Blood on the Street (A Smith and Wetzon Mystery, #4)

Rona said, and Penny Ann mewed again. “Do you want to talk?”
    Penny Ann shook her head. She squeezed a slice of lemon into her teacup and poured. It was probably cold.
    “She was obsessed with Brian.”
    “Who was?” Smith frowned.
    “Tabby Ann,” Penny Ann said. “He led her on. I didn’t know until I read her diary.”
    “Was Brian Middleton having an affair with your daughter?” Smith asked. Her eyes sparkled with interest.
    “No ... yes ... no ...” Penny Ann said.
    Rona sighed. “We don’t know. She was underage, of course, and I didn’t think he could be that much of a prick—”
    “There are the papers, too,” Penny Ann said. Again she looked at Rona.
    “What papers, for pitysakes?” Tolerance, which Smith was always short on, at last had fled.
    “My private papers relating to the arbitration. They’re missing.”
    “Now, Penny, you’ve probably just misplaced them,” Barbara said smoothly. “It’s Tabitha we’re really worried about.”
    “You say she’s run away?” Wetzon still couldn’t figure out what this had to do with her and Smith. She looked over at Smith, who wasn’t bothering to keep the bored expression off her face. “When did you see her last?”
    “Um ... she’s been gone almost a week,” Penny Ann said.
    “A week!” Smith exploded.
    “It’s not what you think. She’s done it before. She stays with the Maglias sometimes. They have a ten-year-old daughter she babysits.”
    “The Maglias? Tony Maglia, the manager at Bliss Norderman?” How complicated, what with the arbitration and all. None of this was making any sense.
    “And she used to stay with Brian, of course.”
    Wetzon looked at Rona, who shrugged. This meeting was turning surreal.
    “It was suggested that you might—” Penny Ann stopped and looked at Rona.
    “Suggested by whom?” Wetzon asked.
    “Dr. Jerry said—”
    There it was again. “Dr. Jerry?”
    “Dr. Jerome Gordon,” Barbara said. “Actually, I’m standing in for him this afternoon. He had a speaking engagement in New Haven. He’s my husband.”
    “And our therapist.” Rona tapped Barbie’s hand and smiled.
    “Our? Yours and Tabby Ann’s?”
    “Rona’s, too, and Brian’s.”
    Wetzon felt rather than saw Smith pop alert. “Dr. Jerome Gordon?” Smith said, narrowing her eyes. “You don’t mean the one with the radio show in Connecticut, ‘Ask Dr. Jerry’?”
    “Yes. Dr. Jerry suggested that you have connections. He read about you or heard about you. He said you might be able to help me find her.”
    “I’m afraid there’s been some sort of misunderstanding,” Wetzon said. “We are not detectives. You have to be licensed to be a detective.”
    “Hush.” Smith held up her hand. “Let me think. We are consultants. We handled the Goldie Barnes case. That’s probably where Dr. Jerry heard about us.” She paid no attention to Wetzon’s foot rapping hers. She smiled. “You can hire us as consultants.”
    “I think it would be better if you told the police that your daughter is missing. We have no experience with runaways.” Or kidnapping? Wetzon’s brain whirled.
    Penny Ann looked panicked. “I couldn’t do that, I just couldn’t. The police are going to think she did it, that she killed him.”
    “Oh, come on now. That’s not realistic. It was a mugging, wasn’t it?” Smith glanced at Wetzon.
    Penny Ann lifted her plump little chin, from which a fat teardrop teetered. “Tabby Ann’s diary said she was meeting Brian in New York Friday morning at the Conservatory Garden.”
    The teardrop splashed into her cup.

15.
    “O UR CONSULTING FEE is fifteen hundred a day, plus expenses,” Smith said. “How do you propose to pay us if you have no assets?”
    Both Penny Ann and Barbara looked to Rona.
    Rona said, “Jerry and the group. We’re chipping in. We’ll be responsible. But that’s too high.”
    Wetzon tried again. “This is really a problem for the police, don’t you think? A missing child ...”
    This time it was Smith who kicked Wetzon. “What Wetzon means is our expertise is in financial matters. But, of course, we do have our sources within the police department....” Smith paused as if to let the import of her suggestion sink in.
    “Oh we do, do we?” Wetzon murmured.
    “Tabby Ann worked for Brian all summer, as an intern. She saw things and heard things.”
    “What are you talking about, Penny Ann?” Rona demanded.
    Penny Ann burst into tears, bawling loudly. The