Stalking The Phoenix Part 4

Phil cleared his throat.

I turned around to look at him.

He told me, "The flowers were delivered to the receptionist at Aquinas Hall. Marj said that the man was who delivered the flowers was average height and tanned. I showed her the photograph of Hernandez. She couldn't make a positive ID. She said that she didn't pay any attention to him. But, she thought that it might have been the same person."

"He's here, and he wants me dead, Phil. What are you going to do to protect me?"

Phil sighed. "So far, all we really have are threats and hara.s.sment. But there have been no actions against you. I think that we have to consider that this is either an attempt to drive you insane or that there is actually someone out there who wants you dead, but wants you to suffer first."

"So tell me something that I hadn't figured out?"

I had thought that the statement had been rhetorical. But the sudden increase of tension in the air was enough to convince me otherwise. "What? What else has happened? What aren't you telling me?"

"'Licia, calm down," Geoff urged. "You are only going to make yourself sick if you keep this up."

"Just tell me, Phil. Tell me, straight."

"Sarah Quinn is missing. Her apartment shows signs of a struggle having taken place," Phil stated after a long moment's hesitation.

I hastily crossed myself. "Dear G.o.d."

"Sarah Quinn?" Geoff asked in a puzzled voice. "What in the world do you still have to do with Sarah Quinn?"

I sighed. "Nevermind, Geoff. It doesn't matter."

"I think that it does, sweetheart. What do you have to do with Sarah Quinn?"

"I've been paying her way through school. Anything else that you want to know?"

"For pity's sake, 'Licia, the girl almost got you killed once. Now you are paying for her education..." Geoff replied. There was anger in his tone. "Why are you wasting your money like that? Why are you keeping that tie to your past?"

"It's my money. I'll spend it as I wish."

"We'll discuss this later."

I had only heard him use that tone once, when he was discussing a client's case with the prosecuting attorney over the telephone. It wasn't a tone I ever had particularly wanted him to use with me.

"There's nothing to discuss. It's all laid out in our pre-nupt, Geoff. I'm sorry if you don't like it. But you were the one who insisted on having that doc.u.ment drawn. You know the terms as well as, if not better than, I do. After all, you dictated them."

Geoff was visibly fighting with himself over commenting on that.

Phil cleared his throat. "Al, I need for you to think long and hard about who else might in the farthest stretch of your imagination have a grudge, for a cause real or imagined, against you. While Hernandez is our princ.i.p.al suspect, we can't afford to rule out anyone else."

Cupping my forehead in my left hand and ma.s.saging my throbbing temples with my left thumb and fingertips, I said, "I can't think of anyone whom I've ever hurt that badly."

"Old lovers?" Phil offered.

*Chapter 9*

'Phil'

Alicia's head snapped up. She fixed me with a disbelieving look. "Get real, Phil. Just get real," she said in a tone so dry that it would have made the Sahara look like a tropical rain forest.

"I'm serious."

"So am I," Alicia replied.

Geoff placed his hand on her shoulder. "Take it easy, 'Licia. Phil is only doing his job."

"Al, we aren't at all sure that Hernandez is behind this. We need to cover all possible angles. Anyone who might have something against you has to be suspect. Old lovers are as good of a place to start as any," I said.

"It might be under normal circ.u.mstances. But, I'm afraid that I can't help you, Phil. I don't have any old boyfriends lurking about," she said as she looked at a spot on the wall just behind me.

"None?" I asked in astonishment. "None?"

"My personal history hardly makes it likely that I would have been promiscuous, now does it?" she asked, her voice full of pain. She still would not look at me. "But, this is really none of your business, now is it?"

"Take it easy, 'Licia. Phil is just doing his job," Geoff said again.

"I know. I just feel out of control," Al said as she closed her eyes as though to escape. "I hate feeling this out of control. I hate it."

"Look, Al, you are thirty-seven-years-old. No one lives that long without making enemies. Now, I want a list of anyone who has anything against you."

"I don't know of anyone who meets that criterion, aside from Hernandez." Al folded and unfolded her hands in a gesture betraying her anxiety. "I live a very quiet life. I run my business and do my research. I teach my cla.s.ses and chair the department. I volunteer time at the youth center, the women's crisis center, with Big Brothers/Big Sisters, and the local Habitat for Humanity affiliate when they've got a construction project going. I sing with the parish choir and sit on the parish council. I coach the parish high school's track team, and I teach basic self defense to the girls in both the public and parochial high schools. Then I spend time with my friends and fiancee. That's about the extent of my rather boring life."

"Think hard, Al, please. Is there anyone who might be holding a grudge against you?"

With a vexed sigh, she said, "Look, Phil, I've been over and over this in my own mind. There just isn't anyone whom I've hurt that badly. There is no one whom I've really injured, who is still living. That is simply that. There isn't another soul on the face of the earth whom I've given reasonable cause to hate me."

"No one?"

"Not unless, you want a list of very minor disagreements which are best left forgotten. I can't tell you anything more than I already have. I just don't know."

"Minor disagreements? Like what?" I demanded.

"Old Mrs. Findley who lives behind me has a little dog which likes to dig up my daffodils. She and I have had numerous, sometimes heated, words about Dodo. I threatened to call the animal control people. She threatened to pepper my backside with rock salt and bacon rind, if I did that. I resolved the issue by just not planting any more flowers without putting up a fence around them. But, Mrs. Findley still doesn't speak to me unless she absolutely has to."

Imogene Findley was an old h.e.l.l-raiser who had matured into a sweet-looking old lady. Appearances with that woman were deceptive. She was still a h.e.l.l-raiser and probably always would be. I could well imagine her offering to pepper Al's backside with rock salt. "Continue."

"Let's see. Sister Mary Clare at Holy Rosary High and I have a running dispute about the need for the girls to have a more thorough grounding in self-defense than I can give them in the three weeks that I spend with them each spring. I would like to extend the sessions to a full semester, but she is adamantly opposed."

"And?" I asked.

"I never could get Chester Whitfield to make good on the rotten job that he did of putting on my new roof. I still have a leak in the back bedroom. He wasn't too happy when I filed suit against him for breech of contract. That hearing is coming up in a couple of weeks."

"Continue."

"Ernestine Chapman and I have a running disagreement over the amount of money which the parish spends on the acquisition of new music. She thinks that we spend too much, that we use too much modern music. I tend to think that we don't nearly spend enough. We've both been quite vocal in our positions."

"Go on..."

"This is so silly, Phil. None of these people are devious enough to have plotted something like this," Al replied, her voice revealing just how tired she really was. "It's just plain ludicrous to think about. This isn't getting us anywhere."

"Come on, Al. There has to be something, someone, whom you have forgotten."

"What do you want me to say, Phil? I can't make things up. I live very quietly. I go out of my way to mind my own business. If I have a plethora of enemies, I certainly have no knowledge of them."

"Think, Al. Just think. Didn't you get a teller fired at the bank?"

"John Richards," she answered. "He shorted a corporate deposit by a thousand dollars. Of course, I was disturbed about it. I complained rather loudly to his supervisor. There were several other complaints, as well, as I remember."

"Do you know where he is?"

"Come on, Phil. Do you really think that John Richards could be behind this?" Al asked. "The man was a total basket-case. I never thought that he had sufficient mental capacity to manage his own life, let alone meddle in someone else's."

"We need to explore the possibilities. I am not willing to rule anyone out at this stage."

"I honestly can't think of anyone else who might even have a minor grudge against me," Al replied quietly.

"Real useful, Al. Your list consists of a feisty ninety-two-year-old woman, a nun, the head deacon of the Third Baptist Church, the mayor's sister, and an incompetent bank teller. That's some group of hardened felons that you have there."

"I told you, Phil, I live a very quiet life. Personally, I like it this way. And Sister is not a nun -- she's a Sister. Her order doesn't take solemn vows, only simple ones. Sorry, I'm nitpicking..."

Geoff took her hand. "Don't worry about it, honey. Everyone understands that you are nervous."

"I just wish Hernandez would make his move, this suspense is killing me," Al said, a shade of desperation in her voice.

"Again, Al that may be this person's goal -- to drive you batty," I offered.

"He doesn't have far to go. I'm almost to the point of jumping at shadows now. I nearly go through the ceiling whenever the telephone rings."

"I understand how you feel."

"Do you think that Sarah is dead?" Al asked, after a long pause. "Phil, be honest with me, please. Do you think she is dead?"

"It's a possibility. So far, no body has been found. But, I'd be lying if I said that it wasn't a possibility. The place, according to the St. Louis detectives with whom I spoke was trashed pretty thoroughly. They are acting on the suspicion that this could be a homicide."

"Do you..." Her voice quivered. "I mean, you do think this is related, don't you?"

"I don't think that we can discount it, at the moment." I told her. "I wish that I could tell you that it was absolutely unrelated. I've never been a great believer in coincidence."

"I wish that I hadn't asked..." she said.

"No, you don't. You aren't a coward, Al."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. It's not a safe bet at the moment."

Geoff's watch beeped. He looked down at it. "Well, 'Licia, are you ready to go?

Father Dougla.s.s expects us over at the Rectory for our first session of pre-Cana."

"Can't keep Padre waiting, now, can we?" Al retorted.

We walked out of the engineering sciences building into the parking lot. Al stopped dead in her tracks as she scanned the parking lot in disbelief. "Oh! This is all that I need! Absolutely all that I need!"

Both Geoff and I looked at her questioningly.

"My car's gone," Al said in a pained voice. "My car is gone."

"Gone?" Geoff asked.

"Are you sure that you parked it here?" I asked.

She fixed me with a look of pure exasperation. "I'm not quite in my dotage yet, Philip. I do remember parking my car in my a.s.signed parking s.p.a.ce, thank you very much."

I nodded. "Okay, I need some information. I'll file the stolen vehicle report."

Geoff looked at his wrist.w.a.tch. "Can we do this later? Father Dougla.s.s is waiting for us."

I sighed. "Barebones details. Do you remember the license number?"

Al's mouth compressed into a thin line. "Of course, I remember the tag. I should remember it. I paid dearly enough for the privilege of vanity plates. They read Als 55. The car is an antique. I restored it with vintage parts. It's worth a fortune to a collector. I need to call my insurance broker, excuse me."

"Father Dougla.s.s is waiting for us," Geoff said, taking her arm as she would have gone back into the building.

"You can file an insurance claim after you have a copy of the police report. You'll need that for the claim anyway," Geoff offered.

Al sighed. She closed her eyes for a moment. "Of course. We shouldn't keep Father Dougla.s.s waiting," she said.

"When did you last see the car?" I asked her.

"About one o'clock when I walked back from lunch."

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me, Philip. I know my own car."

"Okay. I'll file the report. I'll drop off a copy at your house later this evening."

"Thanks, Phil," she replied with a sigh. "When is this nightmare going to end?"

"We don't know that all of this is connected."