(31/40) Murder, She Wrote: Madison Avenue Shoot by Bain Donald

Author:Bain, Donald [Bain, Donald]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 0451226038
Publisher: NAL Hardcover
Published: 2009-04-07T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The police were located in a building that housed the Department of Public Safety for a small suburban city of New York, only a half hour out of town. We drove by a series of chain stores and low-rise buildings on either side of the highway that led to it. But as we entered the downtown area, we passed many taller buildings with more under construction. Office complexes, shopping malls, and residential high-rises dwarfed the older homes and other low buildings from the municipality’s earlier days, and echoed its much larger neighbor to the south.

At headquarters, we found our way to a tan brick wall, behind which were the police dispatchers. Only a glass window that didn’t open allowed communication with the officers in the back. Donna and I went to the window and waited to be acknowledged. A series of notices taped to the glass directed visitors to go to Records for copies of all reports, and for fingerprints (ten dollars for the first card, five dollars for each additional card). There was a list of towing companies on duty for the month, and another list of bail bondsmen with their telephone numbers. A card leaning against the window said NO VISITING WITH PRISONERS. Someone had added another sign next to it as an afterthought: THANK YOU. I didn’t know if Grady was considered a prisoner, but I intended to talk with him no matter what.

“Aunt Jessica, I don’t feel so well,” Donna said, slumping against my side. She had been very brave when Detective Chesny told us that Grady had been taken in for questioning, and had managed not to break down when she’d handed the detective a photo of Frank to be distributed to officers searching for him. And she’d held it together when Chesny had allowed us to leave, and while she drove us from the office building where the commercials were being filmed to the police headquarters. But the stress of a missing child, and a husband in custody, were taking their toll on her. One look told me her nerves were frayed, her muscles knotted, and her stomach was churning.

“Let’s get you sitting down over here, Donna,” I said, assisting her to a line of plastic chairs bolted to the wall. “Do you need some water?”

She slumped in the seat. “I think I have a bottle in my bag.”

“Are you dizzy? Put your head between your knees.” I found the water bottle in her shoulder bag, opened it, and pressed it into her hand. “Here, just take a few sips. You should feel better in a minute. This is a lot to handle in one day.”

I sat beside her and rubbed her back until she was able to sit up. Her face was very pale.

“Oh, Aunt Jessica, what are we going to do?”

“Now, listen to me, Donna Mayberry Fletcher. We’re going to make a plan right now, that’s what we’re going to do. I don’t know if Grady will be able to leave with us tonight, but if not, we’ll go back to the apartment right away.

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