See Something, page 20
“I know,” I said. “But what can we do? He’s already tried to kill her.”
“She’s safe for now. How long will she be in the hospital?”
“Rob says she’ll be released tomorrow. He’s staying at her place to take care of Percival,” I reported. “She’s planning to come straight to work.”
“You say this creep has never seen her in her regular clothes? Without the clown makeup?”
“That’s right. He probably knows her name though.” I was scaring myself. “It wouldn’t be too hard to get. She used to be locally famous. He might even know where she lives by now.”
All thoughts of sleep were gone. “We have to do something.”
Pete was wide awake too. He paced silently from the end of the bed to the doorway and back a couple of times. “That pink guest room still available?”
“Of course.”
“If Katie can stay here, and ride to work and back with you, Marr will be able to keep an eye on her along with you, and I’ll be here at night.” His jaw tightened. “If this guy keeps showing off how smart he thinks he is, he’ll trip up very soon and this will all be over.”
“I pray you’re right,” I said. “How about this? I’ll call Rob in the morning and tell him about the plan. He’ll explain it to Katie.”
“You’re not going to tell him this was your cat’s idea, are you?” Pete almost smiled.
“Nope. He’s already worried to death about her. He’ll just be glad there is a plan.” I knew I was right about that. “If anybody can convince her to go along with this, it’s Rob.”
“Okay then. We’ll get up early and get things underway.” He patted the pillows. “Bedtime. And look, O’Ryan is giving your doll back to you.”
He was right. O’Ryan had relinquished his grip on my clown doll and, with a pink-tongued lick on her painted cheek, picked her up gently by the ruffled collar and plopped her down in the center of the bed.
“Thank you, O’Ryan.” I picked up the doll and put her on top of the bureau. “We’ll keep her safe.” Turning off the light, I climbed under the covers beside Pete. The cat turned around three times, then lay quietly at the foot of the bed.
* * *
In the morning I awoke to Kelly Clarkson’s “Breakaway” and the smell of brewing coffee. I kissed Pete good morning, fed O’Ryan a can of pâté with tuna and a creamy gravy center, then carried the Katie doll with me to the second-floor bedroom. I put her back beside the Ranger Rob doll, then took my shower and dressed for the day. While Pete was still in the upstairs bathroom, I searched the refrigerator and came up with three English muffins and ajar of strawberry jam. I put out paper plates to save on dish washing. Visions of Wanda’s egg scramble casserole danced in my head. I will definitely watch her put it together. I will learn.
While we ate our uninspired but pretty-good-tasting breakfast, Pete laid out the plan for the day. “Okay. You call Rob and tell him he has to convince Katie to go along with this. I’ll call Marr and tell him Katie has been added to the package.” We each pulled out our phones.
“And Paco too,” I said. “We’ll be taking Paco back and forth to work.”
Pete lowered his voice and gave a sidelong glance toward O’Ryan, who was enthusiastically enjoying his pâté. “What about you-know-who? How’s he going to feel about a d-o-g in the house? And there’s another cat involved too, isn’t there?”
“Yep. Percival. They’ve already met and get along just fine,” I said. “About the d-o-g, I’m not so sure. I guess we’ll find out tonight. I’ll tell Aunt Ibby this morning what’s going on and make sure it’s all right with her. The guest room is always ready, so I’m sure there’s no problem there.”
I punched in Rob’s number.
“Double R Riding Stable,” came the familiar baritone voice. “Ranger Rob speaking.”
“Good morning, Rob,” I said. “Sorry to call so early, but it’s important.”
“Been working in the barn since sunup,” he said. “What’s going on?”
I made the explanation as brief as possible, concentrating on the necessity of keeping Katie safe until the killer was caught. Rob didn’t need much convincing.
“You sure your house is safe, and that cop can cover both of you at the same time?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll be there too, you know. No one will get by me to my little sweetie. I’ll pick her up at the hospital as soon as they call, get the dog from the vet, and we’ll see you at the station. Don’t worry. We’re in.”
Pete put down his phone at the same time I did. “Is Marr all clued in?” I asked.
“Yep. He says no problem. He also says he likes that little clown. Doesn’t want to see anything bad happen to her. He’s on the way to WICH-TV now.”
“Good. Let’s go downstairs and run it by Aunt Ibby. I’m sure she’ll okay it.”
I was right about Aunt Ibby’s okay. She was enthusiastic about the whole plan and wanted to know if there was anything the Angels could do to help. Pete tried hard to discourage any Angel involvement. “Everything here at the house should look as normal as possible. Except for the new dog, of course.”
“Katie’s trick dog?” Her enthusiasm appeared to dim just a tad. She gave me a sideways glance. “Did you consult O’Ryan about that?”
“Not yet,” I admitted.
“Guess we’ll find out,” she said. “I’ll get the guest room ready. Fresh flowers, new magazines.”
Pete and I walked together along the flagstone path toward the garage. I couldn’t help looking at the bushes where the orange bike had been partially hidden the day before. I wondered if it was possible that the police would find any prints on it, but I was almost positive that they wouldn’t. “Will they give the bike back to the owner as soon as they’re through with it?” I asked.
“Sure. Probably this afternoon. Why?”
“You said it belonged to a kid. A nice bike like that stolen—he must have been devastated.”
“You have a kind heart, Lee.” He smiled and ruffled my hair. I pulled the key chain from my bag. Vowing to be much more aware of the importance of keys, I gave it a little buffing against the edge of my suede vest to shine it up, and unlocked the garage door. “I love you,” Pete said. “I’ll come in and take a quick look at your car before we leave.”
“You don’t think anyone—someone—he—might have gotten in here somehow and messed with it, do you?”
“No. I really don’t think that. It’s just that I love you so damned much I have to be sure. Will you open it, please, and wait here?”
I stood in the doorway, pulled the fob from my bag, and unlocked the car. Pete walked all the way around the Vette first, then climbed inside. After a moment he got out and waved me into the garage. “All set,” he said. “Back her out and I’ll be right behind you.”
I got into the car and activated the garage door opener. Backing out onto Oliver Street, I made sure Pete’s Crown Vic was close behind me. I checked the rearview mirror often, hoping nothing else would show up in the reflection. “So far, so good,” I thought as I rolled into the WICH-TV lot and parked in my usual space beside the sea wall. Pete had parked closer to the building, next to Ariel’s bench. He got out of his car and hurried across the lot to meet me. “Want to show me your new office?”
“Sure,” I said. He wants to be sure I’m safe in there. I tapped my security code into the pad and we walked into the darkened studio. “Do you have time to see the stage where we’ll be shooting the Ranger Rob’s Rodeo show?”
“With the famous blue bull chute? Lead me to it.”
I heard voices as we approached the set. “Some early risers beat us to it. It’s probably Chester and Officer Marr. Hello!” I called. “That you, Chester?”
“Come on back, Lee,” came the answer.
“You get to travel through my big blue creation,” I bragged. “Plywood and closet poles. What do you think?”
“Impressive,” he said. “We get to walk through it?”
“If Paco the wonder dog was here, he’d open the gate for us,” I told him as I lifted the latch. “He knows how to close it too.”
I led the way toward the sounds of voices and Pete followed close behind me through the short passage. “You could use a light in here,” he said.
He was right about that. Some guests might be nervous about walking through the tunnel-like structure in near-darkness. I made a mental note. Light for bull chute. We walked past the plastic-covered costume racks and entered Chester’s hideaway.
I introduced Pete to Chester. “Quite a setup you’ve got here,” Pete said. “Looks like a professional carpenter shop.”
“This young lady keeps me busy,” Chester said. “She had us building a deluxe doghouse yesterday.” He pointed to Paco’s brightly painted new digs. “Besides that, me and my assistant here measured for drapes yesterday too. We were just wondering what’s in store for us today.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll think of something,” I promised.
Pete and Officer Marr stood off to one side, speaking in low tones. Chester pointed to a large oblong brown cardboard box resting on top of a tall red toolbox. “Speaking of the drapes, looks like they arrived early this morning.”
“That’s great. Did you sign for them?”
“No. That new salesman must have got here just before I did. The curtain-store truck was just pulling out of the lot. He was standing there with the box. Guess he signed for them.” He smiled. “Nice fella. He said he knew you were in a hurry for them.”
Pete and Officer Marr had turned to face us, their conversation halted.
“I didn’t know we had a new salesman. What does he look like?” I reached for the paper invoice tucked under a corner of the box.
“Nice looking dude. Suit, tie, vest. Even had those fancy leather driving gloves on. Gray hair, little skinny mustache, sunglasses, name of Al.”
Al?
“Chester, did you see Al go inside the building?” Pete’s tone was urgent.
“Nope. He just handed me that package and walked around toward the front. He’s new. Probably has to go up to the reception desk. Takes a while before they give you a key code.”
“That’s true.” I pulled the folded invoice from the top of the box. The signature scrawled at the bottom was A. J. Pridholm. Wordlessly, I handed it to Pete.
CHAPTER 36
“Marr, go up to the reception desk and see if Rhonda knows anything about this Al guy. See if she’s seen anyone by that description this morning. Check the security camera on the front door and see if he came inside. Tell Rhonda to get on the horn and evacuate the building. Make sure everyone gets out.” At Marr’s questioning look he pointed to the package, then pulled his phone from his pocket. “Mondello here. I’m at WICH-TV. Suspicious package on the lower level. Get hold of Harry and June. I’ll meet them in the parking lot.” He put the phone in his pocket and with an arm around my waist, propelled me quickly back toward the bull chute. “Bomb sniffing dog and her handler,” he explained. “Come on. Let’s go. You too, Chester. Is anyone else apt to be on this floor this early?”
“Wanda is.” I pointed to the lighted set at the opposite end of the studio. “She’s putting together Sunday brunch. Marty McCarthy is probably with her. There’ll be staff in the newsroom too, getting ready for the morning news show.”
It didn’t take long to clear the building. Marr reported that the surveillance tape showed that Pridholm hadn’t entered the place after all. We all moved our cars from the WICH-TV lot to the nearby Pickering Wharf guest lot. Neither Francine or Old Jim had arrived yet, so Rhonda and one of the sales people moved the van and the mobile unit. Yellow warning tape was soon festooned around the property, and one lane of Derby Street in front of the building was closed. I called Rob and told him what was going on and called Aunt Ibby so she wouldn’t hear about it on the radio or TV.
A truck marked SPD Bomb Squad Special Operations pulled into the far end of the lot where Pete waited. Two men in heavily padded green and black suits with hoods and masks and carrying black equipment bags exited the truck, along with a leashed German shepherd. They paused to speak briefly with Pete, then ran toward the open studio door. Marty, with shoulder-mounted camera, filmed the action, and because neither Scott nor Howie was there, I was tagged to narrate. I shoved my fear down, Marty handed me my favorite stick mic, and we took a position across the street from the building where all of the station staff stood together. Wanda, wearing her pink sequined chef’s hat and a white apron barely covering brief pink shorts and purple midriff halter top, posed for selfies with passersby. Marr directed traffic away from the area, while Pete did the same with pedestrians. I’d seen enough cop shows to wonder if the bomb guys would have to blow up the package and I’d have to reorder the draperies. Mostly I wondered how A. J. Pridholm had managed to get this close to me again. I wasn’t sure how much information I should relate to the WICH-TV audience. With my back to the building and no solid information to go on, I had to wing it.
“A suspicious package was delivered to the WICH-TV studios early this morning. Police have reason to believe the person who delivered the package may be a wanted suspect in an ongoing investigation. Two members of the Salem Police Department bomb squad with their specially trained bomb-sniffing German shepherd, named June, have just entered the building.”
That’s all I know! I saw the field reporter from the local radio station, WESX, approaching from the direction of Pickering Wharf. I was sure she didn’t know any more about what was going on here than I did.
I looked to Marty for help. With a tilt of her head, she indicated Pete, who’d crossed Derby Street and was on the sidewalk only a few feet away. With full knowledge that he wasn’t going to appreciate it, I walked over and stuck the mic in his face. “Detective Mondello, can you tell the WICH-TV audience a little about what the dog will do in there?”
Slight frown and official cop voice. “June is specially trained to smell explosives. Dogs have extraordinary noses, and she’s been trained to detect certain odors. She likes treats and knows she’ll be rewarded if she finds an explosive device. If the package we’re interested in contains one, June will sit and wait for her treat. If not, she’ll continue to pull on her leash and walk around. If the squad team believes it’s necessary to X-ray the thing, they’ll do it on-site. After that you’ll probably see them come out of the building carrying the package.”
He stopped speaking. That was apparently all I was going to get. “Thank you, Detective,” I said, then thought about my new draperies and tossed in another question. “Do you think they’ll have to blow up the package?”
“We’ll see,” he said, and with a smile, went back to directing pedestrians past Wanda.
Marty aimed the camera toward the bomb squad truck, and to help fill the time while I tried to figure out where to go with this next, I read all of the lettering aloud—slowly. She focused the camera on the open studio door, and I gave a brief description of what the place looked like inside. Warming a little to the subject, I told the audience that the package in question was located behind the soundstage of an upcoming morning show featuring beloved WICH-TV alumni Ranger Rob and Katie the Clown. That gave me an opportunity to give an update on Katie’s condition. “Katie, who was injured in a recent hit-and-run incident, is expected to be released from the hospital today and plans to return to work on rehearsals for the upcoming Ranger Rob’s Rodeo show.”
How much can I say about the suspect, A. J. Pridholm? Should I steer clear of the subject?
Fortunately, I didn’t have to make the decision. A cheer went up from the group gathered on the sidewalk. I turned to see what was going on in the parking lot. June, the bomb-sniffing dog, tail wagging and prancing ahead of her master, was first out of the studio door, followed by the other squad member carrying the offending package, which he placed on the ground. Both men then faced in our direction, each giving a heavily gloved thumbs-up all-clear sign. Another even louder cheer went up. I was ready to cheer too, when I saw Scott on a dead run a little way down Derby Street, heading for the station. I realized how glad I’d be to hand over that day’s field reporter duties.
“No bomb found, folks,” I said. “That’s a big relief for everyone. Stay tuned to WICH-TV for updates on this breaking news story.”
Officer Marr, with Chester’s assistance, removed the orange cones from the street, enabling traffic to resume normalcy, while Pete escorted the WICH-TV staff—beginning with Rhonda, Phil Archer, and Marty—a few members at a time, to the front door of the building. By the time I retrieved my Vette from Pickering Wharf and climbed the metal stairs to the reception area, Rhonda’s whiteboard was up-to-date with assignments, Phil Archer was in his anchor seat at the news desk, Marty had nearly finished editing my hastily put together stand-up, and Scott and Old Jim were on their way to the police station for the chief’s latest briefing. My draperies, still in the box, along with the invoice signed by A. J. Pridholm, had been transported to the police station for further examination. “Evidence, Lee,” Pete explained. “You understand.” I did understand and Shopping Salem could make do with the old drapes for a little while longer.
One of several things I didn’t understand though, was why the curtain store had been in such a hurry to deliver my draperies, since I’d readily agreed to wait a day or two for them, and how A. J. Pridholm had managed to be in the parking lot at exactly the moment they arrived.
I called the curtain store. “Hello. This is Lee Barrett at WICH-TV.”
“Oh, Ms. Barrett,” came the reply. “Were the draperies there in time for your special event? We put a rush on the order the minute your associate called last night. Yours was the first delivery of the day.”
That explained a lot. It was obvious that the curtain-shop people weren’t wasting time watching daytime TV, and I didn’t want to be the one to tell them that their rush order was now in the hands of SPD. None of this was their fault, so I just said, “Thank you,” and wished them a good day. I’d give Pete the information. Maybe there’d be some sort of phone record to trace that call back to Pridholm, but I doubted there would be. He was much too devious to slip up on a detail like that.
