Hit & Mrs. (19 page)

Ryan sat across from him and picked up a cherry from her dessert. She licked it with her tongue. “I love cherries, don't you?”

“Stop, you're making me crazy.”

Ryan acted surprised. “How?”

“Let's get outta here.”

She reached under the table with her foot and put it between his legs. “I don't think you can wait.”

His cell went off, which definitely broke the mood. They both sat up straighter in their chairs. Ryan was exasperated. “Don't answer it.”

“I have to. There might be a change in tomorrow's venue.”

She folded her arms. “Big whoop.”

“Stuart Keaton.”

“It's me.”

Stuart started to rise from the table and then quickly sat down and adjusted his napkin. Ryan looked at him and smirked.

“What's the matter?”

“Everything, and I can't believe I'm going to ask this, but can you help me?”

“Linda, what's going on?”

Ryan made a face. She leaned toward him and waved. “Excuse me, your lady's getting cold.”

He held the phone to his lapel. “I'm sorry, I have to take this.”

Ryan stood up and grabbed her clutch. “I'll wait by the bar, shall I?” She stormed off.

Stuart couldn't very well run after her. It was unseemly. He put the phone back to his ear and heard, “Stuart? Are you there?”

“Yes. I'm here.”

“Where are you, anyway?”

“We're…I'm at the Tavern on the Green.”

“Get in a cab and pick me up at the Waldorf and bring lots of money with you.”

“What? I'm not going to do anything until you tell me what this is about.”

“Augusta and Gemma are missing, and Bette and I have got to go to Washington Square Park and get them back.”

“Missing?”

“I'm not playing twenty questions with you! I'll explain it in the taxi. Now are you going to help me or not?”

“Fine, I'll help you. I'll leave now.”

“We'll meet you at the front doors of the hotel.”

She hung up.

Stuart looked at his cellphone and frowned. What in God's name was going on? And how was he going to explain all this to Ryan?

CHAPTER TEN

While Blue was still out like a light, a girl came in and smoked a joint on one end of the mattress. She kicked him a couple of times to make sure he wasn't dead, but that was as much as she was willing to do. He eventually woke up and could hardly move his neck, what with having been slumped over for a couple of hours. He slowly pushed himself up on his elbow and looked around.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”

“Where's Starr?”

She shrugged.

He scratched his gelled, spiky hair, yawned, and then took a drink from the bottle of bourbon he still clutched in his hand. “What time is it?”

She looked at her watch. “Almost eleven.”

“Morning or night?”

“Geez, how long have you been wasted?”

“Twelve years.” He frowned. “I think I'm supposed to be doin' something right about now, but I can't remember what it is.” He looked around and then his eyes went to the ceiling.

“Aw, shit.” He struggled to get up, but he was so shaky he nearly fell over. He staggered over to a chair and pulled it into the middle of the room.

“Whatcha doin? Gonna hang yourself?”

“Nah, maybe later.” He stood up on the chair and had to balance himself for a few moments before he reached up and pushed a tile over slightly. That's when his cellphone rang. He pointed to it on the mattress. “Get that.” He meant for her to give it to him. The girl picked it up and answered it instead.

“Hello?”

“We're going to kill your friends unless you bring the bear to

Central Park. Go to 97th and 5th. Walk towards the East Meadow, near the bridge. Have you got that?”

“Yeah, okay.”

They hung up. The girl clicked off the phone and tossed it on the bed. Blue waited for her to say something. She went back to smoking her joint.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Who was it?”

“How the hell should I know?”

Blue jumped from the chair, nearly breaking his neck in the process. He grabbed the girl by her arm. “What did they say? I've been waiting for a phone call.”

“They said they're gonna kill your friends if you don't bring the bear to Central Park.”

“
What?
”

“That's what he said, man.”

“He said ‘the bear'?”

She pulled out of his grasp. ”Yeah, the bear. What are you, deaf?”

“Where in Central Park?”

“Um…I forget.”

He shook her.

“Chill out, man. I think he said 97th and 5th…walk towards the… um…bridge.”

Blue looked around in a daze. “If I want to see my friends alive? Where the hell is Starr? Do I have any other friends?”

“If you do, which I highly doubt, that guy obviously has them.”

Blue shook his head. “What the fuck is going on? They've got Starr? How the hell did that happen?” He jumped back up on the chair and threw the tile on the floor, then reached inside and took out the package. He put it under his jean jacket.

“What's that?”

He didn't answer her question. “What the hell is he talking about? What's a bear?”

“It's a brown furry animal with big teeth and claws.” The girl cracked her gum. “I'd bring one if I were you. That guy sounds pissed.”

“Where am I going to find a bear at this time of night?”

“Use a bear trap.”

“Piss off.” Blue jumped off the chair, grabbed his phone, and then lurched out the door, panic bubbling up inside his throat.

Gemma, Augusta, Gracie, and Keaton were stuck in a back room that might have served as an office at one point. There were a few filing cabinets around, a table, and a wheeled chair that was crooked and rusty. Some old metal blinds were stacked in one corner and a pile of garbage bags in another. There were windows overlooking the warehouse, but they were frosted. Only shadows were visible through them. That's how they knew that Dumber was standing guard outside the door. Dumb sat on the chair in front of them and looked vacant.

When they were herded into the room, the first thing Gracie did was unwrap poor little Keaton from the sheet around her body. “He needs to get out of this.”

“The poor little darling,” Gemma said. “He's overheated. Put the sheet on the table, Augusta, and we'll undress him.”

“Hey, stop that,” Dumb said. “People have to eat off that table.”

Augusta pushed past him. “I don't see anyone with a turkey dinner around here, do you? We're not putting this child on the floor.”

She spread out the sheet and Gracie laid Keaton down. His head was covered in sweat, but he looked much happier being able to move his limbs about.

“Oh, what a lovely boy,” Gemma said. “He's adorable.”

“I think so,” Gracie smiled.

Gemma turned to Dumb. “We need some water. Go get some.”

Dumb pointed at her. “Don't order me around, lady. I don't got to do nothin'.”

Gracie quickly took off Keaton's diaper and let the aroma fill the air.

“Aw geez, not the shit again. Is that all that kid does?” Dumb said.

Gracie shrugged. “You'd better get used to the smell if you're not going to give me water to clean him up.”

“Why do I get stuck with these broads?” He went to the door and knocked on it.

Dumber opened it a crack. “Wha?”

“Get us some water.”

“Water? Where am I gonna find water?”

“A tap,” Gemma said.

“Just get it, it reeks in here.”

They watched the shadow leave. Dumb stood in front of the door with his gun holster where they could see it, but they didn't pay any attention to him. They were transfixed by the dear little boy who smiled and waved at them, happy to be released from his swaddling sheet.

Dumber came back with a bucket of water. Gracie tore off part of the sheet to clean Keaton off, and she still had a few diapers she'd tucked away inside the sheet. Once he was changed, the friends insisted Gracie sit down on their coats so she could nurse him. They sat on the floor on either side of her and held up the sheet to give her some privacy, since Dumb tried to sneak peeks at her.

Once the baby was fed and growing sleepy, the friends told Gracie to lie down with her baby and try to rest. Augusta used her soft leather purse as a pillow. They put the sheet over the two of them and they were both out like lights in a matter of minutes.

Dumb went back to the chair and sat like a bored gargoyle.

“I feel bad for Linda and Bette,” Gemma whispered. “They're going to be frantic when they see we're not back.”

“You don't think they'd call home and tell them we're missing, do you? The girls would go out of their minds.”

“They're not stupid, and I'm sure they'll think up an excuse if someone calls to speak to us.”

Augusta gave her a weak smile. “The girls will wonder why I have the cellphone turned off.”

“We'll tell them we went to a movie.”

“Gem, what are we going to do?”

Gemma looked fierce. “I won't let these bastards harm one hair on Gracie or Keaton's head. We're the mamas here, Augusta. These children are depending on us. If these were our kids, you know damn well we'd fight these scumbags to our last breath. That's what will keep us strong. I'm not worried for myself. I'm worried about these children. We're going to get out of here because we have to. It's as simple as that.”

Augusta sat up a little straighter. “You're right.”

They glared at Dumb.

“What did I do?” he yelled when he finally noticed them staring at him. They didn't say a word, just continued to give him the evil eye. He loosened the collar around his neck with his finger. “Stupid women.”

There was a family conference at the Weinberg household. Twenty-five people all tried to talk at the same time while the women in the family were busy in the kitchen making meals to feed the troops.

Mordecai repeated Bette's tale of woe.

“She's got no passport and no money?” Ida screeched. “
Oy vey
.”

“She'll have to sell her body in the streets,” Izzy shouted.

Ida blew up. “Everything is sex with you, isn't it?”

Just then the phone rang. Ten people lunged for it. Mordecai got there first.

“Hello?”

“Yes, this is Detective Ames with the New York Police Department. I was…”

Mordecai yelled into the phone. “My God, what's wrong?”

Ida tried to grab the phone. “Is that Bette? Gimme the phone.”

Mordecai put his hand over the receiver. “It's not Bette. It's the New York Police Department.”

Ida beat her chest. “Oh my God, my baby's gone. Why me, Lord? Why me?” She slumped over in her chair.

“Don't be ridiculous, old woman,” Izzy barked. “We just talked to her at the Waldorf.”

Mordecai put the phone back to his ear. “I'm sorry, officer. Go ahead.”

“We had a Miss Bette Weinberg and three of her friends here at the station earlier today and they wanted to report a crime…”

“What kind of a crime?”

Ida sat back up. “A crime?”

Mordecai waved his hand at her to keep quiet.

“They described it as a ‘kidnapping, mugging, sudden-death, car-theft, property-damage, gun thing.'”

“Let me get this straight,” Mordecai said. “Bette was in the police station today and wanted to report a kidnapping, mugging, sudden-death, car-theft, property-damage, gun thing?”

Twenty-five people in the Weinberg living room became hysterical. Mordecai had to go off in a corner to try and hear the detective.

“That's what they said. I find it a little hard to believe myself.”

“So are you going to investigate?”

“Well, the trouble is, we had a bomb threat before I could finish questioning them.”

“A bomb threat?”

More hysterics from the clan.

“It was a false alarm, but the ladies fled before they finished filing their report. Miss Weinberg was the only one who was able to give me her address and phone number before we had to evacuate the building. I'd like you to let her know that if they still want to file their report, they can contact me personally. I'll give you my number.”

Mordecai snapped his fingers and mouthed, “A pen, a pen.”

Ten pens and an old newspaper were produced and Mordecai wrote the detective's phone number down. “I'll tell her. I know she said she lost her money and passport.”

“It happens all the time. I don't think there's any cause for alarm. They seemed fine when I was talking to them. Tell her I'll be at my desk in the morning if they'd like to come back in. They can give me a call ahead of time.”

“All right then. I'll tell her and thank you for calling.”

“Right.”

Mordecai clicked the phone off.

“What's going on?” Ida wanted to know. “What sudden death?”

He told them what the detective said.

Uncle Sid shouted above the din. “I think we should go to New York.”

“Why do you get to decide everything?” Izzy asked. “I'm the papa.”

Uncle Sid pointed to the ceiling. “Because I'm the older brother and Bette is my only niece.”

“Shut up, you old windbag,” Ida yelled. “Like we need your two cents. I say we go to New York.”

Uncle Sid did a double take. “Isn't that what I said?”

“Well, I'm saying it, and I'm the mama.”

“What do you mean, we?” Mordecai said. “You're not going.”

Ida zipped across the room to sit in front of him. “Like you're gonna stop me?”

Mordecai appealed to his mother. “Ma, be realistic. What help would you be?”