“Uh, no. Thanks.”
Barrie hung up quickly and tried Anna Chen’s home number. A pleasant, computer-generated voice told her the number was no longer in service. In less than five minutes Barrie was in her car, speeding to Anna Chen’s apartment building. She jogged up the three flights of stairs and pressed the bell on the door of 3C. After ringing it several times, it became apparent that the apartment was empty.
Frustrated, she rang the doorbell of the neighbor across the hall. Pressing her ear to the door, she heard motion inside and a whispered conversation. “Hello?” she called out, knocking on the door. “I’m looking for Ms. Chen.”
The neighbor was a young executive type with a sleek ponytail and a monogrammed shirt, opened to the waistband of his slacks, which obviously had been hastily zipped; a corner of his shirttail was caught in the fly. Looking beyond his shoulder, Barrie saw that he was entertaining a young lady. They were having a picnic lunch on the living room floor.
“I’m sorry to disturb—”
“If you’re looking for Anna, she moved,” he said, obviously in a hurry to return to lunch. Or whatever.
“When?”
“Sometime last week. Friday, Thursday maybe. Before the weekend, because the super had the apartment cleaned on Saturday. There were workmen in and out all day.”
“Do you have any idea?
??”
“Where she moved? No. But she works at D.C. General.”
“Not any longer, she doesn’t.”
“Huh. Then I’m clueless.”
* * *
“Thanks for coming, Daily.” Barrie entered her house through the back door. The kitchen was filled with aromatic steam.
“How could I resist such a gracious invitation? ‘Be there at seven. Start dinner.’ ”
Daily was at the stove, stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce, a Christmas apron tied around his waist. She vaguely remembered getting the apron as a gift a couple of years ago and hadn’t seen it since. She wondered where Daily had found it.
“Smells delicious.” She batted down Cronkite, who was in a frenzy over her arrival. “Have you fed him?”
“A raw meatball, which he swallowed whole.” Daily set aside his spoon and turned to her. “How come I had to get out at the corner, walk down the alley, and come in through the back door? Are we playing spy, or what?”
“After dinner.”
He held her to that promise. As soon as the dishes were cleared, they made themselves comfortable in her living room. At least Daily was comfortable, seated in an over-stuffed armchair, Cronkite’s large head resting in his lap. Barrie moved about the room restlessly. Twice she checked the front door to see that it was locked and bolted. She closed the window blinds, making it impossible for anyone outside to see in.
“What in hell is going on?” Daily asked.
She held her finger vertically against her lips and turned on the TV. She set the volume at an earsplitting level, then moved an ottoman close to Daily’s chair.
“You’ll probably think I’m overdramatizing,” she said, “but I think I’m being watched. I had my cell phone disconnected this afternoon. From here on, I don’t want any phone records. When we talk, we have to be very careful about what we say, especially about Vanessa Merritt.”
He nodded toward the blaring television set. “You think the house has been bugged?”
“Nothing would surprise me.” She filled him in on Anna Chen’s disappearance, adding, “I talked to the super of the building. She gave no notice, just paid out her lease, packed up, and took off.”
“She could have a dozen reasons for leaving. Another job, another apartment.”
“She left no forwarding address either at the hospital or with the super. That’s odd for someone who’s just relocating.”
“Maybe she’s trying to shake a bad-tempered boyfriend.”
“She was frightened, but not of a violent ex-boyfriend. She was afraid of being seen talking to me. Somebody knew she’d leaked information to me, and she’d been spooked into shutting up.”