The Lady Vanishes
A case, in which Jack is missing sleep, Sam is missing simpler times, Martin is missing lunch, Vivian is missing her family, Danny is missing a vacation, and a Society matron is plain missing.
Disclaimer: Mine, all mine! Oh, well, a girl can dream.
Thank you to all faithful readers, especially Anmodo, Mariel3, and SpyMaster – you guys rock!
SpyMaster: it NEVER gets old! LOL.
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"What can you tell me? Is she really missing? What is being done? Should I call someone else? I can pay for a State-wide search if need be. . . ."
"Mr. Stevens-Newber, please, sit down. Let me assure you that we are doing everything possible, and that, largely thanks to the special priority status of this case, we have access to all the resources and man power necessary." Jack took the frazzled man by the elbow and stirred him toward a small, glass-walled private space allocated to them courtesy of LaGuardia management.
The great man was short. Not so much that it would have served as an impediment in his life, but enough to be a surprise. For some reason Jack expected Mr. Stevens-Newberg to be taller, broader in shoulders, and more imposing. He was also far less impeccably attired as his position, his status, his home, and his wife would have indicated. He was clearly distressed and his suit reflected that: wrinkles and creases were prominent, even for an outfit that just completed trans-Atlantic flight.
He allowed himself to be lead to the room, and settled in a plastic airport chair with discomfort apparent in someone used to much more comfortable accommodations. His arms moved uncertainly as if in search of cushy armrests, and he finally let them drop, palms on his knees, fingers curled into semi-fists.
"Mr. Stevens-Newberg, we apologize for meeting you here in this way, but time is important."
"Of course. I understand. . . . Do I need my attorney?"
Jack and Sam were taken aback: "Why would you need an attorney?"
The man gave a defeated sigh.
"You are probably aware that my company is being investigated. Some of your colleagues confiscated a lot of documents. It got out, somehow, and mother. . . . Mother doesn't understand. . . . Anyway, isn't it why you are here? Because you think her disappearance has something to do with it?"
"At this point, sir, we have no definite theories. It is certainly a concern, and - I won't lie to you - it has crossed out minds. At this point we are following all and any leads, and we need to ask you some questions, none of which would require the presence of your attorney. However, if you'd feel more comfortable. . . ."
The man shook his head. "It's all right. It was a knee-jerk reaction. I've gotten used to the FBI asking me questions lately, as well as the presence of various lawyers. Please, if it'll help, ask me anything you think you need to know."
Sam flipped her little note book open. "Mr. Stevens-Newberg, your phone records indicate that you and your mother spoke for quite some time, several times yesterday. Can you tell us what that was about?"
The man fidgeted with the hem of his jacket and Jack suddenly got a flash of a child he must have been: fussy, insecure, apprehensive of others, and evasive even when there was no need to be.
"Mother called. Three times. The first two were about the company. I don't know how she found out. I understand that Federal probes, much like Grand Jury inquiries, are sealed. She is still on the Board, of course, but mostly in honorary capacity. She has turned over all the business side to me some years ago."
"Found out about the investigation, you mean?"
"Yes, that, and the alleged fraud. I've been informed that the charges are soon to be filed. 'Anti-Trust' and numerous counts of embezzlement. I say alleged, because, really - and you must believe me on this - it is all a gigantic mistake. I have made some bad choices hiring some people. . . ."
"Mr. Stevens-Newberg, this is not our area, and, honestly, not the time to talk about it. What did your mother say?"
"She was furious. Mother can be so rigid sometimes. She is old generation, and, in many ways, the business operations these days are far beyond her comprehension."
Sam raised her eyebrows: "That's not what we've been led to believe. Your mother, as recently as four years ago, was the head of the company, and a very successful one at that. Surely, the business hasn't changed that much in four years?"
Mr. Stevens-Newberg fussed some more. "A lot can change in four years, believe me."
"The management certainly has. As did some business practices." Sam said it as an aside, but the shot has gone home.
"Are you implying I am not qualified to lead the company? That it's all my fault?"
"I am not implying anything. I am looking at the data and the implication seems to be right there." Sam used her most innocent voice.
"Mr. Stevens-Newberg," Jack interceded, claiming the aggrieved man's attention, "like I said, the company and its management is not our concern. We need to find your mother, and for that, we need to know everything she did yesterday, and, possibly, before. You say that the first two times she called about the company. Why did she call twice about that?"
His eyes darted around, their expression genuinely miserable: "I hung up on her the first time. . . . She was very angry when she called, and I couldn't talk in that tone. I told her she was overreacting, but that just set her off even more."
"Is she prone to overreaction?"
"Ah, no, not exactly. Not usually. Normally, she is more than fair, but, like I said, she doesn't allow for the differences. . . . Agent Malone, I love my mother, and I fully appreciate her brilliance. I do. I am not a fool, and I have always known that following in my parents' footsteps would be, to put it mildly, a challenge. I can deal with challenges, but the expectations that are placed upon me are sometimes too daunting. I wish I was as incredibly apt as my mother to grasp the big picture, but wishing does not get it done. So, I had to get help, and if that help turned out to be my undoing, surely it wasn't entirely my fault! That is what mother failed to understand. . . . All my life I am afraid of disappointing her. And I seem to do nothing but disappoint her."
It was a well-coached self-rationalization, and Jack, with his knowledge of psychology, didn't fail to pick up on that. The question was, though, whether Mr. Stevens-Newberg used it as some sort of an emotional alibi either for his mother's disappearance or his company's fraudulent practices.
As it was, something akin to pity stirred in Jack's heart. Trying to live up to your parents' expectations was a predicament familiar to him. His entire stint in the Army was a testament to that. Jack pushed the pity aside. This man, pitiful though he may be, was not the one in need of a rescue. Not Jack's kind of rescue, anyway.
"You didn't care for her tone, so you hung up on your mother," Sam continued the questioning, undisturbed by this man's thinly veiled plea for sympathy. "She called you back right away, it seems. Did she, in the course of any of those conversations, mention - or threaten - a plan to leave? To go somewhere and not come to your daughter's wedding?"
"No! She wouldn't do that! Mother - though she can be as tough as nails - is not manipulative. She'd never try to blackmail anyone emotionally. And she certainly wouldn't do it to her grandchildren. It's not their fault."
"I see. So, when your granddaughter called you this morning and told you your mother was missing, why did you dismissed her concern in such an offhand manner?"
The man shrugged uncomfortably. "It's Allie. She fusses, and her imagination runs away with her sometimes. . . . And I didn't dismiss it offhand. I called Coco. My wife assured me that mother was going to the Hamptons, and if she changed her mind or stopped somewhere on her way, then it is her prerogative. My mother, Agent Spade, is an independent and sometimes unpredictable woman. She was upset. She may have gone to visit an old friend, or a place of sentiment. The fact that she hadn't informed us of her decision did not necessarily mean that she would not have done so later. In short, I didn't believe that there was cause for concern. Not during Allie's initial alarm. . . . Partly because of mother's third call yesterday, I must add."
"Yes, that third call. You said the first two were about the company. But the third one wasn't?"
"No. It came in later. It must have been just after 3 o'clock in New York. It was a little after 10 in Paris. The first two, as you know, were made in the morning. She was furious, but a lot calmer than when she first called. This one was about the wedding. Something to do with the guest list. I honestly didn't listen very carefully. See, I have already gone to bed, and I had a few drinks to ease my headache. . . . It has been a difficult day. Mother's voice was icy. I know, when she gets like that, the best thing to do is let her talk it out and not contradict. She talked, she reviled Coco, and she said something about the 'last straw.' You've got to understand, I try to not position myself in the middle, between my wife and my mother."
"But you are in the middle," noted Jack, somewhat bemused. "You are so position by the very definition of these relationships. What you are saying is that you tried not to mediate them."
"Exactly. Coco is high-strung. Well-meaning, but high-strung. And a bit intimidated by my mother. Then again, who isn't? And mother, excellent though her behavior has always been toward my wife, sometimes does not make allowances for the difference in character, perspective, or understanding."
"Mr. Stevens-Newberg, we already have an idea that the two women did not exactly like each other. What we need to know is this: did your mother tell you she was going to talk to your wife?"
"At the end, yes. She demanded I call Coco and make her invite some friend of hers to the wedding. Her exact words were: 'You owe me at least that much!' Implication being, I have disappointed her in every other way. I suppose I do, owe her a lot. But by that time I was a little drunk, and tired, and I just couldn't handle any more confrontations that day. And calling my wife and demanding she revise the guest list was surely a way to yet another confrontation. So, I said no."
"What did your mother say?"
"She didn't say much." He inhaled a deep breath - a sound between a sigh and a sob. "She informed me that, as always, she would have to straighten things out herself. I took it to mean, she was going over to our place to confront Coco. . . . You see, this is why, when Allie called this morning and told me mother was missing, I didn't take it seriously. I knew they would have come to blows yesterday, and mother would want to go somewhere to be away from all of us for a while. I just didn't think she'd disappear altogether. . . . Did I do wrong?"
Once again, a child was asking this question. A 51-year-old child in a wrinkled $2,000 handmade suit and an expression of utter bewilderment in his eyes.
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"Penny for your thoughts," Danny stole a glance at Vivian. They were driving downtown after dropping Allie off at her Upper East Side doorstep.
Vivan smiled and shook her head: "Nothing, really. I was thinking about Allie's observations on her family and suddenly realizing how much I've missed mine."
Danny was surprised.
"Missed them? Did they go somewhere?"
"No, but it feels like I did. I've been working too many hours lately, and may be the cases are finally getting to me, but I've been feeling tired for a while now. I hardly have time for Reggie these days, and none at all for Marcus, it seems. . . . We had an argument this morning."
"You and Marcus? What about?"
"About my work and my general condition. I've been feeling tired, like I said, and a bit down. I have this flu that I can't seem to shake. That is, the flu-like symptoms are gone, but it left me wiped, weakened, and half-asleep most of the time. Marcus wants me to take some time off to go see a doctor, may be."
"You should!" Danny said vehemently. "You have been working too hard. And when was the last time you took a vacation?"
"Vacation? What's that?" Vivan smiled at him with mock compassion: "Isn't it the event where you go to the airport, wait for the boarding to be announced, and then drive back to the City for another case?"
Danny gave a sad little laugh. "It seems to be that for me. But, seriously, it doesn't have to be like that for you, Viv. I have no family and very few responsibilities outside work. They can't drag you back with the same ease and justification."
"They can, if they know I want to advance at some point." Viv paused and Danny didn't contradict: he knew well how much of a sore point the Promotion That Didn't Happen still was with her.
"Viv," he finally said, "You are entitled to a vacation once in a while. Or to some down time. No one, not even the stingiest boss of them all, is going to hold the fact that you have a life against you."
"I would like to believe that, and that's just what Marcus said this morning. He thinks I do this so I can prove a point. I don't. I'm over the whole mess. I just don't want the next opportunity to pass me by. . . . And I am not at all confused as to where my priorities are. The job - though I love it - doesn't come close to Reggie and my husband. I was trying to explain that to him."
"Are things so bad you have to explain this?"
"Oh, Danny. . . . Families . . . they fight without a slightest provocation sometimes. Doesn't mean things are bad. Just means that being too close to someone can distort perspective. . . . Marcus and I are always honest with each other - one of the best things about our marriage. And the rest of it. . . . Reggie can be a pain: he is marking his teenage years with a capital T. But I know he loves me and his father, and that, underneath all that rebellion he feels he has to engage in, he'd never try to deliberately hurt us. We did this much, Marcus and I: we raised him to know we love him. As to this morning's fight, Marcus cares deeply, and I can get angry all I want, but I know that his accusations stem from concern and fear for my well-being."
"More's the reason to take it easy for a while, Viv. Truly, you should! You husband is not the only one who's been noticing that you are more tired lately, and he is not the only one worried that, perhaps, the events of last year took their toll on you."
Vivan smiled half defiantly, half affectionately: "Don't you start with me! I can't fight this battle on two fronts. I ended up promising Marcus faithfully to go see a doctor. After that, may be I'll even request a vacation. Who knows? I may make it all the way to the boarding gate!"
Danny laughed somewhat relieved.
"What about your family?" Vivian continued unexpectedly. "How's that going?"
Danny looked up in surprise: "What family?"
"Come on, you know I mean your brother and his kid."
"Oh, them. . . . A brother, whom until recently, I haven't seen in more than a decade, and whom, incidentally, I haven't considered my 'family' for way longer than that. A nephew, of whose existence I new nothing and around whom I feel nine kinds of awkward. That family. . . . Believe me, I feel much more invested in Reggie and Jack's girls than I am in Nicky."
"Well, that's understandable. It was a bit of a shock. But, Danny, you don't get invested unless you invest. Time, and patience, and forgiveness. It's bound to get better ."
Danny shrugged uncomfortably. "Is it? I wonder if my relationship with Raphie, and, by extension, with Nicky, is way beyond repair of time and patience. And I won't even touch forgiveness. That's too loaded an issue. . . . Too much has happened, and too much time has passed, Viv. I take one look at my brother and, suddenly, I am 13 again, and scared out of my mind, because I am about to go and nock over a liquor store at Raphie's and his drug buddies' urging."
"You are definitely not that kid anymore. . . ."
"I know that. Intellectually, I know that. Emotionally, though. . . . Let's just say that this kid keeps visiting me every time I even think of Raphie now. I was doing well, Viv. I even managed to forget about my brother's existence for a while. But here he is again, and it's as if nothing has changed."
"Well, he has changed, hasn't he? Didn't you tell me he was working in some car-repair business, supporting his family, trying to reconnect with you?"
"He is trying, I'll give him that. It's just . . . I can't shake the feeling that we've been through this many times before. He'd promise to change, he'd try to change, and he'd end up right where he started. And I just can't go through that again. I just can't."
"But people do change, sometimes. Even addicts. You did."
"You mean I've got it under control. I don't know about any profound changes. . . . Bottom line is, I can't hope, I can't expect anything, and I can't let him take the kind of emotional control over me that I once allowed him to have. I want to hope for the best, I just don't believe it."
Vivian asked, perplexed: "Why did you testify for him at his parole hearing, then?"
Danny smiled ruefully: "He guilted me into it. . . . I do owe him something, Viv. That was me paying my debt. . . . He invited me to this big 'Coming Out' party after his release. It was an interesting shindig. His fiancée, Nicky, his fiancée's brother - Raphie's current employer, who owns the body shop they work at - brother's wife with two toddlers, and me. They invited Raphie's parole officer, but he demurred. It was, in a word, painful. A group of people connected by circumstances, celebrating something that is tainted by definition, and trying desperately to act and feel like a family. I stayed as short a while as possible within the bounds of polite behavior, and ran like hell home."
Vivan sighed: "I'm sorry I brought it up."
"It's OK. You care, and I don't mind telling you this. . . . Me and Raphie, we were strangers long before his first stint in Juvie. We are worse than that now: strangers united by blood - most of it bad - and obligations."
"Are you going to see him at all, then?"
"Well, that's what obligations imply, Viv. Yes, I will see him, mostly for Sylvia's and Nicky's sake. A few times a year, for holidays and such. Nicky's birthday is coming up in February. I've been invited."
"I can hear the enthusiasm in your voice," Vivan said sardonically.
"Yeah, I can't wait!"