“Money, sure, I’ll send some. Where?”
“Send it to me. That would be easiest.” He gave the address. “She’d like to see you, Josh, at least know where you are, talk to you.”
“I’d like to talk to Mums, too” He was silent a moment. “Tell you what, Mr. Byerly, this show’s about over. Why don’t I fly out to Santa Barbara, check up on Mums, okay?”
“I think you’ll be glad you did.”
Within the hour Byerly moved Addie Kinkaid from the Salvation Army into a modest motel. After tears and profuse thanks, she said, “I told you he was a good boy.”
With about as much sense as Jamie.
“Have a seat, Detective Hernandez, this phone call will only take a moment.”
Putting a name and address to the number Marco Musante had phoned was easy, but Lupe hadn’t expected to get in to see Victor Dragon for only an expression of interest. Victor Dragon was the closest thing Santa Barbara had to an F. Lee Bailey or Johnny Cochran, a big shot lawyer, a doer and shaker, friend to politicians from De La Guerra Plaza to Capitol Hill and hobnobber with the rich and famous—even the police.
Victor Dragon’s office teemed with mahogany, old leather and gold accessories. Photos, achievement awards and testimonials covered a paneled wall. She felt cowed. Something more. Being here, with this man, frightened her as no street thug, wife batterer or gang-banger ever would. A good address, posh surroundings, expensive clothes and impeccable manners were foreign to her upbringing and made her feel inferior. Her mind knew better, but her psyche did not. Would she be able to hold his manicured feet to the fire as a cop properly should? It scared her that she might not.
She took the designated seat and tried not to be dazzled by Victor Dragon. He should change his name to Victor Rich. He dripped money, from his silver-haired coif to his tasseled loafers. The voice on the phone was deep and mellifluous, one James Earl Jones might envy.
“How do you know you have the right one?” He listened. “It’s a little hard for me to believe it happened that way.”
She heard the voice on the phone, but couldn’t understand it, only the whining tone.
“Very well. If what you say checks out, then of course I’ll take care of you.”
More whining.
“Not to worry, Marco, everything you tell me stays right here. Goodbye, I’ll get back to you ASAP.”
Victor Dragon hung up the phone, came around the desk and took her hand, lavishing his caps on her. His skin was almost as dark as hers, but his was a tan—all the difference in the world.
“Always good to see one of Santa Barbara’s finest. I don’t believe we’ve met. Are you new on the force?”
Lord, he was handsome—and knew it. Why not? If you got it, flaunt it. Then she saw a little nick on his chin. He’d cut himself shaving. A man like other men. That helped her. She was going to be okay with him.
“Only new to street clothes.”
“Congratulations. We need good detectives.” We? Was he the chief? Dripping urbanity, he returned to his desk, sat, poured himself water from a decanter and offered her some. She refused. “What can I do for you, Detective?”
He seemed nervous, not so different from a shoplifter being approached by a store detective. She knew all about shoplifting.
“It seems we’re hunting the same little boy. I thought perhaps we could join forces.”
His wariness was almost imperceptible, but there. “What little boy is that?”
“I believe you know, blond, blue-eyed, about three.” His smile faded. “Word on the street is that you are searching for such a boy, just as I am. The only difference is you’re offering a $25,000 reward.”
He looked down at his desk, then leaned forward in his swivel chair, sipped from the water glass.
“That’s a great deal of money, counselor. Is it your funds?”
“Me? No, no, a client.” His grin returned, along with his aplomb. “You understand, of course, that I can’t identify my client, but he wants his little boy very much. Do you know where the child is?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
“Then we have an impasse.”
“The street talk is that the boy’s mother is looking for him. If you’ve talked to her, then you must know who the child is and how he happens to be lost.”
“Well-l….” He might have been offered a plate of fried worms.
“Did he wander off? Was he kidnapped?” No answer. “Surely the mother gave you some information.”
“I’m sorry, Detective Hernandez, attorney-client privilege prevents me from discussing—”
“I think not, counselor. A child is lost, the police have been enlisted to help find him. If you—”
“It is not a formal investigation, detective. I simply asked Sergeant…I forget his name….
“Brogan.
“Of course, good man. I simply asked him to see if he could keep an eye out for the child.”
She saw the smile, heard the spin. Go and do likewise. She smiled. “And that’s exactly why I’m here, counselor. If you can provide some additional information, it would make my job easier. Who, for example, is looking for their son?”
He sighed helplessly. “As a matter of fact I don’t know who precisely—”
“Someone must be paying your fee.”
“I’m under retainer from several large corporations.”
“Which one?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
My, this was fun. She showed him her uncapped teeth. “But a large, unnamed corporation is looking for the boy?”
“Yes, you might say that.”
“Did this large, unnamed corporation say why it wants this small, unnamed boy?”
He shrugged elaborately. “I didn’t ask. I assumed someone in the corporation was involved in a child custody matter.”
“Was it your idea to say the boy’s mother wanted him?”
“It was suggested to me as a way…to stir up interest in the child.”
“That and $25,000.” She smiled. “Any luck so far?”
“No, no, nothing, no calls.” He said it effortlessly, no hesitation, no change in his voice. Victor Dragon was an adept liar.
“Will you call me when someone does contact you?”
“To be sure.”
“Any lead, however slight?”
“You have my word.” That and 200 bucks would buy him a haircut most anywhere.
She strode for his office door, then turned back. “One more question, counselor. Did this large, anonymous corporation give the boy a name?”
“I’m not at liberty—” He smiled. “That’s not being very cooperative, is it? Actually I was not provided a name.”
“Then how will you know when you have the right child?”
“My client will know.”
She laughed. “And you are going to line up blond, blue-eyed three-year-olds. Good luck, counselor.”
As she left Dragon’s office she felt good about herself. Playing detective was fun.
15: Another Kidnapping
WALTER SHOWED UP at midday and took Jamie off her hands. “We’ll do the zoo and lunch, be back whenever he’s ready to conk out.”
“He can go all day. How about you?”
“I’m only good for sprints any more.”
DeeDee spent the time getting her records ready for the accountant, then her bottom line got a nice boost. The voice on the phone said, “I have an order for you, DeeDee.”
“My pencil’s sharpened, Gertie.” She was one of the few people who could get away with that name. Gertrude Leventhal was arguably the most successful caterer in Santa Barbara, in no small part because she called herself Pattie—as in Patties Parties.
“Why did I ever confide in you? If everyone finds out who I really am, my business is ruined.”
“You could always call it Gertie’s Galas. What have you got for me?”
“A very nice commission is what I have. I will not be expecting your
usual discount on the flowers.”
“I always knew heaven would be like this. To whom or what do I owe this largesse?”
“I don’t know who the bill goes to yet. It’s a fund-raiser for somebody named—I can’t read my handwriting—oh yes, Justin Wright, whoever he is.”
DeeDee smiled. “I guess you’re into food, not politics. Justin Wright is only a leading candidate for President—that’s of the United States, Gertie. Is he coming to town?”
“All I was told is that it’s to be a $10,000 per-plate dinner, so we trot out the pate de foie gras.”
“At least truffles with the rubber chicken. How many are to attend this modest little feed?”
“There’ll be 20 tables of 12, plus a head table. The lady wants red roses all around.”
“Nothing but the finest.” She jotted that down, then she saw Lupe Hernandez enter the shop and waved to her. Good thing Walter was away with Jamie. “Where is this little shindig taking place?”
“At the estate of, let me see, oh yes, Mrs. Karl Kinkaid.”
She blinked. “Dr. Joy?”
“Who?”
If Gertie didn’t know who Dr. Joy was, it was too hard to explain. “Did Mrs. Kinkaid place the order?”
“I did business with her once before and she liked my work.”
“I can’t imagine why not. Thanks for giving me a piece of it. I won’t disappoint you.” She glanced over her order form. “You forgot to give me the date.”
“Oh yes, thanks for reminding me. It’s Friday. I told her such short notice would cost more.”
“I’m sure cost is no object to Dr. Joy.”
“You said that before. Isn’t Dr. Joy the—”
“The one and the same. I’ll give you a price as soon as I talk to my wholesaler, okay?”
She hung up and went to Lupe, bussing her cheek. “This is a nice surprise. You look positively glowing. You must like being a detective.”
“Does it show that much?” She laughed. “I just left a most interesting interview.”
“Tell me all about it.”
“I made Walter’s phone call.” She seemed excited. “You’ll never believe where it led. Try Victor Dragon.”
“The Victor Dragon, God’s gift to women?”
“He is beautiful, a gorgeous tan, looks like a bronze Adonis.” She laughed.
“Visiting the folks on Mt. Olympus must’ve been fun.”
“It was, actually. I discovered they’re just like everyone else.”
“It’s about time. Did he come on to you?”
“Not after I asked him why he’s looking for a lost kid.”
“Victor Dragon is searching for Jamie? Did he say why?”
“Along with being suave, rich and conceited, Victor Dragon is closed-mouthed. I did learn that he is the one who phoned Buster Brogan about a lost kid. The department, at least Brogan, apparently drops his pants whenever Dragon says—”
“Dragon wants Jamie? I can’t believe it.”
“He says he represents a client and attorney-client privilege prevents him from—”
“Karl Kinkaid, has to be.”
“Dragon insists he doesn’t know the name of the kid he’s looking for, let alone why.”
“Obviously, he isn’t trusted not to go to the Moore people or the press.” She turned, saw her husband, Jamie in his arms. “Your timing is lousy,” she said.
“Can’t be helped. The giraffes wore out our future zoologist.” He went to Lupe. “Detective Hernandez, may I introduce you to Jamie, a.k.a. James Sykes, I think.”
“Sykes, Sykes.”
“Is that your last name, son?”
“Sykes, Sykes.”
“Another mystery solved,” he said.
Lupe took the boy from him. “How did you get to be such a sweetheart?
“You two make a lovely couple. Are you beginning to understand our problem? We can’t allow this boy to become a pawn in—”
“I’ll say nothing, DeeDee, but I’m not sure how much good that will do. When I was in Victor Dragon’s office he was on the phone, talking I’m sure with someone about a lost boy.”
She hugged Jamie. “Hopefully not this particular boy.”
“Did you happen to catch the name of the caller?”
“I believe he said Marco.”
“Oh God!” She looked at Walter.
“Is that name important?”
He told her. “An easy twenty-five grand is hard to resist.”
“What are we going to do? They’ll surely come after Jamie now.” She looked at Lupe for help.
“They can’t just barge in here or your home and take this boy. It’s called kidnapping and Victor Dragon would never be a party to it. He’d seek a court order making you turn over custody to his mother.”
“Amanda would never do that. She hid him to protect him.” She gasped. “Unless she was forced to.”
“Believe me, it’ll never happen that way,” Walter said. “Too much publicity. They want to hide the boy, not—” He stopped. “There are two very big ears here.” He grinned, “I promised our young friend an ice cream cone. Why don’t we all check out the local flavors, I’ll drive.”
They ended up at Shoreline Park, high on a bluff overlooking the Pacific, Jamie asleep in the back seat of Walter’s sedan. “Has to be one of the world’s beauty spots,” he said. “The cares of the world seem to disappear here.”
They got out, strolled along the parapet, taking in the view. Kites flew overhead and hang gliders soared over the ocean, sparkling now in the afternoon sun. DeeDee took his hand. “You can even see the Channel Islands.”
“I hope I talked you two out of worrying,” Lupe said. “There really is not a lot they can do.”
Walter gave a snorting sound. “Sure, sure, they’re nice sensible folk who consider the consequences of all their actions.”
They stopped and looked back at his car. “I’m having one of your charming speculations,” Lupe said. “Could Victor Dragon be involved in the Gould murder?“
“A woman after my own heart. Let’s run with it. Gould got Mandy Sykes to come to Santa Barbara with her son. She is abducted—most likely by Kinkaid, seeking Jamie.”
“And Dragon has to be attorney for Kinkaid because—”
“He takes phone calls about a lost boy.” Walter laughed. “You’re getting good at this, Lupe.”
“Sorry to rain on you two,” DeeDee said, “but there’s no link between Gould and Victor Dragon.”
The Tower of Evil (Bye-Bye Mysteries) Page 11