Regan Reilly Boxed Set 1 Page 14

  “Don’t worry, my sweet,” Rod said with a casual wave of his hand. “They all love me in the end.” Hearing the music that preceded breaking news, he turned up the volume on the radio.

  “And now,” a male announcer proclaimed, “we have a special report from outside One Police Plaza. What have you got for us, Gina?”

  “What we’ve got is a lucky break for the Major Case Squad. A gallery in SoHo was broken into when the blackout struck, and valuable glass sculptures were stolen. Two men who ran out of gas on the West Side Highway were walking along the path next to the river when they had a run-in with the thief and unwittingly recovered the art. The men are both from New Jersey. A Wally Madison and Arthur—”

  “What?” Rod yelled as he grabbed the radio.

  “We caught up with the heroes outside One Police Plaza. The head of the Major Case Squad, Jack Reilly, was taking them up to his office, along with the owners of the art gallery. Needless to say, they’re all thrilled. I have an unconfirmed report that Jack Reilly’s apartment was also broken into tonight. As far as we know, nothing was taken.”

  “What was Wally doing in New York City?” Rod yelped. His cool and calm demeanor had quickly headed south.

  “Reilly’s wife walked in right before the blackout struck. The intruder was in the apartment, locked her outside on the roof, and made his escape. We’ll keep you updated.”

  “Dear God,” Rod said. “Someone broke into their apartment. That’s terrible.”

  “It is. But Jack Reilly’s happy Wally recovered the stolen sculptures. That can only be good for you,” Lee said practically.

  “We had a long day today and we’re going to have a long day tomorrow. I’m surprised Wally went out so late. He seemed a little edgy tonight. Let me call him.”

  Rod went into the kitchen and picked up the phone. He couldn’t get through on Wally’s cell phone, so he decided to call Jack Reilly’s office.

  “My word!” Rod exclaimed when he got Jack on the phone. “I just heard on the radio about everything that’s going on with Wally. It’s unbelievable. And I’m so sorry about your apartment.”

  “Word spreads fast. Thankfully Regan is okay and that’s what counts.”

  “How did they get in?”

  “There was no sign of forced entry. They must have had a key.”

  “Jack, I can assure you I’ve kept control of the keys. Wally and Frank and I were in the van on the way home from Connecticut when the blackout struck.”

  “Rod, don’t worry. We never changed the locks when we bought the loft from Conrad Spreckles. It could have been someone he knew who had a key. Anything’s possible. We didn’t think it was important to replace the keys right away because the apartments weren’t connected and there was nothing to steal in the new one. As soon as you broke down the wall, we should have had new keys made. We’ll take care of that first thing in the morning.”

  At that moment, the lights flickered back on in Rod’s kitchen. He gasped as his stomach fell six feet.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, just a bit surprised. The lights are coming back on in my house.”

  “Fantastic!” Jack said. “Let’s hope they’re back on everywhere before long. Do you want to talk to Wally? We’re about to head out. He’s going to help us out tonight with another case. Regan is trying to locate a young guy who’s on the town with a woman who is a predator. The poor kid doesn’t know what he’s in for. Wally and his friend Arthur offered to join the search party.”

  “I’d like to help,” Rod volunteered.

  “That’s nice of you Rod but if you’re out in New Jersey—”

  “I’ll come in right now. The electricity is back on here so I don’t have to worry about my family. I’ll just talk to Wally for a second.”

  “Sure. Here he is.”

  Rod waited while Jack handed over the phone.

  “Hello,” Wally said, sounding quite nasal.

  “Wally—you’re a hero.”

  “My nose is crooked but we made a lot of people happy tonight. Now there’s a much more serious situation—”

  “I’m coming in. I want to help, too.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Conrad Spreckles is out looking for this guy, too.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a long story. Regan just called Jack and told him. Conrad’s daughter was at a bar in New York and got involved with the whole thing.”

  “Where can I meet you?”

  “We’ve been assigned to the Upper West Side. That’s where we’re going in a few minutes.”

  “I’m leaving now. I’ll call you when I get close and we’ll figure out exactly where to meet.”

  Rod hung up. He did want to help. But he also had a funny feeling about the break-in at the Reillys. If Jack Reilly suspected any of them, he wasn’t letting on. Rod wanted to see who this friend of Wally’s was. Wally had seemed disturbed when he learned the Reillys expected them back tomorrow, not Wednesday. But no matter what happened, Rod wanted it to be clear that he was a trustworthy man. Except, of course, about showing up when promised.

  Rod turned. Lee was standing there staring at him. “My dear, for someone who lets everything roll off his back, you look a little worried.”

  39

  “According to Cal, this is the address of the bar where Georgina’s grandmother worked,” Regan said as she stopped the car in front of what was now a health food restaurant. It was locked up tight, with large metal gates in front of the windows.

  “And from what he said about her grandmother, she must be rolling in her grave,” Billy commented.

  Regan sighed. “It must have been a tremendous loss for Georgina when her grandmother died.”

  Melanie nodded. “It seemed that way when she told me about her.”

  “I wonder if Georgina’s been back to New York since then.”

  “I don’t know,” Melanie answered. “When we were flying up here, I asked if she’d ever been to New York. She said yes but not in years. She never said a word about her grandmother having lived here.”

  Regan sighed. She glanced around the dark and quiet street. “I don’t think there’s anyplace around here Georgina could have dragged poor Chip. Since we’re following her grandmother’s footsteps, let’s try the Lower East Side.” She flipped on the radio.

  “Lights have come back on in sections of New Jersey,” an announcer said excitedly. “That means people can get out of bed and turn on the air conditioner—”

  “If the lights came back on in Manhattan, it would certainly help,” Regan commented.

  Kit leaned forward. “I was in one of the seminars with Georgina today. She seemed normal enough but was quiet and didn’t ask questions. But then after she’d had a drink at the cocktail party she was more aggressive. On the way over to the comedy club it seemed like she was getting a little manic.”

  “And if she kept on drinking who knows what her state of mind is now,” Regan said.

  Below Fourteenth Street, on the Lower East Side, they slowly rode up and down the streets. On Second Street between First and Second Avenues they discovered an old cemetery that took up about half the block and was protected from intruders by a tall black wrought-iron fence. The entrance was chained shut.

  “This is the kind of isolated place where Georgina would want to be with Chip,” Regan said as she stopped the car.

  “I was thinking about doing some jokes about a guy who visits a cemetery,” Billy said, “and I started to do some research. A law was passed in 1852 that made it illegal to bury a body in Manhattan. This is one of the only cemeteries left and it’s landmarked.”

  “My father’s a funeral director in New Jersey,” Regan said. “I didn’t know that.”

  “They passed the law after two cholera epidemics—one in the early 1830s and the second in 1849. So many people in Manhattan died that they were running out of land to bury the dead. People were also afraid that the drinking
water was being diseased by water that washed down from the gravesites. They passed the law and actually exhumed thousands of skeletons from Manhattan and moved them out to Queens where the cemetery business was just getting started. For the first time you had to pay to bury your loved ones. So many cemeteries were opened in western Queens that it became known as the Cemetery Belt.”

  Kit just looked at him. “Really?”

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t make any jokes about it. It’s amazing what you can discover online.”

  “I wonder if Georgina’s grandmother is buried in Queens,” Regan mused.

  “If she was, do you think Georgina might have taken Chip out there?” Kit asked.

  “Highly unlikely,” Regan answered. “First she’d have to get a car or cab to take them out and drop them off near the cemetery, since she can’t exactly say that’s where they were going. I doubt she’d find any driver interested in taking the trip during this blackout. Second, I don’t think Chip would have left Manhattan willingly. If he were already knocked out, any driver she might have found should have gotten suspicious.”

  “That reminds me of a story!” Kit exclaimed.

  “I think I know the one,” Regan said, raising her eyebrows.

  “A woman met a guy online,” Kit continued for the benefit of Billy and Melanie. “They had a date that must have gone well. He told her he wanted to introduce her to his parents. She agreed. So one night he picked her up for what she thought was going to be a pleasant dinner with Mom and Pop. He drove her to their gravesite.”

  “Meet the parents!” Billy cried.

  Melanie’s mouth had dropped open. “That is really weird.”

  “Don’t tell me. There was no third date,” Billy said.

  “I don’t think so,” Kit answered, shaking her head.

  Regan put the car into drive and slowly moved it forward. “Let’s go down by the East River and make our way around the tip of Manhattan. If Chip is already drugged, she wouldn’t be with him on the streets.” She then stopped the car.

  “What’s the matter?” Kit asked.

  “I’m going to call that detective in Atlanta and ask him to find out everything Georgina might have told Paulette about her grandmother. Maybe there was a special place in the city they used to go together. Maybe they sat by the river somewhere and watched the boats go by. I can’t believe that wherever she brought Chip tonight doesn’t have some significance.” As Regan put the call through, she couldn’t get the line of the song out of her head.

  Only the good die young.

  40

  Lorraine, impatiently waiting on the park bench across from the Treetops Hotel, finally spotted Clay about to go through its front door. She jumped up and started to run across Central Park South. “Clay!”

  He stopped and turned. The greeter spotted him and started to open the door of the hotel, a big smile plastered on his face.

  “Let’s get away from here!” Lorraine growled.

  But it was too late. “Miss Lily!” the greeter said effusively. “Welcome back! There is a radio reporter on the phone speaking to the front desk manager. He had asked to speak to you. He saw you on television before—”

  Clay just looked at her. “You were on television before?”

  Lorraine fluffed up her hair. “There was a camera crew when I checked in. I’ll be right back.”

  Ten minutes later she reappeared. They started down the block, heading west. “What took you so long?” she snapped. “And where is your bicycle?”

  “Me! You’re stopping for interviews.”

  “How could I refuse? The hotel just lent me these ugly shoes.”

  He looked down. “I won’t disagree with you on that.”

  Lorraine ignored the remark. “So what happened?”

  “I tried to call you.”

  “The battery on my phone is dead.”

  Clay rolled his eyes. “My roommate’s girlfriend borrowed my bicycle and got a flat tire. I could kill her. I’m so sick of those two. I borrowed a pair of her tap shoes. They were in the bathroom. I thought they’d fit you.”

  “Oh sure. Tap shoes. Just what I need to wear when we’re sneaking up the stairwell. Why don’t you borrow a pair in your size, and we can pretend we’re Fred and Ginger?”

  “I’m doing my best, Lorraine. You didn’t give me much notice about this job. I also grabbed some of my tools in case your key doesn’t work.”

  “Well, that’s good.” At the corner of Sixth Avenue and Central Park South, Lorraine turned her head to the right. The sight of a familiar vehicle caught her eye as it was briefly illuminated by the headlights of an oncoming car. “Oh no!” she cried, and pulled Clay to make the turn down Sixth.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “That was Conrad’s Rolls-Royce at the corner. He was heading west.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes! He’s driving. When I spoke to him earlier he was in Connecticut. He must be spying on me.”

  “He doesn’t need to spy on you. You’ve been on TV and the radio tonight! Live from the Treetops Hotel! I’m sure the Candy Man didn’t predict you’d go out for a walk.”

  “Do you think he’s going down to the loft because they discovered the safe?” Lorraine asked in a panicked voice.

  “Now you’re getting paranoid.”

  “What else would he be doing here?”

  “How am I supposed to know? You’re the one who’s married to him.”

  “Not for much longer. And if he gets his hands on those letters, it’ll make his day and ruin my life!”

  “All right then. We’re both freshly motivated to get this job done. I want the money for my own apartment, and you want the letters back. Let’s go.”

  “What if the Reillys are home by now?”

  Clay pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call them again.” He looked up recently dialed numbers and pressed the Reillys’. The connection was made and their phone began to ring. And ring and ring. “Music to my ears,” he said. “I bet they’re both out fighting crime.”

  “I wish we could find a cab,” Lorraine whined.

  But Sixth Avenue was pitch dark. There wasn’t a car in sight.

  “The longest journey begins with a single step,” Clay pronounced as he offered Lorraine his arm. “Let’s go.”

  41

  Conrad had decided to drive across Central Park South on their way to Tribeca. The fact that they were passing the Treetops Hotel did not go unnoticed by his daughter. As they crossed the intersection at Sixth Avenue, Alexis screeched, “Daddy! I think I just saw Lorraine!”

  “Where?” Conrad’s head almost spun around.

  “Back on the corner of Sixth Avenue with some guy. It’s so dark it’s hard to tell. The lights of a passing car made them visible for about a second. They turned and went down Sixth Avenue.”

  “Could be,” Conrad said, wondering who the guy was. “She’s staying right there at the Treetops. I can’t imagine why she’d be out for a stroll at this time of night when she’s staying in a luxurious air-conditioned hotel.”

  Alexis shrugged. “I’m so glad you’re getting rid of her.”

  Conrad patted his daughter’s hand. “Let’s not worry about Lorraine right now. Chip Jones is our concern.”

  “I’ve got my eyes peeled,” Becky piped up from the back seat.

  “So do I!” Alexis said. “How else would I have spotted that no good—”

  “Alexis.”

  “Sorry, Dad. But maybe it’s a good sign. If I can spot Lorraine during this blackout, then maybe the wretch who’s with Chip Jones will also be discovered.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  “And they both should be locked up.”

  42

  After taking Regan’s call, Detective McFadden returned to the interrogation room where twenty-five-year-old Paulette Dobson was sitting at a table, her head in her hands. She was exhausted, upset, but most of all petrified. Small-boned with stringy light brown hair that nee
ded a trim, she had a waifish quality. Her skin and eyes were pale, her features plain.

  “I want to help in whatever way I can,” she said yet again, struggling to sit up straight when McFadden reappeared. “I’m so sorry I didn’t report her right away. But she just told me about this the other night.”

  Over the course of the evening, Paulette had recounted her history with Georgina. They’d met three years ago when they were both waitresses at a diner outside Atlanta and had gotten friendly during their cigarette breaks. They’d started hanging out at bars and often went shopping together. One day when they were driving home from the mall, Georgina pulled a blouse out of her oversized purse that she had stolen from one of the stores. Paulette couldn’t believe it. Georgina convinced her it was easy, she had to try it herself, and when Paulette was successful at her first attempt, it became a game for them. But when Georgina had several days off in a row, she’d get in her car and go away alone. She’d told Paulette that she was so used to being a loner, there were times when she needed to be by herself. Two nights ago, after a day of heavy shoplifting, and an evening of even heavier drinking, Paulette and Georgina were in Georgina’s apartment admiring all their loot. It was then that Georgina excitedly told Paulette what she did on those trips.

  “When she showed me the brand she used to burn the guys’ skin, I felt sick,” Paulette had said.

  “You knew she was going on another trip but you didn’t report her until we tracked you down today on the shoplifting charges,” McFadden responded.

  “I wanted to! And I would have. But I was so scared. I’ve been a wreck since Saturday night. I’ve barely slept. How can I call the police when Georgina’s got all these clothes we stole in her apartment, some with the security tags still on them?” Paulette paused to catch her breath. “She had this new job. She was so surprised that they hired her because she’d lied so much on her application and résumé. She told me she didn’t have any business experience so she had to make up places she’d supposedly worked at before. Her new company must not have checked out any of it. Anyway, since it was a business trip I was hoping she’d be with the people from her company and wouldn’t do anything bad. But she can be so unpredictable. Sometimes she was so much fun and would be laughing really hard and other times she got really scary and mean. I couldn’t even be sure what she told me about the guys was true, because she can be such a liar, and I had no proof, but now that they’ve found the pictures, I don’t know why she didn’t show them to me.”