The Arx Read online

  “Hey, being a man doesn’t mean you’ve gotta be ignorant – not all the time, anyway…” he laughed.

  “But I’ll bet not many of ‘the boys’ at the squad are like you.”

  “I’m not sure whether I should be flattered or insulted.”

  Rebecca smiled at him. “Be flattered.”

  “How come I’m doing all the talking here?” he said. “I should have a chance to dig into your past. When did you first realize you hated your dog?”

  Rebecca laughed.

  They talked for a while about her parents, both dead and buried in Montreal, where she grew up.

  “At least they didn’t live to see what happened to Gloria,” she said, her voice breaking.

  “Do you mind talking about her?” he said.

  She looked down at her feet. “No, it’s okay.”

  “Were you two close?” he asked.

  “I’ve always been a bit of a mother to her. I guess I’m a typical social worker, with the mothering instinct. She was the type of person that needed someone looking out for them. I guess I blew it as a mother.”

  “There’s nothing you could have done,” Frank said. He had the impulse to take her hand, but he was afraid of how she’d react. “Sometimes stuff just happens.”

  For a few minutes they watched the traffic go by.

  Finally Rebecca spoke. “I know I’ve been hard on you. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the help; it’s just that I’m worried about you.”

  “I can take care of myself. Anyway, I’m not just doing it for you. Like I said, I hate to see people get away with stuff like that – and I feel like I owe it to Gloria.”

  “What do you plan to do next?”

  “There’s not much to go on, and we don’t have any resources. I’ve used up most of my favours at the squad, and I don’t think I got any new fans after that last visit.”

  There was a cracking sound and he opened his clenched fist to reveal a crushed plastic cup. He glanced at Rebecca sheepishly. She said nothing.

  “Give me yours,” he said. He stood up and held out his hand.

  He tossed the cups in the garbage and returned. “We start with the usual: who knew Gloria, who had access to her apartment, who had a motive… and we hope something turns up.”

  Gloria's Apartment

  “You’re getting to be a regular here, Frank,” Judy smiled the next day as he stuck his head in the office door.

  “I just come to see you,” Frank teased her.

  “Why, you’ll turn my head with such talk,” she laughed. She nodded toward the hallway. “She’s expecting you.”

  He headed down the hall and into Rebecca’s office. She had her hair in a ponytail. For a few seconds he was hypnotized by her long neck and the curve of her jaw. The hairstyle changed the character of her face completely, making it younger and more innocent. It wasn’t a look Frank normally went for, but on her he found it striking.

  Judy brought them coffee. When she was gone Rebecca closed the door.

  “The guys came and did their thing?” Frank said, scanning around the office.

  “What? The bug sweep?” She smiled. “I could have told you – we’re clean as a spring rain.”

  “Doesn’t hurt to check,” he said, pulling a small notebook from his jacket pocket. He clicked his pen open, leaned back in his chair, lifted his feet, and was about to set them on her desk. At a glare from Rebecca he flashed a smile and put them back down.

  “Let’s look at connections,” he said. “If some individual, or more likely some group, is behind all the kidnappings, there must be a common thread that joins them. We find that thread, we’ll be a lot closer to understanding what’s going on.”

  “Okay…”

  “So,” he said. “We list the things the mothers of the kidnapped children have in common.”

  “Sure.”

  Frank positioned his pen on the notebook.

  “Marital status?” Rebecca suggested.

  He waved his hand dismissively. “We already know there’s no commonality in marital status.”

  “Don’t you think we should include everything? We can eliminate things that don’t apply later – but at least we know we’ve covered everything. I’m no detective, but…”

  “Yeah, yeah, okay, you’re right.”

  “We don’t have to do it that way if you don’t want…”

  “Your way is fine. Let’s get on with it. So, marital status. What else?”

  “Race? Religion? Social position?”

  “Sure.” Frank scribbled in his notebook. “Then there’s where they live, where they work.”

  “And the husband’s employment,” put in Rebecca. “And clubs, professional organizations…”

  Frank scribbled hurriedly.

  “This whole business seems to revolve around babies,” he said, “so it might involve hospitals, doctors, gynecologists, pediatricians.”

  “I might be able to help with that,” she said.

  They continued and compiled a comprehensive list.

  “Great,” Frank said when they were finished. “Maybe you can have a look at the medically-related stuff and I’ll check on everything else…”

  “Sure,” she answered.

  Frank turned a page in his notebook. “The other thing we need to look at is motive. Why – why would somebody want to kidnap Ralphie? It usually comes down to money. Somehow somebody’s getting paid.”

  “Like you said before,” Rebecca said. “Baby smuggling.”

  “That’s the most likely motive. There’s childless couples out there that would pay a fortune for a baby, no questions asked.”

  “I hate to even suggest this,” Rebecca said, “but how about organ harvesting. Find a baby with the right genetic makeup and sell them to somebody desperate for the organs.”

  “You’ve got a sick mind,” Frank smiled. “But you’re right. Let’s start with the baby smuggling angle. It seems the most likely. If it doesn’t pan out, then…”

  “Frank,” she interrupted him.

  He glanced up from his notebook.

  “Are we sure?” she asked.

  He frowned and raised an eyebrow.

  “I mean, about all the kidnappings being connected?” she said. “If they’re not, we’re wasting time we could be spending looking for the killer…”

  “We’re sure.”

  She stared at him.

  “Okay?” he said, his thumb poised on the clicker of his pen like it was the plunger of a detonator.

  She gave a tiny shrug.

  Some of the tasks Frank had assigned himself proved easy. The mothers’ marital status, race, and current address were in the reports he’d copied earlier. There was no correlation among any of them.

  Employment was harder; he no longer had a cop’s ability to access police files, but he managed to fill in the blanks on all the women. It was disappointing. Other than one or two superficial similarities, none of the victimized mothers seemed to have anything in common.

  He called Rebecca and they agreed to meet and compare notes at the same cafe where they’d first gotten together.

  Frank got there early, and chose a table distant from any other patrons. He studied Rebecca’s movements as she approached: the swing of her hips, the bobbing of her hair, once again down and flowing over her shoulders. She smiled and waved as she spotted him.

  “I might have found something,” she said once they’d ordered coffee. “It might or might not be important.”

  Frank glanced around them to make sure no one was nearby, then nodded. “Fire away.”

  “I made a list of the gynecologists and pediatricians for the cases you gave me,” she said. “Gloria’s pediatrician works for a private pediatric clinic, but she volunteers for a non-profit organization.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Guess what the non-profit organization does?” she teased, stirring her coffee.

  Frank shrugged.

  “They help childless couples adop
t.”

  Frank raised an eyebrow.

  “It doesn’t prove anything,” she said, “but it makes you think.”

  “Definitely.”

  “The place is called ‘Child Connect’. I did a little checking on them.”

  “Wow, you’re a regular Sherlock Holmes.”

  “It’s kind of exciting isn’t it, detective work?” she smiled. “Imagine going undercover – like in some kind of spy novel.”

  Frank narrowed his eyes at her. “This isn’t TV,” he said. “When things go down in this business, people get hurt.”

  She shrugged. “Anyway I didn’t find much. I figured I’d leave the heavy-duty detecting to you.”

  She passed him a slip of paper. “Here’s their address and website. The pediatrician’s name is Dr. Monica Gilford.”

  Frank glanced at the paper and put it in his wallet.

  He put his hand on her sleeve. “You should be careful when you do this research.”

  “You’re being a bit paranoid, Frank.”

  He leaned forward and whispered. “Look, we’re talking about multiple kidnappings, and maybe even murder. We don’t know who the conspirators are, or how big this thing is.”

  An opera aria blasted from her purse. She fished out her cell phone, stood up, and walked away to take the call. A few minutes later she returned.

  “The police have released Gloria’s apartment,” she said. “Want to have a look?”

  Frank studied Rebecca’s face as she unlocked the door to her dead sister’s apartment. Her mind was elsewhere, and her eyes were clouded with tears.

  "You sure you want to do this?" he said. "I can look by myself."

  "No," she said, her voice trembling. "I'm fine. I want to be here."

  Stocker had formally closed the case, and the police no longer had any interest in it. The apartment was a mess, clothes thrown in heaps on the floor, cigarette butts in the ashtray. Did she even smoke? Frank tried to remember. Plates of half-eaten food lay scattered around. Frank felt his face flush red; it looked disturbingly like his own place.

  The door knobs, door jambs, and mirrors were still stained black with fingerprint dust.

  “You’re the expert,” Rebecca said. “What exactly are we looking for?”

  “Evidence,” Frank said, smiling.

  “Great – I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “We’re looking for anything that would link Gloria to someone who might want to do this,” he said.

  He stepped into the tiny bathroom and opened the mirrored door of the medicine cabinet. The bottom shelf held the usual collection of hair and skin products and makeup. On the second were various non-prescription drugs. The third held Band-Aids, tubes of skin cream, a bottle of antiseptic. He checked the cupboard under the sink, but found nothing interesting.

  They moved to the bedroom. The bed was unmade; the gaudy pink bedspread lay in a heap on the floor. The crib from which the poor child had been abducted stood against one wall. He imagined Gloria leaning over the empty crib, torn apart with grief. For a second he felt physically sick. He glanced over at Rebecca; she seemed to be holding it together.

  In a corner near the bed was a small bookcase. He checked out a couple of paperbacks on the top shelf. Most were cheap romance novels. He smirked at the bodice-ripping pictures on the covers. As he replaced the last one, his hand brushed against something. He bent down and peered along the tops of the books. Sticking out of one of them was a tiny slip of paper. He pulled out the book, removed the paper, and examined it.

  “Hmm…” he said. Rebecca strolled over to join him.

  “See this?” He held up the slip.

  “It’s the label from a pill bottle,” she said.

  “She was using it as a bookmark. Olmerol – 500 milligrams. Interesting. I didn’t see any other indication that she ever used it – any bottles in the medicine cabinet.”

  “That name sounds familiar,” Rebecca said. “I remember – Olmerol – I remember it because it reminded me of Armor All – you know, the car cleaner? I think she was taking it for morning sickness. No wonder there’s no bottles. That must be a really old label.”

  “It is a drug,” Frank said, slipping the label into his wallet. “Something a gynecologist might prescribe. Just out of curiosity, there’s something I want to check.”

  They returned to the bathroom, and he re-opened the medicine cabinet. This time, he carefully lifted each pill bottle on the second shelf.

  “Hmm,” he said, inspecting the shelf beneath a raised aspirin bottle.

  “What?” She peered over his shoulder. “I don’t see anything.”

  “See the diameter of the bottle I’m holding?”

  Rebecca nodded.

  “See the imprint of a bottle where this one was sitting? Notice anything?”

  “They’re a different size…”

  “Someone recently moved the bottles around. It may have been Gloria. Or somebody might have removed a bottle that was incriminating.”

  “Incriminating how?”

  “It’s probably nothing – but it’s worth taking note. You never know.”

  “Maybe the police moved them.”

  “Maybe. I’ll try to find out, but I don’t have much pull over there anymore.”

  They went back to the bedroom and made a more detailed inspection of the crib. Nothing. On the night table by Gloria’s bed stood a larger copy of the picture Frank had seen when he visited her – Gloria, with an ecstatic grin on her face as she held Ralphie in her arms. Rebecca picked it up and once again choked back tears. After a few seconds she put the picture down, turned her back, and walked out of the room.

  “You okay?” Frank said as they exited the elevator.

  “Yes,” Rebecca said. “It’s just sad, that’s all.”

  As they walked through the lobby he handed her the label. “Think you could check out the drugstore this label came from and find out who prescribed it?”

  “It’s just a label. You really think it’s worth looking into?”

  Frank shrugged. “We’re dealing with stolen babies. Maybe a drug for morning sickness fits in. I’m going to look into this Child Connect place. I’ll call you in a couple of days.”

  “I could do some research on Olmerol.”

  “That would be great.”

  He walked her to her car. She unlocked the door, and was about to get in when he called, “Rebecca.” She turned and looked up at him.

  “Don’t talk to anyone about this,” he said. “Not anyone. And be careful when you do the research.”

  “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

  Frank stared at her.

  “I’ll be careful,” she said.

  Child Connect

  Dr. Monica Gilford was an earnest, thirty-something woman with short brown hair and glasses. She rose from her chair as Frank entered her workspace at Child Connect, and shook his hand as he introduced himself.

  The place was cramped, with a single desk and a tiny window in one wall, but it was spotless and meticulously laid out. The books on the bookshelves were ordered by size, and even by colour, as were several stacks of paper on top of the filing cabinet. There was a jumble of pens and papers directly in front of the doctor’s chair, but the remainder of the desktop was arranged with obsessive precision.

  “You certainly keep a clean office,” Frank said.

  “Oh, that’s not me, I’m afraid,” she laughed, speaking with an English accent. “I’m a bit of a slob, actually. That’s Catherine, Dr. Lesko, one of the other volunteers. We share the office.”

  She leaned toward him like she was whispering a secret. “She’s very picky.”

  Frank had convinced Art Crawford, his former colleague at the squad, to look into Child Connect. Art had come up with nothing. The place was squeaky clean, and backed by a prominent religious organization.

  It looked like a dead end, but Frank had decided to check it out in person anyway. The organization operated from a small
space in Yaletown, not far from Rebecca’s office. He’d shown the smiling receptionist one of his old business cards. That was enough to satisfy her that he really was a detective.

  When he told Dr. Gilford about Gloria and Ralphie she flinched and caught her breath. Either she was a consummate actress or she really hadn’t heard.

  “Sorry,” Frank said. “I thought you knew.”

  “That’s terrible,” she said. “I didn’t have that much contact with them, but they seemed very nice.”

  She couldn’t divulge any medical information about Ralphie, but said she’d seen him three times since his birth, the last time one month ago. She was unaware of anyone showing an interest in Ralphie or acting suspiciously around him.

  Frank saw no reason not to believe her. It looked like he was wasting his time.

  “There was one thing,” she said, as he turned to leave. “It might not have anything to do with Ralphie…”

  He turned back to face her.

  “I think somebody might have broken into my office. Not here, at work – at the clinic. It was strange. They didn’t take anything. But there were little things.”

  “Like?” Frank said.

  “A couple of items on my desk had been moved around. Not much, but enough to notice. Also, I’d accidentally filed a few of my files out of order – including Ralphie’s. I’d been meaning to straighten them out but I hadn’t had time.”

  “And?”

  “I went through them in case any had been taken. None were gone, but Ralphie’s was in the right spot.”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  “Like I say, so little had changed I almost didn’t believe it, but I’m pretty sure.”

  ***

  Rebecca studied Frank’s lined and unshaven face as they sat at a sidewalk cafe near her office in Yaletown. She’d called to ask him about Child Connect, but he hadn’t wanted to talk on the phone, so she’d agreed to meet him here. Frank seemed have grown some new gray hairs, though she’d seen him only a few days ago. Was it just the light?

  She felt a fresh stab of guilt about involving him in her sister’s case. While it might be true that at some level the familiarity of detective work was good therapy for him, it also presented stresses that could push him over the edge.