Alice in Jeopardy: A Novel (29 page)

“Now write ‘Paid In Full…’”

“Paid In Full,” Holmes repeats, writing.

“And both of you sign it.”

Holmes signs it. Angelet takes the pen from him at once. He signs his name with a flourish, and then puts the cap back on the pen and hands it to Forbes.

“Now fold it and give it to Mrs. Glendenning,” Sally says.

Holmes folds the page. He hands it to Alice.

“Thank you,” she says.

“My pleasure, ma’am,” Holmes says.

“The debt is satisfied, is that correct?” Sally asks.

“Yes, ma’am, the debt is satisfied,” Holmes says.

“It’s satisfied,” Angelet agrees, nodding.

“Which means you have no further reason to bother this woman, is that also correct?”

“That is correct, yes, ma’am,” Angelet says.

Until now, he always thought it might be pleasant to go to bed with a black woman. He has now changed his mind about that.

“And just for your information,” Sally says, “in case you ever decide to come near Mrs. Glendenning again, in the state of Florida extortion is a second-degree felony punishable by up to fifteen years in prison and a ten-thousand-dollar fine. Not to mention the civil suit that might ensue if you breach the document you just signed. My advice?”

Both men look at her like kids who’ve been rowdy in class and are now in the principal’s office.

“Crawl back in your holes and don’t come out again,” Sally says.

“Good advice, ma’am,” Angelet agrees. “Can we go now?”

“Go,” Sally says, and points the Glock toward the front door.

They are gone in a flash. Alice goes to the drapes, parts the Venetian blinds. She sees the white Caddy burning rubber out of her driveway, hears it scratching off. Behind her, Sloate tells Sally, “That paper they signed is total bullshit.”

“I know,” Sally says.

Alice is wishing that
she herself could behave the way Sally Ballew just did. She is thinking that from the minute she met Edward Fulton Glendenning, she was dependent on him for her every move. And the minute Ashley was born, and later Jamie, she became even more and more reliant on her husband, until finally she lost sight of herself entirely, became merely an extension of Eddie, a mere “Mrs. Glendenning” who was essentially unable to function without him.

She remembers an argument she and Eddie had several weeks before the accident. The fight was about money. That was the only thing they ever fought about, money. There never seemed to be enough money. Even though he was always at the office working late, studying his damn computer, trying to figure out his next market move, they never had enough. The argument that night…

“I’m investing in stocks for us,” he tells her.

“Well, when do these stocks begin paying off, Eddie? I look at our savings account, it just keeps going
down
every month.”

“Well, shit,” he says, “
I
wish I had a crystal ball, too, Alice, but I don’t. I’m just a poor working stiff trying to earn enough money to support—”

“Oh, please, Eddie, where are the violins?”

“You’re worried so much about money, why don’t you go get a job at Mickey D’s?”

“I
have
a job, Eddie! I’m raising two kids.”

“I mean a
real
job.”

“That
is
a real job, Eddie.”

“Yes, I know, you’ve told me at least—”

“And I’d
have
what you call a real job if—”

“Yes, here we go again.”

“Yes, if I’d gone in with Denise when she—”

“Right, you’d be a big movie producer now.”

“I’d be
somebody,
Eddie. Instead of a person whose husband thinks raising two kids isn’t a real—”

“Oh, fuck the kids!” he shouts.

“Don’t you
dare…
”

“You keep using the kids as an excuse for—”

She rushes him with her fists clenched and raised, her eyes blazing, ready to strike him for what he just said.

“No, Mommy!”

Jamie’s voice.

She turns. He is standing in the doorway to his bedroom, tears in his eyes.

“Don’t hurt Daddy,” he says.

She takes him in her arms.

She hugs him close.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”

Three weeks later, Eddie drowned at sea.

And she wonders now if Jamie stopped talking only because he overheard their bitter argument and somehow blamed Alice for what happened out there in the Gulf of Mexico.

Ashley is talking in
whispers because she doesn’t want her father or Christine to hear what she’s saying. She knows they are going to get under way as soon as it’s dark. She has heard them discussing this. She is afraid of what might happen
after
they get under way.

“What Daddy said is that he
kidnapped
us, do you know what that means, ‘kidnapped’?”

Jamie nods and pulls a face.

“And he asked for a ransom, do you know what ‘ransom’ is?”

Jamie rolls his eyes heavenward.

“So what he told Christine is that he can’t just let us go, he’s got to figure out what to do with us.”

Jamie looks puzzled.

“I think he’s afraid we’ll tell on him,” Ashley says.

Jamie is listening intently now.

“I think he’s going to drown us, Jamie.”

They get their first
real clue on a call they make to Calusa Springs. The woman at Barker Real Estate there says, “What’s all this sudden interest?”

“What do you mean, sudden interest?” Sally asks.

“Second call we’ve had today about a black woman and a blonde,” the woman says.

“Oh?” Sally says. “What do you mean?”

Alert now. Alice senses this in her posture, her entire attitude. Doesn’t know exactly what Sally’s hearing on that telephone, but realizes it may be important.

”Policeman called here an hour or so ago,” the woman tells Sally. “Said he was trying to locate two women traveling together, a blonde and a black woman, who may have rented recently here in Calusa Springs. I told him I hadn’t rented any property to any people answering that description.”

“Nor anybody named Clara Washington, is that right?” Sally asks at once.

“Now how do you know
that
name?” the woman asks.

“How do
you
know that name?” Sally asks.

“She called me, had to be two months ago, said she’d seen on the Internet I had some cottages for rent, wondered how much they were renting for and whether I had one available for April and May.”

“Called from where?”

“New Orleans.”

“This was when did you say?”

“Had to be the middle of March.”

“Said her name was Clara Washington?”

“Yes, she did.”

“Did she give you an address where you could reach her?”

“No, but she gave me a phone number. Is she wanted for something?”

“May I have that number, ma’am?”

“Well, I don’t have it anymore, I’m sorry. I told her I’d need a hundred-dollar deposit if she wanted me to hold the rental and I also told her I could only hold the reservation for ten days. When I didn’t hear from her again, I tossed the number.”

“But it was a number in New Orleans, is that correct?”

“It was a 5-0-4 area code. That’s New Orleans, isn’t it?”

“That sure is New Orleans, ma’am. Tell me about this policeman who called you. Did
he
give you a name?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Would you happen to remember it?”

“Well, it was only an hour or so ago, I guess I can remember it.”

“Can you tell me what it was?”

“Ralph Masters,” the woman says.

Sally merely nods.

Alice knows she’s onto something. Maybe there’s a God, after all.

“Thank you very much,” Sally says, and hangs up, and turns to where Carol is sitting alongside her sister on the living room sofa.

“Mrs. Matthews?” she says.

“Yes?” Carol says.

“Your husband’s name is Rafe, isn’t it? Rafe Matthews?”

“Yes?”

“He ever use the name Ralph Masters?”

“No. Ralph Masters? No. Why would he?”

“Just curious,” Sally says. “His own initials being RM and all. Maybe he’s sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.” She turns immediately to Alice. “We’re going to have to leave you for a while,” she says.

“What is it?” Alice asks.

“Clara Washington called Florida from New Orleans. If the phone company can give us the information we need—”

“What’s my husband got to do with this woman?” Carol asks.

“He called Calusa Springs to ask about her maybe renting there.”

“That’s not likely,” Carol says, shaking her head. “Rafe’s on the road to Atlanta. In fact, he’s probably home by now.”

“Maybe so,” Sally says, and turns to Sloate. She is all efficiency now, not a wasted motion, not a wasted word. “You and Marcia might want to go back to
your
office, too, Wilbur.”

“What for?” Sloate asks.

“Help us find that number Clara Washington called from in the middle of March. From someplace in New Orleans to Barker Realty in Calusa Springs. Knowing how
cooperative…
”

She lands heavily on the word, almost sneering, almost spitting it out.

“…the
phone
company can be…”

Stressing that word, too.

“…maybe we should
all
try our luck.”

“What’s happening?” Alice asks. “Can you please tell me?”

“Will you be okay here alone?” Sally asks.

“She won’t be alone,” Carol says pointedly.

“Here’s where you can reach me if you need me,” Sally says, and hands Alice a card with the FBI seal on it. Not two minutes later, she is out the door.

“I need a road map,” Carol says, and goes out to the Explorer.

“Where’s Calusa Springs?” she
asks Alice.

The map is open on the kitchen table.

“About a half hour south of here,” Alice says. “On U.S. 41.”

“Why would Rafe be phoning a town
south
of here, if he was heading
north
to Atlanta?”

“I don’t know,” Alice says.

She is wondering what Sally Ballew plans to do with a New Orleans phone number, if ever the phone company gives her one. She is wondering how a New Orleans phone number will help them locate Clara Washington—if that’s her name—and the blonde woman who together have stolen her children.

“Why would he call a real estate agent at
all
?” Carol wonders out loud. “And what did she mean about him using the name Ralph Masters?”

“I don’t know,” Alice says, and suddenly remembers what Clara Washington said to her on the phone Thursday night.

If you don’t come to that gas station alone, your children will die. If you don’t have the money with you, your children will die. If anyone tries to detain me, your children will die. If I’m not back where I’m supposed to be in half an hour, your children will die.

“I don’t like that woman, do you?” Carol says.

“I think she knows her job,” Alice says.

If anyone tries to detain me, your children will die.

“She’s very bossy, I think,” Carol says.

If I’m not back where I’m supposed to be in half an hour, your children will die.

Half an hour, Alice thinks.

They’re half an hour from the Shell station on Lewiston and 41!

“Let me see that map,” she says, and grabs it from her sister, and locates the scale of miles, and then roughly measures thirty miles north, east, south, and west from the gas station.

Port Lawrence to the north.

The wildlife refuge to the east.

Compton Acres to the southeast on route 884.

Calusa Springs due south.

“What are you doing?” Carol asks. “What is it?”

And to the west, the keys and the Gulf of—

“They’re on a
boat
!” Alice says.

She finds the card Sally Ballew left, goes to the phone at once, and dials the number.