Alias: Daddy Read online

  Traffic was heavy and Roman had an inexplicable, nagging feeling that they should hurry. Maybe he just wanted less hostile company. Kerrie hadn’t spoken to him since they’d left his town house, she just stared out her side window, but whether she was actually enjoying the passing countryside, he couldn’t tell. Her mood was as dark as the clouds overhead.

  His wasn’t much better. He exited off 66 West and said, “Another ten minutes…to Philip’s.” The cell phone rang. He’d left it in the cubbyhole between the bucket seats. He snatched it to his ear, driving with one hand. “Hello.”

  It was Green, calling from New Jersey. “What have you got Chuck.”

  “The warehouse wasn’t wired with any explosives, Donnello, but they did find something interesting.”

  “Oh?”

  “A body.”

  “Another body? Why didn’t you call about that last night?” He could have used a diversion. Something to get his mind off his heartache.

  “Thought you’d like to know who the bird was before I called. The body was badly decomposed—been there about four months. Just got a positive ID a few minutes ago.”

  Roman’s muscles tensed. “Who was it?”

  “Dante Casale.”

  Roman felt as if he’d been blindsided. Casale dead for four months? If he wasn’t heading up the campaign to kill Kerrie or the members of her family, that meant Tully Cage was. Why? What possible motive could he have? It didn’t make any sense. “Let me think about this and I’ll call you back.”

  “Donnello!” But Roman had disconnected and laid the telephone down. He brought Kerrie up to speed. She sat in silence, apparently processing the news. He could barely process it himself. Finally she said, “What is Tully’s motive?”

  It was the main question plaguing him, too. He was amazed how much alike they thought, how well they worked together. Why did she have to be so stubborn? Why couldn’t she get her priorities in order?

  Before he could answer her the telephone rang again. He lifted it to his ear. “Hello?”

  “Are you on your way yet?” Philip asked.

  “About eight more minutes.” Roman passed a slowmoving vehicle pulling a horse trailer.

  “Good, because a friend of Glynna and Kerrie’s has turned up.”

  “What friend?” Roman’s heart tripped. “Not Tully Cage?”

  “Goodness, no. This is a woman. A neighbor from Seattle. She’s down here visiting her daughter. We ran into them at a local restaurant last night. Quite a pleasant surprise for Glynna. Seem like nice women, even if the mother is a bit too fond of purple for my tastes.”

  He frowned. “Sophia Sommerville?”

  “Oh, I see you know her, too. Grand. See you soon, then.”

  “Philip.” Roman’s nerves felt raw. “Tell Wong to keep his eyes peeled for a blond man with a crew cut He has a scar through his left eyebrow and answers to the name Tully Cage.”

  There was a pause on Philip’s end. “Is he Loverboy?”

  “Yes. I’ll fill you in when we get there.”

  “Fine, fine. We’ve just finished tea, and the twins are taking a nap.” He yawned, then chuckled. “Sleepy myself. Maybe I should join them.”

  He hung up again and pulled his gaze from the road long enough to relay Philip’s message about Sophia. Kerrie’s eyebrows twitched. “What is she—”

  The telephone rang a third time, interrupting her question. Roman said, “Donnello, here.”

  “You cut me off before you heard the rest of the report,” Agent Green said, then he paused. “You know, I shouldn’t have called you back. After reconsidering, well, it’s probably nothing. It struck me as odd when I heard it, but I suppose it’s not really unusual that those old warehouses on the wharfs would have cats prowling through them for rats.”

  “Cats?”

  “Yeah, Dante Casale’s suit was feathered with orangeand-black cat hair.”

  Roman shook his head and laughed. “You’re right, Chuck. I’m sure that hasn’t anything to do the price of fish in New Jersey.”

  As soon as he hung up, he recounted Chuck’s news about the cat hair. He expected Kerrie would find it as funny as he did. When she didn’t laugh, he glanced at her.

  Her face was turned toward him, the color gone, her eyes wide with terror. “Professor Plum.”

  His blood ran cold as the connections slammed together in his own mind. Somehow Sophia Sommerville was involved with Loverboy. And right now, she was with their daughters.

  Like a death knell, Loverboy’s words tolled inside Roman’s head. I’m one step ahead of you.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Sophia Sommerville.” Roman slammed his foot on the gas pedal. The Blazer accelerated like a race car. He tossed Kerrie the cell phone. “Call Philip. Get Charlie on the line and tell him what’s happening.”

  Her hands shook so hard she had to dial twice. The phone rang ten times. Twenty. “No answer.”

  The panic in her voice chilled his blood. He said, “Call 911”

  A moment later, she was explaining the problem to an emergency dispatcher. “Tell them to hurry.”

  She disconnected, dropped the cell phone beside her and clenched her hands together to stop their trembling. “We sat right in her house and made our plans. She must’ve had some kind of recorder going.”

  “Or another bug. No wonder she left so accommodatingly.” He veered recklessly around slower vehicles.

  “It’s unbelievable.” Terror gripped her. “That house sat empty almost a year when she bought it. First thing she did was paint it purple. We thought she was whimsical, a bit eccentric.”

  “She was trying to get your attention.”

  “You said Philip and Mom ran into her at dinner last night.” She felt a chasm of hysteria ripping through her brain and willed herself not to fall into it. “That’s how she met Mom, she literally ran into her in Riley’s Market—with her shopping cart.”

  “Figures. When she didn’t get the results she wanted from painting the house, she initiated the shopping cart incident.”

  Kerrie’s heart thundered. Roman glanced at her and she saw the fear tripping through her reflected in his eyes.

  “To think I trusted her with the girls,” she swore. A worse thought churned her stomach. “Now the girls trust her.”

  Kerrie knew in that moment that she would never trust anyone easily again. Especially where her children were concerned. “Oh, dear God, please let them be all right.”

  “They will be.” They had to be. Roman drew a ragged breath. The Waring estate, smaller by many standards than most horse farms in the area, loomed ahead. High brick walls ringed the perimeter. The entrance was barred by a huge, white wrought iron gate, electrically controlled from within the house.

  Roman punched in the security code. His fear leaped a notch higher. He clenched the steering wheel as the gate crawled open, then he stomped on the gas. The tires squealed on the tarmac.

  Kerrie said, “How are Cage and Sophia connected? Is this about Tito Fabrizio or not?”

  Roman’s scalp felt two sizes too small for his head. “I’ll bet she’s Tito’s widow. And Cage is a son-in-law.”

  Kerrie gasped. “The daughter Philip mentioned, Tito’s daughter?”

  “Yes. Cindy Faber—unless I miss my guess.”

  Trees lined the path to the house, blocking the view of the horse fields and barns in the near distance behind the mansion.

  “Do you think Cage is her husband?”

  “It’s possible. Lucinda Fabrizio, Tito’s youngest daughter, was supposedly widowed last year.” Roman jerked the Blazer to a stop on the circular apron, then leaned across Kerrie and dug a gun out of the glove box.

  “No. No guns.” She was surprised at her own vehemence. At her objection. But her daughters’ well-being was priority number one. “Not around the girls.”

  “It may be the only way we can assure their safety until backup arrives.”

  She couldn’t argue with his logic.


  “I won’t use it unless I have to. I promise.” He tucked it into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back. “Safety’s on.”

  They ran to the house. The front door stood open. Roman hesitated, then stepped stealthily into the foyer. Kerrie copied his movements. Quiet permeated the house—as if it held its breath. “This way,” Roman whispered, pointing toward an archway ahead and to the right.

  Behind them the door slammed shut. Kerrie jerked around. Every muscle taut, readied for combat.

  “Welcome.” Cindy Faber, wearing an outfit similar to the one she’d worn at Mike Springer’s two days earlier, leveled a gun at them. She was too far away for Kerrie to overpower her. “We’re all in the living room. You know the way, Donnello. Lead on.”

  My girls. Let my girls be all right, resounded like a chant in Kerrie’s head. But she knew she had to ignore it, or risk making this bad situation worse.

  They entered a large oblong-shaped room. Vaguely aware that it reminded her of the house she’d grown up in—same colors, same furniture, same formal flavormd;Kerrie froze. The girls weren’t present. Her instant relief fled in blood-curdling panic. Sophia Sommerville was splashing gasoline from a small red can onto the carpet and curtains.

  The stench burned Kerrie’s nose. Where were the twins? Napping? Her gaze jumped to the three people sprawled on the furniture nearby—Charlie Wong sliding out of a high-backed arm chair, her mother and a man, presumably Philip Waring, lying slumped together on a deep purple Victorian sofa. They all looked asleep.

  Her chest squeezed with pain. She wheeled on Cindy, oblivious to the gun. “What did you do to them?”

  “Irish, don’t,”

  Kerrie stepped back, glancing again at her mother and the two men. Were they alive? She saw no blood. Cindy hadn’t shot them. What then? A tea service sat on the coffee table, cups abandoned. She frowned, stifling the overpowering urge to check on her mother. Drugged? Poisoned? She glared at Cindy. “What did you put in the tea?”

  “Why don’t you have some and see if you can guess?” Sophia set her gas can down and strode straight to Roman.

  “I’m not drinking that,” Kerrie snapped.

  “Then you’ll force me to put a bullet into this man’s gorgeous head.” Sophia patted Roman down, found and took his gun. “With his own revolver.”

  Kerrie’s pulse wobbled. Damn. If Roman moved toward his gun, he’d surely be shot. Dear God, they had to find the children. What if they’d been drugged or poisoned, also? What was taking the police so long?

  Cindy poured a cup of tea and held it out to Kerrie. “You heard my mother. Drink up.”

  Kerrie grasped hold of her slipping nerve and reached for the cup. With a jolt of memory, she realized why Cindy had looked familiar the other day at Mike Springer’s house. Her large sable eyes were the same as those of the “man” whose table she’d rammed into at McRory’s the day Glynna was nearly stabbed. Her throat tightened.

  Sophia jammed the revolver against Roman’s temple.

  Kerrie took a sip of tepid tea. She’d expected it to taste bitter. It tasted like normal tea. Fear dampened her palms. Some poisons, she knew, were tasteless.

  Roman said, “You don’t expect to get away with this?”

  “Of course, we do. Let the police search for a fluffy old fool named Sophia Sommerville and her ditzy daughter, Sally. No one will connect those two with Sophia and Lucinda Fabrizio, who have been on an extended tour of Europe this past year, following the deaths of their husbands within days of one another.”

  Roman moved away from the gun. “Why did Mike Springer go along with this operation?”

  “Money.” Cindy laughed, waving her gun at Kerrie, motioning her to drink up. “Mike was desperate. We handed him a fistful of moolah in exchange for a few hours of his precious time. All he had to do was pick up women from a classified ad. The state his finances were in, he jumped at it. But lately he was starting to wonder why the women he dated were all becoming victims of Loverboy.”

  “Is that why he was killed?” Roman asked.

  “That, and because,” Sophia spat out, “he was the one person more than himself whom that betrayer Casale loved.”

  “Where is Tully Cage—or whatever his real name is?”

  “Muldoon’s partner?” Cindy gaped at him as if she didn’t understand the question.

  “I’m right behind you, Donnello,” Cage said.

  Roman’s heart stopped. He whipped around. Tully strode into the room from the foyer, revolver drawn.

  Sophia yelped in surprise. Roman grabbed her, yanked the gun from her hand and pulled her to him, using her as a shield against Cage.

  At the same moment, Kerrie threw the remaining contents of her teacup into Cindy’s face. Cindy yowled. Kerrie threw a karate chop to her stomach. Cindy buckled and let go of her gun. Her knees hit the floor. A split second later, Kerrie had the gun trained on her partner.

  “Drop your weapon, Cage,” Roman said.

  Cage just laughed at them. “Hey, man, I’m on your side. I’m here to help you.”

  “Just put the weapon down and kick it over here,” Roman ordered.

  Cage did as he was directed. “You’re making a big mistake, man. Lucinda Fabrizio, alias Cindy Faber, is Loverboy. I’m just plain ol’ Tully Cage from Hoboken.”

  Kerrie decided Roman could handle it and tucked her gun at the small of her back and hurried to her mother. She was breathing. As were Philip Waring and Charlie Wong. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

  “I already did,” Cage said. “Used the cell phone in your Blazer.”

  They could hear sirens at a great distance. Were the police responding to her 911 call? Or was Cage telling the truth? Kerrie couldn’t wait around to find out. Nor could she do any more for her mother or the others. She had to find her children. “Philip said the twins were taking a nap. Where?”

  “Upstairs,” Roman said.

  She raced to the stairs. Roman ached to go with her. Instead he thrust Sophia to the floor. Roughly. Then he concentrated on Cage. Roman eyed him skeptically. “If you’re on our side, how’d you end up here?”

  “I was watching Springer’s house and saw her—” he pointed to Cindy who was slumped beside the sofa. “She parked down the street and sneaked in the back way. When she came out, she’d changed clothes. I called it in, told the night clerk I was following a perp. In all the excitement over Muldoon’s house, the message never made it to the lieutenant’s desk. I realized that when I called earlier today from the airport. Muldoon had enough to deal with. I figured there’d be time enough to fill you both in on what I was doing—if anything came of it.”

  “What happened in the beach house in Wildwood?” Roman asked.

  “I waited until she went inside, then followed her and I hid in a closet. Mike Springer showed up almost immediately. But before I could prevent it, she slit his throat and took off. I had no way of notifying the police and couldn’t risk sticking around to be questioned and lose track of her.

  “The next thing I knew we were on a plane headed to Dulles. In Middleburg, she met up with Sophia. They arranged to ‘bump’ into Kerrie’s” mom and Mr. Waring last night. I’ve been hiding outside. I was coming around the end of the house when I saw you come inside. I sneaked inside and listened, then used your phone.”

  Roman considered Cage’s story. It made sense. And Cindy had gaped at Roman oddly when he’d asked about Cage—as if she hadn’t the slightest idea why he was asking. Sophia claimed Lucinda’s husband did die a year ago. That wasn’t a cover, that was their true alibi. He pressed his lips together contritely, deciding he’d wait until backup arrived to make a decision.

  Cage swore softly and pointed to something behind Roman. “Fire.”

  Roman kept his eyes trained on Cage, certain it was a trick. A second later, he heard a roar. Too late, he realized Cindy Faber was no longer sitting by the couch. He spun around. Flames licked along the floor and up the drapes, spreading and leaping with
terrifying speed. Cindy Faber had dropped a lighter. Now she ran in the opposite direction for the French doors. Roman shot her. She collapsed in a heap. Sophia screamed and scurried off the floor, rushing to her daughter.

  Cage said, “Quick—get Kerrie and the kids outside. I’ll take her mother. Then you can help me with the others.”

  Roman sprinted for the stairs.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kerrie found the twins in the room closest to the stair landing. They lay against the pillows of the four-poster bed, cute as a pair of Kewpie dolls. Chubby pink cheeks. Fluffy hair. Bow-shaped lips. Their eyes closed. Were they sleeping? Her heart slammed her ribs. Or had they been drugged? Poisoned?

  She flew to the bed, but reined in the urge to shake them awake. That might scare them. “Gabby?”

  She held her breath, then said louder, “Maureen.”

  Gabby scrunched her face. Opened her eyes. Squirmed up off the pillow. “Mommy.”

  Maureen blinked, stretched and opened her eyes. She focused on Kerrie’s face and grinned shyly. “Nappy aw done?”

  Kerrie released a ragged breath. “Thank you, God.”

  They were bright eyed and eager. Just fine. Still, she would have the paramedics check them over as soon as they arrived. She threw her arms open wide. “Come here, my angels.”

  The girls kicked off the covers and snuggled into her embrace. From somewhere on the first floor, she heard a loud pop. Her nerves pinched. A gun?

  Before she could speculate, she heard Roman shouting. His voice came closer. She grabbed the girls off the bed. The door burst open. “Moman,” Gabby said.

  Maureen smiled at him.

  A look of vast relief spread over his face at the sight of them. “Yes! Thank God, they’re all right. Quick, Irish. We have to get out. The house is on fire.”

  He scooped up Gabby. Kerrie hoisted Maureen. They fled into the hall. As black smoke billowed up from the foyer, Roman covered Gabby’s head with his coat and Kerrie covered Maureen’s head with hers. They scrambled down the stairs. Cage emerged from the living room, Glynna in his arms. She was waking up. Struggling. Coughing.