Laced

“Forget those rings!” he growled, licking the empty spot inside his mouth where Dr. Sharkey’s cap had been.

“I know, I know,” A

“Well, don’t rest too easy. My cap is somewhere on the kitchen floor!”

“Oh, no!” A

“Oh, yes. We’ve got to get out of here on the first flight possible.”

Wednesday, April 13th

45

Brian’s eyes flew open. He immediately sensed something was very wrong. With great dread he turned his head toward the illuminated clock radio on the night table. It was 5:01! They were due at Margaret’s house a minute ago! “Ohhhhhhhh!” he bellowed, flicking on the light.

Sheila stirred in her sleep. The dark eyebrow pencil that she had been too tired to wash off had smeared the pillowcase.

Brian shook her shoulder. “Sheila! Wake up!”

“Huh?”

“We overslept! This was not part of our game plan!”

Sheila’s eyes fluttered open. “I thought you set the alarm.”

“I did!” Brian leaned over and impatiently pushed the buttons on the black plastic clock radio. “Oh my God. I set it for 3:45 P.M!”

Sheila jumped out of bed. “We’ll get out of here in five minutes, but it’s at least a half-hour walk!”

Brian picked up the phone and called the front desk. He hadn’t wanted to order an early wake-up call because he thought it would arouse suspicion. He and Sheila had pla

“Hold on.”

Brian could hear the clerk talking to a cab company in an a

“Mr. O’Shea, that will be forty-five minutes.”

“Forty-five minutes!”

“Yes, sir. Should I go ahead and place the order? We can bill it to your room.”

“No! That’s too long! Thank you.” Brian hung up. “Wear your sneakers, Sheila!” he ordered. “We’re going to run all the way to Margaret’s.”

“Call Margaret and tell her we’ll be late,” Sheila suggested as she rushed around the room.

“I’m afraid she might tell us to forget the whole thing.”

They threw on clothes, brushed their teeth, and were out the door in a flash. In his frenzy Brian pulled the door so hard that it sounded as if it had been slammed shut.

Down the hall Regan woke up, startled by the loud noise. She heard a woman’s voice admonishing, “Be careful!”

“I’m sorry!”

Sheila and Brian, she thought. Regan looked at the clock. It was 5:07. What in the world are they up to now?

46

After Keith got the call that Hortense Hager was home, he raced to La Guardia Airport and caught a ten o’clock flight to Rochester. A patrol car picked him up at the airport, and by midnight he was ringing Mrs. Hager’s doorbell.

“I hope she’s still up,” Keith said to the young patrolman.

The patrolman laughed. “You don’t have to worry. Hortense drives her snowmobile at all hours. We get complaints about the noise.”

The door was pulled open by a wild-haired woman in her seventies wearing ratty snow pants and a sweatshirt. But her makeup was perfect.

Love the makeup, Keith thought. Please let this be a case of like mother, like daughter.

“Hello, Phil,” the woman said. “I know I still have my snow pants on, but I put the snowmobile away a couple of hours ago. The neighbors shouldn’t be complaining.”

“No, Mrs. Hager, that’s not what we’re here about. This gentleman needs to speak to you.”

“Was there an accident?” she asked nervously. “I just spoke to my daughter a few hours ago…and my son sent me an e-mail this afternoon.”

“No,” Keith answered. “I’m with the NYPD,” he said and showed her his badge. “I would like to ask you some questions about your daughter.”

“About A

“Yes. May we come in?”

“I suppose I have to say yes,” she said, her tone now feisty.

She knows this isn’t a social call, Keith thought as they followed her inside to her den where a big-screen television was tuned to a cable news station. The embers of a fire were burning in the fireplace. The furniture was well worn but comfortable. The room had the feeling of a homey ski lodge.

“This is where I spend most of my time,” she said as she pushed the remote button and turned off the television. “Have a seat and tell me what you want to know.”

Keith and Phil sat on the afghan-covered couch. “Could you tell me where your daughter lives now and what she does for a living?”

Hortense sat on an overstuffed chair. “A

Keith raised his eyebrows. “Sounds nice.”

“I suppose. Her husband is a consultant. His job requires them to be on the go constantly.”

You’re not kidding, Keith thought. “Where is A

Hortense paused. “I don’t know.”

“But didn’t you say you just talked to her?”

“I did. But his job is-I know it sounds silly, but he doesn’t like to disclose where they are. Someone could be tapping my phone, you know.”

“It sounds as if his job could be dangerous,” Keith suggested.

“I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“Do you have a cell phone number where we could reach her?”

“No.”

“So if there was an emergency, you couldn’t get in touch with your own daughter?”

“She calls every week. Listen, if something happens to me or her brother, she’ll know soon enough.”

“Do you have an e-mail address for A

“No, I don’t. If I need to leave her a message, I blog onto Sweetsville’s message boards and make a comment. A

“Could you tell me her husband’s name?

“Bobby.”

“And his last name?”

“Marston.”

“Where did they meet?”

“In New York City. He moved into an apartment across the street from her in Greenwich Village. They bumped into each other in the corner deli, and the rest is history.”

That’s for sure, Keith thought. “So I guess he wasn’t doing any of his top-secret consulting at that time?” he asked, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “I mean, he had an apartment then but he doesn’t now?”

“What can I say?” Hortense spat. “They met, fell in love, and got married. He changed jobs. People do.”

“What did he do then?”

“I can’t remember.”

“What about A

“She was a make-up artist. And a very good one!”

Keith’s heart skipped a beat.

“Mrs. Hager, are you telling me that you can’t get in touch with your daughter at this moment? You have no idea where in the world she is?”

“Listen to me! I’m not happy about it. She could be in the Witness Protection Program for all I know! I hardly get to see her. But she’s still my daughter.”

“What did she say on the phone tonight?” Keith asked.

“We didn’t talk long. She told me that Bobby wasn’t feeling well. The cap on his front tooth fell out-the kind of thing that normal people talk about. Nothing high drama. Then my doorbell rang, and I hung up. It was a policeman asking about my snowmobile. I now realize the visit was nothing but a phony excuse to see if I was here so they could bring you around.”

“Mrs. Hager,” Keith said, “we’re interested in locating A

Hortense Hager’s eyes bore holes in Keith’s. “Are you saying I wasn’t a good mother? That she’s acting this way because I didn’t raise her right?”

“What? Not at all.”