Jonathan Kellerman - Alex 06 - Private Eyes

by Private Eyes(Lit)

  She came down the curving flight fast, swinging her arms like a jogger.

  Ramp said, "Melissa She stood before him, chin up, hands fisted. "Just leave him alone, Don. He didn't do anything. I was the one who asked him to keep it secret, he had to listen, so just lay off" Ramp drew himself up. "We've heard all that Melissa screamed, "Shut up aammiti I don't want to hear this crap anymore!"

  Ramp's turn to go pale. His hands quavered.

  Chickering said, "I think you'd best calm down, young lady."

  Melissa turned to him and shook her fist. "Don't you dare tell me what to do. You should be out doing your job getting your stupid rent-a-cops to find my mother instead of standing around with him, drinking our scotch."

  Chickering's face tensed with rage, then settled into a sick smile.

  "Melissa!" said Ramp.

  "Melissa'!" She mimicked his outraged tone. "I don't have time for this crap! My mother's out there and we have to find her. So let's stop looking for scapegoats and just figure out how to find her!"

  "That's exactly what we're doing, young lady," said Chickering.

  "How? With neighborhood patrols? What's the point? She's not in San Labrador anymore. If she was, she would have been spotted long ago."

  A moment's pause before Chickering answered." I "e're doing everything we can.

  It sounded hollow. He knew it. The look on both Ramp's face and Melissa's drove it home.

  He buttoned his coat. Tight across the midrifo Turned to Ramp. "I'll stay as long as you need me, but in your interests, I should be out on the streets.

  "Sure," said Ramp dispiritedly.

  "Chin up, Don. We'll find her, don't you worry.

  Ramp shrugged and walked away, disappearing into the innards of the mansion.

  Chickering said, "Good to meet you, Doctor." His index finger pointed like a revolver. To Melissa: "Young lady."

  He saw himself out. When the door closed, Melissa said, "Idiot.

  Everyone knows he's an idiot the kids all call him Prickering behind his back. There's basically no crime in San Labrador, so no one challenges him. It's not because of him, though just that outsiders stick out like sore thumbs. And the police roust anyone who doesn't look rich."

  Talking rapidly but fluently. Just a slight raise of pitch-a tinge of the panic I'd heard over the phone.

  I said, "Your basic small-town setup.

  She said, "That's what this place is. Hicksville. Nothing ever happens here." She lowered her head and shook it. "Only now it has.

  It is my fault, Dr. Delaware. I should have told her about him!"

  "Melissa, there's no indication McCloskey has anything to do with this.

  Think of what you just said about the police rousting outsiders. The chance of anyone being able to stalk her without being spotted is nil."

  "Stalk." She shivered, let out breath. "I hope you're right. Then where is she? What happened to her?"

  I chose my words carefully. "It's possible, Melissa, that no-hing happened to her. That she did this on her own.

  "You're saying she ran away?"

  "I'm saying she may have taken a drive and decided to prolong it."

  "No way!" She shook her head vehemently. "No way!"

  "Melissa, when I talked to your mother I got the sense she was chafing at the bit really yearning for some freedom."

  She kept shaking her head. Turned her back on me and faced the green staircase.

  I said, "She talked to me about being ready to take giant steps.

  Of standing before an open door and having to walk through. She spoke of this house as stifling her. I got the distinct impression she wanted out and was even considering moving once you'd gone away."

  "No! She didn't take anything with her I checked her room.

  All the suitcases are there. I know everything in her closet and she didn't take any of her clothes!"

  "I'm not saying she planned a trip, Melissa. I'm talking about something spontaneous. Impulsive."

  "No." Another sharp head shake. "She was careful. She wouldn't do this to me."

  "You are her main concern. But maybe she got. intoxicated by her newfound freedom. She insisted on driving by herself today wanted to feel in control. Maybe once she got out on the road, driving her favorite car, it felt so good she just kept going. That has nothing to do with her love for you. But sometimes when things start to change, they change fast."

  She bit her lip, fought back tears, and said in a very small voice, "You really think she's okay?"

  "I think you need to do everything possible to try to locate her.

  But I wouldn't assume the worst."

  She took several breaths, punched her sides. Kneaded her hands.

  "Out on the road. And she just kept going. Wouldn't that be something." Wide-eyed. Fascinated by the possibility. Then fascination gave way to injury. "No, I just can't see it she wouldn't do that to me.

  "She loves you dearly, Melissa, but she "Yes, she does," she said, crying. "Yes, she does love me. And I want her back!"

  Footsteps sounded on the marble to our left. We turned toward it.

  Ramp was standing there, blazer over one arm.

  Melissa used her bare hands to dry her eyes hastily and ineffectually.

  He said, "I'm sorry, Melissa. You were right there's no sense blaming anybody. Sorry if I offended you, too, Doctor."

  I said, "No offense taken."

  Melissa turned away from him.

  He came over and shook my hand.

  Melissa was tapping her foot, finger-combing her hair.

  Ramp said, "Melissa, I know how you fee The point is, we're in this together. We've all got to hang together. To get her back."

  Melissa spoke without looking at him. "What do you want from me?"

  He gave a concerned look. It seemed genuine. Paternal. She ignored it. He said, "I know Chickering's a moron. I don't have any more confidence in him than you do. So let's put our heads together.

  See if we can come up with something, for God's sake."

  He held out his hands. Frozen in supplication. Genuine pain on his face. Unless he was better than Olivier.

  She said, "Whatever." Sounding that bored had to be a strain.

  He said, "Look, there's no sense standing around out here. Let's go in, stay near the phone. Can I get you something to drink, Doctor?"

  "Coffee, if you've got it."

  "Sure bet."

  We followed him through the house, settled in the rear room with the French doors and painted beams. The gardens and rolling lawns and tennis court were bathed in emerald light. The pool was a lozenge of peacock blue. All but one of the doors to the car stable were closed.

  Ramp picked up a phone on an end table, punched two digits, and said, "Pot of coffee in the rear study, please. Three cups.

  Hanging up, he said, "Make yourself comfortable, Doctor."

  I settled in a sun-cracked club chair the color of a well-used saddle.

  Melissa perched on the arm of a cane-backed chair nearby.

  Scratched her lip. Tugged at her ponytail.

  Ramp remained standing. Every hair in place, but his face showed the strain.

  A moment later Madeleine came in with the coffee and set it down without comment. Ramp thanked her, dismissed her, and poured three cups. Black for me and himself, cream and sugar for Melissa. She accepted it but didn't drink.

  Ramp and I sipped.

  No one spoke.

  Ramp said, "Let me call Malibu again." He picked up the phone and punched in a number. Held it to his ear for several moments before putting it back in its cradle. Treating the apparatus with special care, as if it held his fate.

  I said, "What's in Malibu?"

  "Our Gina's beach house. Broad Beach. Not that she'd go there, but it's the only thing I can think of."

  Melissa said, "That's ridiculous. She hates the water."

  Ramp punched buttons again, waited several moments, and hung up.

  We sipped some more.


  Ate more silence.

  Melissa put her cup down and said, "This is stupid."

  Before either Ramp or I could reply, the phone rang.

  Melissa beat Ramp for it.

  "Yes, but speak to me, first.... Just do it, dammit I'm the one who... What! Oh, no! What do you that's ridiculous. How can you be sure! That's stupid. No, I'm perfectly capable of No, you listen to me, you She stood there, open-mouthed. Pulled the phone away from her face and stared at it.

  "He hung up!"

  "Who?" said Ramp.

  "Prickering! That ass hung up on me!"

  "What did he have to say?"

  Still gazing at the phone, she said, "McCloskey. They found him.

  Downtown L.A. The L.A. police questioned him and let him go!"

  "Christ!" said Ramp. He snatched the phone out of her hand, punched buttons hurriedly. Twisting his shirt collar and grinding his teeth.

  "Cliff? This is Don Ramp. Melissa said you I understand that, Cliff.

  .. I know she is. It's a frightening thing, but that's no... All right. I know you are.... Yes, yes Frowning and shaking his head.

  "Just tell me what happened Uh-huh... Uhhuh... But how can you be sure, Cliff? This isn't some goddam saint we're talking about, Cliff.... Uh-huh... Yes... Yes, but... Still, wasn't there some way... Okay. But what if Okay, I will. Thanks for calling, Cliff. Stay in touch."

  Hanging up, he said, "He apologizes for hanging up on you.

  Says he told you he was busy, trying to find your mom, and you continued to... lip off to him. He wants you to know he has your mother's best interests at heart."

  Melissa stood there, glassy-eyed. "They had him and they let him go."

  Ramp put his arm over her shoulder and she didn't resist. She looked numb. Betrayed. I'd seen more life in wax models.

  "Apparently," said Ramp, "he can account for his whereabouts every minute of the day they have no grounds to hold him. They had to release him, Meliss. Legally."

  "The asses," she said in a low voice. "The goddam asses! What does it matter where he was all day? He doesn't do things himself he hires people to do things." Raising her voice to a shout: "He hires people!

  So what if he wasn't there himself!"

  Wrenching herself away from Ramp, she grabbed her face and let out a squeal of frustration. Ramp started to approach her, thought better of it, and looked at me.

  I went over to her. She retreated to a corner of the room and faced the wall. Stood in the corner like a child being punished, sobbing.

  Ramp gave a sad look.

  Both of us knowing she could have used a father. Neither of us able to fill the bill.

  Finally she stopped crying. But she stayed in the corner.

  I said, "Neither of you has confidence in Chickering. Maybe a private investigator's called for."

  Melissa said, "Your friend!"

  Ramp looked at her with sudden curiosity.

  She looked at me and said, "Tell him."

  I said, "Yesterday, Melissa and I discussed investigating McCloskey. A friend of mine's an LAPD detective on leave. Very competent, lots of experience. He agreed to do it. He'd probably agree to look into your wife's disappearance as well. If she shows up soon, you might still want to consider checking out McCloskey. Of course, your attorneys may have someone else they work with "No," said Melissa, "I want your friend. Period."

  Ramp looked at her, then me. "I don't know who they use the lawyers.

  We never had to deal with anything like this. Is this friend of yours really good?"

  Melissa said, "He already said he was. I want him, and I'm paying."

  "That won't be necessary, Melissa. I'll pay."

  "No, I will. She's my mother and that's the way it's going to be."

  Ramp sighed. "We'll talk about it later. In the meantime, Dr. Delaware, if you'd be kind enough to call your friend The phone rang again. Both of them jerked their heads around.

  This time Ramp got there first. "Yes? Oh, hello, Doctor.

  No, I'm sorry. She hasn't... Yes, I understand.

  Melissa said, "Her. If she'd called sooner, we could have started looking sooner.

  Ramp covered his ear. "I'm sorry, Doctor, I couldn't hear Oh. That's very kind of you. But no, I don't see any pressing reason for you to.

  .. Hold on."

  Covering the mouthpiece with his other hand, he looked at me.

  "Dr. Cunningham-Gabney wants to know if she should come over.

  Any reason she should?"

  "Does she have any clinical information about Mrs. Ramp that would help locate her?"

  "Here," he said, handing me the phone.

  I took it, said, "Dr. Cunningham-Gabney, this is Alex Delaware.

  "Dr. Delaware." The well-modulated voice stripped of some of its melody. "I'm very alarmed by today's events. Did Melissa and her mother have any sort of confrontation before she disappeared?"

  "Why do you ask that?"

  "Gina called me this morning and intimated there had been some unpleasantness-Melissa staying out all night with some boy?"

  Keeping my eyes off Melissa, I said, "That's accurate, as far as it goes, Doctor, but I doubt it's a causal factor."

  "Do you? Any unusual stress could cause someone like Gina Ramp to behave unpredictably."

  Melissa was staring straight at me.

  I said, "Why don't you and I get together? Discuss any clinically relevant factors that might shed light on what's happened."

  Pause. "She's right there, isn't she? Hovering?"

  "Basically."

  "All right. I don't imagine my coming down there and provoking another confrontation is very wise. Would you like to come over to my office, right now?"

  "Sounds good," I said, "if Melissa thinks that's okay."

  "That child has too much power as is," she said sharply.

  "Maybe so, but clinically I think it's advisable."

  "Very well. Consult her."

  I covered the receiver and said to Melissa: "What do you think of my getting together with her? At the clinic. To share factspsychological data in order to see if we can figure out where your mother is."

  "Sounds like a good idea," said Ramp.

  "Sure," Melissa said sourly. "Whatever." Waving her fingers. The same offliandedness she'd used two days ago to drop clinical bombs.

  I said, "I'll stay here as long as you want me to.

  "No, no. You can go right now. I'll be fine. Go talk to her."

  I got back on the phone. "I'll be there within the half hour, Dr. Cunningham-Gabney."

  "Ursula. Please. At times like this a hyphen's a damned nuisance. Do you know how to get here?"

  "Melissa will tell me."

  "I'm sure she will."

  Before I left, I called Milo's home and got Rick's voice on a machine.

  Both Melissa and Ramp sagged when I told them he wasn't in, making me realize how much stake they were putting in his powers of detection.

  Wondering if I was doing him a favor by drawing him into the haut monde, I left a message for him to call me at the Gabney clinic during the next couple of hours; at my home, after that.

  As I got ready to leave, the doorbell chimed. Melissa jumped up and ran out of the room. Ramp followed her, walking with long, tennis-bred strides.

  I brought up the rear, to the entry hall. Melissa opened the doors and let in a black-haired boy of around twenty. He took a step toward Melissa, looked as if he wanted to hug her. Saw Ramp and stopped himself He was on the small side five seven, slim build, olive skin, full bowed lips, brooding brown eyes under heavy brows. His hair was black and curly, worn short on top and sides, longer in back. He had on a short red busboy's jacket, black slacks, white shirt, and black bow tie. A set of car keys jangled in one hand. He looked around nervously. "Anything?"

  Melissa said, "Nothing."

  He moved closer to her.

  Ramp said, "Hello, Noel."

  The boy looked up. "Everything's okay, Mr. Ramp. Jorge's handling
the cars. There aren't that many tonight. It's kind of slow."