by his body language, I could tell that something was wrong. “What? Who is this?” He stood, his bare back to me, and he grabbed his boxers from the floor, pulling them on. “What do you want?”
I pulled the comforter from the bed and wrapped myself in it, feeling as though the evening were going to end on a very bad note. I stood, going around to face him. The look on his face was confused, frightened, and angry all at the same time. “What is it?” I mouthed.
His face went white and he dropped the phone receiver. “He’s got Bea.” He raced from the room, picking up his pants on the way out.
I stood in the doorway of the bedroom, confused.
“Peter Miceli kidnapped my aunt.”
Chapter 28
After Crawford left, I stood for the longest time staring at the closed door of his apartment.
Once I got my bearings, I grabbed the phone and called Max; thankfully, she and Fred were home. “Max, I need Fred.”
“I haven’t been married long enough for you to be hitting on my husband,” she said, laughing. “You’re a slut.”
“Max, this is serious. Crawford may be in trouble and I need Fred’s help.”
Hearing the fear in my voice, she handed the phone off to Fred. The minute I heard his gruff voice, I knew I had done the right thing. I told him what had happened and that Crawford was on his way to some junkyard in the Bronx.
“Does that idiot have his cell phone with him?” he asked, furious that Crawford had gone to the junkyard by himself.
I looked around the kitchen where Crawford had reassembled his arsenal after being naked with me. I didn’t see the phone. “I think so.”
“I’ll call you later.” He hung up and I was left with a dial tone in my ear. He had obviously picked up Max’s phone manners in the few weeks in which they had been wed.
I was incapable of movement and I stood at the counter next to the kitchen, not sure what to do with myself. I chewed on a nail, praying silently that Crawford didn’t get himself killed trying to save his aunt. I was glad that I had called Fred and knew that Crawford would respond better to his help than to anyone else’s.
I realized that I needed to call Brendan. His mother answered on the third ring. “Hi, this is Alison, your neighbor. I need some help with Trixie.”
“Are you out tonight? Do you need us to walk her?”
“That would be great,” I said. “Please tell Brendan that I’ll see him tomorrow.”
“Brendan! Ms. Bergerson needs you to walk Trixie tonight!” she called to her son.
“And in the morning!” I called, hoping that my yelling would reach Brendan.
“And in the morning!” she called to him. “We’re all set. If we don’t see you later on tomorrow, we’ll take care of her into the afternoon.”
“Jane?”
“Yes?”
“How’s he doing?”
I heard her sigh on the other end. “Let’s just say that taking care of that dog gives him more pleasure than anything else right now.”
Enough said. Glad I could help.
After a few minutes of standing naked, wrapped in Crawford’s comforter, I went around the living room and bedroom and collected all of my discarded clothing, stopping to sit on the couch and trying to understand what had happened. It made no sense for Peter to kidnap Bea unless Crawford had done more than I knew to piss him off. Was Crawford getting close to solving Ray’s murder and implicating Peter for the crime? Was Peter still mad at Crawford for previous transgressions like not solving Kathy’s murder and for threatening him at his house, a little tidbit that Max had relayed but which Crawford had never confessed to me? I couldn’t figure it out. I was the one Peter was obsessed with, not Crawford. I shivered slightly and wrapped my arms around myself to ward off the chill that enveloped my body.
I took my clothes into the bedroom and got dressed. When I was done, I made the bed, restoring it to the order it was in before we started thrashing around on it. I buried my face in one of his pillows, picking up his scent. I felt at loose ends, and I looked around the room, worried about Crawford’s aunt, but curious about his life at the same time. Signs of Crawford were everywhere: a pair of jeans strewn over a wing chair in the corner, the tweed blazer that he had worn the first