‘Yes, I understand.’ She didn’t, she still didn’t know what was going on, but just as she might have found out, the doors opened and Robert Caley walked in. He ignored Lorraine and went straight to his wife, seeming to wrap her in his arms.
‘Come on, come and lie down now, sweetheart. Say goodbye to Mrs Page.’ He kept his arms around her, steering her towards the bedroom. ‘I think you had better leave, Mrs Page.’
Lorraine was getting into her car when Robert Caley hurried out of the house. ‘Mrs Page.’ He had a vivid scratch mark down his right cheek.
‘Yes,’ she said innocently.
‘A moment please, er, perhaps I was not as, er . . . honest as I should have been when we spoke yesterday.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘I told you my wife could not speak to you, that she was indisposed, as a good PR agent would say. Well, you just saw what my wife’s indisposition is . . .’
Lorraine didn’t let him off the hook but looked at him with as much innocence as she could muster. ‘I’m sorry?’
He turned away, rubbing his head. ‘My daughter’s disappearance has obviously affected my wife deeply. I don’t know what she has said to you but I think you should be aware that she can be very irrational and . . . Elizabeth has had, over the past few years, a drug-related problem mainly due to an old injury . . . During the filming of Santa Maria a gallery collapsed on her and she suffered extensive injuries. The studio doctors made sure she would be on the set the following day by prescribing heavy pain-killers and . . . er . . . well, she still suffers a great deal of pain, and over the years . . .’
Lorraine waited, watching him trying in every way to explain or excuse his wife’s behaviour.
‘She is, I suppose, a sick woman, and with Anna Louise’s disappearance . . . what I am trying to explain to you is that my wife has a dependency on these so-called pain-killers. It is controlled, obviously, but now she is not using these drugs for any physical pain, just mental . . .’
‘I understand.’
‘Good, because I would hate you to misconstrue anything or, God forbid, report this to the press.’
‘I wouldn’t do that.’
‘Good, thank you. It’s just that I have been able to control her dependency with the help of her doctors but sometimes if I am not here she . . .’
If he was lying he was good, because he seemed genuinely disturbed and caring.
‘I do understand, Mr Caley. This must be a very distressing time, not just for your wife, and obviously anything that is said to me, or anything I see, will remain strictly between us.’
He turned away. ‘Just try and find out, Mrs Page, if my daughter is dead or alive, because not knowing is destroying me, and killing my wife.’
CHAPTER 5
ROONEY LOLLED in Lorraine’s chair behind her desk. The door buzzer went off and both he and Rosie looked towards the door. Nick Bartello lounged in the doorway, gazing down at the doormat. He wore his thick, black and unruly curly hair almost to his collar and he needed a shave.
He limped into the office. His crumpled denim shirt and torn jeans didn’t detract from his immediate attraction. He was one of those guys you knew just by looking at him had a big case history. His limp wasn’t bad, it sort of made his walk just that bit lopsided.
‘Hey, Nick, how you do in’?’ bellowed Rooney.
‘I’m fucked, I feel it an’ look it. You got some coffee brewing?’
‘Sure. Nick, this is Rosie, by the way.’
‘Hi, Rosie.’ Bartello slumped into her vacated chair. ‘Hey, man, did we tie a load on last night or didn’t we?’
‘We did, Nick, we did.’
Rosie started to brew some coffee as Nick pulled a crumpled note-pad and bits of paper out of his pocket. ‘Okay, this is how the land lies. I know I only got handed the case when our top dicks gave it the thumbs down, maybe because they’d like to stick one up my ass. Like I said last night, I get fired if I don’t get a result an’ to date I got fuck-all. And today, like ten minutes ago, Robert Caley is threatening the agency to get screwed unless we get some results.’
Rosie returned to her desk. ‘Coffee is on.’ She hovered, and he gave her a marvellous smile.
‘Thanks, sweetheart, make it strong and black.’ He turned back to Rooney, who grinned.
‘Nick’s being paid a grand a week plus expenses, Agnews is getting about five grand. They probably put out to Caley they got three of you workin’, right, Nick?’
‘Yeah, but in reality the main guys are on a new gig finding some bitch’s ex-husband. They’ll drag it out as long as possible so basically I got the Caley case solo. Company don’t wanna lose their five gee’s per week, I don’t wanna lose my job.’
Rooney cocked his head at Nick. ‘You tell ’em about us?’
Nick shrugged. ‘I didn’t say nothin’. They know you’re on the Caley payroll and, hey, Rosie, what about that coffee? This is a desperate man you’re looking at.’
Rooney snorted as Rosie checked the percolator; it was just bubbling. She liked Nick Bartello, crude maybe but there was a lovable quality to him. That smile he had was a killer.
‘Bill, I am prepared to split my fee, you gimme what you got and vice versa.’
‘But you got fuck-all.’
‘Correct.’ Nick laughed. It was as good as his smile, a lovely chortling sound.
‘So why should we pool with you? We’re on a good slice ourselves.’
‘Yeah, well, maybe I got a bit extra that bein’ drunk didn’t loosen out of me. You think I didn’t know what you were up to?’
Again Rooney snorted; for all his easygoing manner Nick was nobody’s fool. ‘It’d have to be somethin’ if you want in with us.’
Nick Bartello rubbed the stubble on his chin. ‘Well, maybe I just got somethin’ that’d be worth wantin’ to split that one million pay-off Mrs Caley promised as a bonus.’
Rosie looked at Rooney; he’d obviously been drunk enough to tell Bartello, and for a moment he had the temerity to look abashed.
She banged down the mug of coffee. ‘Don’t you think we should discuss this with Lorraine?’
Bartello laughed. ‘Look, I know her type, if Jack Lubrinski rated her, she’s cool, she’d go for this. She’s a drinker, right?’
‘Not any more,’ said Rosie angrily.
‘Okay, maybe she isn’t, but all I am suggesting is we pool info and you cut me in on the one million pay-off. I dump my job and everyone is happy and able to pay the mortgage with a few extras on the side.’
Rooney gave Rosie a frown and then turned to Bartello. ‘Okay, I agree, Lorraine will, what you got?’
‘We should wait for her to be in on this,’ Rosie interjected as she poured more coffee.
‘Come on, you only got two weeks,’ Nick said.
Rosie glared at Rooney, knowing he must have told Nick everything about their case.
‘You’re already almost one day down and I been on this for a few weeks, so I got information that’ll save valuable time.’
‘You got nothing,’ Rooney said flatly.
‘Okay, I’ll come clean, I got something I didn’t tell you last night, but no way am I gonna spill the beans unless we shake hands.’
Rooney looked at Rosie and she shrugged. ‘Okay, we got a deal.’
The two men shook hands. Then Bartello sipped his coffee. ‘Right, try this for starters, I got from a very reliable source that Elizabeth Caley is into drugs in a big way. So maybe, just maybe, the disappearance of her precious daughter is connected.’
‘Fuckin’ hell, is that true?’ Rooney asked.
Nick sipped his coffee. ‘Yep, it’s true, like she’s got a habit of over three thousand dollars a week. I’m checkin’ into dealers, I mean, she might owe some shit that got nasty with her daughter. I got the name of her doctor as well. He’s like top drawer for the stars, but he’s also known on the street for passing on dodgy prescriptions.’
‘Is it cocaine?’
‘
Apparently the lady will take whatever she can lay her pretty hands on. She’s been in two drug rehab centres, the type with a lot of glamour.’ Nick passed over some crumpled xeroxed medical sheets, stuck together with a safety pin. ‘Got those from a sweet-faced nurse for a hundred bucks. By the look of the docco I’d say this angel could make a few thousand bucks on the side passin’ this kind of stuff to the tabloids.’
Rooney looked over Elizabeth Caley’s medical sheet. ‘Says the woman is called Maureen Sweeney.’
‘Yeah, well, she’s not likely to put her real name on their register, is she? But it’s substance-abuse routine . . .’
Rooney finished reading and then passed it to Rosie. ‘That it?’
Nick rocked back in his chair. ‘Well, for starters. What you got?’
‘Lorraine went to see this psychic,’ Rosie said, and got a kick from Rooney.
Nick stared at Rosie. ‘Juda Salina?’
Rosie frowned. ‘Er, I’m not sure.’
Rooney turned back to Nick. ‘She give you anythin’?’
Nick shook his head. ‘Nah, she’s a fake.’
Rooney nodded. ‘Yeah, I agree, that’s why I never bothered seein’ her. Dunno why Lorraine’s so interested.’
‘So, what else you got?’ Nick waited, saw Rooney glance at Rosie, and then threw his arms up into the air. ‘Holy shit, you lyin’ bastard, you got fuck-all.’
‘Rooney did whut?’ Lorraine yelled into the receiver of her mobile phone.
‘Now calm down,’ Rosie said, quivering.
‘Culm down? Are you crazy? You tell me that stupid fat bastard has brought on some half-assed guy, not only told him everything we got, but even offered him a share of the one million bonus and you tell me to calm down?!’
‘They were trading information,’ Rosie stammered.
‘I don’t give a shit what they were trading.’
‘But Nick’s information was good—’ She was interrupted.
‘It stinks. You think I didn’t already know Elizabeth Caley was stoned out of her mind? Jesus Christ, Rosie, I knew it the first time we met her.’
‘Well, I didn’t.’
‘You’ve never met her,’ Lorraine snapped.
‘Well, maybe we can sort it out,’ Rosie said nervously.
‘Oh, yeah, the bastard works for Agnews, doesn’t he? Yes? Yes? And don’t you think he’sgonnngo stmight buck there and tell them?
‘I don’t think he will,’ Rosie said nervously.
‘You don’t think, full stop, and nor does that stupid son-of-a-bitch Rooney. How could he do this?’ Lorraine thumped the dashboard in frustration. ‘Where are they now, Rooney and this Bartello character?’
‘At home.’
‘I’ll see you there.’
It took Rosie about twenty minutes to walk from the office to the main Orange Grove junction, then she headed down Marengo Drive. She saw the rental parked at a bad angle, right under the no parking zone plaque. She also saw Rooney’s car across the road from the apartment.
Rosie could hear them arguing from the street.
‘I told you, Bill, that I was running this case, not you. Me.’
‘Okay, okay, I’m sorry, but no way is Nick gonna report back to his agency.’
‘Oh yeah? You know that for sure, do you?’ Lorraine was shouting.
‘I fucking know Nick Bartello, an’ I’m telling you he’s on the level.’
‘Oh, you’re telling me, are you?’
‘Yes! An’ if you’d just get off your box for a second and calm down—’
‘Don’t tell me to calm down, Bill, because I am steaming!’
Rosie banged in but neither Rooney nor Lorraine even glanced at her. Rooney was red-faced and looked guilty.
‘Nick’ll be here any minute and we can talk this through.’
‘No way am I splitting this four ways!’
‘Shouldn’t we put this to the vote?’ Rosie interjected, and then wished she hadn’t.
Lorraine glared at her as she unbuttoned her blouse, heading for the bedroom. ‘When are you two gonna get this together? This is my case, mine, no fucking votes, I make the decisions!’
Rosie was on a carb meal of pasta and salad and had actually lost four pounds since they started on the Caley case. She had surprised herself, and she decided that she really would cut out cup cakes and pastries between meals. The no-fat regime was making her feel a lot better – physically and mentally.
‘What is this?’ Lorraine asked, jabbing a spiral piece of pasta with her fork.
‘It’s just fusilli with garlic and tomato sauce. You don’t like it, there’s more for me and Bill.’
Lorraine took a mouthful and grimaced. ‘My God, you went heavy on the garlic’
‘You wanna cook, then the kitchen is all yours,’ Rosie said.
‘So what time is this Nick guy arriving?’
‘Any time now,’ Rooney said.
Lorraine got up and fetched her note-book. ‘Okay, Juda Salina told me nothin’ apart from the fact she was hired not by Robert Caley but by his wife. She wouldn’t say much because of her so-called client confidentiality shit, and Mrs Caley is prepared to withdraw the bonus if we make contact with her again. I’m gonna have to have another talk to Mrs Movie Star who is hooked on so-called pain-killers. Robert Caley admitted his wife is hooked on drugs, and to my mind she seemed scared of her husband, or if not of him, maybe of me finding out she’s a druggy. Anyway, he was pretty straight, but as a possible suspect his motive could be that if his daughter is out of the way, he stands to inherit the fortune as he’s the main beneficiary. That’s just supposition because Mrs Caley said that they both named their daughter in their wills, so whoever should go first, bingo, the other’s a hell of a sight richer.’ She looked up as Rosie lifted her plate, about to fork her leftovers on to her own. ‘Shit, Rosie, I haven’t finished.’
‘Sorry, but I thought maybe the garlic—’
‘No, it’s great.’ Lorraine drew her plate closer and took a mouthful.
‘He a suspect then?’ Rosie asked.
‘Right now maybe, I need to know the financial—’
They turned as Nick Bartello opened the screen door and peered in, having overheard the last few lines of their conversation.
‘I’d say it’s a motive, the will. Elizabeth ex-movie star Caley is worth about fifty-five million dollars.’
Rooney pulled his napkin out of his shirt collar and rose to his feet. ‘Hi, Nick, lemme introduce you, this is—’
‘Lorraine Page of Page Investigations,’ Nick said, smiling, his hand outstretched. Lorraine did not take it, but lifted her glass of water.
‘So you’re Nick Bartello?’
‘Yep, that’s me.’
‘Have we met before?’ Lorraine continued to eat.
‘Nope, but you got one hell of a reputation.’
‘Have I?’ Lorraine said.
Nick looked at Rooney, puzzled by her coldness. He drew up a chair and Rosie poured him a glass of water.
‘What’s your reputation, Nick?’ Lorraine said sarcastically. ‘Or is “the Limp” sufficient?’
‘I’m a real lovable motherfucker, how’s that for starters?’ The smile that had smitten Rosie cut no ice with Lorraine. She’d come across a lot of Nick Bartellos, invalided out of the Force or not, and he didn’t even have that much of a limp.
‘What division were you in?’
‘Mine, well, at one time, when I was with the drug squad,’ Rooney said flatly.
‘Really? So you an’ Bill are old friends?’
‘Yep, in so much as I got a leg full of lead courtesy of this fat fucker sending me out on a domestic, but not informing me that the coke-head had a personal armoury that’d make the US artillery think twice before they sent in tanks.’
Lorraine nodded. ‘So you reckon Bill here owes you?’
Suddenly Nick Bartello quit the jokes. ‘I got nobody but myself to blame, Mrs Page, nobody owes me nothin’. What I did was my bus
iness and I got a pension to prove it. Bill and me are just old buddies.’
Rooney, feeling very uneasy, thought he’d better get it in before Nick blurted it out. ‘Nick partnered Jack Lubrinski for a few weeks. When I moved I took Jack with me.’
‘Yeah, thank Christ, he was a mad fucker.’
‘My, my, you must have been some double act.’
Nick hesitated. ‘Yeah, we were, Mrs Page, for ten minutes.’
She turned away. ‘And now you work for Agnews Investigation Agency? Lubrinski would be real proud of your progress.’
‘Yes, ma’am, I most sincerely do work for them and maybe I know what Jack would think a whole lot better than you. Way I heard it, you were quite a lush.’ He lifted the glass to his lips, trying to fathom her out. She was cool, he’d give her that, because she didn’t rise to the cutting remark.
‘So, have you informed Agnews about us?’
‘No.’
‘You haven’t? Really? Not even tipped them off we been offered a big bonus?’
‘No, I’ll tell them fuck-all, especially not if I get a cut.’
‘Does that mean you will tell them or you won’t, Mr Bartello?’
‘Nick.’
‘Okay, Nick, why should I believe a word you say?’
He put his glass down carefully. ‘Because I’m just a hired hand and a cut of the bonus would mean the finger to Agnews and all who sail in her. What is it with your You want a fucking resume? Hasn’t Bill told you we worked together?’
‘Yes, but limping around is not what I’d call a really good recommendation, Mr Bartello.’
‘Fuck you! Hey, Billy, what is this? What’s with this broad?’ He was angry, and his eyes glinted at Rooney as he tried to control his temper.
‘She’s the boss, Nick.’
He turned and stared at Lorraine. ‘My, my, my, haven’t you cleaned up your act. Lady Boss now, huh?’
‘My, my, my, Mr Bartello, haven’t I just, so why don’t we cut the bullshit and you tell me why we should cut you in if we find Anna Louise Caley? Because what Bill here got from you about Mrs Caley I already knew, and it’s not worth enough to give you a slice of our possible bonus.’
He leaned closer to her. ‘Maybe, bright eyes, I got something else.’
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