Slow Burn (8 page)

I could see things were starting to boil, so I helped it along. “Sir, do you have any idea why your daughter would be in a place like that?”

“Yes… I mean, no… I mean…” Mr. Van Dorn reddened as he raked his fingers through his silver hair. He looked at me like a man looking for answers, but knew that all I had were questions. “Why is all of this happening to us? We’ve never bothered anyone. We’ve always been generous with our money. We’ve given to worthwhile causes. We’ve…” Tears ran down his face again. “Why would anyone want to hurt us like this?”

It was clear to me that there was a hell of a lot more going on here than just the dead girl. The sooner I got some answers out of Van Dorn, the better. For him and for me. “I can’t help you answer that, sir, until you tell me exactly what is being done to your family, sir.”

Mr. Van Dorn sank back into the couch, his hands flat and lifeless on the cushions beside him. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and far away. “Two days ago, my son, Jack, failed to make it out to our home in the Hamptons in time for dinner. I wasn’t too alarmed at first. After all, Jack’s in his late twenties now, and I’m afraid his mother and I indulged him too much as a child.”

Mr. Van Dorn looked at me again. “I’m ashamed to say he’s never appreciated the value of hard work — except as a way to stop his mother and me from pestering him about doing something with the life God gave him. He’s become something of what you might call a playboy. He holds a position with Van Dorn Financial, but it’s mostly a ceremonial one.” Mr. Van Dorn looked down at his lap. “I’m afraid he loves the nightlife and all the degradation that goes with it.”

A rich boy with bad habits, I thought. Not exactly one for the history books. Still, I wanted to keep Mr. Van Dorn on track. “Why did Jack miss dinner, sir?”

“Not only had he missed dinner, but he didn’t comehome at all before we went to bed that night. That, too, was unusual, but it had happened before. When I woke the following morning, the house staff informed me that Jack hadn’t come home at all. By then I was very worried, because

Jack always comes home, Detective. Drunk, foul-tempered and swearing, perhaps, but he always comes home.”

I wanted more details, but I wouldn’t push him. I didn’t dare. “Did you call the police?”

Mr. Van Dorn shook his head again. “I didn’t have time. No sooner had I learned that Jack hadn’t come home yet when the telephone rang. I half expected it to be the police telling me they’d arrested Jack for being drunk and disorderly. Lord knows it wouldn’t have been the first time. But when I came to the phone, a man told me that he had kidnapped Jack, and that I would have to pay to get him back. He told me not to notify the police or anyone else. He said I was to return to our house here in Manhattan where he would call us again at noon with instructions.”

Mr. Van Dorn reddened again, and his jaw tightened. “The bastard was so calm, like he was calling for dinner reservations somewhere. Not a hint of emotion in his voice. That’s what made it all the more unsettling.”

If I hadn’t been sitting down, I probably would’ve passed out. My mouth ran dry and my head began to throb. The room started spinning as the walls and floors felt like they raced away from me.

I’d come in here expecting a couple of hundred bucks — maybe a thousand — to keep things quiet. Now I was sitting on a goddamned murder-kidnapping involving one of the city’s richest families in New York.

Jumped up Jesus, I’d just hit the mother lode and it was mine. All mine. At least until Carmichael took it away from me. But I’d worry about that later. I pushed all of that aside and kept my voice steady.

“How did you know this man really had Jack? Did you ask for proof?”

“I did,” Mr. Van Dorn said. “They held the phone out to him and let me hear his drunken rambling. No one else could tell it was him, but I could.”

It wasn’t much proof, but if it had been enough to convince Mr. Van Dorn, it would have to be good enough for me. “Tell me what happened next, sir.”

“I did exactly what the man had instructed. I dressed and got my wife and Jessica into the car and we headed back into Manhattan.” Mr. Van Dorn brought a hand up to his mouth as his eyes leaked more tears. His hand shook again. “Jessica is… was… my daughter.”

My own hand was shaking, too, but out of excitement, not grief. I leaned forward and clasped my hands in front of me. “Take your time, sir. There’s no rush here.”

He swallowed hard and went on. “I waited until we were alone in the car to tell them what had happened to Jack. They’re not strong women, Detective, even in the best of times. And with the Lindbergh kidnapping still fresh in their minds… well, let’s say they didn’t handle the news well. It was a long, horrible ride back to the city.”

I froze. I’d been too taken with the news of the kidnapping to realize what I was really up against. Because of the Lindbergh incident, kidnapping was now a federal crime. That meant Carmichael would be the least of my worries. I’d have to contend with the U.S. Bureau of Investigation boys running around, getting in my way.

That meant I’d have to keep an even tighter lid on this than I’d thought. Jesus. Things were getting real complicated real fast. The quicker I got the details of what had happened, the quicker I could start going to work. “What happened when you got back here to the city?”

“The kidnapper called precisely at noon. That same cocky voice as before. He said he wanted fifty thousand in cash ready to be delivered at the time and place of his choosing. He gave me twelve hours to get the money and demanded that Jessica — and only Jessica — was to deliver the money. And she was to deliver it alone.”

I caught that. “He specifically asked for Jessica?”

Mr. Van Dorn nodded quickly. “The bastard even knew her name. I can’t believe I let her…” His eyes welled up again and I thought he was going to crack. I went to the bar in the corner and poured him three fingers of Scotch from a lead crystal decanter.

I admit that I thought about pouring one for myself. Christ knew I needed one. But I needed a clear head more and put the top back on the decanter. I brought his drink over and handed it to him.

“This’ll steady you down.”

He drained it and put the glass on the coffee table. Swallowing hard, he went on. “The kidnapper made it clear that if I called the police, Jack would die. If I failed to come up with the money in time, Jack would die. If Jessica didn’t come alone, Jack would die. He said he’d call back at five o’clock that evening, then hung up.” He blinked again. “God, I suppose that was only yesterday, wasn’t it? It seems like so long ago…”

I ground out my cigarette in an ashtray. “What happened then?”

“Fifty thousand is quite a sum, and I don’t have that much cash on hand,” Mr. Van Dorn said. “Times being what they are, it’s more difficult to raise that much money in such a short amount of time. Harder than you might think, even for someone… as comfortable as my family is. I had no choice but to ask my father for the money. And that meant telling him why I needed it and what had happened to Jack. “He raised it quickly enough, but the news of his only grandson being kidnapped was too much for his heart to bear. He died soon after the money had been delivered here to the house.” Mr. Van Dorn dropped his head into his hands as yet another loss washed over him. “We were very close, Detective. He was everything a son could hope a father to be.”

I sank back into my seat. Of all the rotten luck. In only a few hours, Mr. Van Dorn had his son kidnapped, his daughter killed and his father in the ground. Suddenly, Mr. Van Dorn didn’t look so wealthy to me anymore. “I know it’s difficult, sir, but please tell me what happened next.”

Mr. Van Dorn picked his head up from his hands. “When the kidnapper called back at exactly five o’clock, I told him I had the money. He said he could hear something different in my voice and I suppose I was still in shock. I told him about my father’s death.” Mr. Van Dorn brought his fist down on the couch. “The bastard just laughed at me.” I had to keep Van Dorn talking. “What happened next?” Mr. Van Dorn swallowed and went on. “He said Jessica should take the money and hail a cab — alone — to Penn Station. There was a row of telephone booths in the main waiting hall and she should answer the first phone that rang. If they were all busy, she was to wait until one opened up and answer it when it rang. He’d give her instructions on what to do from there. He said she should be alone and that they’d be watching. Not all the time, but we’d never know when. He said if she made a phone call to tell us what was happening, he’d know it and Jack would die. He was very clear about that.”

Mr. Van Dorn looked at me again with that same wild look in his reddened eyes. “Jessica was heartbroken about her grandfather, but she and Jack had always been close. She was younger than he was, but she had always been a good influence on him. She insisted on delivering the ransom. I tried talking her out of it, but she wouldn’t listen to me. What else could I do? There wasn’t time to think, or to call anyone. She loved her brother and begged me to let her do this for him. I sent her on her way… and that was the last I saw my baby girl.”

Then Mr. Van Dorn’s voice finally broke and the tears flowed freely. “We spent all last night terrified, jumping at every noise, every sound, praying for the phone to ring. Praying for her to come home. I should never have…”

I saw him veering off course again, so I reached out and grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t, sir. Don’t do that to yourself. I can’t say I would’ve done any different if someone took one of my girls.”

He looked up at me and I thought I saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You have children, Detective?”

I nodded. “Two girls. They’re with their mother up in Poughkeepsie.”

“Poughkeepsie? Good God,” he said. “Why Poughkeepsie?”

“That’s where their mother took them when she left me,” I said. I realized that I hadn’t told anyone that before. I didn’t have any reason to. No one had ever asked me.

Mr. Van Dorn didn’t seem to notice. “Daughters are nice to have, aren’t they, Detective?”

I nodded and changed the subject for both our sakes.

“Have you heard anything more from the kidnappers since she left?”

Mr. Van Dorn shook his head. “Nothing from them. Nothing from Jessica since she left, just past five o’clock. We’d feared the worst, of course. Then, when you rang the doorbell, we’d hoped…” Van Dorn reddened, then threw the glass against the wall behind me. It shattered, sending pieces all over the room. “Why did they have to kill her? She was such a gentle girl. She wouldn’t have fought them, not even…” I watched a new horror slowly dawn on him. “My God. Did they…? Was she…?”

I knew what he was getting at. “She passed on peaceful enough. The coroner will be able to tell us more soon, but I don’t think they did anything like that to her.”

Van Dorn’s eyes went vacant and fuzzy. “Yes, the coroner. I suppose he’d have to be involved, wouldn’t he?”

I watched the color and the life drain from him as he realized all that an autopsy involved. He crumpled back into the couch, back into that private world he lived in now, somewhere between grief and shock and loss and anger and every other emotion that goes with it. I could tell Van Dorn was a proud man and, despite all of his wealth, probably a good man in the bargain.

Now he was just a poor bastard who’d lost most of his family in a little over a day. And all of his money and connections hadn’t been able to do a damned thing to stop it. In fact, those things probably caused it.

I had a million questions for him: Do you have enemies? Who would want to do this to your family? Did Jack have any enemies? But I decided that all those questions could wait for now. Mr. Van Dorn was in no shape to answer them, anyway. I got up and left him alone with his thoughts. Alone on the couch, in that grand Room, with only his grief and the memories of a dead daughter and father to comfort him.

I stepped out into the hall and found one of the maids sitting in the hallway. She rushed past me to tend to her employer. I found a picture of Jack and Jessica on a table in the hall. I figured I’d need a picture of Jack before all was said and done, so I popped it out of the frame to take with me. Jessica’s picture was serious, but her eyes looked happy and alive. The complete opposite of the picture of her that I had in my pocket.

Jack’s picture looked like an official picture, maybe for the boardroom of the family company. Unfortunately, he hadn’t inherited his parents’ looks. His face had the general shape of his father’s and the general features of his mother, but he had a doughy, overfed look. He was no beauty, but he was all mine. At least for now. I put the picture in my pocket.

I decided to find Loomis and fill him in on what Mr. Van Dorn had just told me. Finding him wasn’t hard. All I had to do was follow the sound of Mrs. Van Dorn’s wails that filled the empty mansion.