Twisted Justice (36 page)

She hadn't spoken to him in four days, since Thursday evening. She knew she could reach him through Betty at his office, but she held back. Because she wanted to be totally sure. And now she was.

Hopefully, it wasn't too late.

On Monday night, she returned to her place in Tampa. Resolved. First, she would resign from her job. The excessive travel and demanding clients were sucking up every morsel of her energy. Instead, she'd start her own little business. A small design boutique, which she could manage out of her own home. There would be more time to be with Greg. Maybe it wasn't too late to have a family. The thought of children brought the twinge of a smile. So she booked a flight to Atlanta for the next day, Tuesday. She'd call her boss and tell him she'd return to Atlanta to work out the transition with Larry Foster. Then, when it was all decided, she would tell Greg what she'd done.

If he agreed, they'd set a date, and begin the next chapter of their lives.

A slight smile crossed Celeste's face as she picked up the morning paper and moved to close the door after Carrie climbed back into her car. Then, vaguely, at the edge of her vision, Celeste noticed a dark blue sedan pulling away from the curb behind Carrie's. A flicker of alarm disturbed her reverie. Could that car be following the Diamond's? She scolded herself for her silliness. Was Carrie's paranoia getting to her too? But Carrie had spoken of that strange phone call this morning with such fear.

When Chuck Dimer walked into the satellite law offices of Youngman, Polk, and Allen in Wayne, Michigan a few minutes before three, Greg was on the phone. He motioned for Chuck to sit down and mouthed, “Laura's dad.”

After he hung up the phone, Greg turned to Chuck, “Laura's on her way. The sooner she gets here the better.”

“I'm with you there, boss. I'll get over there early to make sure I've got the lay of the land over at Detroit Metropolitan. Anything else I should know about?”

“Carrie's still unaccounted for. A couple of hours ago Tracy said one of your guys learned that some neighbors saw the Diamonds leave their place with their bags packed this morning.”

Chuck shook his head. “Uh-huh. My thought is she's back-pedaling on having her kid with the Palmers. It's a good thing she doesn't know where Celeste's condo is.”

“But she knows it's on Amelia Island. All she'd have to do is call Celeste, but —”

“But Celeste would never give it to her,” Chuck interrupted. “She knows we're using it as a safe house.”

Greg drew a deep breath. “But Celeste still doesn't know they're there.”

“You still haven't told her? Greg, what if she —”

“The truth is, I don't know where Celeste is. I haven't talked to her since Thursday night, which is why I called your office earlier. I asked Tracy to arrange a discreet inquiry. I'm worried about her, Chuck. She didn't show up in Atlanta yesterday for work, and she's not at home. God knows she's a workaholic, and she's in the middle of a big project. Hell would freeze over before she missed a project deadline.”

“Sure she's not just in a snit? You been spending a lotta time with Laura Nelson,” said Chuck only half-jokingly.

“Probably is all my fault. I must've really pissed her off staying in Philly all weekend. We had plans. She made it home, through a storm no less, and I didn't.”

“Sounds like a lover's spat to me.”

“I just can't stop thinking there's a connection between Carrie and Celeste. Their disappearance, I mean. I have a bad feeling.”

“Tracy'll get back to us as soon as she's got something on Celeste's whereabouts. My feeling is, all will be okay with your little lady if you apologize. Apologize profusely and shower her with all those tokens women like — roses, candy, you name it. But wait till tonight,” Chuck hastened to add, “after the airport scene we're creating out here.”

“Okay, buddy. See you later and thanks for the romance tips.”

After the elevator descended with Chuck on it, Greg realized he'd forgotten to pass along Tracy's message about the call from
Carmen Williams. Though Tracy had said she'd sounded scared, with everything else on Greg's mind, it had just slipped by.

Drop it, Carmen kept telling herself. You tried once. The guy wasn't there. Kim's dead, so it's not gonna help her. No way would she call the cops. She'd had enough of them to last a lifetime. They'd already questioned her three times about Kim. First the uniforms that stopped by her house the night it happened, tracking her down by that message she'd left on Kim's machine about needing a job reference. They broke the terrible news and not in a nice way. Said she'd have to come down to the station in the morning. There Detective Lopez, the slick one, and Goodnuf, the ugly one, asked her all kinds of questions about Kim and Steve and Steve's wife. They asked about Kim's other friends, but she hadn't told them anything about Frankie. About Nelson, she'd told the truth. That Kim did fuck him, but only once. That his wife had caught them and tossed Steve out. No, Kim wasn't hot for Nelson, he was just a safe type of guy to have around. Yes, Kim was moving to Atlanta. Why? For a better job. Did Williams have an alibi that night? That was the worst, that they would ask her that, but the answer was yes. She told them about the club where she'd hung out, where lots of people had seen her.

But she hadn't told them about the gun. She knew she would get into big trouble for that, the unregistered gun she'd scarfed up for Kim after Frankie had hit her. They even asked her if she knew whether Kim had a gun, but she hadn't told them. And she never would.

Later that week someone else showed up. A big guy, but nice, and he had treated her with respect. He didn't seem that old, but he had gray hair in a cute crew cut. Big muscles bulged out of his short-sleeve shirt and she remembered thinking that she'd feel safe if she had a guy like him, but mostly she remembered his kind gray eyes and boyish smile. He'd asked her pretty much the same questions as the cops, but he was a private investigator representing Steve
Nelson's wife, and she'd kept his business card. Charles Dimer. “Chuck,” he said, “call me Chuck.” He'd taken time to talk to her, to really listen as she told him what a good friend Kimmie had been. Like he really cared.

Then, after a lawyer had called her about Kim's will, Detective Lopez came to the house to ask her more questions. Mostly about why Kim had left her all her money, but also about Kim's “other” boyfriend, Frank Santiago. Pointed questions about how he treated her. Did he hit her? Did he threaten her?

“I don't know,” she'd answered, not wanting anything to do with Frankie and his wrath. “He was sort of obsessed with her, I guess,” she'd told Lopez. “The funny thing was, he wanted kids.”

The detective didn't seem to care about that. “Did Santiago know about Nelson?” he asked.

“No, I don't think so,” she'd answered, thinking it was the truth. But now the whole world knew about that night.

It was the very next day that Chuck Dimer had returned. He brought a box of Fannie Mae chocolates all tied up with a yellow ribbon. His questions were pretty much the same as the detective's, but he was so nice about it. She felt bad lying to him, but she was scared. Frankie could easily suspect her if any personal information got out, and it would be real simple to have her killed.

And now, after what she'd seen last night — and heard — at the Columbia, should she call that Chuck back? Nervously, Carmen twisted his card in her hands as she replayed the scene. Santiago dressed like a sloppy street person, meeting with a hit man. She'd strained to hear what they said when they came out of that room. Sounded like, “nail Nelson.” Something about Detroit and “when I'm done, I'm going away.” She'd been so scared standing in that doorway, that she'd almost wet her pants. But she was pretty sure that what she heard meant that Steve Nelson's name was on a contract. Truthfully, she'd been wondering why Frankie hadn't iced Steve already, what with the way he felt about Kim and Steve's open admission that he'd had sex with her. For a guy that high up in the mob, having Steve killed would be well, expected.

Kim always said that Steve was a nice enough guy, but all involved with his family. With five kids, no wonder. So she'd decided to call that Chuck Dimer. Let him warn Steve. Maybe she was too late. Maybe they did him last night. Finally she said aloud, “What would Kim want me to do?” As she continued twisting Chuck's business card, she decided to try him again. One more time and that was it. That girl who'd answered the phone sounded nice and she'd said to call back.

“Ms. Williams,” Tracy said politely once Carmen identified herself on the phone, “I'm glad you called back. Mr. Dimer is anxious to talk to you. He's in Detroit, but I have a phone number. I can patch you in.”

“Long distance?” Carmen balked. “Hey, I don't have that kind of money.”

“I'll reverse the charges,” said Tracy quickly. “Can you hold?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Tracy immediately placed the call to the law office in Wayne, Michigan.

“Greg Klingman here.”

“Glad I caught you,” said Tracy with a detectable sigh of relief.

“Did you locate Celeste?”

“Uh, no, that's not why I'm calling. Not Carrie Diamond either,” she rushed on. “I'm trying to reach Chuck on another matter.”

“I see. Tracy, you just missed Chuck. Anything I can help you with?”

“I hope so, Mr. Klingman, it's that Carmen Williams calling back for Chuck.”

“Patch her through, Tracy. Miss Williams,” Greg began, straining to keep it easy, keep the anxiety out of his voice.

“Is this Chuck?”

“No, it's not. Chuck's in transit and he asked if you called to please talk to me. He said it must be important for you to go to all the trouble to contact him, and he hoped you'd trust me. I work with Chuck.”

“Trust you?” Carmen said slowly. “Who are you anyway?”

“I'm Greg Klingman and I work with Chuck. Please, just let me know how I can help you.”

“I … I don't know. I don't want to get in trouble, but I don't want anyone else to get hurt.”

“Ms. Williams, has something happened?”

“I saw Frank Santiago last night,” she blurted, “in Tampa — Ybor City.”

Greg hesitated. “I see. Did you call the police? Does anyone else know about this?”

“Of course not,” Carmen snapped. “Oh, shit, why did I tell you? Now the cops'll be all over me. He'll kill me next.”

“Please, you can talk to me in confidence,” Greg tried to reassure her. “I can promise you that.”

“Will you tell the cops? God, I never shoulda called.”

“No, I will not tell anyone. Please, fill me in.”

But he had already heard the click. She had hung up.

Within a halfhour, Greg's intercom buzzed again as the secretary at Youngman, Polk, and Allen announced that Chuck Dimer was on the line.

“Put him through.”

“I'm at the airport. On my way over to Northwest departures,” Chuck said quickly, “I wanted to go over the plan.”

“Wait, Chuck. I've got to tell you about a call I just got — wait a sec. The intercom.”

“Mr. Klingman,” the secretarial voice began, “I have a Mr. Rob Wilson. Take it or call back?”

“I'll take it, and put this one on hold. Chuck, stay on the line, will you? It's Rob. Maybe he's got something from the Hillsborough Family Court.”

Chuck mumbled “okay” as Greg picked up the other line. “Rob, what's up?”

“Not much, Greg. I've pulled every stop. With the kids in
Michigan with their legal father, there's no way a Florida court will issue a restraining order without a custody agreement in effect. Believe me, I've worked every angle until I hit a stone wall. Well, you know the statutes.”

“Yeah, just hoped one of those judges would cut us a break.”

“Maybe if the kids were in state, but if it's gonna happen, it'll have to be done in Michigan.”

“No way we can swing it here either, Rob.” Greg checked his watch. “After three. We're too late. Local counsel did all they could, but not enough time, and Nelson's their father. Kids have been with him uncontested for weeks. Courts here don't know Laura from Eve, and they have the usual local bias. No way they'll give up jurisdiction until at least a preliminary hearing in a Michigan court, and there's just no time.”

“Tough all around,” Rob commiserated. “Guess it means we have to let those boys go?”

“I'll get back to you. Chuck's at the airport hanging on the other line. Gotta go.”

Greg switched lines and briefed Chuck on the disappointing news from Tampa.

“Not surprised,” said Chuck. “So the plan's on. You bring Laura over to the boys and voilà! Timing's right. Her flight's due in at six, and check-in for Nelson's flight starts at six thirty. Confront Nelson right there in the airport. If the boys throw a fit about leaving with him, maybe the airline will balk and defer their flight?”

“Could work.”

“What's the worst that can happen? A nasty scene? Let's go with it.”

“Somehow, I can't see Nelson letting those boys go easily. But if it works, we'll need tickets for the boys on Laura's return flight at nine.”

“My money's on the boys going with her. I'll get the tickets right now,” Chuck said.

“You're an optimist.”

“Always. Okay, boss, see you with Laura around six. Let's get ready for some fireworks.”

“Hold up, Chuck,” Greg called. “I just heard from Kim Connor's friend, Carmen Williams. Called twice. Very reluctant to talk to me. Sounded scared as hell. Only thing I got out of her before she hung up was that she saw Frank Santiago last night in Ybor City. This girl's really scared. Wants nothing to do with the cops. My guess is she's got more to tell. Can you reach her?”