Read Online Little Death by the Sea by Susan Kiernan-Lewis - Free Book Online Page B

absently. A bill from
Macy’s, the electric bill, and a postcard from Cyprus.
    It was just like she’d told Darla. She’d been
stupid and she’d gotten hurt. She looked at the postcard again.
    Dear Maggie -Hope this finds you well. Having
a bit of a holiday in
    Cyprus...and an adventure too, I must say.
How is little Nicole?
    Doing well, I trust? Take care of yourself,
then—
    Best regards, Roger Bentley.
    Maggie caressed the little dog-eared
postcard, an artist’s pretty blue and white rendition of the city
of Paphos in watercolor on the picture side. Even bloody Roger felt
pity enough to drop her a line, she thought.
    The phone rang and she debated whether to let
the answering machine handle it. She was in no mood to have to be
polite or social. On the other hand, it could be some poor,
unsuspecting telemarketing rep and that might prove to be just the
thing for her current temper. She picked up the phone before the
answering machine engaged.
    “Yes?” she snapped into the receiver.
    “Mademoiselle Newberry? This is Margaret
Newberry?”
    Maggie held her breath, then,
    “Laurent?”
    “ Comment?”
    “Who...who is this?”
    She sat up straight on the couch, the
postcard fluttering from her fingers.
    “ Je m’ap ...I am Gerard Dubois. You are
knowing me, yes? I am Elise’s boyfriend? Votre ...your
sister?”
    Good God! Gerard. Was he in Atlanta? Maggie
stood up slowly, her heart pounding furiously in her chest, the
hand holding the phone was immediately clammy.
    “What do you think I want, do you think?” The
voice was high and nasty. Maggie dully detected a fuzziness to it
too, as if alcohol had been the aperitif to the call. “I
want my little bèbè that you and your family stealed from
Gerard. You are surprised, yes? You are not thinking Gerard would
come for his little girl?”
    “You can’t prove anything.” Maggie felt the
panic creep over her like a painful acid. This cannot be happening,
she thought with horror.
    “I am not needing to prove anything,
Mademoiselle. I have talking to Monsieur Roger Bentley, yes?
You are familiar, yes? Monsieur Bentley?” Maggie’s eyes
flicked automatically to the postcard on the floor. “He is telling
me that you have Nicole. Is true, n’est-ce pas ?”
    Maggie suddenly understood why he was calling
her. This phone call had nothing to do with getting the child back.
It had to do only with how much the Newberrys wanted to keep
her.
    “You want money.”
    “And Elise said you were so stuupeeed.”
    “Shut-up about my sister, you filth!” Maggie
was trembling with rage and almost didn’t hear the click as the man
disconnected the line. “Hello?” Shaken, she dropped the receiver
back into its cradle and sat down hard onto the couch.
    Oh, God, now what was she going to do? She
couldn’t contact him and he was going to try to take Nicole away
and she couldn’t even go to the police. (“Exactly how did the child
come into the United States, Miss Newberry?”) She covered her eyes
with her hands and hunched over her knees.
    The phone rang again and she snatched it
up.
    “Yes?”
    “I will not have you speaking to me like
that. You are a pig, comprenez? Pig? That you steal m’enfant . And now, you will give me five thousand American
dollars from your rich papa , I do not care...you will give
me it ce soir . Immediately! You are understanding me?”
    Maggie’s mind raced: her father would still
be at the club. Did he have that kind of money lying around? The
banks wouldn’t open until nine tomorrow.
    “Where?” She watched the hands on her living
room clock spasmodically twitch off the seconds across its face. It
looked vaguely malevolent to her now.
    A high-pitched giggle assaulted her from the
other end. Then:
    “You will come with the money to the car park
at the Lenox Mall, you understand? Les grandes magazins ? The
shopping stores?”
    “How will I--?”
    “Park your automobile. Gerard will find you.
Perhaps when I find you, I will screw you