’s happy. So I know you’re here. I know you are sent to help the good guys. But this time I think you’ve made a mistake. When did you join up with Ms. Gilbert?”

“At her house at approximately ten minutes after eleven last night. She was on the phone.” I was as cogent as Della Street bringing Perry Mason up to date. “She was distraught. She begged the person she spoke to not to hurt her sister, said she couldn’t get a hundred thousand dollars. She hung up, tried to call her sister. When there was no answer, she left a message.” I described Sylvie’s room, the discovery of her cell phone on the dresser, hearing Susan’s message played back. The rush to the Fitch house, the cautious entry as the music blared, the opening of the safe—

Sam interrupted, asked for particulars, listened intently as we turned onto Susan’s street. “Are you sure she took nothing from the safe except the shoe box?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. As he pulled into the drive behind Susan’s car, he said, “I don’t have a good feeling about this one.”





Chapter 5


Sylvie wriggled in Susan’s tight embrace. She looked young and fetching in pink sweats. A headband with Happy worked in red beads against white terry cloth kept her blonde curls in check. She tried to pull free. “Hey, Susan, what’s with this kidnap stuff?”

Susan held tight to her sister’s arms. “You are all right. You are.” Her voice shook. “Oh God, I was so frightened.”

Her eyes wide as a startled doe, Sylvie looked beyond Susan at the doorway.