Suspicion (32 page)

  "You got an ID on the guy?"

  "You bet. His name is Bruno Yager. Age fifty-three, six foot four, two hundred and sixty pounds. Profession-maintenance man and bouncer. He used to work for Dom Costa, a Manhattan drug kingpin, and his last known address was 116th Street in New York City. He lived there from 1970 to 1976."

  Maddy Mays was from New York City. She, too, had lived there until 1976. What an interesting coincidence.

  "Has he done time?"

  "Twice. Once for auto theft in 1962 and again in 1965 when he was convicted of assault with a deadly weapon. The weapon, by the way, was a switchblade."

  "So where is this sweet prince now?"

  "That’s a mystery. He left New York and has managed to keep his nose clean ever since."

  "Have you checked with the Veterans Administration? He might be receiving some kind of pension."

  "I just talked to someone there. Yager never served.

  I’m on my way to the DMV now. They should have something."

  Tom called back an hour later. "Bad news, Mitch. There’s no one by the name of Bruno Yager registered with the DMV. Maybe he’s using an assumed name. It wouldn’t be hard to do for a guy with his connections."

  "Great."

  "We’ll get him, Mitch. Just be patient. And watch your back."

  After Mitch hung up, he just stood there, staring at the phone. It was obvious, at least to him, that Bruno Yager either worked for McKackney or for Maddy Mays. But unless probable cause could be shown, no judge in his right mind would issue a search warrant.

  On the other hand, there was no reason why he couldn’t go to the Europa Hotel and do a little searching of his own. Discreetly, of course. The prospect brought a rush of adrenaline-one he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  In a much better mood now, he threw on his coat, and in another few minutes was on his way to the Europa Hotel.

  Alison was bored. Ever since this new safety rule had been implemented a few days ago, she couldn’t do anything fun. She couldn’t take the bus to school, walk to town with her friends, or even go to a football game at Pine Hill High. All she was permitted to do, outside of regular school hours, was go to her friend Melissa’s house and attend rehearsals for her play. And wherever she went, Joseph had to drive her. She was beginning to feel like Miss Daisy.

  And the worst part was that no one would tell her why she suddenly had to follow these stupid rules. Her mother had said something about the press being more aggressive,

  but she hadn’t seen a single reporter in days. Which meant her mother had lied. And so had her grandparents.

  What was the matter with all of them? Didn’t they think she was old enough to know what was going on? Probably not. One of her greatest peeves these days was that everybody treated her like a baby.

  Well, she had news for them. She was thirteen years old. And she understood a lot more than people gave her credit for.

  At the bottom of the long, curving staircase, she stopped and looked around her, trying to decide what to do with the rest of the afternoon. Melissa, whose father was an attache at the Canadian Embassy, was attending a birthday party for the ambassador’s daughter. Grandpa was at the office, and Grandma was having lunch with Mom.

  Except for the slow, rhythmic ticktock of the antique clock in the foyer, the house was totally silent. Alison heaved a deep sigh. An entire afternoon and nothing to do.

  Her arms behind her back, she started to walk down the hall. Several doors opened into elegant rooms. The first was the drawing room where her grandparents did most of their entertaining. Next to it was a music room no one ever used, and next to that was her grandfather’s study, a grand, wood-paneled, book-filled room that smelled of lemon polish, old leather and rich pipe tobacco.

  It was one of Alison’s favorite rooms. Years ago, when she was small, she had spent hours in here, doing her homework or reading while her grandfather worked. Sometimes, he even let her play with his Chinese coffer, an antique cabinet full of small, hidden compartments that could slide open at the touch of a finger or remain stubbornly shut for hours.

  Casting a furtive glance in both directions, Alison opened the study door. With the exception of the servants, no one was allowed in this room unless her grandfather was here, but surely he wouldn’t mind if she went in for just a minute.

  The handsome black-and-gold cabinet stood against the far wall. She walked over to it, wondering if she still knew how to open those secret drawers.

  Well, there was only one way to find out. Flexing her fingers, she studied the four intricately carved panels, trying to remember where the pressure points were. Then, splaying both hands over the first square, she moved her fingers in a rotating motion, applying pressure every now and then. Nothing happened.

  Moving her hands to the second square, she tried again and then again. Frustrated, she moved to the third panel, sliding her fingers in an up-and-down motion instead.

  A small cry of surprise escaped her mouth. The panel had swung open, revealing more than a dozen compartments. The first three were empty, but the fourth one contained a small golden box, the kind that might hold an expensive piece of jewelry. Her heart beating a little faster now, Alison took the box out and flipped the lid open.

  "Oh." Nestled into folds of shiny yellow satin was a small gold key.

  Keys had been Alison’s passion once. She had collected them for years, especially those that time and exposure had badly rusted. Fascinated, she would study them, wondering who they had belonged to, what secret door they might unlock. When she felt truly adventurous, she would even try to match some of the keys in her collection to various doors. She had been successful only once, when she had unlocked an old trunk in her grandfather’s attic. Oh, the fun she had had that day.

  Taking the gold key out of the box, she looked at it closely. There was an engraving on it: PH 4 Europa Hotel.

  She knew the Europa Hotel well. It was on Connecticut Avenue, on the way to Union Station where her mother sometimes took her shopping.

  But what was her grandfather doing with this key? She had never heard him mention that hotel. "PH 4," she said out loud. PH as in penthouse? Did he have a permanent suite there? No, that couldn’t be. He would have mentioned it.

  Her curiosity fully aroused now, Alison slid the key into her pocket. The excitement she had experienced as a child filled her again, as powerful as she remembered. She would go to the hotel and solve the mystery. She couldn’t think of a better way to salvage a boring afternoon.

  After putting the empty box back in the drawer, she closed the panel, making a mental note of the area she would have to press in order to reopen it later.

  Then, hurrying out of the room, she went to look for Joseph.

  Bistro Lepic on Wisconsin Avenue, where Kate and Rose had decided to meet for lunch today, was already packed when the two women arrived at twelve-thirty.

  "Is there any news from Megan?" Kate asked after they were seated.

  Rose nodded. "Abigail called me a few minutes before I left. She and Douglas were right after all. Megan is with Eric. She called Abigail this morning, but was very brief. She told her mother not to worry, that she was fine and would call again, although she didn’t say when. Then she hung up."

  A waiter came to take their orders and disappeared after the two women had each ordered the smoked-trout salad.

  Kate smiled. "Abigail must be fit to be tied."

  "She’s furious. The first thing she wanted to do was contact the police so they could monitor her phone in case

  Megan called again. It took me nearly half an hour to convince her that if she tried to trap Eric through her daughter, Megan would never forgive her."

  "I’m surprised she listened to you at all." Kate took a sip of the water a waiter had just poured. "Abigail doesn’t heed advice well, no matter how wise it may be."

  Rose gazed fondly at her former daughter-in-law. "You don’t like her very much, do you?"

  "What is there to like? The woman is pretentious, bossy and boring. And the way she’s treated Megan since her engagement to Eric is nothing short of deplorable. Why can’t she accept the fact that the girl adores him and leave it at that?"

  "Because she’s a stubborn old fool." Unfolding her napkin, Rose added, "Speaking of mother-daughter relationships, I have some encouraging news about Alison."

  Instantly alert, Kate put her glass down. Since that article in the Chronicle last week, the relationship between her and Alison was more strained than ever. Refusing to give up on the child, Kate continued her early-morning visits to Potomac, bringing little peace offerings each time. "What kind of news?"

  "I think her rebellious stage may be over sooner than we thought."

  "Why are you saying that?"

  "The girl is bored out of her mind. She doesn’t have enough to do in that big house to keep her occupied. Yesterday afternoon, I found her in the kitchen playing checkers with Joseph. Lord knows what she’s going to do today with only half a day of school."

  "She’ll probably go to Melissa’s house."

  "She can’t. Melissa is attending the ambassador’s daughter’s birthday party."

  Kate’s heart went out to her daughter. The month of December had always held a special meaning for Alison. She liked to shop for Christmas presents, bake cookies with Kate and listen to Christmas music. Even last year, when Alison was so upset with the move from Potomac to Cleveland Park, she had cheered up considerably at the prospect of having their very own Christmas tree.

  "Maybe I should go pick her up after lunch and take her shopping," Kate said, moving aside as the waiter brought their food. "I know she’s still angry with me, but she won’t be able to turn down a Christmas shopping spree. Who knows? I might even talk her into moving back home for the holidays."

  Rose wrinkled her nose. "I’m not sure I would do that if I were you. She’s just now beginning to realize that living with us isn’t nearly as much fun as she had thought it would be. If you give her a little more time, I have a feeling that she’s going to tell you she wants to move back. But it has to be her own decision, Kate. Otherwise, it won’t work."

  Kate smiled as she speared a flaky chunk of trout. "Where did you inherit all that wisdom, Rose? I’ve been a mother for over thirteen years and I still don’t have a clue how to handle my daughter."

  Rose chuckled. "None of us do. When I was raising Eric, there were times when I was just as lost as you are. We do the best we can until we get it right, I guess."

  Her eyes had clouded. Knowing how deeply she loved her son, Kate reached across the table to touch Rose’s hand. "Don’t worry too much about Eric, Rose. He’ll be all right. He’s always been able to take care of himself."

  "Only because he had people like you and me to al

  ways bail him out. But now that he’s alone…" With the tip of her middle finger, she caught a tear at the corner of her eye.

  "He’s not alone anymore," Kate reminded her. "He has Megan now. She’s a gentle, sensible young woman who might just have enough stabilizing influence on him to make him do the right thing."

  "I hope so." Rose’s expression relaxed a little. "Thanks for listening to the ramblings of an old woman, Kate. You have no idea how good it feels to confide in someone who understands."

  "Oh, stop it. You’re not old and you’re not rambling. You’re just another mother worrying about her child. What could be more natural than that?"

  "It’s very kind of you to say that, dear, but I shouldn’t burden you with my problems. You have enough of your own."

  "And when I do, I run to you or to Douglas for advice." Knowing how self-absorbed Douglas could be at times, she asked, "Have you tried to talk to Douglas about your feelings, Rose? I know he and Eric don’t get along, but if he was aware of how much this has affected you, he’d want to know."

  Rose’s mood shifted and she let out a small sigh as she stared down at her plate. "I did try to talk to him, but Douglas hasn’t been himself lately. I don’t know if this situation with Eric has disturbed him more than I realized, or if it’s something else, but whenever I broach the subject, he just blows up."

  "That doesn’t sound like Douglas."

  "I know." She looked up. "In fact, I was going to talk to you about it. Maybe it’s not Eric that has him on edge but something at the office?"

  Kate shook her head. "I would know about it." Unless,

  Kate reflected, he was worried about Sander McKackney. Could he suspect that his old friend had lied to him and feel caught between his loyalty to Sander and his moral duties as an officer of the court? "I’m sure Douglas is suffering from stress as we all are," Kate said, not wanting to worry Rose further. "And what better remedy for such an ailment than a vacation? Especially since yours was cut short recently."

  Rose didn’t look thrilled at the prospect. "The weather in Bermuda right now is almost as bad as it is here."

  "Then go somewhere else. The Orient perhaps. Or Europe. I hear Paris is lovely at this time of year. The grands boulevards are all decorated for Christmas, the shop windows brimming with expensive merchandise. Just imagine yourself sipping champagne at La Tour D’Argent and then strolling along the Seine under the moonlight." Her lips twitched in a wry smile. "There is nothing better than moonlight and champagne to put a little fire back into a relationship."

  To her surprise, Rose lowered her gaze. "Believe me, Kate, in our case, moonlight and champagne would be a total waste of time."

  "Rose, how can you say that? Where is your sense of adventure? Your sense of romance?"

  "Oh, my dear." A sad smile briefly twisted the corners of Rose’s mouth. "I’m afraid I lost it a long time ago."