Holmes, Margaret and Poe, page 18
“Nothing like a little sea air.” A man’s voice.
She hadn’t even heard him approach. She smiled to herself. After all these years, he still had it.
“When the wind is just right,” said Grey, “you can almost taste the landfill.”
The man took a spot to her left at the rail. She glanced at him sideways. Still handsome. The goatee was new.
“When did you leave the company?” she asked.
“Six months ago.”
“Enjoying retirement?”
“Retirement is for pansies.”
Grey turned to face her companion. It had been fifteen years. But the old stirrings were still there. Faint but deep.
“What’s up?” the man asked.
“Three people,” she replied, handing him a folded slip of paper. He opened it, glanced at it, then tore it into pieces, letting the scraps flutter into the water.
“They’re kidding with the names, right?”
“I’m not sure,” said Grey. “They’re PIs. Smart. Highly skilled. And no tracks at all. Like they appeared from Mars. And they’re all totally dark on social.”
“Nothing from facial recognition?”
“All that shows up are their driver’s licenses.”
“Fakes?”
“The best.”
“DNA?”
“No matches. They’re not in the database.”
“I’ll see what I can find.”
Grey cleared her throat. “Tread lightly, please.”
The man leaned in to look Helene in the eye. She turned away. But not fast enough.
He smiled. “Which one are you sleeping with?”
Grey stared out over the water.
“Sorry, Helene,” he said. “That was inelegant.”
“Good to see you again, Raymond,” she said, gazing at Lady Liberty.
When she turned back, he was gone.
CHAPTER 82
“OH, MY GOD! This is true?”
Virginia wheeled her office chair closer. She was clutching a copy of Nelson Siglik’s confession. Her eyes were wide. Marple was sitting with her partners in the common area a few yards away, happy to have the office back to normal.
“What part?” Marple asked.
“All of it! This really happened?”
“It’s a sworn statement,” said Holmes. “And the evidence backs it up.”
Even Marple was amazed at how quickly it had all happened. The Sigliks had not even requested a lawyer. They understood the evidence. They were both smart enough to know how hard it would be to fake insanity. And they refused to turn on each other. Brothers to the end.
In return for full confessions to multiple homicides and providing the identities of their victims, they asked for only one thing: to be assigned to the same prison and the same cellblock. Never separated for the entire length of their sentences, which would no doubt be the rest of their natural lives. It was the easiest deal the DA had ever made.
Marple listened as Virginia read aloud from Nelson’s statement, which matched his brother’s in every important detail.
“‘Suspect states that he knew his father, Aldrich Siglik, to have committed multiple homicides of men and women and that his father frequently displayed bodies to him and his brother in the basement of the family funeral home and discussed with them techniques of dismemberment and …’” She stumbled over the next word. “… ‘excarnation’?”
“Flesh removal,” said Poe.
Holmes leaned forward in his chair. “Daddy was desensitizing the boys. Grooming them. Training them to follow in the family business. The real family business.”
Virginia went back to reading. “‘Suspect states that at age eight, he and his brother witnessed the strangulation murder of their mother, Anna Siglik, by their father, Aldrich Siglik, at their Brooklyn address and were then made to assist in the dismemberment and disposal of her body …’”
“Like father, like sons,” said Holmes.
Virginia looked up from the report. “So who was buried in the mausoleum? The mother? The father?”
“Nobody,” said Poe. “The vault is vacant. Pristine. Never occupied. Aldrich Siglik built that place as his Alamo. A last-resort hideout. When he died, he willed it to the boys.”
“Did they kill him too?” asked Virginia.
“Heart attack,” said Marple. “Lucky man.”
The office phone rang. Virginia put down the pages and picked up the handset, shifting to her bright, professional voice. “Holmes, Marple, and Poe Investigations. This is Virginia.”
Marple saw Virginia’s posture stiffen as she listened to the caller.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said. “Of course. She’s right here.”
Virginia covered the bottom of the handset as she handed it to Marple.
“Special Agent Brita Stans,” she whispered. “About the Zozi Turner kidnapping. She sounds really pissed off.”
CHAPTER 83
“MARGARET! THANK GOD!”
Addilyn Charles jumped up from her chair and hugged Marple like a long-lost sister. Holmes and Poe got polite nods. Helene Grey silently stood nearby. Brita Stans elbowed her way into the group and got right down to business.
“This way,” she said. “We need to talk.”
Marple looked around. The once-impeccable Charles apartment now had the familiar look of a law-enforcement occupation. Paper coffee cups and empty takeout containers everywhere. Laptops, two-way radios, and accessory cords were spread out on the tables. Men and women with shoulder holsters were all over.
Stans led the way to a seating area near the grand piano. Holmes, Marple, and Poe sat side by side on an elegant sofa. Addilyn and Grey settled on the piano bench. Stans stood with her legs apart, hands on her hips, like General Patton.
“We got another call,” she said.
Marple looked at Grey. “Same as before?” she asked. “The woman?”
Grey nodded. “Same voice, same filter.”
“They’ve changed the ransom demand,” said Stans.
“What do they want now?” asked Holmes.
“They want cash and my jewelry,” said Addilyn, her voice shaking. “My diamonds and pearls.”
“And here’s the capper,” said Stans. “They want Addilyn to deliver the ransom personally.”
“So why are we here?” asked Poe. “I thought you didn’t want us involved.”
“I don’t,” Stans said bluntly.
Addilyn turned to Marple. “I told Agent Stans I wouldn’t do it unless you came along, Margaret.” She was wringing her hands in her lap. “I’m afraid they’re going to kidnap me too!”
“That’s not going to happen,” said Stans. “We’ll be there, close by.”
“We will too,” said Poe.
“The hell you will,” said Stans. “I don’t need the three frigging musketeers. All I need is Marple.”
“The handoff is tonight,” said Grey. “Watchung Reservation in New Jersey.”
“Oh, that’s lovely,” said Marple.
Stans turned toward her. “You know the place?”
“I’m a devoted birder, Agent Stans. I know every tree in the park.”
CHAPTER 84
BY TWO THE next morning, the FBI unit was huddled in a wooded corner of the sprawling reserve, twelve miles west and a world apart from the busy streets of Newark. Stans and the other agents were in forest-pattern camo. Helene Grey had chosen commando black.
Marple had followed suit. She wore black leggings and a tight-fitting black top, her hair tucked neatly under a watch cap. Addilyn wore slacks and a light sweater. She paced anxiously behind the shelter of a stand of evergreens.
Marple reached into her purse and pulled out a silver flask.
“Sherry?” she asked.
Addilyn shook her head.
“How about some warm tea? I have a thermos in my backpack.” She leaned in close. “Or maybe a Xanax?”
“No drugs,” Brita Stans bluntly said. “She needs to be alert.”
Stans straddled a nylon duffel bag containing the currency and jewelry. It was a bulging load. On the scale, the package had weighed in at a bit over sixty-five pounds. Which presented an obvious problem. Addilyn Charles, fully clothed, weighed only about a hundred pounds. No way she could carry it.
Marple watched as a young agent rolled up in the Bureau’s solution: a golf cart commandeered from the nearby Watchung Valley Golf Club.
“Ever driven one of these, ma’am?” asked the agent.
“Of course,” said Addilyn. “But not in the dark.”
“You’ll be fine,” said Marple. “It’s a gentle slope from here.”
Stans tapped her watch. “Okay, Addilyn. It’s time.”
An agent hoisted the bag onto the back of the cart. Addilyn climbed into the driver’s seat. Marple leaned in and gave her a tight hug. She could feel Addilyn trembling.
“I’ll be right here when you get back,” said Marple.
“Remember,” said Stans, “pay attention to height, weight, build, skin color, accent. Anything that can help us with an ID.”
“All right,” said Addilyn. “I’ll try.”
“There’s a tracker sewn into the lining of the bag,” said Stans. “Wherever they go, we’ll follow.” She leaned in close. “And we’ll find your family.”
Addilyn pressed the accelerator and drove slowly down the grassy slope toward the designated pickup point. Marple ducked back into the bushes with Stans and the other agents to watch. The agents nearby were invisible, hidden among the trees and equipped with sniper rifles.
The white canopy of the cart caught the moonlight as it moved toward a rustic trail at the bottom of the hill. As Marple and the agents raised their binoculars, the cart made a slow turn onto a dirt path and disappeared behind the foliage.
“There’s one thing I can’t figure out,” said Stans. “Why five million? Why not ten? Why not twenty? This family is loaded.”
Marple had wondered the same thing. “Maybe the kidnappers live light,” she said. “Or maybe they just prefer diamonds.”
CHAPTER 85
STILL SHAKING, ADDILYN drove the cart slowly down the dark trail and stopped at the designated historical marker. She shut off the electric motor. The trail was bordered by tall trees. Their branches muted the moonlight. The soft rustle of leaves overhead was the only thing Addilyn could hear. Not counting the thump of her heartbeat in her ears.
She slid slowly off the seat and stood next to the cart, her hand wrapped tightly around one of the roof supports. She’d hoped the FBI would wire her for sound, maybe put a camera in a blouse button. Or even give her a gun. But the kidnappers had thought of all that. “No mics, no video, no weapons,” the caller had said. “We’ll know.”
Addilyn waited a minute. Then two.
Suddenly, she heard movement in the bushes, a few yards off the path. Her mouth went dry. She felt her chest tighten. She peered through the foliage, searching for a human shape. Maybe the woman from the phone calls. A woman would be better than a man, she thought. Maybe they could talk. Negotiate. Come to an understanding. Anything to get her daughter and husband back home alive.
“Hello?” Addilyn called out tentatively. “Who’s there?”
No answer.
The rustling came closer.
A shape moved through the underbrush. Low and lumbering.
Not human.
In a flash, the shape burst out of the bushes. Addilyn covered her mouth to stifle a scream. It was a dog. An enormous mastiff with pale white fur. Even bigger than Zozi’s black mastiff, Toby. Addilyn crawled back into the cart and slid to the other side, tucking her knees up against her chest, afraid she was about to be eaten alive.
The white dog circled the cart slowly, sniffing the air, its massive jowls shaking. On its back was a nylon harness with straps hanging down.
The huge beast moved closer. It placed both front paws on the side step of the cart, tipping it. Addilyn saw a folded piece of paper under the dog’s leather collar. She reached forward with a trembling hand and plucked it out. She unfolded the paper and read the neatly typed note:
Strap the bag onto the harness. When it’s tight, say FIND.
Addilyn stared in disbelief. The kidnappers weren’t coming. The dog was the courier.
She dropped the paper, then moved to the other side of the cart and slid out. She inched her way slowly to the back and took hold of the straps on the ransom bag. When she turned, the giant dog was right there beside her, drool dripping from its mouth.
Addilyn pulled with everything she had and slid the bag from the cart shelf onto the dog’s back. The animal cocked his head and settled under the sudden weight. The bag was draped over its spine, threatening to tip off one side or the other. Addilyn held it in balance with one hand as she reached down to pull the harness straps up and over. She fastened the heavy plastic clasps and tightened the slack. The dog looked like a pack mule. God knows it was almost the size of one.
Addilyn gave the bag a gentle shake. She could hear the rattle of her jewelry as it settled on either side. She backed away slowly toward the front of the cart. The dog followed. Addilyn peered into the bushes, looked up and down the path. She saw nothing. The dog was panting under the load. It looked up at Addilyn expectantly, as if it were hoping for a biscuit.
Addilyn realized that the animal was waiting for the command.
“Find,” she said softly.
The pale mastiff didn’t move. It just pawed the dirt. Addilyn took a breath and cleared her throat. This time she shouted it:
“Find!”
Immediately, the dog turned and lumbered across the path. A second later, it disappeared into the underbrush. Addilyn fell back against the side of the golf cart, and felt the world go black.
CHAPTER 86
“A DOG?” SAID Holmes. “What kind?”
“A big white one,” said Marple. “Big enough to carry a sixty-five-pound sack.”
“How’s Addilyn?” asked Poe.
“She passed out,” said Marple. “Seems to be okay. They’re taking her in for observation.”
Marple was sitting in the back seat of Poe’s GTO, which was parked in a scenic turnoff about a quarter mile from where the transfer had happened. As soon as Addilyn had been sent off to the hospital, Marple pretended to join the search for the dog. Instead, she made a beeline to join her partners. She knew for certain that Brita Stans didn’t want Poe or Holmes anywhere near the operation. She also knew that Holmes had his own elaborate plan for tracking the ransom—and she wanted to be in on it.
Assuming it worked, of course.
Poe was tapping impatiently on the steering wheel while Holmes fiddled with an app on his cell phone. The app he’d coded that afternoon.
Marple adjusted her earbuds, listening in on the FBI frequency. The snipers near the pickup site had sighted the huge courier dog as he disappeared into the woods. Now agents were scouring the underbrush for any trace of the animal—or the kidnappers.
Suddenly, the channel crackled with new information. Marple listened carefully, then pulled her earbuds out. “They found the bag with the tracker,” she said. “But no ransom. The money and jewelry are gone.”
“They switched bags,” said Holmes with a satisfied expression. “Did I not tell you?” Marple leaned forward as his screen lit up with a detailed map of the Watchung Reservation. Their position was marked with a pulsing blue dot. Holmes tapped in a few more parameters.
Marple watched with amazement. Holmes drove her crazy, but she had to admit that he was a technical wizard—when he was clean. Earlier that day, he’d given her a tiny round device to attach to one of Addilyn’s necklaces before it was packed in the ransom bag. It looked like just one more pearl in the string. Not even Stans had noticed. Now, with any luck, that tiny pearl was traveling with the rest of the ransom. Wherever it was.
Suddenly the screen lit up with another dot, this one green—and moving. “Got it!” said Holmes. The electronic pearl was close, and heading in their direction.
Marple leaned forward to look at the screen. Just then, a blur shot past on the road. She caught a black shape on a sleek motorcycle—with a large duffel bag lashed to the back.
The green dot moved in sync with the bike, until it zipped right off the screen.
“That’s it!” yelled Holmes. “Go!”
“Hang on!” Poe yelled back. He started the Pontiac and cranked it into a tight 180 turn, then accelerated down the road. The bike’s taillight was just a blink in the distance.
“Got him!” Holmes shouted. The moving green dot was back on his screen. It was headed south on Summit Lane, leading out of the park and toward a residential area. As Poe gained on it, the rider whipped around a roundabout and headed onto a main road. Fast and agile.
“He’s good,” said Poe.
Two panel trucks blocked the lanes ahead. Poe swerved onto the median and gunned past them. He followed the bike down several residential streets again. He was just a few car lengths behind when it merged onto the Garden State Parkway, weaving through traffic and pulling away fast.
Marple glanced at the highway signs as they whipped past.
The chase was headed toward the Jersey Shore.
CHAPTER 87
“DAMMIT!”
Holmes flinched as Poe pounded the dashboard.
They’d lost the bike five minutes ago. The rider had made a wild turn off the highway, then aimed east toward Asbury Park. Somewhere on the backstreets of the seaside town, he’d simply evaporated into thin air. Now Poe was driving in a slow crawl up Ocean Avenue North, dodging sloppy-drunk college kids heading back from the clubs.
