Excerpt
"Sure I do," said Jane. "There is no way that you could have learned that Celiaknew me unless Celia told you." The girl had really seen Celia, but that didn'tmean Celia was right about her. There had to be some other way, some sensiblesolution that Celia simply hadn't thought of. Jane wanted to say, "I'm not JaneWhitefield anymore. People who are about to die don't come to me anymore and askme to make them vanish. I can't leave my husband and take on your problem. Imade a promise." Maybe if she knew more, she could figure out a way to help thischild without risking her own chance for a new life. "What made you go toCelia?"
The girl said, "I went to her because she was nice to me once a few years ago,when my mother had a fight with her boyfriend and the police came. Celia saidthat if I was in trouble I should come back."
When Jane heard the word "mother," she felt a half-second of hope-that's right,she's a kid, so there's a mother-but the rest of the sentence dampened it."Where are your parents now?"
"My father ... I don't know about him. He was just another boyfriend, and hetook off when I was a baby. My mother, she had some trouble a couple of yearsago and. . ." The girl shrugged placidly. "You know. She's a doper."
So much for the mother. "How long has she been in jail?"
"A year and a half, about, counting the trial. They won't make her do the wholefive."
"What about you? Who has been taking care of you?"
The girl shrugged again. "My mother lied to them and said I had an aunt that wastaking care of me. I asked her to, and it was the least she could do aftersomething stupid like that: set me free. Otherwise, they lock you up in a countyhome, or they farm you out to foster parents, who lock you up at their house,and I wasn't the one who did anything to get locked up. So I bought some ID froma guy I used to watch in a park selling driver's licenses and Social Securitycards to Central Americans who came to pick fruit. I went all the way to Tampato search for jobs, so the ID didn't look too familiar."
Jane kept probing, listening for some statement that had to be a lie. "What wasthe job?"
"Hotel maid. You work pretty hard, but it was just cleaning and making beds, andI knew how to do that much."
Jane said, "All right, Rita. Let's get to your problem. Exactly what kind oftrouble are you in?"
"It's hard to say."
"You mean you don't know, or just that it's hard for you to tell me?"
"I don't really know. I was working at the hotel. There was this man who stayedthere a lot. He was nice. Kind of handsome for an old guy, and funny. His nameis Danny."
"How old?"
"At least thirty." She saw Jane's eyes begin to look as though she'd heard thestory before, and said hastily, "It's not that kind of trouble. Danny nevertouched me. He had a girlfriend. She never even pretended she wasn't married.The first time I saw her she had a wedding ring on, with a great big diamond. Hewould meet her at the hotel about once a week around lunch time, and they woulddo it for about an hour. Then she would slip out the back entrance and go to aparking ramp a block away where she put her car. Fancy."
"The car?"
"The car too, but mostly her. Very expensive clothes, a lot of jewelry, bighair. The car was a cream-colored Mercedes convertible. Danny was there on somekind of business, and for the rest of the day, other men would come to his room,some with briefcases and some with nothing, but all kind of... not quite clean,you know? Like they didn't get a shower that day, just put on their clothes andcombed their hair."
"And?"
"Danny knew that I knew what was going on. One day I'm on his hall when sheleaves in a hurry, practically running. He came into a room I was cleaning andgave me twenty bucks to give his room a quick clean-up first. The man who wasgoing to be there in about fifteen minutes was this woman's husband."
"He told you that?"
She smiled and shook her head. "No. He kind of gave me a sheep-face grin, like Iwas the one who caught him at something. A few minutes later I couldn't helpknowing. It was the car. The man drove up to the front of the hotel with a carso the valet would park it, and it was the same one the girlfriend had used theweek before. Anyway, I had just cleaned the room, got rid of everything that hadher lipstick on it or smelled like her perfume." She frowned. "It was a goodthing, too. Her husband was scary. He was maybe sixty, and he wasn't big, but hehad eyes like one of those turtles at the zoo they tell you is four hundredyears old-and how they found that out, I'd like to know. I mean, who was there?But you get the picture about him. He had three guys with him. Two came in adifferent car, but they were all wrong. You know how you can see somebody andsomething inside you says, This isn't normal? The three were all young-latetwenties or thirties-and they were just wrong. They wore suits, but they didn'tlook like men who wear suits. They were all big, like weight lifters, and thesuits looked like they all bought them in the same store on the same day, and itwas yesterday. You see men like that, but not usually three of them."
"So what happened?"
"Nothing. They came and left in about a half hour. My friend Danny came outlooking like he just got to the end of a tightrope, and smiled at me again. Nexttime he came to town, he offered me a job."
"What kind of job?"
"It was the same thing-cleaning. He offered me three times what I was getting atthe hotel. There was this house in the Keys, and I was supposed to clean it.That's all."
Jane sighed. "And it turned out there was more to the job than cleaning."
"No," said Rita. "That was it."
Jane decided not to make more guesses aloud. Maybe this Danny just figured thatif he could bribe her to keep his secret, the husband could bribe her to revealit.
Rita said, "It was a beautiful house, on the ocean. The one who lived there wasa nice old man. I was there for a year. It was great."
"When did it stop being great?"
"Three days ago. The old man went away for a little trip. My friend Danny tookhim to the airport at four in the morning. I figured this was a great chance toshow off, so I spent the whole day giving the house a real cleaning. There'snothing in that place that can be polished or waxed or shined that wasn't thatday. I didn't stop until about nine at night. I took a shower and fell asleep assoon as I was off my feet. The next thing I know, there are eight or nine bigguys. They come into the house in the middle of the night-not like burglars.They were talking loud and stomping around like they were in a big hurry. For asecond or two, I thought it must be firemen coming in because I left somethingplugged in and started a fire. Then three of them come into my room. They lookwrong, like the ones at the hotel. They haul me out of bed. One starts asking meall kinds of questions-where the old man kept this, or that. I don't know any ofthe answers. When they figure that out and go down the hall, I go straight tothe closet and start packing. One of them comes in again, and when he sees thesuitcase, he flips it over on the bed and says I'm not leaving. I'm going withthem."
"Did he say where?"
"He said 'To see Mr. Delfina.'"
Jane's jaw tightened. "Do you know who that is?"
"No. But it sounded like I was supposed to. You know: Mister."
Jane stopped listening, but the girl didn't notice. "So I left the suitcasethere on the bed where they could see it, and left my clothes and everything,and I put my money and ID and my mother's picture and stuff in my jacketpockets. After daybreak, most of them left. There were only three of themsearching the closets and the attic, and one in the back yard. I went out thesliding door off the patio on the side, went over the wall, and walked to thebus stop. . .
Jane watched the girl's lips move, and she knew she should be listening, orshould tell the girl to stop because she would have to hear it all. The girldidn't know that she was thinking about the husband she loved so deeply, andthat her eyes weren't focused on the kitchen window because she wasconcentrating on the story. She was looking at it because she was getting usedto the idea that she might never see it again. The girl didn't know that she hadsaid the only word that had needed to be said: Delfina.
After a moment, Jane turned and switched off the burners on the stove and closedthe window, then walked through the house checking the others. When she cameback the girl was standing beside the table, her skinny arms now crossed on herchest so each hand gripped the opposite elbow as though she were protectingherself from the cold. Jane said, "Does anyone besides Celia Fulham know youcame here?"
"No," said the girl. "I never heard of you before yesterday, and I didn't getoff the bus until I got to Celia."
"What about after that? Where did you sleep last night?"
"A hotel." She reached into her pocket, pulled out a pack of matches, and handedit to Jane. "I kept those so I'd know my way home."
Jane's eyebrows knitted as she looked at the matchbook. The girl had called ithome, and it was probably as much of a home as anywhere. Jane knew the hotel,and it wasn't the sort of place she had expected. It wasn't a cheap, obscurecluster of wooden buildings on a little-used highway. It was a big, respectablehotel. Jane returned the matchbook. "I know where it is. What name did you useto rent the room?"
"My name?" It was a question.
Jane needed to be sure. "You used your own name. Rita Shelford."
"Well, almost. My mother called me Anita, and that's what it says on my birthcertificate. Her name is Ann, and she decided I was like a miniature her. Reallydumb, huh?" She didn't detect a reaction from Jane. "So that's what my creditcard says too."
Jane hid her uneasiness. "Have you checked out yet?"
"No," said Rita. "I had to have some place to sleep in case I didn't find you.And I brought some stuff with me that I didn't want to carry around, because Imight lose it."
"Is it important?"
The girl hesitated, confused.
"Let me explain," said Jane. "If it's anything that money can replace, or thatyou can live without, it's not important. If finding it will tell someone whoyou are and where you went next, it's very important."
The girl looked down at her feet, then at Jane. "It's important."
Jane picked up her purse from the little cloakroom off the kitchen and checkedto be sure her keys were in it. "Let's go get it and check you out."
"Now?" The girl had sensed the urgency.
"Now," said Jane. She stopped to scribble a note on the pad stuck to therefrigerator where she had written shopping lists. "Something came up. Dinner'sready on the stove. Just heat it. I'll call you later. Love, Jane." Sheconsidered writing "Don't worry," then put the note as it was on the dining roomtable. It was hard to imagine how lying to Carey would make it any easier forhim to accept what she was going to have to tell him.
Continues...
Excerpted from Blood Moneyby Thomas Perry Copyright © 2002 by Thomas Perry. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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