Ed McBain - Alice in Jeopardy

“What we’re going to do,” Sloate explains, “what Marcia’s going to do, as a matter of fact, is place a tap on your phone before that call comes in at noon tomorrow. This way we can listen to and record any calls you get…”

“We call it a Tap and Tape,” Marcia says.

“She’s also going to set up equipment that’ll be able to locate the caller’s phone numbe—”

“We call that a Trap and Trace.”

“And she’ll put in a second line so we can call the captain direct downtown.”

“That’ll be Captain Roger Steele,” Marcia says.

“He’s in charge of the department’s CID.”

Alice nods.

“So, what you can do, ma’am, you can go to sleep now, while Marcia and me get started. No sense you pacing the floor all night, we’re not going to hear from them again till noon tomorrow. Okay?”

“Yes, fine,” Alice says.

“G’night then, ma’am.”

“Good night,” Marcia says, and goes out to the garage for her equipment.

The phone rings at a little before midnight.

Alice is not yet asleep. She doesn’t know if she should pick up the bedroom extension or not. She throws on a robe and comes out into the living room, where Marcia and Sloate are still working.

“You ready on that trace?” Sloate asks Marcia.

“Nope,” she says.

“What should I do?” Alice asks.

“Let it ring a few more times. Tell her you were asleep,” Sloate says. “We can at least listen and record, get some information that way, do a voice profile later. Tell her you’re selling all your stock. Tell her you’ll have the money tomorrow afternoon sometime. Tell her to take a Polaroid picture of your kids holding tomorrow morning’s edition of the Cape October Trib. Tell her to Fed Ex it to you.”

“She won’t do all that.”

“Just keep her talking, see what she has to say for herself.” He sits in front of the wiretap equipment, puts on the earphones. “Go on, pick up,” he says.

“Hello?” Alice says.

“Al? It’s me. Charlie.”

“Charlie?”

“Did I wake you?”

“No.”

“What have you heard?”

Sloate shakes his head, wags his finger at her.

“Nothing,” she says.

Sloate runs his finger across his throat.

For a moment, Alice is puzzled.

Then she understands that he wants her to end the conversation.

“Charlie, I just got out of bed,” she says, “can you excuse me a minute? I’ll call you right back.”

“Sure, honey, I’ll be here.”

She puts the phone back on its cradle.

“Why?” she asks Sloate.

“I wanted to brief you. I don’t want you to tell him anything. Don’t tell him we’re here, don’t tell him a thing, not a single thing. Just say we asked you a few questions downtown and let you go. You didn’t tell us anything about your kids being missing.”

“Charlie’s my best friend. Why can’t I…?”

“ They may know that, too. Nothing. Tell him nothing.”

“Suppose he wants to come here?”

“Tell him no.”

Alice looks at him.

“You want to see your kids alive again?”

“You’re beginning to sound like her. ”

“Better call him back,” Marcia says.

“Make it short,” Sloate says. “Tell him you want to keep the line clear, case anybody calls.”

“He’ll smell a rat.”

“He’ll smell a rat if you don’t call back pretty damn soon,” Sloate says.

Alice picks up the receiver and begins dialing.

“Hello?”

“Charlie?”

“Yes, hi. What happened with the cops?”

“They asked me a lot of questions, and then let me go.”

“What kind of questions?”

“Well, you know, Rosie told them all about the kids being gone…”

“Yeah, so?”

“I told them they were mistaken. They said, Okay, it’s your funeral, lady, and let me go.”

“Were those their exact words?”

“More or less. Charlie, I hate to cut you short, but I want to keep the line free. In case they call again.”

“You haven’t heard from them again, huh?”

“Not yet.”

“That’s strange, don’t you think?” he asks.

“Well, they said noon tomorrow.”

“Even so.”

“Charlie, I really have to—”

“I know, okay. Call me if you need me, okay? Do you want me to come over?”

“No, I don’t think that would be smart. They may be watching the house.”

“Right, right.”

“Charlie…”

“I’m gone. Talk to you later.”

Alice hangs up.

“Okay?” she asks Sloate.

There is an edge to her voice.

“Fine, ma’am. You did just fine.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Alice says.

“We know what we’re doing, ma’am.”

“I hope so. Because if anything happens to my kids…”

“Nothing will happen to your kids.”

She looks him dead in the eye.

The look says, Nothing had better happen, Detective Sloate.

“Good night,” she says, and goes off to bed.

At 8:45 A.M., Rosie Garrity is still watching television, hoping to hear something about the kidnapping.

There was nothing on last night until she went to bed at eleven, and there’s nothing on this morning, either, not on WSWF, anyway. WSWF is Cape October’s own Channel 36, the “SWF” in the call letters standing for Southwest Florida. Rosie starts surfing the cable channels, one after the other, figuring a kidnapping always gets covered on the cable shows, but there’s nothing there either.

She’s beginning to wonder if whoever she spoke to at the police yesterday has taken any action on the case — Sloane or Slope or something like that, said he was a detective. Because if he was just sitting on this thing instead of doing something about it, why, he should be reported to a superior officer for disciplinary action, these were two innocent little kids out there. She is just about to dial the police again, when the phone rings, startling her. She picks up at once, thinking this might be Detective Sloane wanting further information.

Instead, it is Alice Glendenning.

“Hello, Mrs. Glendenning,” she says. “Have you heard anything further from that black woman?”

“No, nothing yet,” Alice says. “Rosie, the reason I’m calling…” She suspects that she is going to be bawled out for having called the police. But then Alice says, “I don’t think you should come in today,” and Rosie immediately believes she’s about to be fired.

“Why not?” she asks defensively.

“Because my children are gone, and I want to be alone here when that woman calls, if she calls.”

Alone.

She has just told Rosie that she is alone.

Which means the police have not contacted her, as that Detective Sloane said they were going to do, which means the police are most certainly being derelict in their duty.

Well, we’ll just see about that, Rosie thinks.

“I understand, Mrs. Glendenning,” she says. “Just call me if there’s anything you need, okay?”

“I will, Rosie. Thank you.”

But there is something odd in her voice, something cool and distant. Rosie wonders just what the hell is going on here.

“Good-bye now,” she says.

She hangs up, and immediately begins searching the Cape October-Fort Myers-Sanibel directory under GOVERNMENT AGENCIES.

When the phone rings at 9:10 A.M., Detective Marcia Di Luca says at once, “I’m not ready here yet, Will.”

Alice can only think they’ve been working here all damn night, and she’s still not ready. Alice can only think her children’s fate is in the hands of Keystone Kops.