Bones of a Feather - Carolyn Haines [100]
“Don’t be,” she said with scalding bitterness. “Sorrow never yields any crop except grief.”
Before I could respond, her cell phone rang. It startled me so badly I almost dropped it over the cliff. Tinkie steadied me as I handed the phone to Eleanor. It was six o’clock on the dot.
“This is Eleanor Levert.” She spoke with admirable dignity and strength. “I’m going to put the phone on speaker so Sarah Booth and Tinkie can hear you. We want to be sure to follow your directions to the letter.”
“Good thinking,” the male voice said. A hint of amusement infuriated me. I tried to focus on the qualities of the voice, any sounds in the background. The kidnapper was smart. He’d realized we were likely recording him on the house phone, so he’d designated a place where we couldn’t.
“I want to speak to my sister.” Eleanor sounded forceful. That was good.
“You’re in no position to demand anything,” the caller said harshly. His voice had a strange, echoey tone. Once again I thought of warehouses and abandoned places. Tinkie and I had never checked Eleanor’s list—she’d never given it to us. Once this was over, it would be a good lead to hand to the authorities.
“We have the money,” Eleanor said. “You’ll never see a dime unless we know Monica is alive and unharmed.”
“Oh, she’s alive.” He laughed. “Unharmed? You might be stretching a fine point. I can promise she’ll hurt a lot more if you try to fuck with me.”
Eleanor couldn’t control the sob that shook her frame. Tinkie put an arm around her and shored her up.
Stepping into the breach, I said, “I want Monica to recite the Pledge of Allegiance.” It was the only thing I could think of and earned me a questioning look from Tinkie.
“Your patriotism is fascinating,” the kidnapper said, “but I understand. You want proof of life. If she recites for you, then you’ll know she’s alive. For the moment.”
The phone clattered onto something hard, rattled around, and then a breathless Monica came on, her voice thready and weak. “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands—” She broke off with a whimper and a cry of pain.
“She’s alive. Now listen up. Have the money in the red Cadillac you’re so fond of riding in. Take it to Natchez Under-the-Hill and park in the lot beside Bennator’s. Be there at nine tonight. Wait for me to contact you. When I’m certain no one is following, I’ll call this cell phone and give further directions.”
“All right,” Eleanor said, her voice quivering. “Don’t hurt Monica.”
“Don’t try to boss me,” he said. “Do what you’re told and your sister will be returned. Screw this up, and she’s a dead woman.”
“I’ll be there.” Eleanor said.
“You’ll all three be there. I’m not stupid. You can’t leave the two private investigators behind. I want to know where all of you are at all times.”
There was no time to argue. He hung up.
“Shit,” Tinkie said, clearly unhappy with the last turn of events. “We shouldn’t be involved in the drop. I don’t like this at all.”
“Neither do I.” We’d told Eleanor all along we weren’t part of the drop. But she clearly wasn’t at fault. She had no control over what the kidnapper ordered.
Eleanor’s thin fingers clutched at my shirt. “You’ll ride with me? Won’t you? If you don’t, he’ll kill Monica.” She was beside herself.
“Let’s go in the house and discuss this. Maybe Barclay saw something.” I wasn’t counting on it, but I had the distinct impression I needed to get Eleanor away from the edge of the cliff. The Leverts had a habit of falling—or jumping—to their deaths. The state Eleanor was in, she might be the next candidate for a plunge into eternity.
* * *
“He isn’t surveilling from anywhere I could detect,” Barclay said as he accepted the drink Tinkie mixed.
Barclay reclined on an overstuffed sofa looking every inch the Levert in charge. He seemed to have no regard for Monica’s safety—or a worry in the world. I didn’t really blame him. He had no memory of her as any part of his life other than a thorn pricking his father every hour of every day.
Tinkie relayed my theory of a camera