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Authors: Sujata Massey
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Detective Burns’s response made this clear.
Jacqueline had started to cry because Win was hitting her. Resolutely, I plopped myself on a bench in the foyer with one child on each knee. Andrea, from her position at the podium, watched, a distasteful expression on her face.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” I murmured, smoothing Jacqueline’s hair back into its bow. “Everything’s going to be okay. Win, do you like policemen? You’re going to meet one soon!”
He didn’t answer me, so I looked at him and saw that he had taken Marshall’s cell phone from its perch on a shelf and was punching in numbers.
“No!” I blurted out, pulling it away from him. Now he was crying as hard as Jacqueline. I held the phone aloft, as high as I could.
Justin popped his head around the corner. “I hear that redheaded witch flew off on her broomstick.”
“How can you say that!” I didn’t bother to hide my anger. “She had to go outside to finish her phone call and she vanished. It’s your fault this happened!”
“I didn’t tell her she had to go outside,” Justin said. “Just away from the dining area.”
“If you had just let her finish—” I stopped talking, because I was on the verge of crying, and people were streaming in. A black man in a preppy-looking tan suit walked in with another man in uniform. I stood up to address them, but before I could do that, Andrea had swung into operation. “Sir, under what name is your party’s reservation?”
“I’m not here for dinner. I’m Louis Burns, a homicide detective with the District police.”
I jumped up from the bench where I’d been sitting. “I’m Rei Shimura, the one who called. I have the phone right here.”
“Is there a quieter place within this restaurant where we can link our computer to your phone?” Burns said. Now I noticed that the uniformed officer with him was carrying something that looked like a laptop computer.
“There’s an office shared by the chef and the restaurant owner. And about the cell phone, it belongs to the restaurant owner, Marshall Zanger, who needs it back as soon as possible.”
“That might be a while. And the children don’t need to come with us,” Burns said as I gathered them up.
“They’re Kendall’s children. There’s nobody else to watch them, just me.” I was starting to feel defensive of Jacqueline and Win. Didn’t anyone in Washington tolerate children?
“If you take them home, I can work faster and give you updates by phone on what’s happening,” Burns said.
I looked at the wilting, whining twosome and saw the sense of his suggestion. And the family Volvo, with its two child-safety seats, was parked just outside. I could ferry Win and Jacqueline back to Potomac, tuck them into their cribs, and wait for word from Kendall.
I fished around in the diaper bag, pulling out a makeup case, diapers and wipes and plastic cups, before latching onto a Gucci key ring. I opened the car easily, but found that snapping children into their car seats took some time to figure out, given that I had even less experience with child travel than child pottying. After that, I had to figure out how to get to Potomac without using the beltway, as I usually did; in the end I remembered that Massachusetts Avenue would lead me there, so I took it.
Traffic, at this hour of the evening, was light. As the car sped smoothly to the suburbs, I thought about how far Kendall might have gone already with the strange man who had answered her telephone. Far in terms of distance, far in terms of violation…
I fought back a lump in my throat and drove into Treetops, the development of hulking homes where my cousin lived. Its builders had made an effort to maintain a fringe of tall old trees between the houses and the road. Once inside Treetops, though,the houses were so large that there were only a few yards between them, barely enough to grow anything. I drove slowly, hoping I wouldn’t pass the turn. It was hard to remember
Jacqueline had started to cry because Win was hitting her. Resolutely, I plopped myself on a bench in the foyer with one child on each knee. Andrea, from her position at the podium, watched, a distasteful expression on her face.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” I murmured, smoothing Jacqueline’s hair back into its bow. “Everything’s going to be okay. Win, do you like policemen? You’re going to meet one soon!”
He didn’t answer me, so I looked at him and saw that he had taken Marshall’s cell phone from its perch on a shelf and was punching in numbers.
“No!” I blurted out, pulling it away from him. Now he was crying as hard as Jacqueline. I held the phone aloft, as high as I could.
Justin popped his head around the corner. “I hear that redheaded witch flew off on her broomstick.”
“How can you say that!” I didn’t bother to hide my anger. “She had to go outside to finish her phone call and she vanished. It’s your fault this happened!”
“I didn’t tell her she had to go outside,” Justin said. “Just away from the dining area.”
“If you had just let her finish—” I stopped talking, because I was on the verge of crying, and people were streaming in. A black man in a preppy-looking tan suit walked in with another man in uniform. I stood up to address them, but before I could do that, Andrea had swung into operation. “Sir, under what name is your party’s reservation?”
“I’m not here for dinner. I’m Louis Burns, a homicide detective with the District police.”
I jumped up from the bench where I’d been sitting. “I’m Rei Shimura, the one who called. I have the phone right here.”
“Is there a quieter place within this restaurant where we can link our computer to your phone?” Burns said. Now I noticed that the uniformed officer with him was carrying something that looked like a laptop computer.
“There’s an office shared by the chef and the restaurant owner. And about the cell phone, it belongs to the restaurant owner, Marshall Zanger, who needs it back as soon as possible.”
“That might be a while. And the children don’t need to come with us,” Burns said as I gathered them up.
“They’re Kendall’s children. There’s nobody else to watch them, just me.” I was starting to feel defensive of Jacqueline and Win. Didn’t anyone in Washington tolerate children?
“If you take them home, I can work faster and give you updates by phone on what’s happening,” Burns said.
I looked at the wilting, whining twosome and saw the sense of his suggestion. And the family Volvo, with its two child-safety seats, was parked just outside. I could ferry Win and Jacqueline back to Potomac, tuck them into their cribs, and wait for word from Kendall.
I fished around in the diaper bag, pulling out a makeup case, diapers and wipes and plastic cups, before latching onto a Gucci key ring. I opened the car easily, but found that snapping children into their car seats took some time to figure out, given that I had even less experience with child travel than child pottying. After that, I had to figure out how to get to Potomac without using the beltway, as I usually did; in the end I remembered that Massachusetts Avenue would lead me there, so I took it.
Traffic, at this hour of the evening, was light. As the car sped smoothly to the suburbs, I thought about how far Kendall might have gone already with the strange man who had answered her telephone. Far in terms of distance, far in terms of violation…
I fought back a lump in my throat and drove into Treetops, the development of hulking homes where my cousin lived. Its builders had made an effort to maintain a fringe of tall old trees between the houses and the road. Once inside Treetops, though,the houses were so large that there were only a few yards between them, barely enough to grow anything. I drove slowly, hoping I wouldn’t pass the turn. It was hard to remember
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