Necessary Decisions, A Gino Cataldi Mystery Read online

  Winthrop nodded. “Detective, do you think this might be a prank?”

  “No, this is real,” I said. “Unless these people are practicing for a movie role.”

  I looked at my empty coffee cup, then at Winthrop’s daughter, who’d entered the kitchen.

  “Miss, would you mind making us coffee?”

  She looked at me as if I had asked her to clean the toilet. What the hell was wrong with kids nowadays?

  “I’ll get it,” Winthrop said.

  There’s what’s wrong.

  “Thanks, Winthrop. It looks like we’re going to need a lot of coffee.” My body would hate me later, and my nerves were already tight as piano wire, but I had a feeling this would be an all-nighter.

  Alexa whispered, but not in a very “whispery” way. “They’re not staying are they, Dad?”

  Scott hesitated, so I answered for him. “Yes, young lady, we are staying. A young girl has been kidnapped. We need to find her.”

  “But we didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  I walked toward her, hoping that something would make an impact. “No, you didn’t have anything to do with the kidnapping, but the kidnappers, for some reason, think they have you. That’s why they called your father. Or they think they called the father of the girl they really have.” I handed my empty cup to Scott. “Until we figure this out, we’ll be your guests.”

  ***

  Alexa stormed away, her cell phone in hand, already dialing. She called Jada twice but got no answer. Next she tried Jason—same thing. Missy was next on the list. She picked up right away. “Missy, you won’t believe what happened.”

  “What?”

  “I came home today and there were freakin’ cops everywhere. I mean everywhere. It was like something out of a movie.”

  “Oh my God! What happened?”

  “Somebody told my dad I was kidnapped.”

  “What? Did you tell Jada?”

  “I can’t reach her,” Alexa said. “She skipped with Jason. He’s not answering either.”

  “You know what that means.”

  “You think they’re at Uncle Eddy’s?”

  “You know Jason Rules.”

  Detective Cataldi’s voice came from the other room. “Alexa!”

  “Oh shit, Missy. I have to go. That cop wants me.”

  “Call me.”

  “Later.”

  ***

  Alexa stopped and turned to me. “What?”

  “Please hang up the phone.”

  “Why?”

  “Do it!” Scott yelled.

  “This is bull,” she said.

  I tried being nice. “Alexa, this is a serious situation. I have to ask you not to tell anyone about this until I say it’s okay. Can you do that?”

  “Sure.”

  “Who did you tell?”

  “My friend Missy. That’s all.”

  “Please tell her she cannot tell anyone else.”

  She sighed. “I will.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I went back to Scott to finish up.

  “You’re convinced that a girl has been taken?” Winthrop asked.

  I didn’t want to respond this way, but I felt I had to be honest. “I’m not convinced of anything, but we can’t afford the risk of assuming they haven’t taken someone.”

  “How could this happen? Who else could it be?” Winthrop brought me back a full cup of coffee then offered some to Delgado and Connors.

  Even though it was piping hot, I sipped it. If there was anything I despised, it was lukewarm coffee. I’d rather burn my tongue.

  Delgado said, “I hate to bring this up, but we’ve got to give consideration to the fact that it could be somebody with a grudge against Winthrop, and they’re just fu…messing with him.”

  I looked at Winthrop. “What about it? Anybody hate you that bad?”

  “I’m certain I have a lot of enemies, although I can’t imagine anyone going to these lengths.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t kid yourself. People are sick.” I took a big swig of the coffee—damn good—and looked at my notes. “Think of any possibilities and give the names to Connors so he can check them out.”

  “How about similar names?” Delgado asked.

  I nodded. “Get Julie on it. Have her check on Wintrop, Winthorp, and Winthorpe—with an ‘e’—Wintrope, Wenthrop… all the spelling variations.” I signaled Delgado as he started dialing. “Have her also try the same last name if we’ve got any. First names don’t matter. And tell her to check all North Houston, Spring, The Woodlands, Conroe…all of it.”

  Connors got up to grab a bottle of water. “Mr. Winthrop, do you have family nearby? Any siblings, cousins…anyone?”

  “None in the whole state. I have a few cousins in New Jersey and a sister and niece in Ohio.”

  “You said you were divorced. Where is—”

  “She’s in New York.”

  “I’m sorry. I think you already said that.” I checked things off my list as we moved along. “How about volunteer work? Have you been a big brother? Do you do work at a church?” From what I’d seen of Winthrop, these questions weren’t worth asking, but I had to cover the bases. I’d been surprised before.

  He shook his head, perhaps a little sadly. “Nothing like that, no. And, Detective, how could they get my private number?”

  “Your daughter has it, probably her friends, and colleagues at work. With that many people, anyone could have it.”

  He looked as if he wanted to argue the point when the tech walked in. “You have a call on your phone, Mr. Winthrop.”

  The tech handed him the phone, and Scott left the room. Delgado and I brainstormed with Connors, but when fifteen minutes went by and Winthrop still hadn’t returned, I went searching for him.

  He was on the back patio, chatting away as if nothing were going on, as if some poor girl wasn’t probably bound and gagged and scared to death somewhere. I signaled for him to come inside. I got a scowl and his index finger held in the air gesturing at me to wait. I was half-surprised it wasn’t his middle finger.

  Instead of doing nothing, we listened to the tape one more time. I wanted to hear the part where he threatened to kill her. I pushed play then fast-forwarded to the part I wanted.

  “Mister, I don’t know who you are, but—”

  “Shut up. Do you hear me? Shut the fuck up, or I kill her.”

  I rewound it and played it again.

  “Shut up. Do you hear me? Shut the fuck up, or I kill her.”

  I looked over at Connors and then to Delgado, shaking my head. “Someone is getting hurt on this one. I can feel it.”

  It’s going to be Philadelphia all over again.

  Chapter 21

  Searching for a Victim

  Julie called us back in less than half an hour. For a girl with purple hair, multi-colored nails, and very weird clothes, she did damn good work. A rock song from the sixties played in the background.

  “What have you got for me?”

  “I’m glad you gave up on the attempts to call me darlin’. You’ll never sound like a Texan.”

  Thank God for small favors. “Find anything?”

  “There are two Winthrops in the whole north area. It’s not a very popular name. But there are six variations close enough for someone to easily make a mistake.”

  “Give the names to Connors. He’ll be calling from here.” I checked my notes. “Anybody reported missing?”

  “Too early for that.”

  “I know it’s early, but if it’s a worried parent, they’ll call if their kid’s been gone an hour.”

  “And then there are the ones that don’t call when they’re gone a week,” Delgado said.

  “Or the ones that don’t know they’re gone after a week,” Connors added.

  We all nodded with immediate understanding of those situations.

  “Julie, anything else you can think of?”

  “I was wondering. Suppose somebody just got the number mixed up? I d
o that sometimes.”

  My reaction was to dismiss the idea, maybe because it wasn’t mine, or maybe because it sounded too simple…but I couldn’t. “You may have something. Get Charlie on this. Tell him to check numbers that would be logical mix-ups of Scott Winthrop’s.”

  “I’ll get back to you.”

  I looked for Scott, who had disappeared again. Maybe he was going to the bedroom to visit thong-panties. I couldn’t blame him if he was sneaking a little. A moment later, Alexa came back into the kitchen. She seemed off from when I’d seen her earlier. I nudged Delgado and gestured toward her, raising my eyebrows as I did.

  Delgado got up under the guise of getting more water. She had her head buried in the refrigerator, looking for something to eat. He waited until she pulled some food out and set it on the counter.

  “Where is a good sandwich place around here?” he asked.

  She mumbled something about a pizza shop by the freeway then went back to fixing herself something to eat, not once offering us any.

  Delgado came back, and whispered, “She’s on something.”

  I shot her a glare but didn’t say anything. Ever since the problems started with my son, I’d gotten really worked up whenever I saw a kid on drugs. I wanted to grab her, shake her, maybe even beat some sense in her…but this wasn’t the time or place. I called Connors over. “Julie suggested they might have mixed the phone numbers up. I got Charlie running possibilities. As soon as he calls, I want you two on it.”

  “Phone verification?” Delgado asked.

  “Unless we get something interesting.”

  The phone rang. I jumped then realized it was my phone, not Winthrop’s. “Gino Cataldi.”

  “What’s going on, Gino?”

  “Captain?”

  “I expected reports by now. Renkin is pestering me every half hour.”

  “Coop, I’ll call when I get something. Or when I need something. As it is, I’ve got too much going on for reports.”

  “So you’ve got nothing.”

  I sighed. What I had to tell her would only make things worse. “Coop, whoever was kidnapped wasn’t Scott Winthrop’s daughter.”

  “What! How—”

  “Because she’s sitting in the other room, thirty feet from me.”

  “So this was a prank?”

  “No way. I’ve listened to the tape four times. These guys have somebody. I’ve got to find out who.”

  “Like I need this shit. All right. Y’all keep me posted.” Coop often slipped into her East Texas accent when she wasn’t focusing. It sounded natural on her.

  One of the techs came into the kitchen. “Any coffee made?”

  “Should be some left in the pot,” I said, and then the phone rang. It was Charlie. “What have you got?”

  “I ran all the numbers,” Charlie said. “They couldn’t have mixed up the area code or the exchange. There aren’t any other exchanges that would work if mixed up, so it had to be the last four numbers. And usually if there’s a mix-up, it’s the last two digits that get turned around. I ran the numbers with the last two switched and then with all of them switched. I found twenty-four numbers total. Three aren’t assigned, so that leaves us twenty-one working numbers.”

  “Charlie, you did all right. Can you email me those? I’ll get Connors and Delgado on them right away.”

  “Sure thing. How’s it going up there? Y’all gettin’ any good food?”

  “Good food? Yeah, we were just about to sit down to a seven-course meal.”

  “I was curious, that’s all. You know I’ve been dieting, and that makes me think about food even more. No sense in gettin’ all riled up about it.”

  “I gotta go, Charlie. Phone’s ringing.” I hung up with Charlie and answered the other line. “Gino.”

  “It’s Julie. We may have something.”

  “Spit it out.”

  “I just spoke with Mrs. Winthorpe. Her daughter never came home from school, and when Mrs. Winthorpe called the school, they said the daughter didn’t show up today.”

  “Shit! Did you tell her—”

  “Nothing. She doesn’t know why I called. She thinks it has to do with her daughter missing school.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “I’ve got the address. It’s only two miles from you.”

  “You’re the best, Julie. I’m sending Delgado over. If she calls again, patch it through.”

  I gave Delgado the address. “Take Connors. Call me if you get anything.”

  I bumped into Winthrop when I turned around.

  The tech stepped back, nearly spilling his drink. “Mr. Winthrop, I still need your phone.”

  He huffed and handed it over. “Don’t take long.”

  The guy hustled out of the kitchen as if it were a war zone.

  Winthrop focused on me. “Did I hear right? You found the person who was kidnapped?”

  “We’re not certain of anything.”

  “But if you did, I presume you’ll be moving your—operations—to their house?”

  Scott Winthrop was one cold fuck. If this was what it took to get rich and famous, I didn’t want it. “Mr. Winthrop, you don’t seem to understand. We need to know who was kidnapped, yes, but what matters more is the kidnappers think they have your daughter, or they think you are the father of the girl they have. In either case, I’m staying here until this is over.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t work. I have a business to run. Besides, I have a meeting tomorrow.”

  I held my breath—and my temper—then spoke slowly, hoping my voice didn’t carry the disgust I felt in every muscle. “Mr. Winthrop, a girl is being held against her will. She may be suffering. She may be raped at any moment. She may be killed. Those men are calling tomorrow, and you need to be here. With that in mind, is your meeting so important?”

  “We don’t know that. This is probably a prank.”

  “Mr. Winthrop!” I stopped myself before I lost it, took a few deep breaths, and started again, making a point to speak calmly. “I listened to the tape four times. Whoever made that call is holding someone hostage. Somebody’s daughter is in a dark room, or the back of a van, or an abandoned building. She is alone, tied up, gagged, and certainly scared to death.”

  Winthrop raised himself up—on his haughtiness, probably. “I understand your concern, but my daughter’s been through enough already.”

  It was obvious to me—hell, to anybody—that Winthrop was pissed. I half expected him to take a swing at me. And half of me wanted him to, though it would be a coin toss as to who would win.

  “Fine,” he said. “Let me call my admin. I’ll be available.”

  “Thanks,” I said, but I wanted to smack him.

  I called Ramirez; Coop had him filling in on the Marshall case, but she didn’t have anything new. “How’s the boy?”

  “Not good. They ran into complications during surgery.”

  “What kind of complications?”

  “I don’t know,” Ramirez said. “That’s all they told me.”

  “Keep me posted, Ramirez. And why don’t you interview the family again. See if they’ve thought of anything else. Have someone take a stab at the neighbors again too. Somebody had to have seen something.”

  “We’re all over it. I’ll get back to you.”

  I leaned back in the recliner, half asleep, when the phone rang. “Yeah, Delgado, what have you got?”

  “We’re here. The girl’s missing, but we got a bigger problem. I don’t think this is it.”

  “Why not?”

  He whispered. “These people are white. No way the kidnappers didn’t know what Winthrop looked like.”

  “He is kind of light-skinned…but you’re right. Okay, go through the motions…just in case, then get back here. My guess is the girl shows up before long. Give the woman your cell, though, and tell her to call when they find her.”

  Just for grins, I thought I’d ask Winthrop’s daughter. “Alexa, can you come here please?”
/>   She shuffled in, eyes glazed over. “What?”

  The what came with an attitude.

  “Do you know a girl named Winthorpe?” She goes to your school.”

  “Kathy? Yeah, I know her. Everyone teases us about our names being so similar.”

  “Her mother said she didn’t come home, and the school says she didn’t attend today. You know anything about that?”

  She snorted. “Kathy almost never goes to school. More than likely, she’s at the mall, hanging out.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I said, and called Delgado. “Check the mall before you come back. And get her cell number from the parents. She may not be answering their calls, but…hang on a minute.” I walked to the family room. “Alexa, call Kathy for me. Use your cell phone.”

  A few rings later we had Kathy Winthorpe on the line. I grabbed the phone from Alexa. “This is Detective Cataldi. You need to get home, now.”

  I hung up, dialed Delgado and filled him in. “Tell the parents where she is, then come back.”

  I wanted to say this had all been a waste of time, but it hadn’t. Delgado had brought up a good point about the white and black thing. “Alexa, who are your black friends?”

  “That question is a little racist isn’t it?”

  “It’s just a question.” I stared at her, waiting. She glared. Then her father stormed into the room.

  “Detective Cataldi, you need to leave the house.”

  “And what will you do when the kidnappers call tomorrow?”

  “I’ll tell them they have the wrong person.”

  I stared at him, doing my best not to kick his arrogant ass. “You’d do that? Leave some little girl out there to die?”

  “Like I said before, we don’t even know if there is a girl.”

  “You make me sick, Winthrop.”

  “That’s fine. As long as you’re out of here before the night is over.”

  “And this girl, who will likely get killed, what do you want me to tell her parents? That Mr. Scott Winthrop got his feelings hurt, so your daughter had to die?”

  He puffed himself up. “You have two hours to get your men and your equipment out of here.” With that, he left the room.

  One of the techs tapped me on the shoulder. “What do we do now?”