But why? What possible motive could she have to kill Alfred? But for that matter, what motive could she have to lock me in here? It had to come back to her adoration of Charles. No doubt she would have picked up some whispers of missing documents. We all knew she tip-toed around the place eavesdropping on conversations. Maybe she’d overheard me talking with Alfred. Heck, for all I knew, she was Charles’s fence. Somebody had to arrange for negotiations with those under-the-radar collectors, and I knew for a fact that Charles was clueless when it came to computer programs, let alone mailing packages. Doris always handled it all for him. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense to me.
The question I really didn’t want to ask myself was, what did Charles know? He couldn’t have known how much Alfred knew, because Alfred hadn’t told anyone except me, and then Marty. Even so, what had Charles thought when he heard that Alfred was dead? Did he never once consider that faithful Doris might have been involved? Or had he carefully avoided even thinking about it?
Which at the moment was moot. How the hell was I going to prove any of this, locked in the basement? Knowing Doris, she would purge all records of anything remotely incriminating, if she hadn’t already. By the time anyone found me, all the evidence would be long gone. Did she know that Marty knew the whole story? I went around and around with my reasoning. If I had really loved Charles, how far would I have gone along with his schemes? Luckily I would never have the chance to find out: the only thing I had done right lately was to dump him. At least my moral compass seemed to be working. I wasn’t so sure about my brain.
When I had said good-bye to Charles, I had said I wanted something more in my life than he was willing to offer. I guess what I meant was someone. I had opened my mouth and that was what had come out, unscripted. Did I believe it? I did. I thought of Alfred, all but caressing Cassandra, his computer, and gathering his little trinkets in his small apartment. Or Doris, giving everything she had to her low-level job and worshipping the man she worked for, who took her slavish devotion as his due without giving her a second thought. What did I want? I liked my job, loved history and tending the bits and pieces of it that had survived. But I had to admit, it would be nice if there was someone who cared about me. Someone who would notice if I went missing for a few days-or forever.
I don’t know how long I sat there in the dark, just thinking. I might have shed a few tears about the abysmal mess I’d made of things. Every now and then I worried about the air, but there wasn’t a lot I could do about it. There wasn’t enough room to get comfortable, but I thought I remembered that the air would be better down low. Or maybe that was in case of fire. Still, I might as well lie down and conserve energy. I put my purse under my head for a pillow, wrapped my wool jacket around me, and curled up in a fetal position to wait.
CHAPTER 31
I must have slept, because the next thing I knew, the tiny room was flooded with light, and somebody was feeling for a pulse in my neck. Startled, I lashed out.
“Are you all right?” Ah, the gravelly voice of Agent James Morrison. Thank God!
I stopped flailing. “Yes. Yes! Get me out of here.” Back to light and air and freedom-please!
Strong hands reached in and hauled me to my feet. Upright, I found that my legs had gone to sleep, and as I fell forward, James’s arms came around me to hold me up. The sudden shift from total darkness to light blinded me, so I buried my face in his chest and kept my eyes shut. I was also sucking in great gasps of air, which made it hard to talk. And I was shaking from cold, and shock, and reaction. While I waited for the storm to pass, I took a quick inventory: breathing-yes, and getting better; legs-rubbery; brain-definitely fuzzy. Finally, I felt I could breathe normally and I pried my eyelids up. James was still holding on to me, and Marty was dancing around the pair of us anxiously. I didn’t have any desire to move.
“Nell, are you all right?” His voice rumbled in his chest, under my ear. “Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?”
“I’m okay, really,” I managed. “What day is this?”
“Monday. Morning.” He stepped back enough to look at my face, his hands still on my arms, holding me up-and I still needed holding up.
My brain was beginning to come back to life. “Marty, I didn’t know when you’d get my message, or what you’d do about it.” Reluctantly I peeled myself away from James’s broad chest so I could stand on my own two feet. “We have a lot to talk about. But right now I want a bathroom and food, in that order.”
“You sure you’re all right?” James used his now-free hand to tilt my chin up and look in my eyes. He looked worried, and that made me feel warmer.
“Yes. And I think I’ve figured things out, but I don’t want to talk about it until we can sit down and do it all at once. First things first.”
“Then let’s get you upstairs.” James escorted me to the door and toward the elevator, his hand still on my arm. I didn’t complain. I made a beeline for the nearest restroom, leaving James standing uncertainly in the hallway, and ignoring the startled looks from the one or two staff members around. Inside I did what was necessary, then contemplated my reflection in the mirror. I splashed water on my face and ran my fingers through my hair. Not bad, Nell, all things considered. A bit pale, maybe. My clothes looked like they had been slept in, which they had. I checked my watch: eight thirty. I picked a few bits of brittle old paper off my slacks and pulled my jacket into place.
When I emerged from the loo, my saviors were waiting in the hall, looking anxious. I announced, in no uncertain terms, “Food now, and lots of coffee. Then talk.”
“The Doubletree,” James said with authority. Good choice-it was right down the block, which was about as far as I thought I could walk at the moment. He held the heavy front door of the Society open for me and Marty, then shortened his stride to accommodate me as we walked the half block toward Broad Street. Once inside, he commandeered a table in the dining room and ordered one of everything on the menu while I gulped down a full glass of water. Coffee miraculously appeared before I finished the glass, and I added sugar to my cup and started on that.
I was beginning to feel human again. “While we’re waiting for food, please tell me how you figured out where to find me.”
Marty answered first. “I was out all day yesterday, and I didn’t get home ’til late, so I didn’t check my messages until this morning! I’m so sorry about that. And I had my cell with me, but it wasn’t even turned on-I keep forgetting about it. When I heard finally heard your messages, I started calling you at home and on your cell, and you didn’t answer, and that didn’t seem right. Then I called Charles.”
That was one call I would like to have heard. “What the heck did you ask him?”
“Oh, I was cool. I asked if he’d seen you or talked to you yesterday, and he said no, he had his kids this weekend, and they’d been out sightseeing or some such.”
“Did you believe him?”
“Yeah, because I could hear a computer game in the background. So I said thanks a lot and hung up, fast. Then I called Jimmy.”
I glanced at James-he was still watching me as though he expected me to keel over any minute. “And what did you think?”
“I thought we should track you down. Tried the GPS on your phone, but no luck.”
“I know-I tried to call out, but, surprise, there’s no reception in the basement of the building. So then what?”
“Marty said you mentioned Doris, so we tried to call her-no answer. So the two of us got together and headed over to the Society.”