The Lost Years

56

On Thursday morning, Detectives Benet and Rodriguez began to consider the possibility that Lillian Stewart had been a victim of foul play.

When they’d met with Alvirah at her Central Park South apartment the previous evening, they had listened to the tape of Lillian’s message to Richard Callahan again, which Alvirah had already played for them over the phone. Then they reviewed with Alvirah everything she had told them during that call.

She had repeated the exact timeline of following Lillian to the bank, then downtown on the subway, and finally losing her at Chambers Street. “It made me so mad,” Alvirah told them, “but this poor old soul was crawling up the steps, one at a time, leaning on her cane. And with so many people rushing down the other way, I could no more have passed her than I could have jumped over her. And when I got to the sidewalk, Lillian had disappeared into thin air.”

“Do you think she might have gotten into a car that was waiting for her, Mrs. Meehan?” Benet asked.

“Call me Alvirah. As I told you, when Lillian walked out of the bank with something in her tote bag, she was holding a cell phone to her ear. Who knows if she was making a call or receiving one? I can’t say. Maybe she was agreeing to meet someone. It’s a possibility.”

“And I kept driving around the block,” Willy offered from his comfortable lounge chair. “By the time Alvirah got back to me I felt as if I was on a carousel.”

From the Meehans’ apartment on Central Park South, Benet and Rodriguez drove directly to Lillian’s apartment building and learned from the doorman that Ms. Stewart had not returned home yet that day.

“The doorman said that since Professor Lyons died, he doesn’t remember anyone, man or woman, coming to visit her,” Rita pointed out.

Simon did not respond. Rita knew her partner well enough to have a pretty good idea of what the disgruntled look on his face meant. After they had interviewed Lillian Stewart on Tuesday morning, they should have requested a search warrant on her apartment immediately. Whether or not she admitted to having a safe-deposit box, with a search warrant they would have been able to trace it. Simon was beating himself up because if Lillian had taken the parchment from the safe-deposit box yesterday, it might well have slipped through their fingers for good now.

“I should have gotten a search warrant Tuesday,” Simon Benet said, confirming Rita’s guess at what he had been thinking. “And now Stewart’s been gone for twenty-four hours. At least we know that Alvirah Meehan tracked her to Chambers Street yesterday morning.”

The phone on Simon’s desk began to ring. “What now?” he muttered as he picked up the receiver.

It was Alvirah Meehan. “I couldn’t sleep, so I walked over to Lillian’s apartment this morning at eight o’clock. It’s only six blocks or so from Central Park South. I’m not much for early morning walks. Willy likes them but today I just couldn’t stay in bed.”

Simon waited patiently, somehow sure that Alvirah was not calling to discuss her exercise routine.

“Just as I got there, the doorman pointed out to me Lillian’s cleaning woman, who was on her way in. I told her I was worried about Lillian, and she let me go upstairs to the apartment with her. She has a key, of course.”

“You were in Lillian Stewart’s apartment!” Benet exclaimed.

“Yes. It’s all in perfect order. I have to say Lillian’s very neat. But can you believe that her cell phone, I mean the one with the phone number she gave me, is sitting on the coffee table in the living room?”

Benet knew it was a rhetorical question.

“I turned it on, of course, to check the cell phone’s number, and I recognized it. Then I looked to see if she had listed anything in the phone’s daily calendar for today.”

Benet pushed a button on his phone. “Mrs. Meehan, I mean Alvirah, my partner Detective Rodriguez is here. I’m putting you on speakerphone.”

“That’s a good idea. She’s a very smart young woman. Anyhow, Lillian’s calendar shows that she had scheduled an eight o’clock breakfast meeting this morning with some of the professors in her department at Columbia. I’ve already phoned there. She didn’t show up and she didn’t call them. She also has an appointment with her hairdresser at eleven o’clock this morning at Bergdorf Goodman. Let’s see if she keeps that one.”

“Wait a minute, Alvirah,” Rita interrupted. “You told us yesterday morning that when Ms. Stewart came out of the bank, she was talking on her cell phone.”

“She was talking on a cell phone and I did tell you that. But she sure wasn’t talking on the cell phone that’s sitting on the cocktail table in her apartment, so she must have more than one.”

The detectives waited as Alvirah hesitated, then said firmly, “You want to know my opinion? Lillian Stewart is going to turn out to be a vanishing act, just like Rory Steiger. And you know what else I think? Sad to say, when she promised to sell that parchment to Richard Callahan, she may have been putting herself in mortal danger.”

“I think you may be right,” Benet said quietly.

“All right. That’s all I have for now. I’ll be at Bergdorf’s in the beauty salon at eleven o’clock. Whether she shows up or not, I’ll call you.” With a decisive click as she disconnected, Alvirah was gone.

The detectives looked at each other, but before they could react to what they had just heard, the phone on Simon’s desk rang again.

He picked it up and identified himself.

“Detective Benet, this is Richard Callahan.”

“Where are you, Mr. Callahan?” Simon asked brusquely.

“I’ve just parked outside the courthouse. I apologize for not keeping my appointment with you yesterday. If you hadn’t been there now, I would have asked to speak to someone else in the prosecutor’s office.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Benet said curtly. “I’m here and so is Detective Rodriguez. Our office is on the second floor. We’ll be waiting for you.”