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.
This is, finally, the last chapter of what turned out to be a longer and a sadder story then I originally intended. I couldn't help it: sometimes it leads you.
I want to say another heartfelt thank you to all who responded and told me how they felt about this fic. I am grateful and moved by all of your kindness and attention.
xxxxxx
They were a somber group around the table. If Monday morning brought hope, Tuesday morning was bereft of it completely. They all hated that feeling when the case was over and the results were of the worst possible kind, and all that remained were the paperwork - un-tempered by satisfaction and a sense of completion - and the debris of people's lives to sort through.
Jack swallowed the dregs of what was probably his fourth cup of coffee. He knew it wasn't doing his perpetual headache any good, but he was past caring.
"The DA's office is about to file preliminary charges." No one said anything and he continued after a short pause: "Manslaughter. They are still on the fence about the voluntary/involuntary specifics. I hear they are going to take her into custody today."
Vivian shrugged: "She'll probably be out on bail in no time. With the entire Peabody Morgan marching in to deliver it."
"Would the husband post bail, though?" Danny was slightly perplexed.
"Of course he would," Vivian looked at him questioningly.
"No, Viv, there is no 'of course' about it. I mean: my wife kills my mother, I will at least pause before I bail her out!" Danny couldn't keep incredulity out of his voice.
"He'll post bail," Jack rubbed his exhausted eyes, "whatever his feelings are in the matter, he is too obsessed with appearances. Besides, the mother is already dead, and the wife is very much alive and not of the easily-dismissed kind."
"Are you seriously suggesting they'll be able to preserve their marriage past this?"
"I have no idea what they will or won't be able to do. About anything. I'm just fairly certain he'll post bail and sit through the trial, presenting, as always, the united family front. That is, if there is a trial. She may just plead to it and make a deal, depending on what all the charges will amount to. And also, if Stevens-Newberg himself isn't standing trial for fraud at the time."
"Would the Governor intercede on her behalf, do you think?"
Jack shook his head. "I'd be very surprised. For starters, there's precious little he can do. It's up to the District Attorney's office, and if these guys decide to throw a book at the madam. . . . Besides, the Governor may have played golf with Stevens-Newberg, but it was his father that was the Governor's personal friend, and, consequently, the lady. I doubt the Governor is in the mood to help out her killer."
Another depressed silence ensued. Martin broke it, pushing aside the plate with his half-eaten bagel. "What about Frank?"
Jack shrugged again: "DA is charging him as an accessory. Who knows if it'll survive summary judgment, though. Frank's finally wizened up and hired a new lawyer. He is not moving to California any time soon, that I can tell you."
Martin sighed: "Poor Mrs. Argello. It's tougher for people like her: living in their own world of denial and half-truths, thinking they are protected, and then something like this comes crushing down, and they have no idea how to cope."
"She'll probably invent another delusion to hide behind. Or buy some more 'Precious Moments.' It's not her I feel bad about. It's the kids." Danny was fiddling with his now empty coffee cup, his eyes bloodshot and his heart heavy. "Even Blake. I mean, she is a flaky, but she is not a bad person. Certainly nowhere near as hardened as her mother or as cowardly as her father. And we haven't met the son, but I can't imagine the shock of all of this on a 16-year-old kid coming home from a boarding school for his sister's wedding. . . ."
"And Allie?" Vivian squeezed Danny's fidgeting hand in a compassionate gesture.
"Allie. Yes. . . . I still haven't talked to her. I should have probably gone back yesterday, or at least called. Or someone should have. . . . I don't know what to say to her."
The sad silence was back. It was interrupted by Sam, who entered the area with a purposeful gate and a worried face.
"Guys, Mr. Stevens-Newberg just called. Allie's missing!"
"How?" "What?" "When?" "What do you mean, missing?" They all spoke at once.
"Apparently, she left last night. Her bed wasn't slept in."
Danny clenched his fists: "And he is just calling now!"
Sam shook her head: "They didn't know. As you can imagine, it was not a calm and peaceful household yesterday. What with Camilla wailing, and her husband shocked out of his apathy, and Blake running between the two of them trying to restore some semblance of sanity, and the press beating down their doors, and the phones ringing off the hook, and the maid going crazy, Allie has probably slipped out under the radar, by the back door, without being noticed. They all thought she just shut herself up in her room, and when Blake went to wake her up for school this morning, she wasn't there, her bed untouched. She didn't take her school bag or her cell phone, so they can't even call her."
Danny felt bile rising in his throat: "Are you telling me no one, at any point yesterday, has checked in with her? No one has thought it necessary to - I don't know - comfort the girl? No one has had any idea that she'd be upset!"
"Danny, they may not have known how."
Vivan's words rang true, if hallow. After all, Danny told himself, he didn't know how, either. He has already admitted that he didn't have the strength to talk to the girl yesterday. Still - he bit his lip in real, unadulterated rage - they were her family! Someone in that confounded household should have found the time and the courage to at least check on Allie.
"She didn't show up at school, right? We know that for a fact?" Danny turned to Sam again.
"No, that was the first place the father called. She isn't there. And before you ask, she is not at the house, either. They ransacked it top to bottom."
"Have they looked in the fridge?" Jack caught himself almost immediately, but the remark was out and hung in the air like a visible black balloon.
Sam gasped, but no one else made a sound. They just looked at him. The way they have been looking at him lately, with ever more increasing frequency. As if he was a tricky time bomb about to go off.
"Jack, that wasn't funny," it was Vivan who finally spoke.
"Sorry. No, it wasn't. It's this headache I can't seem to get rid of. It impairs my judgment. . . . I'm sorry."
They let out their collective breaths.
Danny, still looking at Jack, said: "I think I may know where she is."
Vivian turned to him and smiled: "I think I may, too."
"Let's go, Viv, I'll drive." Danny was out of the room before Vivian could reply.
xxxx
She was sitting in the same position she took that first day he met her: in a chair, her knees up to her chin, hands gripping the armrests, probably in an attempt to hold on to something solid.
The room was dark. January mornings, devoid of early light, called for the supplemental illumination, but Danny understood why she didn't want to turn on any lamps. The doorman on duty - the same green-clad "Kibler Elf" of two days ago - told them that the last-night's guy on duty saw her come in. He was apologetic, but since she is the granddaughter, and since the FBI didn't say no one could go in. . . . Danny and Viv waved him off and sped toward the elevator.
She didn't turn her head when they came in, but they were acknowledged by slightly distressed Truman, who ran up to them and barked plaintively. Danny picked up the dog and petted his bewildered ears.
"He's been freaking out," Allie said, her eyes still fixed on some distant object, her voice detached, as if speaking to no one in particular.
"At home, all late Sunday and yesterday morning, he kept running like mad around the place and skipping down to the kitchen. . . . I thought he was just hungry. . . . He probably could smell grammy. Or maybe I'm just being morbid. . . ."
"Allie," Vivan put a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder. "Have you slept at all?"
"Slept?" She turned to face the agents, her eyes unfocused, genuine surprise in them. "I don't remember. . . ."
Danny longed to ask if the girl has eaten anything, but didn't.
Vivian nodded her head in resolution. "You know what? I am going to make some tea. Do you know if there's tea in the kitchen?"
"Probably. . . ." Allie was trying to concentrate visibly, "The real kind, too. Grammy hated those fruity concoctions."
Vivan made her way to the kitchen, leaving Danny alone with the girl. He looked about for another chair, and finally set on the low, comfortable sofa facing Allie, still holding on to the somewhat subdued Yorkie for comfort and support.
"It's all my fault." She said it quietly, almost inaudibly, and Danny had to strain his ears to make sure he heard right.
"Allie, no! In no way what happened was your fault! It was a terrible tragedy and a horrific accident, and, however culpable others may be, you are not!"
Allie shook her head vehemently, tears, that she tried to hide before, very evident in her eyes. "Yes, I am! Do you know what I did when all the shouting reached my room Saturday night? I put my headphones on! I didn't want to hear them fight, I didn't want to know! I heard mom raising her voice, and I even heard grammy. . . . Must have been when Blake was leaving the room - the doors got flung open. . . . And I didn't want to go there and ask what was going on, I didn't want mom to yell at me, I was trying to avoid confrontation. . . . Just like dad! . . . I am a coward!"
"Allie, listen to me," Danny set the dog down on the floor and took a step toward the girl in the chair, "you are the furthest from a coward I know! So you tried to avoid confrontation? Who wouldn't? You are a kid, caught in an adult disagreement, and it's natural, normal, and wise to avoid being stuck in the middle as much as possible! You couldn't have imagined what had happened!"
"Yes, but I could have prevented it! If I listened, if I went to that room, if I saw grammy have a heart attack. . . ."
"Allie, take it from me, you cannot drive yourself insane by all the possible 'ifs.' It's not the way to deal, and your grandmother would have been the first to tell you that. . . ."
Allie shook her head: "No. . . . It's nice of you to say that, but grammy never shirked her responsibilities, and she never avoided unpleasantness, no matter how much she wanted to! And I. . . ."
"And you didn't do anything wrong! It wasn't your unpleasantness to avoid or engage in, and it certainly wasn't your responsibility. . . . Believe me, I know all about regret, and hindsight, and the constant questioning. . . . In fact, I am doing it right now. Talk about shirking responsibility: I should have come and saw you yesterday. I should have talked to you, found out how you were holding up. . . ."
"It's all right. You have a job. I am not a relative or even a friend. You didn't have to." Her voice was lifeless again, as if all emotion was drained from it.
Danny sighed, sitting back down on the sofa. "But you are a friend. And, for whatever reason, I do feel responsible for you."
Truman, possibly unnerved by the silence after all the frantic talking, waddled back to Danny and settled by his leg.
Allie followed the dog with her eyes, a ghost of a smile on her face.
"One good thing, though: no wedding this weekend. They can feed the poor horse now."
Danny smiled back, his smile a mirror image of Allie's: van, barely perceptible, and infinitely sad.
"Is the wedding off altogether, or are they rescheduling it?" Vivian asked the question, carrying a tray with 3 cups and a plate with some toast. She spread a kitchen towel on a low coffee table and busied herself with arranging the things on it. "I toasted some bread for you, Allie. I am sure you didn't think of eating. When was the last time?"
Allie wrinkled her forehead in concentration. "I'm not sure. Sometime yesterday morning."
Not for the first time Danny silently cursed the Stevens-Newbergs en masse for not thinking about the girl, and, while at it, himself for failing to check on her yesterday.
Allie grabbed a tea cup Vivian handed her, and looked at a piece of toast as if not sure what to do with it.
"The wedding's postponed indefinitely," she answered Vivian's earlier question. "That is, they'll do it sometime, but probably without all the circus involved. Blake wouldn't want to now. Most of it was mother's idea and unfailing enthusiasm. And Jim only went along, because he thought that that was what Blake wanted. . . ." Her voice trailed off as she put aside the plate with toast.
"What's gonna happen to Hank and me?"
Danny and Vivian exchanged glances.
"I don't know, Allie," Danny decided to stick with honesty. "We are not sure what will happen with your parents yet. . . . You may remain where you are. Live at the house, go to school, be under Blake's care. . . ."
"If Blake would want it," was the girl's doubtful reply. "Not that I am sure she wouldn't. She is all about duty, too. But I don't want her to take this on if she doesn't want to."
Vivan shook her head: "Most likely, it won't be necessary, not for the whole time, anyway. These trials. . . . The judicial system takes time. Your mother may well be home before your father's trial is . . . ," she searched for an innocuous word, "resolved. Or your mother may not go to prison at all. She may get a suspended sentence. . . . In other words, you may well have a parent living with you at all times. . . ."
"Great. I have options! Aren't I lucky! Pick a criminal, any criminal. . . ." Allie stirred her tea in the cup, even though she didn't add any sugar.
Danny shifted in his seat, his eyes on the girl intently. "You may not believe me, but I know how helpless you feel right now." He stopped for fear of sounding pat and patronizing.
Allie shrugged. "I wonder: could Hank and I get emancipated, maybe? We have a second cousin who did that once. Years ago. Emily Blake, one of those Connecticut Blakes mom always talks about. She was 17, though, so, I suppose it didn't matter much. . . . Her mother died and her dad was squandering her inheritance. Apparently, there was a big uproar in the family. Emily went to court and got herself declared 'legal adult.' Interesting term, 'legal adult.' I suppose my parents are 'illegal adults' now that they broke the laws. . . . Anyway, after all the courts and being proclaimed an adult, she's gone to live with her nanny! I always found that funny. But now I can see her point. Too bad we haven't got a nanny like that. That is, we had them, but none lasted, and then they gotten me into the 92nd Street Y Nursery School. Very prestigious, that one. Guaranteed me entrance into Nightingale Bamford. That's where I am now. Very academic, very artistic, very hard to get into. . . . All girls, all prep, all around best. . . . Mom would have been happier, actually, with me out of the house somewhere in Massachusetts, like Hank, but when I got into Nightingale, she just couldn't resist the prestige and the bragging rights. So, here I stay in Manhattan, working on a diploma that virtually guarantees you unimpeded passage to Harward or Sarah Lawrence! And from there, your path is obviously clear straight to Heaven! . . . That is, if your parent's don't commit too much fraud or, you know, matricide."
And finally, for the first time, Allie started to cry. Slowly at first, with just barely audible sobs, and then uncontrollably, her entire body shaking, tea cup precariously tipped, threatening to fall out of her limp hand.
Vivian approached from behind and wrapped her arms around the girl. Danny set there, feeling more helpless than ever. It has become easy to forget that Allie was still a child. Normally, she presented a front that was wiser than an average 14-year-old's. It was somehow disconcerting to see her as a kid again: a frightened, bewildered, bereft kid. He wanted to hug her, to tell her a comforting lie that everything will be all right, that things will sort themselves out, and that in time she will forget all about this. He couldn't. He took the all but fallen tea cup instead, and then held on to her hand, letting her cry it out.
She fell asleep on the sofa, wrapped in her grandmother's shawl, Truman snoring quietly at her feet.
Danny set in a chair, too wiped to move, listening to Vivian make quiet phone calls in the hallway: one to the Stevens-Newbergs, one to Jack, and one home, to talk to Reggie. Danny suspected that the last one was a mother reflex, heightened by taking care of Allie.
The storm has passed. He didn't feel helpless anymore, just protective. He could tell her now, talk to her, ease her pain. Or just be there, so she didn't feel so alone.
She opened her eyes suddenly, as if she hadn't slept at all. "What am I going to do?"
Somehow Danny knew it wasn't the same question of an hour ago, but more of a general kind.
"You are going to survive." Danny got up and set on the couch, at Allie's feet, by the still sleeping Yorkie. "You are going to grow up and be everything your grandmother new you would be. You are going to thrive. You are going to cherish your brother and sister, support your father, and love your mother."
"Why?" Allie asked as if she truly wanted to know.
"Because she is your mother. Because that's what we do: love our parents even if, sometimes, they are unlovable. Or frail. Or full of flaws. . . . You are going to live your life to the fullest, and you are going to live it as a happy person. That's the tribute you need to pay to your grandmother. That's the only duty you owe her. Because that's how she lived. That is her legacy."
Later, in the elevator, on their way down to the car, Danny handed Allie a card, after writing something on the back of it.
"This is my home and my cell numbers. You will call me whenever you need. Don't hesitate, don't be afraid to impose. I want you to call." He smiled at her reassuringly, "I know I am not the Governor, but I may just be able to help with the everyday stuff."
Vivian chuckled quietly and Allie smiled back.
Danny continued: "And, if you don't mind, I will call once a week, just to see how you are. No need to wait for disasters to check on friends."
They tucked her into the front seat - a small teenager in a loose coat and a colorful scarf, hugging a fluffy dog.
"She is going to be OK." Vivian said it quietly to Danny before entering the car herself.
He settled behind the wheel, stealing a glance at the girl. Her eyes were closed, exhaustion and worry of the past several days overtaking her once more. "She is going to be OK," Vivian's voice reverberated through Danny's head. He hoped Viv was right. He had faith.
End.