By the time I reached my vehicle, I had it.
Kevin!
If I was right, and both Petra's and the drugstore clerk's fears turned out to be nothing more than the groundless products of their own overactive imaginations, what in hell was Kevin doing in the middle of it all?
Assuming everything I'd been told or suspected was true, he'd helped fake Petra's death and he had the clerk scared out of her mind.
If there was a connection, I couldn't imagine what it might be, other than coincidence. It couldn't be anything else but coincidence. There were no other similarities between the two cases. Even so, it didn't stop me from wondering...
What if? Kevin was a good looking guy. What if his cousin moonlighted in L.A. along with Lopez and Schultz? What if they'd taken Kevin with them and he'd passed himself off as a cop? And what if it was Kevin who Petra was having the affair with?
Tim said he was ten years older than Petra. I estimated Tim was close to forty, so that put her a little under thirty, while Kevin looked to be in his early to mid-twenties. Kevin was also exceptionally handsome with a good physique, the type who would have no trouble attracting women. If they were involved and the affair was serious, it would make perfect sense for her to tell him her problems and solicit his assistance in helping her vanish.
I unlocked the SUV and got in, then speed dialed the office.
Calista answered, "Amethyst Cove Security and Investigations."
"Hi, Calista. It's me, Greg."
"Yes, sir. What can I do for you?"
I sighed, a long, drawn out sigh of desperation. "Please, Calista, can you quit calling me sir?"
"No, sir, I'm afraid not. You and Mr. Coulter own this company. As an employee, I must show respect."
I grinned at myself in the rearview mirror. "I see. So you believe familiarity breeds contempt, huh?" I said, going down what had become a familiar and well-trodden path.
"Exactly, sir. Calling you by your first name would be disrespectful and most improper. Now, is there anything else?"
"Yes, ma'am. I need you to check on a dude by the name of Kevin Hallsby. He works at The Riptide, and I understand he has a cousin who's a cop. I'd like Kevin's home address and whatever else you can dig up."
Calista spelled out the last name to be sure she had it right. "How soon do you need this information, sir?"
"Five minutes ago, Miss Perry. I'll wait for your call."
I checked the dashboard clock. Calista's ability to come up with accurate information at the drop of a hat was amazing. Her turnaround time of ten to thirty minutes on small stuff like this, depending on any roadblocks she encountered, even more so. Ian and I sometimes wondered how a newcomer to the Cove could find out things with such speed, but she could, and we weren't about to question her methods.
In less than fifteen minutes Calista was back to me.
"I have what you need, sir."
I pulled out my notebook and clicked my ballpoint into operational mode. "Okay, give it to me."
"Kevin Hallsby is twenty-five and a bartender at The Riptide. He lives with his cousin, Fraser Shortt, two ts. Fraser is thirty and was an officer with the police department here in town for a little over a year. About two months ago, he quit."
Oh, fuck! Just what I needed. Another first name starting with F! "He goes by Fraser?"
"It would seem so. Kevin and Fraser currently reside at their grandmother's former home, 25 Esteban, a small side street tucked away between the park and the warehouse district. Fraser's father and Kevin's mother are brother and sister."
"Anything else?" I asked, knowing she always keeps a little something back.
"Fraser's parents are divorced. His father remarried and moved to Vegas, and his mother is now married to a farmer and lives in Gilroy."
"What about Kevin's folks?"
"Kevin was raised by his grandmother. When she died, he inherited the house and whatever else she owned. His mother was killed in a traffic accident shortly after Kevin was born. There's no mention of a father."
"Either one have financial problems?"
"No, sir. There was a small mortgage on the house when the grandmother passed three years ago that has since been paid off. Fraser has received a few late notices from credit card companies. Nothing recent, though. He's still carrying largish balances on a couple of them, but the payments are up to date."
"Fraser likes to spend money?"
"It would appear so, sir. Clothes, mostly. I think he moved in with Kevin to save on expenses because it coincides with the dates of the late payment notices. As of now, they both appear to be financially healthy."
"Has Kevin ever been in trouble with the law?"
Calista treated my listening ear to one of her ladylike Boston giggles. "Funny you should ask, sir. There are a few reports of the lovely Kevin using his charm in place of legal tender. It's all small stuff, though, a burger here, a soft drink there. "
"Anyone file an official complaint?"
"Not that I could find. But reading between the lines, I have a feeling, completely unsubstantiated, of course, that if Kevin doesn't get what Kevin wants, he's not above giving his victim's arm a twist."
Bingo! The drugstore clerk, for example? "That's all? No marriages, divorces, or current romantic relationships for either of them?"
"No, sir. They both seem to like the ladies, but nothing serious. Fraser worked for a security company before he joined the force and continued to do so part-time whenever they needed extra help."
"Here in the Cove?"
"No. It's one of those big firms out of L.A. who operate statewide."
"So they would probably send him all over. Is he back there now full-time?"
"I don't know. Do you want me to dig deeper and find out?"
"That would be good. Thanks, Calista."
"My pleasure, sir."
After ending the call, I reached in the back seat for the Stetson Ian gave me for my last birthday. It was supposedly worn by a famous actor in an equally famous movie. I didn't care about the hat's history. It was old and battered, a perfect fit, and I loved the way it made me feel--mysterious and omnipotent. It also helped me do my best thinking.
I put it on, tilted it forward so the brim shielded my eyes from the afternoon sun, and thought about what I'd just learned from Calista.
Kevin sounded like one of those brash individuals who barreled their way through life without a thought for what's right or wrong, as long as they came out on top. And if Kevin had to mess with the truth on occasion by exaggerating or stretching it, I doubt it bothered him overly much.
As for cousin Fraser, fashionista, fashion whore, or whatever name clothing addicts currently went by, a second job with his old employer while still on the force would have paid for his indulgences. It would also have taken him to lots of interesting places, perhaps even one-on-one situations, where he would meet lots of interesting people such as Petra Lianne.
So...suppose she started the affair with Fraser while he was still a cop. She told him she'd had enough of being a celebrity, or was scared for her life or whatever, and figured the only way out was for her to disappear, permanently. If she was as desperate as Vance made her sound and as super cautious as Tim said, she wouldn't have risked ruining her plan by jumping on the first plane or train leaving town. She'd have done everything within her power to ensure she'd never be found. The best way I knew of a person doing that was by pretending to be dead. And with Fraser and Kevin's help, she'd almost pulled it off.
I wondered if she was hiding somewhere in the area, but if she was, it would defeat the whole purpose of the exercise. Once she put her plan into motion, she'd have kept right on going.
I took off my Stetson, put it on the passenger seat and called Calista.
"Amethyst Cove Security and Investigations. How may I help you?"
"If Fraser has another job, I'd like to know where and what his hours are."
"He's currently working as a bouncer at a place called Bo
urbonna. It's a new dance club somewhere here in the downtown area. He starts at five and finishes at whatever time they close."
"Okay. By the way, I forgot to ask. Any idea why Fraser quit the force?"
"From what my source told me, it seems he and Chief Fox didn't get along."
Since that could mean almost anything, I thanked Calista, checked my watch against the dashboard clock, and terminated the call.
If the stars were correctly aligned and Lady Luck was on my side, Fraser should be at home, getting ready for work, and Kevin would be there, too, filling in time between shifts.
I started the SUV's engine and drove out of the lot.
* * * *
Kevin's house on Esteban was at least fifty years old, part of the post-WWII building boom, but, like all the other adjacent properties, appeared to be well cared for. There were two late model vehicles in the driveway, giving the impression both residents were at home.
I parked farther along the street and walked back, still undecided on my best approach. I wasn't worried about Kevin, but as an ex-cop, a security officer, and now a bouncer, Fraser could be a pussycat or a problem.
After a short, internal debate, I decided to show my ID, say I'd been hired to find Petra and let them do the talking.
As I approached the front door, I could hear music playing and water running.
I rang the bell.
After about a ten-second wait, a smiling Kevin opened the door. Barefoot and wearing jogging pants, he gave the impression of having just stepped out of the shower.
"Can I help you?"
"Are you Kevin Hallsby?"
The smile changed to a frown. "Who wants to know?"
I showed him my ID. "I'm with Amethyst Cove Security and Investigations. We've been hired by the brother of Petra Lianne to trace her present whereabouts. We know she was last seen here in town, and I understand you're the person who saw her."
His mouth tightened and his body tensed and, for an instant, I thought he would shut the door in my face. But then he regained control, released his death grip on the door, and said, "So? I saw her, so what? I told the cops everything I know."
"Really? A few weeks later, I believe you found some of her possessions. But instead of taking them to the cops, you got someone else to do it. Want to tell me why?"
His shocked expression was all the confirmation I needed.
"I have no idea where you got your information, but I don't have to tell you a fucking thing. So just piss off. Okay?"
"Hey! What's going on here?"
Before Kevin could slam the door and bolt, which I figured was his intention, another man appeared behind him, blocking his way.
The newcomer, who I guessed to be Fraser and looked like an older version of Kevin, glared at me over Kevin's shoulder. "Who are you?"
"Greg Stewartson, private investigator." I held up my ID.
"He's here asking questions about Petra," Kevin said, immediately giving the game away, and also saving me the bother of explaining a second time.
Fraser reached around Kevin and opened the door wide. "In that case, you'd better come in."
"We don't have to tell this guy a thing," Kevin said, standing his ground. "He's not a cop."
Fraser rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Kev, and let the man in. We knew this might happen. We told her that."
"But she said it wouldn't."
Fraser edged past Kevin and offered me his hand. "Fraser Shortt. I'm Kevin's cousin."
At Fraser's invitation, I followed the pair down a short hallway to a large combined living room/kitchen.
"Make yourself comfortable," Fraser said, indicating a long sofa and a couple of easy chairs. "I just made coffee if you're interested."
Kevin chose one of the chairs, and I sat down on the sofa. "Thanks. Black will be fine."
After Fraser finished serving the coffee, an awkward silence took over. Then Fraser broke it by saying, "I'm not sure where to begin."
"I assume Petra is alive."
Fraser nodded. "Absolutely."
"I also assume you helped make it look like she went for a swim and drowned."
"Actually, that was Kev's idea. I thought it was overkill."
"Okay, so why don't you tell me what happened?"
Fraser hesitated for a long moment and then he said, "I was working security at a Hollywood party the first time I met Petra. She was still an aspiring actress at the time. Then we met again in a club about a week later and ended up spending the night together and almost every night after until she got her big break."
"And she dropped you?"
"Not exactly. She got busy with her career, and I'd taken a job with the police force up here. I'd say that we drifted apart is a more accurate description. We still had feelings for one another, and we still saw one another from time to time. But then she got involved with that producer or whatever he is."
"Vance Stewartson?"
"You know him?"
I shrugged. "He's my brother."
He sipped his coffee and put the mug on a side table. "That so? Well, I think she realized hooking up with him was a mistake right from the start. She thought she wanted what he could do for her, but she couldn't handle the speed with which everything was starting to happen."
"Sounds like she was overwhelmed," I said, voicing my thoughts aloud. "She should have told him to slow down."
"She tried, but he wouldn't listen. He kept pushing her to do things she didn't want to do, and when he asked her to move in with him, she decided she'd had enough. That's when she called me. She said there was no way; she didn't like him enough to live with him. He was too demanding, too controlling, and he never listened to a thing she said."
I laughed. "Sounds like my brother. What about these weird phones she told him about? Did they happen or what?"
"I don't know for sure. She told me she was getting them. The phone rang and either no one was there or she could hear someone breathing. She also believed she was being stalked. She said people whispered things to her in elevators, and any time she went out, she kept seeing the same guy each time she turned around. She told her people and she also told Vance. Apparently, they had security check everything, but they came up dry."
"You've worked for a security company and you've been a cop, so what do you think?"
"I won't say Petra could have been imagining things because I know some stalkers are exceedingly clever. What I think is she got in over her head. She couldn't take the pressure. I knew she'd wanted out for quite some time. She kept saying tomorrow, tomorrow, but she never did anything about it. Then she got arrested over a stupid publicity stunt, had a big fight with Vance, and that was it. She drove up here, said she needed to disappear, and would I help."
"And you said yes."
"No way!" He shook his head. "I said she needed to think about the people she'd be hurting. She insisted there was no one. Her only family was a brother she hardly knew and almost never saw. Everyone else in her life amounted to nothing more than a bunch of users who wouldn't even notice she'd gone. She wanted to go somewhere and start a new life. She'd stack grocery store shelves, work in a fast food place, whatever it took."
"So how..." I looked from Kevin to Fraser and back to Kevin. I had a feeling Kevin was the more adventurous of the pair.
"It was me who came up with the plan, okay?" Kevin admitted, albeit reluctantly. "I saw a movie on TV where a woman wanted to escape from her abusive husband. She made it look like she'd drowned at sea. In her case, it worked. He never found her."
I returned my attention to Fraser. "You knew about this?"
"I knew and I tried talking her out of it. But her mind was made up. She reminded me she's an adult, free to make her own choices, and if I didn't like what she was doing, it was my problem not hers."
"And then she left?"
"Not right then. She waited until Kev and I were asleep. But before we went to bed that night, I told her if anyone figured out we'd had a hand in her disappearance
and came around asking questions, I'd have to tell them what I knew. She said fine, but not to hold my breath because it would never happen."
In one way, I admired Petra for having the guts to tell Hollywood to get lost and to reinvent herself. Then I remembered my grandmother and the weeks and months of wondering and worrying my family went through before she was officially declared, missing, presumed dead. For Tim's sake, I hoped, given time, she would come to her senses and contact him. As for Vance...my brother could take care of himself. "Did Petra give any hint as to what her plans might be?"
Fraser's smile was a tad wistful. "She said she'd always wanted to walk across America from the Pacific to the Atlantic and stop and visit all the places in between. I offered to go with her, but she said no, the trip would be one of personal discovery. When she reached New York, she'd know what she wanted and where she wanted to go from there."
"Sounds like a pretty dangerous plan. Impractical, too."
"That's what we told her," Kevin said, looking a little sad. "She said if she was a man, she'd give it try. Since she wasn't, she'd take the bus."
"Have you heard from her?"
"Once," Fraser admitted. "To let me know she was okay. She knew I'd be worried after she took off without saying goodbye. I asked her to keep in touch, and she promised she would. I also told her to call her brother, and she said she'd think about it."
"Anything else?" I pressed.
"I traced the call to the bus station in Flagstaff. We haven't heard from her since."
"How long since the call?"
"Almost a month."
I spared a glance for the mug of now-cold coffee and got to my feet. "As you say, Petra's an adult. If she wants to take a bus trip to New York, then I guess it's her business. If it's okay with you, though, I'll have her brother call and give you his phone number. Then if she calls again, you can let him know."
"Sure, fine with me," Fraser said as the pair of them followed me out of the room and down the hallway.
"I doubt she will," Kevin said as we reached the door. "She said she intended to make sure no one ever found her, and I know she meant it."
Missing, Presumed Dead Page 6