The Advocate's Illusion

by Teresa Burrell

  “What do you think about that?”

  “I wouldn’t mind, but I’d rather go to my own church. Do you think I could go on Sunday?”

  “You’re not concerned about seeing Lester?”

  “I don’t have to talk to him or anything, do I?”

  “No, you would not. Let me see what I can do.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Brown.”

  ~~~

  Back at her office, Sabre called the social worker on the Fowler case to see if transportation and supervision could be arranged for Sunday morning to take Mary Margaret to church. They agreed that it had to be someone who would sit with her through the services.

  When the social worker called back about fifteen minutes later, Sabre called Bob to set the guidelines for the father.

  “I’m sure my client will be ecstatic that his little girl can go listen to his sermon,” Bob said.

  “Just make it clear to him that it is still a supervised arrangement, and the restraining order on Lester Gibbs remains in full force.”

  “Since he’ll be spouting his divinatory words of prudence from the pulpit, he won’t have much control over that.”

  “I understand, but tell him anyway. She’ll be sitting with her mother and the DSS supervisor, so I’ll make it clear to Irene as well.”

  “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

  “I hope it’s not a mistake,” Sabre said and hung up.

  Chapter 34

  “Are you sure you don’t want some company, Mom?” Ron asked as his mother started out the door for her dinner date.

  She walked back to where Ron was standing and put her hand on his cheek. “Ronnie, it’s very sweet how you’re trying to protect me, but it’s getting a little annoying.” She gave him a tender look, patted him, and added, “I love you, dear.”

  He smiled. “I love you too, Mom.”

  He texted JP: She’s on her way.

  JP: TY, I’ll let DuBois know.

  ~~~

  DuBois saw Harley waiting outside the restaurant when Beverly arrived. She left her car with the valet. Harley greeted her and escorted her inside the busy restaurant. Since C Level didn’t take reservations, they put in their name for a table and waited at the bar.

  DuBois approached the maître d’ and flashed his badge. “See that couple over there at the end of the bar?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “The name on your list is Lindgren. We need to be seated close enough to them to be able to observe them. Can you do that?”

  “Is there going to be trouble?”

  “No, nothing like that.” DuBois palmed him a twenty-dollar bill. He didn’t usually tip when he was investigating, but this felt a little different, and he was pretty sure it would get him a lot closer.

  “I’ll take care of it, sir.”

  DuBois and his wife went to the other end of the bar, where they could still see the couple. They were close enough to see them but not hear them. Twenty minutes passed, and they were not seated. Beverly and Harley nursed the first drinks they bought, chatting like two young kids. Thirty minutes later, they were all still waiting. DuBois’ wife was getting a little anxious. “I’m hungry, Vinny,” she said.

  “I expect it’s taking a little longer because they’re trying to get two tables near each other. I told you I had to do some surveillance.”

  “Not until we were almost here. I might’ve known, when you said we were going to this fancy restaurant.”

  “Come on, you’re always wanting to go out to different places. Just enjoy it.”

  “You’re right. It’s just nice to get you out of the house.”

  Another ten minutes passed before Beverly and Harley were shown to their seats. Then a waitress led DuBois and his wife onto the patio area and seated them adjacent to the windows that enclosed the patio, giving them a full view of the city skyline and Coronado Bridge. Directly behind them, adjacent to the windows as well, were Harley and his date. Harley was closest to their table. DuBois wished the couple were in the opposite seats so he could observe Harley’s facial expressions. Since that wasn’t an option, DuBois sat with his back to Harley’s, hoping he could hear what Harley was saying. It worked.

  “I’m proud of my daughter for going back to school. I never thought I’d see the day.”

  Harley continued to talk about his family while DuBois listened, until finally he heard his wife say sharply, “Vinny.”

  “What?”

  “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?”

  “What is it?”

  She handed him the wine list. “I’m having a glass of wine. Are you going to join me?”

  Just then the waitress came over and took their orders. Vinny ordered the fish and chips, and his wife ordered the special, which was a combination of different seafood. They each ordered wine.

  DuBois did his best to have a conversation with his wife and listen to Harley throughout the meal. It worked most of the time. He had gotten pretty good at making listening noises over their forty-three years of married life. He looked at his wife. She had aged right along with him, and put on some weight, as he had, but she still looked beautiful to him. They’d had some rocky spots in their marriage, most of them due to his other spouse—the sheriff’s department. He knew it wasn’t easy being a cop’s wife. Retirement was right around the corner. He vowed to himself to make it up to her.

  Harley’s conversation never consisted of anything more than one would expect from a normal first or second date. DuBois made sure the bill was paid early on, and then lingered at the table, waiting for Harley to leave. They didn’t seem to be in any hurry. DuBois decided to make his presence known, hoping it would chase him away from Sabre’s mother. He stood up and walked to the bathroom, passing the couple, but Harley’s back was to him.

  When DuBois returned, he caught Lindgren’s eye.

  “Evening,” DuBois said.

  Harley nodded and said, “Detective.”

  Harley didn’t hurry to leave. It was another twenty-three minutes before they finally got up and left the restaurant. DuBois and his wife did the same. Once outside, Beverly and Harley waited for the valet to bring their cars around. It was perfect, since DuBois had found a parking spot on his own that was fairly close. He and his wife walked to their car, pulled out of the spot, and waited at the end of the lot until Beverly drove by. JP had described the car and given him the license plate number, so he was certain it was her. He had no idea where Harley was.

  He followed Beverly’s car onto the freeway in the direction of her home. He continued to watch to make sure Harley wasn’t following them, but was certain he was not. He called JP.

  “We left the restaurant. I’m following Sabre’s mother home.”

  “Thanks. Ron is at home, so she’ll be fine once she’s inside. I’ll text him and let him know she’s on her way. Did you learn anything?”

  “Not really. I could hear a lot of their conversation throughout dinner and it was all very innocent. Mostly talk about his work, her bridge games, and how he’d like to learn to play someday. A lot of chatter about their children. Nothing unusual. Just two people getting to know each other. There was one thing.”

  “What was that?”

  “Toward the end, I made my presence known. I walked right past him, looked him in the eye, and greeted him. He responded, and he knew who I was.”

  “Maybe he was just being friendly.”

  “No, he called me ‘Detective.’ And he didn’t seem surprised. Did Beverly know I was going to be there?”

  “No, she knows we’ve been checking on him, but no details.”

  “We were all at the bar for over half an hour where I couldn’t hear any of their conversation, so he might have spotted me earlier.”

  “He’s a businessman. He’s used to greeting people and remembering faces.”

  “Or maybe it’s a cat-and-mouse game, and he wanted me to know that he knew who I was,” DuBois said.

  Maybe, J
P thought, as he hung up.

  Chapter 35

  According to Ron, his mother had a wonderful time on her date and was determined to continue seeing Harley Lindgren. The only way to really know if Lindgren was involved in Vanna Norstrom’s disappearance was to find Vanna—or her body, which seemed an unlikely task since the police hadn’t been able to get very far. JP had the feeling that Helga knew more than she was telling and hoped to get some direction from her, so he decided to spend his Saturday in Orange County.

  During the drive to Tustin, he thought about how he would approach her. He had a hunch she was hiding something. Perhaps Vanna was alive, and Helga knew where she was. But why would she keep that hidden? What did she have to gain? Maybe she was just being a loyal sister. JP decided to approach her again and see if he could gain some insight.

  It was barely eight o’clock when JP arrived, and no traffic was going into the gated community. He waited about fifteen minutes before he was able to follow someone through. It was still too early to knock on her door, so he parked where he could see if anyone came or went. He saw no activity.

  At 9:15 he rang the doorbell, hoping he wasn’t waking her up. Apparently, he had not, because when she answered the door, she was dressed up as if she was going out.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she said grudgingly. “What do you want this time?”

  “Just a few more questions, ma’am. I see you’re headed out again, so I won’t take much of your time.” He paused to see if she would volunteer where she was going. When she didn’t, he said, “Do you have any reason to believe your sister is alive?”

  She frowned at him. “Mister…” She paused. “What is your name again?”

  “JP Torn.” He thought about making up a name, but since he had never said he was a policeman, he decided it was better this way. If this went much further, he would probably have to reveal who he was anyway.

  “Mr. Torn, I have every reason to believe my sister is dead. She left eleven years ago with no money and hasn’t asked me for a dime since. My sister and I were real close, so even if she didn’t need money from the trust, she would’ve gotten ahold of me if she could.” Her face filled with sorrow. “I know I wasn’t always the best big sister. I wasn’t always there for her when we were younger. I should’ve been more understanding about her illness, but we got closer as we aged.” She stopped speaking for a second, then said, “Do you have something new that makes you think she’s alive?”

  “No, ma’am, but it’s possible she’s in some institution and they don’t know who she is.”

  “That detective checked out every hospital, clinic, and mental institution in a two-hundred-mile radius and couldn’t find anything. He did it again a year or so later. You should have that in your records.”

  “Yes, of course, but it’s been almost ten years since that was done, and she could be in another state.”

  “Look, Mr. Torn, my sister is dead. Your coming here is just getting my hopes up, so unless you have some new information, please don’t come back.”

  JP didn’t blame her for getting upset. He realized he might have gone too far, and he probably would’ve handled things differently if it weren’t for the safety of Sabre’s mother, but he couldn’t help feeling a chill when Helga said the word dead.

  JP left, waited for Helga to leave, and followed her to Fashion Island in Newport Beach, where she went straight to Neiman Marcus, or as Bob referred to it, Needless Markup. It wasn’t a store JP had ever been in, partly because he hated to shop and partly because it was out of his budget. While he waited, he jotted down her license plate number, GST 023, more out of habit than anything. He was going to call his friend Ernie or DuBois and ask them to run it, but decided it was a waste of time.

  Helga exited Neiman Marcus carrying three large shopping bags. Her next stop was a designer denim boutique called 7 For All Mankind, where she left with one more bag about the same size as the others.

  When she drove to a place called Basin Street Hair Salon, JP followed her. When she didn’t come out after ten minutes, he drove back to her neighborhood and started knocking on doors in search of someone who had been there long enough to know Vanna. The first three neighbors he spoke to had lived there less than ten years, and none had gotten more than a hello from Helga. The fourth house was an older couple named Anastasia and Ervin Lott, who invited him into their home after he told him who he was. He explained that he was a PI and he was trying to find Vanna.

  “That poor girl,” Anastasia said. “Do you think there’s a chance she’s still alive?”

  “I don’t know, but either way, we’d like to know.” As JP walked in, he said, “Your home is very beautiful.” He looked around the living room and through the huge window at a view of the city. “Nice view too.”

  “Yes, the homes up here are situated so they all have beautiful views,” Anastasia said. “It’s not beachfront, but we decided we didn’t want to be at the beach. It’s too busy and noisy most of the time.”

  “Well, it’s very nice, ma’am. And you said you moved in when the houses were first built?”

  “That’s correct. We were the first to buy, before they were even finished. There were only twelve homes built in the community. The Norstroms bought the last home, which was the model.”

  “That was in the 80’s?”

  “Yes.”

  “So the girls were young?”

  “They were teenagers when they moved in. Vanna was sixteen, and Helga was eighteen.”

  “Did you know the parents very well?”

  “They spent a lot of time in Sweden. They were in show business, you know. The girls pretty much lived there by themselves. I mean, the parents would come for a weekend here and there, or occasionally one of them would be here for a week or two, but it was never very long before they’d be gone again. The girls traveled a lot too, especially Vanna. She spent a lot of time in Sweden or on the road with her parents.”

  “What were the girls like when they were young?”

  “They were complete opposites. Vanna was lively, outgoing, a little wild, I think. Helga was far more reserved, kept to herself, read a lot, but she had to be more level-headed because she had the responsibility of caring for Vanna. I think it was hard on Helga, keeping all the young men away.”

  “Helga had a lot of suitors?” JP asked.

  “No, they were there for Vanna. Although Helga was the prettier of the two, Vanna always had the more gregarious personality. I always thought Helga—”

  “Anastasia,” Ervin interrupted, “don’t be telling things you don’t know.”

  “Tsk. It wasn’t easy for Helga, that’s all.”

  JP figured she was probably talking about the mental issues so he asked, “Were you aware of any mental problems Vanna had back then?”

  “Yes, her mother confided in me once over a bottle of wine. Even though she wasn’t here that often, I got to know her fairly well. We had a lot in common, both in the biz and all, although her talent was very different from mine. I acted some myself, you know, but I wasn’t really that good at it. That’s how I met Ervin. He was a movie director, but even as much as he loved me, he had to admit I wasn’t that good. But he married me, so I got the best role in the end.”

  “And she’s been playing the part of a good wife ever since.” Ervin smiled and winked at her. “She’s the best actress for the part I could have ever cast.”

  JP thought it was very endearing, the way this couple in their eighties still seemed to be in love. He hadn’t seen much of that in his family, certainly not with his parents.

  “Anyway,” Anastasia said, “she told me Vanna had spent a few months in Camarillo, but she had improved a lot. I don’t think she could handle her and that’s why she stayed away so much. Helga had far better control over Vanna than either of her parents did, but it was hard on her. She gave up her life for Vanna.”

  Ervin frowned at his wife.

  “Well, she did, Ervin. That’s not gossip. It’s jus
t what it is.”

  “Did you see Vanna around here near the time she disappeared?”

  “The cops talked to everyone in the neighborhood when they were investigating, otherwise I probably wouldn’t remember. I hadn’t seen her the night she was supposed to go to Helga’s. It had been several months since I had seen her go into that home. We hadn’t spoken in a few years prior, so I knew little about her at that time.”

  “What about Helga? Do you talk much?”

  “Not really.”

  “What do you mean not really?” Ervin said lightheartedly. “You haven’t spoken in fifteen or twenty years. Not even so much as a greeting. You only know what she’s doing because you watch out that window.”

  Anastasia pointed to the bay window in the front of the living room. “As you can see, I have an excellent view of their front door. It’s not that I try to watch, but sitting here, I can’t help but see.”

  The Lott house sat on higher ground than the Norstroms’, and they were almost directly across the street. “You do have a good view of the front door.”

  “And the master bedroom,” Ervin muttered.

  “Oh, pish, posh,” Anastasia said to Ervin. “Anyway, as the years went on and Vanna became an adult, Vanna came and went, and Helga became more of a recluse. She seldom went anywhere and never had company except for Vanna. After Vanna disappeared, Helga hardly came out of her house for over a year, but then I think she started seeing a therapist.”

  Ervin snickered, but kept silent.

  She waved her hand at him, making a dismissive motion.

  “You never mind, Ervin. It gives me something to do.” She turned her attention back to JP. “Anyway, as I said, I think she was getting professional help because she started going out three times a week at two o’clock in the afternoon. She did that every week for over a year, and then it decreased to once a week. After a while, she started going out at other times of day, and she started dressing better. She even started getting her hair done. Now she pretty much comes and goes.”