Uncovering Sadie's Secrets (10 page)

“Why? I could look it up on a map for you,” she said heading towards Towson. “What’s on Barrington?”

I had no choice. I had to tell her. But I kept the information flow to a minimum. I didn’t want to get Sadie in trouble and I didn’t know yet what the full situation was. I only told Connie about Sadie’s mom, the phone conversation, and my sense that something wasn’t right.

“Is that why you wanted to leave early?” Connie asked me. “To find this Sadie person?”

“She sounded like she needed help, Con,” I pleaded. “It would only take a minute, right? To drive past her house?”

“You don’t even have a house number, for God’s sake,” Connie said, shaking her head. “All you have is ‘Barrington.’ You don’t even know how many Barrington streets, avenues, roads there might be.”

“Give me your cell phone,” I said.

“What? It’s in my purse.”

I rummaged in her bag until I found it and punched in Kerrie’s number. After explaining to her what I was doing and why, I asked her to look up Barrington Street on a map.

“Wait a minute,” Kerrie said excitedly. “My dad has one of those criss-cross directories. You know the ones that list people by their addresses, not their names. Let me get it.” It was typical of Kerrie to go for the more complicated solution. Instead of grabbing a map, or going on-line, she had to dig up a fancy directory.

But in a few seconds she was back on the phone and I could hear her whipping through the pages of a directory while she looked. “Barrington Street. Barrington Arms! That has to be it, Bianca! The Barrington Arms. It’s a condo building in Towson, not far from the mall. That’s probably it, but I don’t see any Sinclairs listed.”

“Maybe her mother’s last name is different,” I volunteered. “But where’s Barrington Street? Check that out too.”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. It’s in Glen Burnie. They’ve got a great new mall down there. With a Gap and everything.”

I knew exactly what she meant. There was no need to stray far from one’s home mall if it offered what you needed. If Sadie had been in the Towson mall, it was because she lived nearby, and probably in the Barrington Arms. The Barrington Arms, however, was a plush high-rise condo. Lawyers, financial gurus, and doctors lived there as well as a few retirees who had invested well. And the pedigree of most of the folks in the building was blue-blood Baltimore. Sinclair or not, Sadie didn’t strike me as the Barrington Arms type.

“What are you going to do?” Kerrie said. “And what about your date?”

“I have some time,” I reassured her. “My sister and I will just do a quick drive-by to see if everything is okay.”

“Bianca,” Kerrie said, and I thought for sure she was going to tell me to be careful, “what are you wearing—the peasant blouse or the silvery tee?”

“The peasant blouse,” I told her. “Look, I gotta go. I’ll call you.”

“You better!”

We hung up and I gave the scoop to Connie, who just raised her eyebrows and stepped on the gas. “Okay, sis,” she said, “we’ll do a little look-see at the Barrington Arms if it’ll make you feel better.”

T
HE
B
ARRINGTON
Arms was a huge curved building on a prime piece of real estate in Towson. Its rows of windows looked like some crazed jacko-lantern’s teeth, with some of them blacked out and others shining brightly. As I stared at it, I wondered how I would ever know which lights belonged to Sadie’s apartment.

“Come on,” Connie said after parking the car. “Let’s go inside.”

We walked along the darkened street toward the large, brightly lit foyer. No doorman. Hmmm, I would have thought a ritzy place like this would have a doorman. But then I saw the rows and rows of buttons next to intercom speakers. Obviously, we wouldn’t get in the front door without being buzzed in. And we wouldn’t get buzzed in without knowing which apartment to buzz.

Nearing the door, I noticed a big expensive black car parked right out front. It was the Deadly Duo’s car! Man, oh man, they sure had lots of great parking karma.

Connie looked at the names next to the buzzers.

“We’re in luck,” she said. “I know one of these.” She pressed the button next to “Glyndon, A.” She pressed it again. And again. Nothing. A. Glyndon was out.

“Guess we’re not in luck,” I murmured sarcastically.

“Hold your horses,” Connie shot back and made a twirling motion with her finger as she decided which button to land on. She ended up on “Houston, C.” A few seconds later, an elderly woman’s voice answered “Yes?”

“Hi, Alex? It’s Connie!”

“Who?” the woman asked, obviously perplexed.

“Connie! Is this Alex Glyndon? I’m sorry. I must have pressed the wrong number. Alex is expecting me.” She used her most innocent voice to ask the woman to let us in, and I fully expected the older woman, after being smothered in Connie’s charm, to buzz the door open. But it was not to be. With a final harrumph, the woman said caustically, “Well, I guess you better wait until your friend gets in.” Ouch.

Before I had a chance to chide Connie about this failure, a dashing older man raced through the lobby and pushed open the door. Before it could close, Connie grabbed me, flashing a triumphant smile as if she had planned it this way, and escorted me into the posh lobby.

Covered with a rose-patterned rug, The Barrington Arms lobby had potted palms and chairs placed casually throughout the space in conversation groups that I couldn’t imagine ever being used.

“Who’s Alex Glyndon?” I asked her as we waited for the elevator. “And where are we going?”

“Alex is a lawyer. I’ve done some work for him. And we’re just going fishing, sweetheart. We’re going to take a quick stroll through all the hallways of Barrington Arms.”

The elevator arrived and she pressed the button for the top floor. When we reached our destination, she silently but briskly led the way through the hall.

“What are we looking for?” I asked, struggling to keep up. I had never seen my sister so purposeful before. I was impressed.

“Not looking. Listening. For an argument, for a familiar voice. Shut up and get to work,” she said.

She strolled the halls, pausing a little in front of each door and looking at me inquisitively to see if I heard anything. Nothing on the top floor. And nothing on the floor below, or the one below that. Silent as a tomb, as a matter of fact. The Barrington Arms did not appear to be a jumpin’ kind of place.

But on the next floor, I heard music, a song by Destiny’s Child, just the kind of song often played by my favorite radio station, the station that had been playing in the background at Sadie’s place during her phone call to me. A pop song meant someone young was behind that door. I stopped, holding up my hand to my sister to indicate this door had promise. I leaned my head against it, listening intently. A low murmur of troubled voices came from inside along with the sounds of muffled sobs. Was that Sadie crying? Connie pulled me aside.

“What is it?” she asked me in a whisper.

“The radio station. I think.” I grabbed my sister’s purse. “Do you have your phone on you?” I found it before she could answer and punched in Kerrie’s number while Connie just stared at me both amused and annoyed.

“Kerrie,” I whispered into the phone when my friend answered. “Turn on WKDY. . . don’t ask. . . just turn it on. . . I’m in hurry. Now tell me what song is on.” When Kerrie confirmed it was the Destiny’s Child hit, I knew with every fiber of my being that we had located Sadie’s home. I told my sister.

“You go hide around the corner,” she instructed me. “Sadie and her mother would recognize you.” I did as she told me and peered around to watch her knocking on the door. It opened slowly after someone called through asking her name, which she gave as “Constance Moran from St. John’s.”

“I’m so sorry to disturb you,” she said in a perky, business-like voice. “I’m Constance Moran from the Alumni Association of St. John’s Academy. I live in 803 and I’m trying to visit all new St. John’s students in my neighborhood and I understand that Sadie Sinclair lives here.” She even pulled a piece of paper out of her purse and appeared to be consulting it as she said Sadie’s name. She also mispronounced it—a nice touch—saying “Sah-dee” instead of “Say-dee.”

Someone said something to Connie that I couldn’t make out. Then Connie, perky smile still on her face, backed away. “I’m sorry. I’ll be sure to try again. Let me leave a card. . .”

She rummaged through her purse for a few seconds. “Well, I can’t seem to put my hands on one right now, but I can leave one when I come back. I’m so glad you’re at St. John’s. It’s a terrific school, isn’t it?” It didn’t take long for the door to shut on her.

“W
ELL
?” I asked Connie, coming out of my hiding place and joining her as we walked down the hall together.

“Well, if that’s Sadie Sinclair in there, she’s not harmed as far as I could see. Just a little teary-eyed. She was in the distance. A man was standing by the window looking out. And a redhead spoke to me. Had a cigarette voice and too much make-up.”

“Yeah, that was her,” I said.

“That was who, her mother?”

“I guess. So you don’t think anything was out of the ordinary? That’s a relief.” My mind immediately turned to thoughts of my date. If we hurried, I’d get there right on the dot of six.

Just as we rounded the corner to the elevator bank, we heard a door open. Looking back, we saw it was Sadie’s door. Connie grabbed me and pulled me forward. “Come on. If they see you with me, they’ll know I was faking.”

We ran silently on the plush carpet and Connie hit the elevator button. We couldn’t turn back. The staircase was behind us, in full view of Sadie’s door. We could hear footsteps in the hall as we waited, an excruciatingly long three seconds until the doors whooshed open.

But it was too late. They also had heard the doors open and were racing to catch the same elevator. Just as they rounded the corner, Connie pulled my face into her shoulder and whispered emphatically, “Start sobbing.”

I responded like a robot and pretended to cry while she whipped out her cell phone with her other hand and faked a conversation. “Uh-huh. . . yeah. We’re on our way now. . . are you sure? Okay. . . okay. . .”

I could tell the others had boarded the elevator, but I couldn’t see them because my face was buried in my sister’s shoulder.

“Her dog just died,” she said to them as the elevator started moving. “Was with her all her life.” Geez, she even put a catch in her throat. “My sister is taking it pretty bad.”

After an interminable ride, during which Connie comforted me in halting tones, we finally reached the lobby and walked out behind them. I lifted my head an inch and saw all three of them together. Sadie was walking ahead of the other two as if she knew where she was going. They didn’t get in the car but headed down the street instead. Connie held me back and just stared at them.

“There is definitely something weird here,” she said looking at them walking together.

“I think you ruined my hair-do,” I said, touching my crushed strands.

“Come on!” She grabbed my hand and followed the three down the dark streets.

“Con, my date!” I hissed at her.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you there. We’re one minute away from the mall, for God’s sake.”

With that reassurance, I happily joined in the chase. Connie was staying close to buildings and ducking into store overhangs every few seconds. No one else was out and about so the chances of being caught by Sadie and her crew were high. We had to proceed cautiously and at a fair distance. At the corner of York and Dunston Lane, they stopped.

Connie pulled me back suddenly into a store door, but it had one of those old-fashioned gates pulled over it to keep thieves out. We were in the middle of the block and like sitting ducks. If we did-n’t do something soon, they could look back and see us. Connie tugged at the gate.

To our amazement, it gave way and we were able to slip behind it, into a small entrance way. We cowered in the shadows as Connie pulled out a small pair of binoculars from her purse, crouched, and looked through the store’s glass showcase down the street.

“What are they doing?” I asked, pulling at her arm.