by Sue Grafton
“Sure, if she’s willing to put herself in his hands.”
“Fat chance. She’s never even met the man.”
“Why don’t you talk to her?”
“If you think it’d do any good. I’ve been ducking her for days, but I can give it a try.”
“Do that. Worst-case scenario, he’ll put her in a safe house until he can figure out what’s what.”
Cheney checked his watch, popped the Eject button on the tape recorder, and removed the tape. “I gotta get this back. You have Vince’s number?”
“You better give it to me again.”
He snagged a pen and a scratch pad and made a note, tearing off the top sheet, which he handed to me. “Let me know what she says. If you can’t reach me, you can talk directly to him.”
“Will do.”
After he left, I sat at my desk, trying to figure out what to say to Reba. There was really no point in pussyfooting around. She’d dug herself a hole and the sooner she climbed out of it, the better off she’d be. As long as Beck got the money back, he might not inquire too closely how it had disappeared. I picked up the handset and punched in the number for the Lafferty estate. I went through a preliminary round of conversation with the housekeeper, Freddy, who told me Reba was still in bed. “Shall I wake her?”
“I think you better.”
“One moment. I’ll put you on hold and have her take the call in her room.”
“Great. Thanks.”
I pictured Freddy in her crepe-soled shoes, padding down the hall and up the stairs, holding on to the rail. The silence went on for a bit, but I imagined her knocking on Reba’s door and then a groggy interval before she picked up, which was sure enough how she sounded when she came on the line. “’Lo?”
“Hi, Reeb. It’s Kinsey. I’m sorry to wake you.”
“That’s okay. I should probably be getting up anyway. What d’you want?”
“I need to ask you about something and you have to swear to tell the truth.”
“Sure.” She was already sounding more alert, so I thought she had a fair idea what was coming.
“Remember when we were together Saturday morning on that little voyage of discovery?”
Silence.
“Did you lift a packet of hundred-dollar bills?”
Silence.
“Never mind admitting it. The point is, Beck knows.”
“So what? Serves him right. It’s like I told him at Bubbles, he owes me, big time.”
“Only one tiny problem. The money wasn’t his. It was Salustio’s.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Shit. Are you sure? I thought it was Beck’s, like he was packing it to take with him when he left.”
“Nuhn-uhn. He was verifying Salustio’s total before making a deposit to his account. Now he’s twenty-five grand short.”
I could hear her lighting a cigarette. I said, “What made you think you could get away with it?”
“It was a whim, like an impulse. Haven’t you ever done anything like that? Spur of the moment. I just did it, that’s all.”
“Well, you better put it back before Beck figures it out.”
“How’m I supposed to do that?”
“How would I know? Stick it in an envelope and leave it at Willard’s desk. He can pass it on to Marty or take it up himself—”
“But why do I have to do anything? Beck can’t prove it, can he? I mean, how can he prove it when I didn’t leave fingerprints?”
“For one thing, he’s got security tapes that show you going in and out of the building. Beyond that, he doesn’t have to prove a thing. All he has to do is tell Salustio and you’re screwed.”
“He wouldn’t do that to me, would he? I mean, I know he’s a shit, but he wouldn’t tell Salustio. You think?”
“Of course he would! Salustio expects him to cough up the missing twenty-five grand.”
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”
“Look, Reeb. I’ll say this again. Vince Turner can probably help if you’ll turn around and help him.”
“What good does that do me with Salustio?”
“Maybe Vince can put you somewhere safe until it’s all ironed out.”
“Oh, man. This is bad. You think I should call Beck?”
“You’d be smarter to keep away from him and talk to Vince instead. He wants to see you anyway before you meet with the feds.”
“What feds? I don’t have a meeting with the feds. The guy dropped the ball.”
“He did not. The meeting’s been changed to tomorrow afternoon at four. I’ll pick you up at twelve-thirty and you can spend a couple of hours with him first.”
“About bloody time.”
“I told you it would take time.”
“Yeah, well, it’s too late now.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning, I gotta think how to handle this. I’ll call you back.” The line went dead.
So much for my powers of persuasion.
That night, Cheney was busy with softball practice, so I was on my own. I had dinner at Rosie’s, after which I retired to my apartment and spent the evening with a book.
Twelve-fifteen on Wednesday, I headed south on the 101, relieved to be in motion again. Once I delivered Reba to Vince’s office, he could take charge of her and I’d be off the hook. The drive up Bella Sera was exactly as it had been on prior occasions, right down to the scent of bay laurel and the smell of dry grass. It had been thirteen days since I’d taken this route on my way to meet Nord Lafferty, wondering what he could possibly want with me. Escort his daughter home from prison. How complicated was that? In the days since we’d returned, her life had slowly come unraveled. The crazy part was that I liked her. Despite the differences between us, I responded to her out of the outrageous elements in my own nature. Watching her operate was like seeing a distorted version of myself, only larger than life and much more dangerous.
When I reached the property, the gates were standing open. As I rounded the bend in the drive, I saw the same Lincoln Continental and Mercedes sedan. Now a third vehicle sat beside the other two—this one a Jaguar convertible, a handsome dark green with a caramel interior that looked good enough to eat. I parked, leaving my car unlocked as I moved up the walk to the house. Reba’s massive long-haired orange cat, Rags, sauntered out to greet me, looking at me with startling blue eyes. I extended my hand and he sniffed at my fingers. He allowed me to scratch his head, nudging me repeatedly to keep the action afloat.
I rang the bell and waited while he circled my legs, leaving long orange hairs on the legs of my jeans. From inside, I heard the muffled tap of high heels on hard marble tile. The door was opened by a woman I immediately pegged as the legendary Lucinda. She appeared to be in her midforties, thanks to the work of a first-rate plastic surgeon. I knew this because her neck and hands were fifteen years older than her face. Her hair was short, streaked with varying shades of blond as though bleached by the sun. She was slim and beautifully dressed in a designer outfit I recognized, though I’d forgotten the name. The two-piece black knit was banded in white and the jacket had brass buttons running down the front. The knee-length skirt revealed a knotty set of calves. “Yes?”
“I’m Kinsey Millhone. Could you tell Reba I’m here?”
She studied me carefully with eyes as dark as tar. “She’s not home. Is this something I can help you with?”
“Ah, no. Don’t think so. I’ll just wait for her.”
“You must be the private investigator Nord’s spoken of. I’m Lucinda Cunningham. I’m a friend of the family,” she said, extending her hand.
“Nice meeting you,” I said, shaking hands with her. “Did Reba say when she’d be home?”
“I’m afraid not. It might help if you told me what this was about.”
Pushy woman, I thought. “She has a meeting this afternoon. I told her I’d give her a lift.”
Her smile was not entirely warm, but she stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind h
er. “I don’t mean to pry, but this…um…appointment, is it important?”
“Very. I called her myself to let her know.”
“Well, this may present a problem. We haven’t seen Reba since dinnertime last evening.”
“She was gone all night?”
“And this morning as well. There’s been no note and no call. Her father hasn’t said as much, but I know he’s concerned. When I saw you at the door, I assumed you had news of her, though I was almost afraid to ask.”
“That’s weird. I wonder where she went?”
“We have no idea. As I understand it she was out late the night before. She slept until noon and then she had a phone call—”
“That was probably me.”
“Oh. Well, we wondered about that. She seemed upset afterwards. I believe she had a visitor. She was gone much of the afternoon and finally put in an appearance while her father was in the midst of his evening meal. He eats early most days, but this was closer to normal—shortly after six, I’d say. The cook had prepared chicken soup and his appetite seemed good. Reba wanted to chat with him and I decided to leave so the two could be alone.”
“And she didn’t mention anything to him?”
“He says not.”
“I better talk to him myself. This is worrisome.”
“I understand your concern, but he’s resting right now. He’s been working with his respiratory therapist and he’s exhausted. I’d prefer not to disturb him. Why don’t you come back later this afternoon? He should be up and about by four.”
“I can’t do that. This meeting is urgent, and if she’s not going to make it, I need to know right now.”
Her gaze dropped from mine and I could almost see her calculate the extent of her authority. “I’ll see if he’s awake and if he’s up to it. You’d have to keep it brief.”
“Fine.”
She reached behind and opened the door, gesturing me inside. I noticed she put a foot out to prevent the cat from coming in. Rags was offended, shooting her a look. I stepped into the foyer, waiting for directions.
“This way.”
She crossed toward the stairs and I followed in her wake. As she climbed the stairs, one hand trailing along the bannister, she delivered a comment over her shoulder to me. “I’m not sure what Reba’s told you, but the two of us have never really gotten along.”
“I wasn’t aware of that. I’m sorry to hear.”
“I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding. She was under the impression I had designs on her father, which couldn’t be further from the truth. I don’t deny I’m protective. I’m also outspoken when it comes to her behavior. Nord seems to think if he’s ‘supportive’ and gives her everything she wants, eventually she’ll straighten out. He’s never understood what good parenting is about. Children have to take responsibility for what they’ve done. Only my opinion…not that anybody’s asked.”
I let that one slide. I knew little of their history and didn’t feel a response would be appropriate.
We traversed the wide landing, moving down a carpeted corridor with bedrooms on both sides. The door to the master bedroom was closed. Lucinda tapped softly, then opened the door and looked in on him. “Kinsey’s here about Reba. May I show her in?”
I didn’t hear his response, but she stepped aside, allowing me to enter. “Five minutes,” she said firmly.
24
Nord Lafferty lay propped up against a pile of pillows, his oxygen tank close by. His frail white hands trembled on the crocheted coverlet. I knew his fingers would be icy to the touch, as though his energy and warmth were retreating from his extremities to his core. It wouldn’t be long until the last bright spark would be snuffed out. I moved to the side of his bed. He turned to look at me and a smile brought color to his face. “Just the person I was thinking of.”
“And here I am. Are you feeling up to this? Lucinda says you had a session with the respiratory therapist. She doesn’t want me wearing you out.”
“No, no. I’ve rested a bit and I’m fine. I’m sorry to have to waste so much time in bed, but some days I’m not capable of anything else. I trust you received my check.”
“I did. The bonus wasn’t necessary, but I appreciate the thought.”
“You deserve every penny. Reba enjoys her time with you and I’m grateful for that.”
“Lucinda tells me she’s been gone since dinnertime last night. Do you happen to know where?”
He shook his head. “She sat with me through supper and helped me into the library afterwards. I heard her making a call. A cab arrived thirty minutes later. She said not to worry, gave me a kiss, and that was the last time we spoke.”
“She has a meeting at one o’clock today and then a second meeting at four. I can’t imagine her a no-show. She knows how critical this is.”
“She made no mention of it. I take it she hasn’t been in touch with you.”
“We talked briefly yesterday. She said she’d get back to me, but then she never called.”
“She did have a visitor. Fellow she used to work with.”
“Marty Blumberg?”
“That’s him. He came up to the house and the two had their heads together for quite some time. She went out afterwards.”
“Lucinda mentioned she was out late the night before.”
“She didn’t arrive home until two-thirty in the morning. I was still awake when she finally pulled in the drive. I saw the headlights flash across the ceiling and I knew she was safe. Old habits die hard. The months she was in prison—those were the only nights I didn’t lie awake waiting for her. I imagine I’ll die with an eye on the clock, frightened something’s happened.”
“Why’d she call a cab? Is something wrong with her car?”
He hesitated. “My guess is she was leaving town and didn’t want her car sitting in a parking lot somewhere.”
“But where would she go?”
Helplessly, Nord shook his head.
“Did she take any luggage?”
“I asked Freddy myself and she says she did. Mercifully, Lucinda’d left by then, or I’d never hear the end of it. She knows something’s happened, but so far I’ve kept her in the dark. Lucinda’s relentless, so do be careful or she’ll wheedle it out of you.”
“I gathered as much. Which cab company?”
“Freddy might remember if you want to talk to her.”
“I’ll do that.”
A soft tap at the door and Lucinda appeared, holding up two fingers. “Two more minutes,” she said, with a smile to indicate her good intent.
Nord said, “Fine,” but I saw a flash of irritation cross his face. As soon as she closed the door, he said, “Lock that. And lock the door to the connecting bath while you’re about it.”
I gave him a momentary look and then crossed to the door and turned the thumb lock. A large white-tiled bathroom opened off to the right, apparently joining his bedroom with the one next to it. I locked the far bathroom door, leaving the near one ajar, and then returned to my seat.
He pulled himself up against the pillows. “Thank you. I suppose she means well, but there are times when she takes too much on herself. To date, I haven’t appointed her my guardian. As for Reba, what do you propose?”
“I’m not really sure. I need to find her as soon as possible.”
“Is she in trouble?”
“I’d say so. Shall I fill you in?”
“It’s best I don’t know. Whatever it is, I trust you to take care of it and bill me afterwards.”
“I’ll do what I can. Couple of government agencies are interested in talking to her about Beck’s financial dealings. This is going to get sticky and my position’s precarious as it is. When it comes to the feds, I don’t want to end up on the wrong side of the fence. If I’m working for you, no privilege attaches to our relationship in any event, so hiring me won’t serve as protection for either one of us.”
“I understand completely. I wouldn’t ask you to compromise yourself
in the eyes of the law. That said, I’d be grateful for any help you can give her.”
“Is her car still here?”
He nodded. “It’s parked in the garage, which is unlocked as far as I know. You’re welcome to take a look.”
There was a tapping at the door and the handle turned. Lucinda rattled the knob impatiently, her voice muffled. “Nord, what’s wrong? Are you in there?”
He gestured toward the door. I crossed and unlocked it. Lucinda turned the knob abruptly and pushed her way in, almost banging me in the face. She stared at me, apparently assuming I’d locked the door on my own. “What’s this about?”
Nord strained to raise his voice. “I told her to lock it. I didn’t want any further interruptions.”
Her body language shifted from suspicion to injury. “You might have mentioned it. If you and Miss Millhone have private business to discuss, I wouldn’t dream of interfering.”
“Thank you, Lucinda. We appreciate that.”
“Perhaps I’ve overstepped my bounds.” Her tone was frosty, the content designed to generate apologies or reassurances.
Nord offered neither. He lifted a hand, almost a gesture of dismissal. “She’d like to see Reba’s room.”
“What for?”
Nord turned to me. “Down the hall to your right—”
Lucinda cut in. “I’ll be happy to show her. We don’t want her wandering around on her own.”
I glanced at Nord. “I’ll get back to you,” I said.
I followed Lucinda down the hall, noting her stiff posture and her refusal to look at me. When we reached Reba’s room, she opened the door and then stood in my path forcing me to squeeze by her. Her eyes trailed after me. “I hope you’re satisfied. You think you’re so helpful, but you’re killing him,” she said.
I locked eyes with her, but she was far more practiced than I at delivering the withering glance. I waited. Her smile was set, and I knew she was the sort who’d find ways to get even. Lucinda, the bitch indeed. She stepped into the hall. I shut the door and locked it, knowing she’d get the point.
I turned and leaned against the door, making a visual survey, taking in the whole of the room before starting my search. The bed was made, a few personal mementos neatly arranged on the bedside table: a framed photo of her father, a book, a scratch pad, and a pen. No clutter. No clothing on the floor. Nothing under the bed. A phone, but no personal address book. I went through the desk drawers, uncovering items that must have been there for years: school papers, exam books, unopened boxes of stationery, which were probably gifts—certainly not her taste, unless she favored kitty-cat cards with cute sayings on the front. No personal correspondence. Dresser drawers were neat.