Date: Mon, 15 Aug 1994 18:29:04 -0700 "Wrong Number?" A Forever Knight Story by Margaret Newman Nick, sitting on the couch reading and the stereo blasting out Vivaldi in the background, automatically reached for the phone when it rang. He was expecting Nat with the latest on a particular autopsy. "What were the results, Nat?" He said without preamble. "Oh, I'm sorry." A woman's voice trembled, caught off guard. "Ah- . I have the wrong number. I was calling for Terrence." "What is the number you dialed?" Nick was instantly curious, hearing the raw emotion in her voice. "I... I don't know." She paused. "Terrence's number is 555-7817." "That's very close to mine. My name is Nick which isn't close to Terrence." He ended the last line with a touch of humor. "I'm sorry for bothering you, Nick." She said very softly. "Terrence said to call if I needed to talk, but now that I think about it, he's probably at work." "What does Terrence do?" He felt as if he were talking to someone very close to jumping off the ledge of a building. "He works with computers. I can never remember his job title. I know he has a masters in computer engineering. He works for Alestra -it's a software company." As she talked, her voice trembled less. "Yes, I've heard of it. As a matter of fact, I think I have some of their software. Great stuff. Is Terrence your boyfriend?" He reached for the remote, and turned the stereo down. "No." A soft laugh. "He's my, uh, ex-stepbrother. Our parents were married briefly. He and I have kept in touch." "That's good. Have you always lived in Toronto?" "No, I haven't been here very long. I came here because of Terence. Mostly, I've lived stateside. My dad was in the military. I was born in France, that kind of thing. I lived the longest in Chicago. I even started college there." Another soft laugh. "Thanks, Nick. I appreciate your filling in for Terrence." "You sound pretty shook up. Is there anyone else you can call or maybe go visit?" Chicago.... it had been so long. He could still smell the musty-leathery scent of his office. "What's your major?" "Oh, I quit college." She sighed. "No, there isn't anyone else, but I'll be fine. Oh, and my name is Joey. It's short for Josephine, but not for the empress. It's my great-grandma's name." "Nice to meet you, Joey." "Thanks, nice to meet you, too. I'll hang up now. Go back to what ever you were doing." "Joey?" Nick asked, but he knew she was gone. He stared at the phone, deep in thought, and was startled when it rang in his hand. "Hello?" "Nick?" Natalie laughed. "Just who have you been on the phone with? I've been calling and calling with the test info." "You wouldn't believe me." He shut his book, and tossed it onto the coffee table. "Okay, Nat, what do you have for me?" * * * * "This Nick Knight, I'm either in bed or incommunicado." "Nick? It's Joey. I just wanted to say hi. I told Terrence about you talking to me for him. He said to say thanks. Take care. Bye." "Nicolah, I am getting very upset with you. I think you are talking this policeman escapade of yours far too seriously. If you don't come see me soon, I may do something drastic." Janette paused, and there was the obvious sound of her flipping through her address book, "Ah, yes. Here it is. Lambert, Natalie.... See you soon, my love." Nick smiled slowly, and shook his head. "Women." "Nick, would you please call Janette or go see her?" Nat sounded exasperated. "She's driving me up the wall." He considered his empty glass, and opted for drinking straight from the bottle. So much for keeping it at a minimum tonight. * * * * "......in bed or incommunicado." "Damn. Sorry, Nick." A pause. Some sniffling. "It's just Joey, dialing the wrong number for Terrence again. He put it on the memory buttons, but when the power went out to my building, it got erased." There was a dog barking in the background. "I thought it was against the law to have large dogs in an apartment. Well, hope you are okay. Take care." "Joey?" Nick lunged for the phone, and grab the receiver. The line was already dead. "Damn." He slammed the phone down. Blurry eyed from just waking up, he stumbled towards the refrigerator. He glanced at the clock on the wall, and had to focus before reading the time as 1:30. The tell-tale signs of light around the blinds of his windows told him that it was afternoon. He ended up sitting on the steps, head in hands and the now half empty bottle between his feet. There was something about Joey that touched him, that nagged at him. What was the trouble that bothered her so? Her ex-step brother seemed to care, but did she have no other family? There had been several hang ups on his answering machine lately, so he knew she was calling him more than just these two times. Why? Because talking to a stranger is easier than to family? Because he had listened, and talked to her? He was tempted to borrow the caller id unit from the precinct, and get her number. * * * * * "What's going on?" Nick asked Schanke as he met his partner in the hallway of a large apartment complex. "Murder, Nick. Plain and simple." Schanke waggled his eyebrows at Nick. "Young woman, age 23, single, and quite pretty." He led Nick into the murder victim's apartment. Down the hall, a dog barked continuously. By the loudness of the bark, and the deep voice, Nick knew it had to be a large dog. The apartment was a mess. Everything was either shattered, torn or demolished. The murderer had evidently gone on rampage. The boy of the young woman had been half covered by a bookcase when the police had first arrived. Natalie was now crouched down by her, making notes on a clipboard. "Hi, Nick." She glanced over her shoulder at him. Her face was grim, and her lips were in a tight line. "Nat." He nodded. "What's her name?" "Victoria Belliveau. She had just moved in." An older woman, dressed in bright orange sweats, stood against the wall near the door. "Such a nice young woman." A well used kleenex covered her mouth as tears ran down her face. "They've been having a lot of trouble here lately." A uniformed officer spoke up. "Break ins, vandalism, power outage." "You are?" Nick turned to him. "Daniels, Roger Daniels, sir." He looked up at Nick. "I came when I heard the call. I answered three of the previous calls." "Can't anyone shut that damn dog up?" Schanke harrumphed. "It's funny, you know." Daniels sighed, glancing around the apartment. "What is?" Nick asked him. "The young woman who made two of the calls, she used to live in this very apartment." He arched an eyebrow, his eyes again meeting Nick's. "I think I want to hear more about this." Nick commented. Schanke pulled back the curtain that led to the balcony. The glass of the sliding door had been smashed, violently so, from outside. * * * * * "I talked to the landlady." Schanke said around a mouthful of his sandwich. He walked across the loft to sit in Nick's leather chair. He set a folder down on the coffee table with one hand, and took another bite of his sandwich from his other hand. "Mmkdkrllfff." "Fascinating." Nick sighed, safely hiding a bottle and glass in the dishwasher. He had been relaxing, just on the verge of falling asleep, when Schanke had pressed the door buzzer downstairs. "Care to repeat that in English?" "Oh, sorry." Schanke swallowed. "Myra's got me on this diet. The only time I get something good to eat is at work. I gotta store up for when I'm off duty and at her mercy." "The previous tenet at Belliveau's apartment? She didn't leave a forwarding address. Moved in with her brother, something like that. Mrs. Wynn, the landlady, seemed suspicious of their relationship." Schanke finished the sandwich, looked around for the garbage. "Here." Nick held his hand out for the wrapper. Don tossed it to him. He caught it easily, much more easily than a mortal would have the way Schanke threw, and put it in the waste can. "What was the woman's name?" "Coulter, Josephine." Schanke flipped open the file. "Joey, for short. Her brother's name is Terrence. Got a last name on him?" Nick sat on the arm of the couch. "How'd you know that?" Don frowned up at him. "Luck, I think." Nick shrugged. "I'm not sure." * * * * * "Any leads on the Belliveau murder?" Stonetree said from beside Nick's desk. Strange thing was, Nick never heard him walk up. The captain had that ability. "Yeah, a ton." Don chuckled, shaking his head. "Our suspect wasn't after her." Nick leaned back in his chair to look up at the captain. "He was after the previous occupant." "You find her?" Stonetree frowned. "She vanished. No forwarding address, no former address. Hardly spoke to anyone in the building. Neighbors say she hardly came out of her apartment, and if she did, she wouldn't look at anyone. Her brother," Don said with a snort, "if that's who he really is, visited her often. Nice guy, from what the neighbors say. Well dressed, said hello. Seemed real concerned about his 'sister'." He used his fingers to immatate quote marks. "The interesting part being that the lease was not in the previous tenant's name. The listed name is one Anne McGraw who is currently working in Australia. We're trying to get a hold of her, but so far, we haven't been lucky." Nick sighed. "She is on vacation somewhere in the middle of the Outback." "No check written for rent? Anything?" The captain picked up a pen from Nick's desk. "Each rent was paid for in a money order. The address used, of course, was that of the complex. No credit check was necessary as McGraw is still on the lease." Nick hadn't exactly told the captain about the phone calls he had received from Joey. Schanke had thought it a little too weird, too coincidental. It certainly made the hair on the back of Nick's neck tingle. "I think there is something I should mention, captain. Can we talk in your office?" "Sure." Stonetree nodded, and led the way. Schanke grabbed their file, and followed. "I'm not sure if I can be of help." The woman nervously shifted in the chair. "I heard about the murder investigation from the Oriental lady that runs the coffee shop right by the apartments. Where Miss Belliveau was murdered." "Let us judge if you can help. You own a bookshop down the street from there, right? Ms. Gautier?" Nick smiled, casually sitting on the edge of the desk in the interrogation room. They had come in here for privacy. "Right. 'Bell, Book, and Candle'. I specialize in books that aren't run of the mill. Joey came in once or twice a week." She looked up at Nick, saw the reaction in his eyes, and knew she had been right to come. "It is really about Joey, isn't it?" "How do you know?" Schanke frowned, dropping the uninterested air. "Gayle, from the coffee shop, said that gossip was that Miss Belliveau was killed by mistake. That the murderer was after someone else. That's when I knew it had to be about Joey." She sighed, dropping her gaze to the floor. "There is something about Joey, something that caught my attention the first time she came into the store. So nervous, so shy. Frightened." "Has she been in your bookstore lately?" Nick pressed. It was strange, he had felt that something about Joey when he had first heard her voice on the phone. "Two days ago. It was only yesterday that Gayle told me about the investigation." Mrs. Gautier pulled a computer printed sheet out from her purse. "This is all the info I have on Joey. The books that she has ordered over the last four months. No address, no phone. She said she preferred to just check in to see if her order had arrived. She always put cash down for a deposit." "Uh, not to be a killjoy, but...." Schanke looked between Nick and Ms. Gautier. "No address, no phone... how does that help us?" "Because her book hadn't come in yet." Ms. Gautier let Nick take the print out of the books Joey had ordered. He frowned as he read over the titles. "She'll be back again at the end of the week. Friday or Saturday. She usually comes in the afternoon. Around 2." "She ever come in with her brother?" Schanke leaned over Nick's shoulder to see what had so interested his partner. "'Life After Death'? 'Grief and Ghosts'? Man oh man oh man." "Joey has quite a good taste in books, detective." She looked somewhat distastefully at him. "Oh, yeah. Sure." Don blinked, smiled, and stepped back. "Surely someone has taught you the value of an open mind?" Ms. Gautier was not about to let him off that easily. "If it concerns donuts, I'm sure they have." Nick grinned. "We'll post a surv- " "Oh, no." Ms. Gautier shook her head. "No policeman. It's not because of my shop. It's for Joey. I would rather have someone call you when she comes in, engage her in conversation, and you can come yourself. I don't want to upset her, but this is obviously very important. Her life is no doubt in jepardy." "Outside- " Nick tried again. "No. If she saw them, she probably wouldn't come near the shop." Ms. Gautier stood. She took the print out back from Nick. After the bookshop opener left, Nick turned to Schanke. "Plain clothesmen. They can take turns. We don't want to miss this opportunity." "Right. Good idea." Schanke nodded in agreement. As he turned to leave the room, he frowned, "'Vampirism in the 90's'? Geez, what anybody will read these days." Nick smiled, thinking he would probably buy the book himself and see what it had to say. Janette would probably find it amusing. * * * * * "Nick Knight, I'm either in bed or incommunicado...." "Knight, hey, Knight! Wakey, wakey! Our favorite little bookshop just went up in smoke. That's right, buddy. El boom-o!" Schanke practically bellowed into the phone. He had to, sirens were screeching madly in the background. "Schanke, are you serious?" Nick half-growled into the phone. He wasn't getting much uninterrupted sleep this week. "Dead serious, my man. A four alarm one, too. Definitely the news of the night. It's gonna be all over the tv. We got almost as many reporters out here as firemen." His tone of voice was heavy with disgust. "Is everyone alright? No one caught in it?" He looked at the digital clock on the answering machine. 4:45pm. Nearly time to get up. "A couple of the clerks. No one seriously injured. Adjoinging business have been evacuated. The whole damn block has been evacuated. Man, I'm hungry. I wonder what that coffee shop sells." * * * * * "The bomb was in shopping bag that had, according to the book shop clerk, been left by a customer the night before. It had been put back in the employees breakroom while they waited for the customer to come back for it. He never did." Schanke said to Nick over his BLT. Nick tried very hard not to watch Schanke eat. "Did you get a description of the customer?" Nick surreptitiously put a hand to his mouth. Think about work, he told himself. "Yeah, yeah." Schanke wiped his mouth with a napkin, and grabbed his notepad. "Tall, blonde 'hunk'. That's what the woman said. Real nice build. Muscular. Not tanned." Schanke snorted. "Great description." "No identification in the bag? Nothing to give us a name?" 'Not tanned'? As in permenently allergic to the sun? He stepped away from Schanke's car. "No, nothing." Schanke frowned. "Where are you going?" "I have a visit to make. I'll check back with you at the station." Nick put his sunglasses on, and headed for the caddy. * * * * * "Hello, Nicolah." Janette said without looking back to see who had come up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. "So nice of you to stop by for a visit." "Bonsoir, Janette." Nick purred. It never hurt to butter her up some first, although with Janette, it very seldom worked. "You look quite lovely this evening." "Thank you, my love." She leaned into his embrace, ever so subtly rubbing her body against his. She then pulled away, and turned to face him. Sharply, she asked, "what do you want?" "Any new arrivals in the last few months? Tall, blonde males?" He came to the point. "Really, Nicolah." She reached for her cigarettes. "That description could fit anyone. From you to LaCroix." "But we know I wouldn't be asking after LaCroix, don't we?" He ran a hand up her bare arm. She met his gaze, her eyes glittering with anger. "I resent you only coming here when you need something from me." She snapped, pulling her arm away from him. "I am not an information service. I run a club." "I've been busy." Guiltily, Nick looked away. "You always say that." She softened, seeing that look on his face. He never knew how he could turn her insides soft. She ran a hand up his chest. "You could come by, once in a while, just to say hello. It wouldn't hurt you, you know." "I know." He took her hand, and pressed a kiss to the black lace palm. "No, I don't know of any newcomers who meet that description." She replied softly. "You still like going to the theater?" He slipped closer to her, an arm going around her waist. His lips lightly touched her ear. "Of course." She refused to let herself be carried away. "But why not take your doctor instead?" Nick stepped back, gazing down at Janette's face. Gently, he brushed an invisible strand of hair from her face. "She's already seen the play." His voice was flat. He left without further words. Janette watched him fade into the darkness, hearing the door slam -either imagined or by acute hearing. Why did she always have to pick the troubled ones? First LaCroix, and then later, Nicolah. It was the only thing her Maman had been right about. She lit a cigarette and turned to watch the dancers. * * * * * "...in bed or incommunicado." Nat and Nick both turned towards the phone simultaneously. "Nick, we got a break in reported. Guess the name of fellow who called it in." It was Don. "I'm here." Nick said as he picked up the phone. "First name wouldn't be Terrence, would it?" "Bingo!" Don replied. "Possible homicide, too. Joey is missing. Blood all over. No body, though." "I'll be right there." Nick cringed inwardly. He hadn't found her in time. "Bring Nat." Schanke said without asking if she was there. "I will." Nick hung up the phone. His eyes met Nat's. * * * * * "Mr. Rappaport, this is Detective Don Schanke and Detective Nick Knight." Stonetree introduced them to Joey's brother. "Nick?" Terrence stood, holding out his hand to Nick. He looked completely worn out. "I always appreciated you talking to her that day." "I was glad to. She seemed very alone, and scared." Nick took the proferred hand in his. "Her family never believed her about Jason. I'm not sure I did, either. Until now. I knew someone was harassing her. I just assumed it was her father or one of her half-brothers." Terrence rubbed his eyes, and sat back down in the chair with a sigh. "She had a rough childhood?" Stonetree asked as he handed Terrence a styrofoam cup of coffee. "Yeah." Terrence nodded. "You could say that. Her mother married my father back when Joey was in high school. It was about then that she met Jason Whitelaw. Quarterback on the local high school football team. Real jock. They seemed to click though. Her father didn't touch her after she started dating Jason." "What happened to Jason?" Nick asked, sitting down at an angle to Terrence. "It was real strange. His team went to the Nationals, Joey wasn't able to go. There was some accident when the boys went out after winning their game. I went to his funeral. Half the town did. That's why, when Joey said she started seeing him, no one believed her." For a moment, Terrence stared into the cup of coffee. "So, it couldn't have been him." Schanke interrupted the silence. "It could still be her father or a half-brother." "No. I checked. Her father's been in Texas for over a year now. His two sons by his first wife are both in the military. One is over in Germany, the other is over in California." Terrence glanced at Schanke, and then at Nick. "We aren't going to find her, are we?" "We'll keep trying." Nick laid his hand on Terrence's arm. "We won't give up." * * * * * * "Nick Knight, I'm either in bed or incommunicado. Leave a message at the beep. I'll get back to you as soon as I can." "Nick? Hi, it's Joey. How are you?" Joey's voice sounded happy, there being no edge of fear, no trembling. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay. Everything's different now, of course. But I'm doing great. Jason let me call Terrence. You know he's been transferred to Manitoba? He was all upset and freaked, but I told him that everything has worked out. I wanted you to know, too. Terrence said you investigated my death." She laughed, softly. "That sure sounds weird. Jason said I'll get used to it. I know you probably won't believe me. But I felt I had to try. This new life -it's hard sometimes, and really strange- but I'm getting the hang of it. Well, I better go. Jason is waiting. Take care, Nick. And thanks. Thanks for talking to me that day, and for being so nice to Terrence. Well. Good-bye." He stared at the phone for a long time after that. Sure, he believed her. He had no reason not to. *