Death Instinct - Jed Rubenfeld [91]
Skipping church and canceling his usual weekly visit to his father in Staten Island, Littlemore returned on Sunday to the police garage. He climbed inside the kidnappers’ car and went through it minutely again, even though the vehicle had already been fully searched and inventoried by other policemen. He was rewarded with exactly one discovery. Wedged deep in a crevice between seat back and seat cushion, Littlemore found a scrap of Western Union paper. It was not a telegram, but a receipt, showing only that some message had been sent somewhere by some customer.
With a few weeks at his disposal, and a dozen men pounding the pavement, such a receipt might conceivably have been tracked to its originating office. But Littlemore didn’t have the men, he didn’t have the time, and sending a telegram obviously didn’t count as evidence of a crime.
The telephone rang in Younger’s house on Sunday evening. He answered it, cursing himself for hoping it was Colette. It wasn’t.
“What are you doing in Boston?” asked Littlemore’s voice.
“I live here,” answered Younger.
“I left you messages all weekend at the Commodore. You didn’t tell me you were going to Boston.”
“You told me not to tell you if I left town.”
“Oh yeah—good point,” said Littlemore. The detective described the unfortunate turn of events. “Drobac gets out of prison tomorrow afternoon. I’m sorry, Doc. And I’m worried. Seems like Drobac’s lawyer knew all kinds of things about Colette, including that she was up in New Haven. How would he know that? I think they’ve got somebody tailing the Miss. Or maybe somebody she knows in New Haven reports to these guys, whoever they are. I’ll tell you what: after Drobac gets out, I don’t know where is safe for her. I think the Miss and her brother should go into hiding.”
Younger rang off, grabbed his coat and hat, and left to make arrangements. When he’d finished, he sent a wire for immediate delivery to Colette:
YOU AND LUC MUST LEAVE AT ONCE STOP DROBAC BEING RELEASED FROM JAIL TOMORROW STOP GENUINE DANGER STOP HE KNOWS WHERE YOU ARE STOP I HAVE BOOKED YOU A CABIN ON THESS WELSHMAN LEAVING NEW YORK HARBOR FIVE-THIRTY PM MONDAY FOR HAMBURG STOP LITTLEMORE WILL BE THERE WITH TICKETS STOP TELL NO ONE REPEAT NO ONE
Because it was a Sunday night, Younger was obliged to pay a king’s ransom to get this telegram sent and to have it hand-delivered upon transmission. Unfortunately, Western Union’s hastily hired delivery boy in New Haven couldn’t distinguish among Yale University’s dormitories, and the telegram was slipped under the door of the wrong residence.
Colette, returning to her room Sunday night after working late at the laboratory, found the door unlocked. This dismayed her. She had told Luc over and over to keep the door locked; he didn’t listen to anything she said anymore. Colette stepped into the silent darkness of her dormitory room. It shouldn’t have been so dark—or silent. Could Luc already be asleep? He never went to bed until she made him.
The air felt damp, heavy, pregnant. She fumbled to turn on a lamp, but couldn’t find the switch. Then she heard dripping—as if it were raining, but inside. The sound came from her bedroom.
“Luc?” she called out. No answer came. She felt her way to the bedroom, found a light, switched it on.
The room was empty. The boy’s narrow bed was undisturbed. On the ceiling, drops of water were forming and falling into a puddle on the floor.
One flight above lived a graduate student in divinity and his kind wife, who had often taken Luc and watched him when Colette was at work. In fact Luc had a standing invitation from these neighbors to come up to their kitchen for milk and cookies any time he wanted—an invitation he’d taken advantage of more than once. The leak was surely coming from their apartment. Luc must be up there as well, Colette thought.
She went out into the unlit common stairwell of the dormitory building and, groping in the darkness, found the handrail and climbed the steps. A light showed beneath her friends’ door. She knocked; the door swung open. The small apartment