heard nothing.
I kept the phone to my ear, and one hand on Jacqueline. No more conversation, even though I said “hello” a few more times. From the digital display on the telephone’s face, I knew I’d gotten the right number for Kendall. But someone else had answered. “Hootis.” It had sounded like a strange name at first. But as I thought about it more, I realized what it meant.
Who dis?
Who is this?
My empty stomach was turning nauseous, and my forehead was warm. My cousin was not alone. Maybe I was being melodramatic, assuming too much. But Kendall had been gone half an hour, and someone else had her phone.
Andrea popped her head in. “What’s going on?”
I laid the cell phone aside without disconnecting it. Then I took her a few steps away and told her, in a low voice, what was going on.
“That doesn’t sound good.” All the hauteur had dropped from her, for once.
“I’m going to call 911. There’s another phone in here, somewhere, isn’t there?” I scanned the overloaded desk.
Andrea slid open a drawer, and voilà, there was a cordless phone and receiver. “They won’t believe you.”
“What?” I asked, my fingers punching in 911 on the new phone.
“I’m telling you, they won’t care. This is D.C. Somebody missing for twenty minutes isn’t exactly viewed as urgent.”
As the operator patched me through to the police, I thought quickly about how to get the best result. Andrea was right that Kendall’s absence wasn’t long enough for her to qualify as a missing person. So when the police dispatcher came on the line, I told him about the cut-off phone call, the smashed glass, and the strange male voice on the other end of the cell phone.
The dispatcher switched me to a cool voice that said, “Homicide. Detective Burns.”
Homicide. I couldn’t fathom Kendall having reached that point already. I told my story again, layering the fact that a U.S. senator with whom she’d been speaking was concerned for her safety. This was D.C., as Andrea had said, and every connection counted.
“Do you still have the connection open to the cell phone?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I didn’t hang up, but I heard a noise on the other end. It might be on or off.”
“Give me the number for your cousin and we’ll test it from here,” he said. “And whatever you do, make sure nobody disconnects the phone you were using. We have a mobile phone-trace unit we can bring in to hook up to that cell phone if it comes to that. Hang on for me. I’ll be right back.” The detective came back on the line after about two minutes. “We can’t get through. We’ll bring the mobile phone-tracer—probably be there in ten minutes or less.”
I took the time to drag Marshall to privacy and tell him that I had to temporarily hand over his precious phone to the police.
“You couldn’t have picked a better night for this,” Marshall said as he watched me coax the drooping twins to the restaurant foyer, where I planned to wait for the police.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” I answered coldly. “However, it shouldn’t impact things too much. They’re really mostly interested in talking to the cook who saw Kendall go outside.”
“Great. The police go into my kitchen, everyone’s going to think it’s getting raided by the INS.”
“Don’t be such a fatalist,” I said.
“Me, a fatalist? How about you? I don’t think it’s an abduction when a guest leaves the table to make a phone call in privacy.”
“Look, I’m sorry about this. Maybe you can make an announcement about what’s going on so the diners don’t think it’s an INS raid.”
“Thank you, I will. I’ll let everyone know that our restaurant isso fabulous that the district’s finest criminals have discovered it already.”
There was no point in talking with Marshall. He was angry, and if I hadn’t been so worried about my cousin, I would have felt sympathy for him. But Kendall was in danger.
I kept the phone to my ear, and one hand on Jacqueline. No more conversation, even though I said “hello” a few more times. From the digital display on the telephone’s face, I knew I’d gotten the right number for Kendall. But someone else had answered. “Hootis.” It had sounded like a strange name at first. But as I thought about it more, I realized what it meant.
Who dis?
Who is this?
My empty stomach was turning nauseous, and my forehead was warm. My cousin was not alone. Maybe I was being melodramatic, assuming too much. But Kendall had been gone half an hour, and someone else had her phone.
Andrea popped her head in. “What’s going on?”
I laid the cell phone aside without disconnecting it. Then I took her a few steps away and told her, in a low voice, what was going on.
“That doesn’t sound good.” All the hauteur had dropped from her, for once.
“I’m going to call 911. There’s another phone in here, somewhere, isn’t there?” I scanned the overloaded desk.
Andrea slid open a drawer, and voilà, there was a cordless phone and receiver. “They won’t believe you.”
“What?” I asked, my fingers punching in 911 on the new phone.
“I’m telling you, they won’t care. This is D.C. Somebody missing for twenty minutes isn’t exactly viewed as urgent.”
As the operator patched me through to the police, I thought quickly about how to get the best result. Andrea was right that Kendall’s absence wasn’t long enough for her to qualify as a missing person. So when the police dispatcher came on the line, I told him about the cut-off phone call, the smashed glass, and the strange male voice on the other end of the cell phone.
The dispatcher switched me to a cool voice that said, “Homicide. Detective Burns.”
Homicide. I couldn’t fathom Kendall having reached that point already. I told my story again, layering the fact that a U.S. senator with whom she’d been speaking was concerned for her safety. This was D.C., as Andrea had said, and every connection counted.
“Do you still have the connection open to the cell phone?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I didn’t hang up, but I heard a noise on the other end. It might be on or off.”
“Give me the number for your cousin and we’ll test it from here,” he said. “And whatever you do, make sure nobody disconnects the phone you were using. We have a mobile phone-trace unit we can bring in to hook up to that cell phone if it comes to that. Hang on for me. I’ll be right back.” The detective came back on the line after about two minutes. “We can’t get through. We’ll bring the mobile phone-tracer—probably be there in ten minutes or less.”
I took the time to drag Marshall to privacy and tell him that I had to temporarily hand over his precious phone to the police.
“You couldn’t have picked a better night for this,” Marshall said as he watched me coax the drooping twins to the restaurant foyer, where I planned to wait for the police.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” I answered coldly. “However, it shouldn’t impact things too much. They’re really mostly interested in talking to the cook who saw Kendall go outside.”
“Great. The police go into my kitchen, everyone’s going to think it’s getting raided by the INS.”
“Don’t be such a fatalist,” I said.
“Me, a fatalist? How about you? I don’t think it’s an abduction when a guest leaves the table to make a phone call in privacy.”
“Look, I’m sorry about this. Maybe you can make an announcement about what’s going on so the diners don’t think it’s an INS raid.”
“Thank you, I will. I’ll let everyone know that our restaurant isso fabulous that the district’s finest criminals have discovered it already.”
There was no point in talking with Marshall. He was angry, and if I hadn’t been so worried about my cousin, I would have felt sympathy for him. But Kendall was in danger.
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