Ed McBain - Alice in Jeopardy

“How is anyone going to…?”

“We sent out a list to every merchant and bank in the state,” Sloate explains, almost apologetically.

“Nobody looks at serial numbers.”

“We’re hoping they will.”

Alice shakes her head. She is at the mercy of nitwits. She is in the hands of total incompetents.

“What else did she say?” Sloate asks. “When she called?”

“What difference does it make?”

“Please, Mrs. Glendenning.”

“She said they had to check the money.”

“And?”

“She said the kids were okay. She said they just needed a little time.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing.”

“Didn’t inadvertently say anything about where they might be holding the children, did she?”

“Nothing,” Alice says again.

“Well,” Sloate says, and sighs heavily, which Alice finds somewhat less than reassuring. “Let’s get ready for her next call.”

This time, a so-called plan is in place.

This time, Alice knows exactly what she is to say to the black woman when she calls. If she calls. Alice is not at all sure she will call. How long does it take to “check” $250,000 in hundred-dollar bills? Whatever that’s supposed to mean, “check” them. Count them?

Well, you can count twenty-five hundred bills, that’s what they came to, in ten, fifteen minutes, can’t you? Half an hour? An hour tops? So what’s taking them so long? Have they discovered the bills are fake? Will they kill the children because the bills are fake? If anything happens to the children…

“Nothing will happen to them,” Sloate assures her. “Please, Mrs. Glendenning, don’t worry.”

But Alice can’t stop worrying. She still believes these people are more interested in catching whoever’s holding Jamie and…

Well, that isn’t quite true.

Certainly, they want to get the kids back safe and sound. But in addition to a rescue operation — and she has to think of it as that — they also want to capture the “perps,” as Sloate keeps calling them, and this is the farthest wish from Alice’s mind. She does not give a damn who has the children, does not give a damn if they’re ever caught. She wants her kids back. Period.

Apparently, they have located the blue Impala.

“Our techs are going over the car right this minute,” Sloate tells her. “If we get some good latents, we’re halfway home.” He hesitates and then says, “There was a red cap on the backseat of the car.”

He shows her the cap now. It is in a sealed plastic bag with an evidence tag on it. It is indisputably the cap Jamie left at home Wednesday morning, the one she took to him later. His lucky hat. Which means he was in that blue Impala sometime during the past three days.

“What we can’t understand,” Sloate says, “is why the kids would’ve got in a car with a strange woman.”

Alice is thinking there are a lot of things Sloate can’t understand. She looks at the clock. It is now a quarter to one, and still no call. If they abandoned the car, have they abandoned the children as well? Are Jamie and Ashley now sitting alone in some apartment or some house waiting for…?

Or…

God forbid…

No!

She won’t even think that.

The telephone rings.

Her heart leaps into her throat.

“Pick it up,” Sloate says. “Remember what we said.”

Marcia Di Luca is putting on her earphones.

Alice lifts the receiver.

“Hello?” she says.

“Alice?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Rafe. How’s it going there?”

“Where are you?”

“On the road. Just thought I’d—”

“Carol’s here, did you know that?”

“Yes. That’s why I’m calling.”

“Hold on. Carol?” she says. “It’s Rafe.”

“Rafe?” Carol says, surprised, and takes the receiver from her sister. “Hi, honey,” she says into the phone. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, fine. I’m just calling to see how you are. I called home last night, found out you were heading down.”

“I figured Alice could use a hand.”

“Bet she can,” Rafe says. “Fact, I was thinking of stopping by there again myself. You think that’s a good idea?”

Carol covers the mouthpiece.

“He wants to come by,” she tells Alice.

“Where is he?”

“Where are you, hon?”

“Just over the state line. In Alabama.”

“Alabama,” Carol tells her sister.

“Who’s that?” Sloate asks.

“My husband.”

“Tell him to save it for another time,” Sloate says. “We’re busy here.”

“Rafe, it’s not a good time just now,” Carol says.

“Whatever you say. Give her a hug for me, okay? Tell her I hope this all works out.” He hesitates a moment. “Has she heard anything more from them?”

“No, not yet. Rafe, I have to get off the phone. We’re hoping—”

“Wish you’da told me you were coming down to Florida.”

“Wish I’da known where to reach you,” Carol says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“No, Carol, what’s it supposed to mean?”

“Rafe, I have to go now,” she says.

“We’ll talk about this when we get home.”

“Yes, good-bye, Rafe,” she says, and hangs up.

“Everything all right?” Alice asks.

“Yes, fine,” Carol says.

But Alice knows it isn’t.

The clock bongs one o’clock.

And they still haven’t called.

She doesn’t want to hear her sister’s troubles.

She wants the phone to ring, that’s all.

But they are in the kitchen now, brewing a fresh pot of coffee, and Carol takes this opportunity to unburden herself. The door is closed; all those law enforcement geniuses out there can’t hear what they’re saying.

“I think Rafe’s running around on me,” Carol says, flat out.

Alice remembers Rafe’s comment about Jennifer Redding after she drove off in her red convertible. She says nothing.

“I’ve had the feeling for a long time now.”

Alice still says nothing.

“He’s gone so much of the time, you know,” Carol says.

“Well, that doesn’t means he’s—”

“Oh, I know, I know. It’s his job, after all…”

“It is, Carol.”

“But he never calls when he’s on the road.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, either.”

“This is unusual, his calling now.”

“Well, if you think… why don’t you just ask him about it?”

“No, I…”

“Ask him flat out. ‘Rafe, are you cheating on me?’”

“I don’t think I could do that.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t think I could.”

Alice looks at her sister.

Carol turns away.

“What is it?” Alice says.

“There are the kids,” Carol says, and suddenly she’s weeping. She puts her head on Alice’s shoulder. Alice holds her close. The kitchen is silent except for Carol’s soft sobbing. In the other room, Alice can hear the law enforcement people talking among themselves. This is a nightmare, she thinks. At last, her sister nods, moves away from her. Drying her eyes on a tissue, she says, “I’m all right, it’s okay.”

“Leave him,” Alice says. “Kids or not.”

“Would you? If Eddie was still alive, and you found out he was…?”

“In a minute,” Alice says.

“Did he ever?”

“Never.”

And the telephone rings.

She snatches the receiver from the phone on the wall. She doesn’t give a damn if anybody out there in the living room is trying to trace the call or not. They haven’t succeeded so far, and she has no reason to believe they ever will.

“Hello?” she says.

“Alice, it’s Andy Briggs.”