The Tower of Evil (Bye-Bye Mysteries) Page 13

  “Mr. Dragon sent business Harry’s way?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Can you remember anything in particular?”

  “No, it would be in the files, but that’s erased.”

  “Try Hyacinth, something may come to you.”

  The girl looked away, a pensive look on her face. Her profile was to die for.

  “Maybe there was something. Yes, I remember. Harry said he had a job for Karl Kinkaid. He thought it might lead to more, you know, legal work.”

  “I’m sure it would have.” She stood up. “I have to run, but good luck in your movie, no, I’m certain you’ll be a huge success.” She kissed the beautiful cheek. “You’ve been a big help to me.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  Byerly saw the black limo stop out front and knew at once whose it was. He looked around for Jamie, found him playing happily with his truck, picking up fallen blossoms on the floor, wheeling them to the trash. There was no place to hide him. The store was L-shaped, with a counter blocking the base. The workspaces were clearly visible.

  The woman who entered was a knockout, blonde and built with the imperiousness that comes from knowing she is a knockout, blonde and built. A respectful three paces behind strode the Ninja who had threatened him. He smiled at him, said, “Made any pancakes lately?” That earned him a scowl.

  The blonde approached the counter. “I’d like to speak to DeeDee.”

  “May I ask who wants to see her?” He knew damn well who she was, but he couldn’t resist letting a little air out of her.

  “I’m Mrs. Karl Kinkaid.”

  He thought of Josh Kinkaid and a woman crawling into his bed. “Of course, now I know where I’ve seen you, on TV, you’re that sex lady, Dr. Grunt, or is it Dr. Moan, I forget.”

  She whipped off her shades and looked at him. She might have just bitten into a lime. “Is DeeDee in?”

  “I’m afraid not, I’m her husband, Walter Byerly. May I help you?”

  Now she studied him, as though he were a rare species of beetle from Madagascar. “So you’re the one.” Now she looked behind the counter. “Is that the boy you call your grandson?”

  Nothing to do but face up to it. “Yes, he is.”

  “His name is Jamie, isn’t it?”

  That name was not in the paper. He said nothing.

  “Come here, Jamie.”

  The boy was nothing if not obedient. He stood up, took a couple of steps, but came no closer.

  “I said come here, little boy.”

  Byerly felt two small arms clutch his leg. Atta boy, Jamie!

  “You may be great on sex, Dr. Rut, but you haven’t quite got the handle on little boys, even if they are a product of sex. You see, one leads to the other, but they aren’t the same.”

  The look she lavished on him was usually reserved for excrement.

  “Now, if you’d like to make an appointment, I could give you a few pointers.”

  She turned. “Dirk, the boy.”

  The Ninja started around the counter. Jamie still holding on to his leg, Byerly moved to block his path. “I believe the expression is over my dead body.” He glanced at her. “It’ll look good in the tabloids, sex expert slays old man to steal a little boy. Really help out your image.”

  She glared at him a long moment, then turned on her spike heels and left, Dirk the Ninja following.

  “Nice to have met you, Cruella.”

  “Did you really call her Cruella?”

  “That was the tame stuff.” He looked at Jamie, sitting on a kitchen stool. “How’s the macaroni and cheese?”

  “Cheese.”

  “Can you say macaroni?”

  “Mack.”

  “That’s good enough.” He turned to Doreen. “He’s going to be a chef.”

  “Without a doubt.”

  The TV was on behind the counter, showing cartoons. Jamie watched some, but he was hardly rapt. “I have a theory, love. Kids don’t really like cartoons, at least little kids.”

  “Don’t tell the other Walt that.”

  She poured wine for both of them. “Honestly now, if you hadn’t learned all the nasty stuff, what would your impression of her be?”

  “Dr. Joy? You want the seminal male view I gather. Let me see. I’d notice her, that’s for sure, probably turn around and stare. She’s beautiful, blonde, built, buxom-“ He laughed. “Give me another B.”

  “Beguiling?”

  “Naw, too obvious for that. Maybe that’s the problem. She’s too perfect, all arranged, hair, lipstick, every thread.”

  “For an effect?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know which one.”

  “I gather you’d like to mess her up a bit.”

  “I’ll tell you what I’d really like to do—find out her age. It’s not listed anywhere. She could be thirties, sixties, maybe seventies. She looks like one of those aging actresses, who still looks like she did as an ingénue—only the skin on her kisser is stretched so tight, it’s ready to split.”

  Doreen laughed. “And they never show their necks or hands. Do you want me to visit the plastic man, love? Wouldn’t you like me to look like the girl you married?”

  “She was okay, but I like the one I got now, she’s sexier.”

  “How discerning of you.”

  He heard a knock at the door. “I’ll go, it’s probably Lupe.”

  “Too loud for her.”

  He opened the door on two deputy sheriffs, both burly. They looked like NFL tackles working their day jobs.

  “Is this the home of Walter and Doreen Byerly?”

  Before he could answer a second question came.

  “Do you have a boy named James Sykes here?”

  Both deputies pushed past him into the kitchen. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” He started to follow but a hand grabbed his arm, shoved a piece of paper at him.

  “This is a court order legally requiring you to turn over the boy to us.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “My name is Victor Dragon, I’m an attorney.”

  “The hell with you.” He jerked his arm away and turned to the kitchen. Doreen stood behind the counter, clutching Jamie, her eyes wide with fear.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Byerly, it’s a lawful order.” The deputy looked apologetic. “We have to take the boy.”

  Jamie began to cry.

  “You can’t take him, I won’t let you.” She clung to the now screaming boy, while the one deputy held her arms and the other pulled at Jamie.

  “Let him go, Doreen, you’ll get hurt.”

  Either she heard him or lost the battle, for Jamie was in the hands of the deputy. At once a woman he had not seen burst by him. “Oh, my darling little boy.”

  He turned to Victor Dragon. “And who is this woman?”

  “His mother, of course.”

  The woman clasped Jamie in her arms. “Oh, my precious little darling, did the bad lady hurt you?”

  Jamie was not placated. He screamed louder than ever and reached back toward Doreen as they carried him from the house.

  A heavy knot weighed on his chest, making breathing difficult. Doreen began to sob. He held her, tried to comfort her, but he didn’t know what to say.

  He left her to cry and went to the phone to call Lupe. She came at once and looked at the court order.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s a legal order signed by a judge.”

  He firmed his lips. “I was afraid of that. When?”

  “About an hour ago.”

  “Cruella sure didn’t waste any time.” He saw her confusion. “I’ll explain it sometime.” Lupe went to comfort Doreen. It seemed to help for she soon began to sniffle and blow. He paced the floor, forcing himself to think, not just feel. Soon he stopped in mid-stride. “Lupe, I don’t think that was Jamie’s mother. She didn’t look much like her photograph.”

  “By God, you’re right, darling, the woman was an imposter, I’m sure of it.”

  “Straight out
of Equity.” He went to falsetto. “’Oh, my precious darling, did the bad lady hurt you?’ Godawful! At least they could have hired someone who could act. Lupe, couldn’t we go to the judge, tell him—”

  “If you can prove fraud, you might stand a chance.”

  “We have her photograph. Even a judge can see there’s little resemblance.”

  Doreen was on her feet now. “Karen knows her, can identify her.”

  “And that girl in Boston, her roommate, what’s her—”

  “Cynthia Wu. Yes, she could definitely identify her.”

  Lupe kept shaking her head. “Sorry, kids, I know how much you want it another way, but you’re never going to see that woman again to prove who she really is.

  He sighed. “Or Jamie, for that matter.”

  18: Impregnable

  SHE WAS MOPPING THE KITCHEN FLOOR when he came downstairs, an inviolate sign she was upset. Doreen hated housework, considered it a God-given right to avoid it if at all possible. The gleaming stove, fridge, cupboards and now floor could only mean she was bargaining with God. She’d keep house if He’d give back the boy.

  “Did you get any sleep?”

  “Not enough to notice.” She didn’t look at him.

  “Can I walk across this to get my coffee?”

  “Yes, you may.”

  He poured then watched her. She was haggard, stretched thin, dangerously so, but almost done. He went to her, took the mop away. “Always wanted to be married to a charwoman.” She couldn’t even smile at that. He pretended to inspect the kitchen. “God’s gotten the message, I’m sure. Now we have to help Him by helping ourselves. We’ll get Jamie back, but not if you’re a basket case.”

  Her green eyes filled and her voice broke. “Aren’t you…the wise one.”

  “That’s why I get the big bucks.” He turned her toward a stool. “You sit, I’ll scramble, and we’ll plot strategy.”

  She sat, truly trying to pull herself together, but she was not wholly successful. “What do we do…first?”

  Good Girl! “First, I take a few days off from Care Wheels to work on this full time.”

  “Then?”

  “I talk to Judge Shepherd about what we can do legally.”

  “Don’t bother. Lupe’s right. We don’t have a prayer against Kinkaid’s money and Dragon’s clout.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “I have an idea.”

  It wasn’t bad, nor the next one or the one after that. Doreen was soon her old quicksilver self. Thank you, God. As much as she wanted the boy back, he wanted this woman more.

  “It strikes me, my red-haired darling, the chances of pulling this off are a bit like taking a swim without getting wet.”

  ”What else are we gonna do?”

  He nodded. “I think it’s time you met Josh Kinkaid.”

  “Can we trust him?”

  “To quote someone I’m close to—”

  “What else are we gonna do? One of my pithier remarks.”

  “I simply adore pithy women.”

  Byerly considered the El Paseo one of Santa Barbara’s treasures, a delightful maze of shops and restaurants off State Street, graced by fountains and flowers. It contained the authentic Street of Spain and the El Paseo Restaurant, where Josh and Addie were already seated when they arrived for lunch. Parcels surrounded Addie’s chair. She’d been shopping, obviously at Paseo Nuevo, a big, brassy mall across the way.

  Now she arose. “I’m thrilled to meet you, Mrs. Byerly.”

  “DeeDee, please.”

  “I can’t thank your husband enough for all he did for me.”

  “If you say any more I won’t be able get my head through the front door.” He shook her hand. “From the look of all those purchases you must have found an apartment.”

  “Better yet, a house,” Josh said. “Why waste money on all that rent. This way Mums has a nest, and I have a place to come home to.”

  “It’s just a small house on the Mesa, three bedrooms, but a grand view. Listed for $1.2 mil and they wouldn’t come down, if you can believe that.

  Doreen pretended to be shocked, but he knew she wasn’t. “Maybe we should put our house on the market, dear, cash in on such foolishness.”

  “We couldn’t afford to live here, then.”

  Yakking about houses and furnishing them went on for some time, through drinks and ordering. Finally he steered the conversation to what they’d come for. “Josh, I need your help, at least some information. The other day a little boy was dropped into our laps.”

  Doreen told the story. He added some details, mostly about losing Jamie last night.

  “We have reason to believe both Jamie and his mother—her name is Amanda Sykes—are being held at the Kinkaid castle…."

  “But why?” Addie asked.

  He grimaced. “Mandy Sykes is the only one who can tell us for sure, and we can hardly ask her until—”

  “They’d be in the tower,” Josh said, “and that place is—”

  “Impregnable, you told me. Are there any windows?”

  “At the top, facing the front.”

  “Could someone scale the walls and drop down to—”

  “Bars, Mr. Byerly, it won’t work. Strangely there’s no glass in the windows. I guess birds fly in regularly. When I was young I used to lob rocks inside, listen to them rattle around. Only I was caught and threatened with permanent banishment.”

  “Why do they keep it locked?” Doreen asked.

  “Secrets and locks are a way of life for some people. Granddad’s study was kept locked, although he let me in once.” He laughed. “All it needed was a few suits of armor—or maybe a roundtable for King Arthur.”

  “We need to get into that castle, Josh. How about breaking in at night?”

  “Tough. You’re talking walls, gates, sensors, cameras, three armed goons and a German Shepherd who’s pals with a Doberman.”

  “We were thinking maybe we could get in posing as servants,” Doreen said. “They have servants, don’t they?”

  “Not as many as you might think. Let’s see.” He actually counted on his fingers. “There’s a cook, Carmen, and her helper, Maria. You know her. Then there’s one maid, been with step-granny dearest a long time, and a housekeeper.” He thought a moment. “There used to be a butler, Jeeves, I think, no Jerome. Joy got rid of him and brought in this battleaxe, Hildegard Uberreich.” Josh laughed. “If you ever watch old movies, she’s Mrs. Danvers, only not as good-looking as Judith Anderson who played her in Rebecca.”