“Unless Robbie suddenly found a friend who started calling him every couple of nights right after Gina disappeared—a friend who also happens to know cousin Frankie and decided to start calling him at the same time—then he’s lying to us,” Toni said.
Kenny ran the same phone analysis on Angelo and Carina Fiore’s home number. No matches—no calls from the new number. I wasn’t surprised. I’ve seen some good actors in my time, but if they could pull off a concerned parent act as well as they were, when they knew there was no reason to be concerned, then I needed to find another line of work. Fortunately, I was safe. For a while, anyway.
~~~~
With Robbie out of town, there wasn’t much left for us to do. I sent everyone home at two thirty. I was in the lobby talking to Kenny and Doc when Toni walked out, ready to leave. She looked at Kenny and said, “What are you doing tonight?”
“When Danny said we had the night off,” he said, “I simply referred to the black book, Saturday section, and dialed up a lucky, beautiful young redhead. I’m not certain, but I imagine that at some point, we’ll end up at what I like to call Ground Zero—the king-sized bed at Casa Hale.”
“You are so full of shit,” Toni said, laughing. “Do me a favor. First, check her ID. Make sure she’s older than sixteen. Second, make sure she’s literate.”
“Why?” Kenny said, feigning confusion.
Toni laughed. “And you’d damn sure better wear a raincoat.”
“It’s not supposed to rain tonight,” Kenny said.
“Raincoat, dumbass,” Doc said. “You know, the rubber variety. R-U-B-B-E-R.”
“Oh, I get it,” Kenny said. “Not to worry. Ground Zero is well stocked with a variety of—raincoats.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Toni said.
“And you,” I asked, looking at Toni. “What are you doing with your free evening?”
“Well,” she said, “it may interest mister ground zero here that I have a date.” She looked at Kenny. “With a man.”
“Really?” Kenny said. “Do you mind if I ask—”
“Stop. You’re two seconds away from swimming in Lake Union,” Toni said. “It’s none of your goddamned business. But,” she added, “I don’t know why, but I’m going to tell you anyway.” She paused for effect.
“He, and I repeat, he, plays for the Seahawks. He’s six four and 230 pounds of solid muscle. Six percent body fat.” She looked at Kenny. “He could break you in half and not even realize he did it.”
“Wow,” I said. “He sounds like a stud.”
“He is,” she said.
“Well,” I said, “have fun. You should ask Kenny if he can spare you some of his raincoats.”
“There’s an idea,” she said. “You never know.” She left.
~~~~
I got home and went for a longish sort of run—twelve miles or so. I like to do this when I need to clear my head. We were getting close. It looked like Gina was safe. Why she continued to hide, I didn’t know, but I intended to find out, starting tomorrow. I was seriously motivated to find Robbie. He was lying, and I wanted to find out why. Angelo said he’d call me. If that didn’t happen by ten or so the next morning, I was going looking. If he led me to Gina, and if Gina was safe, then we were about done. In which case, I’d probably owe Angelo some of his $120,000 back. Oh well—easy come, easy go.
After I got home, I showered and drove to the grocery store. I picked out a nice salmon fillet—just enough for one. Later, just as it got dark, I fired up the grill and sat out on my balcony with a cold Mac & Jack’s. The seaplanes were done for the day. A few boaters were out on the quiet water, green-and-red position lights reflecting off the lake surface, dancing to the gentle ripples of boat wakes. The outside tables at Chandlers across the lake were full.
After dinner, I sat in a lounge chair and enjoyed the evening. I put a Chris Webster CD on and listened to her sing about “Something in the Water.” Just after nine, my phone rang. Caller ID: Toni.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey yourself.”
“Why are you home? What happened to Mr. Seahawk?” I asked.
“He left.”
“Why?”
“Promise not to laugh?” she asked.
“Okay.”
“He’s gay.”
I laughed, but quietly. “No shit.”
“He’s a nice guy. I’ve known him since college.”
“Okay.”
“Another thing,” she said.
“What.”
“I’m not gay.”
I chuckled quietly. “I know that.”
“I just wanted you to know. I know you heard those guys talking.”
“That’s just Kenny being Kenny. There was never a question in my mind. Ever.”
“Good.”
It was silent for a few seconds.
“Do you want to come over?” I asked.
It was silent for a few seconds more.
“I’d like to, but I don’t think that would be such a good idea,” she answered. “You know what I mean?”
I smiled. “You’re right,” I said. “Moment of weakness. Excuse me for asking.”
“Okay. But I didn’t mind you asking,” she said. “Talk to you tomorrow.” She hung up before I could answer.
Chapter 19
DESPITE OUR DIFFERENT backgrounds, Robbie and I got along well when we were in high school. Our social groups could hardly have been more opposite. He hung with the money crowd—we called them the “Pretty People.” They drove expensive cars, wore expensive clothes, and spent all their time trying to impress each other. They probably should have gone to private school instead of Ballard High.
My family had the same money as most of those families, maybe more. But I was brought up differently. When it came to money for things like cars, toys, and the like, I was pretty much on my own. My mom and dad expected me to learn the value of money by having to go out and earn it. So I did. And it worked. I worked part-time at a variety of jobs all through high school—car wash, grocery store, golf course—even a short stint at a movie theater. I drove an old Ford pickup that I bought with my own earnings when I was seventeen. I hung out with the nerdy crowd—kids like me who were more interested in college and music than impressing anybody with our cars and clothes.
Despite our differences, though, Robbie was nice to me—not condescending or judgmental like many in his group tended to be. Because we went to the same church, he knew about my family and me. He knew my dad was a lawyer, like the previous four generations of Logans before him. He knew that our family’d been in Seattle since the late 1800s. He also understood the differences in philosophy between the way he was raised and the way I was, and he was cool with it. He’d have made a good politician. He appreciated his good fortune as an anomaly, and he didn’t think any less of me because I earned my own way and drove a truck instead of a Lexus. Unlike most in his group, he always seemed to consider me an equal.
Now, eleven years later, he’d screwed up. The fact that he thought he could run some sort of game on me and think that he’d not be discovered was the worst kind of condescension. It pissed me off. And, as opposed to when I was in high school, I sometimes deal with being pissed off now by getting physical. At times it’s the perfect answer. That said, I’d also read Sun Tzu. I knew the advantage of hiding inside knowledge from my opponent. So, this time, I hid the fact that I was pissed off, and I played dumb when he called at nine thirty the next morning, and we agreed to meet in half an hour at his office.
~~~~
The outer door to Pacific Wine and Spirits was locked when I arrived, so I knocked and waited. Robbie had apparently been waiting inside around the corner. He walked around and unlocked it for me.
“Hey, Danny,” he greeted me cheerfully as I entered.
“Good morning.” I stepped inside, and he locked the door behind me.
I turned to face him and said, “You look like you’re in a pretty good mood this morning.”
&
nbsp; He shrugged his shoulders and looked perhaps a little puzzled.
“Let me ask you,” I said, “when you talked to Gina last night, was everything okay?” Alright, so much for Sun Tzu.
He stared at me, surprised. He started to talk, but I cut him off.
“You know, last night,” I said, “your regular ten o’clock check-in call. That’s right, Robbie. I know that all the time you’ve been talking to us, wringing your fucking hands and being worried about Gina, she’s been calling in every other night on your goddamned cell phone. What do you two do, compare notes? Did you know that she’s even called in the National Guard in the form of your uncles from Chicago?” He looked surprised.
I’d raised my voice and was almost shouting now. “Why are you dicking us around on this, Robbie? What’s the fucking game?” I paused for a second, but he still couldn’t get any words out. “Why shouldn’t I call the police right now and have you explain to them why you’ve been making false reports? This bullshit stops now! What the fuck is going on?”
I’d taken a couple of steps toward him, and he’d backed up accordingly. He had the panicked look of someone who was suddenly way out of his comfort zone. Smiling and razzle-dazzle wouldn’t help now, and he was smart enough to realize this.
He held up his hand as if to say stop. “Can I explain?” he finally said.
“I’ve got all day,” I answered. “I’m here for some goddamn explanations.”
He nodded and beckoned me to follow him. We walked down a hallway and entered his office. He closed the door behind us and pointed to a small sofa while he sat down in a chair across from it.
“I didn’t lie,” he said.
I looked at him and started to respond, but he continued. “At least, not at first. Gina was missing, and we called the police, just like I told you. They interviewed us and took their reports. We waited all that first weekend for word and there was none. When the police told us to contact you, we did. We still hadn’t heard from Gina when I met in your office the first time and the next day at my parents’ house. She only called that night after you’d met with my parents and already agreed to take the case.”
“You’re telling me you didn’t know anything about the disappearance?” I asked. “You weren’t involved at all? You were just some sort of innocent bystander for the first few days? That’s a little hard to swallow, now that the truth is out about the phone calls.”
“That may be so,” Robbie said. “But it’s the truth. I didn’t know what she was doing. Hell, I still don’t know what she’s doing.” He paused and looked away. “I just do what I’m told,” he said, quietly, embarrassed.
“Told? By who?” I asked.
“By Gina!” he answered, frustrated. “Whatever’s going on, Gina’s running it. I’m probably the one who’s going to get in trouble with the police for hiding stuff.” He paused, and then said again, “Gina’s running it. Just like she runs everything else. It’s always Gina.”
Wow.
“What do you mean, ‘just like she runs everything’?” I asked.
“At work. She’s the chief financial officer. I’m the chief operating officer. My dad’s the chief executive officer. Which one of us do you think is the boss? Gina’s the boss. If my father ever questions anything she does—which he doesn’t anymore—she sweet-talks him into doing it her way. He goes along with her every time. I tried standing up to her once, and she had dad suspend me! For two goddamned weeks! From my own friggin’ company! It was a threat. She fired a shot across my bow. She basically said ‘Don’t fuck with me! Don’t even think about trying to take me on!’ Guess what? It worked. I take it seriously. It’s the Gina show now.”
“How’s that working out?” I said.
“Oh, business is great!” he answered hotly. “We make money hand over fucking fist. But we also roll over people. It’s our way or the highway, now. No slack, no leeway, relationships be damned. Dad built this business on relationships. His word was gold. If our customers needed help, he’d help them. He’d extend them credit, increase their lines, whatever it took. For thirty-five years this worked. The business grew and prospered.”
“And now your dad’s saddled with a tax-evasion charge that could put him away for twenty years,” I added. “There’s that little detail.”
“True,” he said, nodding. “There was a team of people who stole from him and underreported the income to cover it up. Those fuckers at the IRS are convinced that dad was part of it so that he could skim money off the top. He wasn’t. That’s what the fight is all about.”
“And how does Gina fit in to that?”
“Gina’s the one who figured out what was happening. When she came to work with us in 2006, she discovered it almost immediately. She fired the people involved and went after them, criminally and civilly, but by then the IRS already had the scent.”
“But as far as Gina’s involvement,” I said, “she did good by the company, right?”
“Yeah. I never said she did stuff for her own personal gain,” Robbie said. “For whatever reason, she doesn’t seem all that interested in personal gain. I guess she’s working for the big picture, long term. She works stupid long hours for the company and the family. But she’s just fucking ruthless. What she says goes. Period. Or else you can leave. Even me.”
“So she called on Tuesday the sixteenth?” I said.
“Is that the same day we talked at my parents’ house about hiring you? Yeah, that’s it.”
“Tell me about it.”
“It’s ten o’clock at night,” he said. “I’m home watching the news about her disappearance. The cell phone rings—it’s a number I don’t recognize with a blocked caller ID. I wasn’t going to answer, but then, with Gina missing and all, I actually thought it might be some sort of ransom call or something. It wasn’t. Turns out it was Gina herself.”
“How did the conversation go?”
“I was surprised as hell. Probably shouldn’t have been. She said she was fine. She said she had a boyfriend she wanted to avoid, so she was taking a few days off. I told her we’d been looking for her and that we’d hired your company to help find her. She seemed surprised. She asked me all about you and what I knew about what you were doing. She told me to keep track of what you did and let her know.”
“So it’s safe to say that you’ve reported to her everything that I’ve reported to you?” I asked.
“Yes. That’s the first thing she asks for when she calls.”
“Did she say where she was?”
He nodded. “She’s up in Port Townsend.”
“Port Townsend? At your bakery?”
“Yeah, I think. I know she spends some time there,” he admitted.
“Does she have a place up in Port Townsend?”
“I don’t know. She used to, when she worked up there. She rented an apartment.”
“That brings up another point,” I said. “You lied to me when you said she hadn’t worked anywhere else other than the SoDo plant. You knew she worked up there for four months just two years ago. Did she tell you to lie?”
“Sorry,” he said. “I thought I was helping. Hell no, she didn’t tell me to lie. When I told her I said that—about her only having one office—she got really pissed. She said I’d left a loose end and that you’d figure that it was a lie in about a week. I guess she was right.”
“It sounds like your parents aren’t in on the lie,” I said.
“They’re not.”
“How could you keep your parents in the dark over something like this when you know they’re breaking up inside over missing her?”
“She told me not to tell them. She said it was for their own good and that it would all be over by the end of the month.”
“End of the month?” I asked. “What’s supposed to happen at the end of the month?”
“I don’t know. I have no idea. I told you that she doesn’t include me in her plans. She just tells me what she wants me to know and gives me orders.”
>
“Which you blindly follow.”
“I don’t have a choice,” he said, protesting. “She’s messing with something big enough where she has to hide, and she’s afraid that it might spill over onto my parents. What am I supposed to do?”
I just stared at him without answering.
“Besides, much as I hate to say it, she has good instincts. Everything she does tends to work out well for us, even if it pisses me off while it’s happening.”
I thought about that for a moment, then said, “At first, I thought you sounded like you were intimidated by her.”
“I am. She’s a lot closer to my parents than I am. She runs the business. She’s hard to outsmart.”
“Okay. But the more I talk to you, the more I get the sense that, despite being a little intimidated by her, you actually respect her and want to protect her.”
He nodded. “Respect? In an odd sort of way. She gets results. I don’t necessarily like her methods. Protect her? Of course. She’s still my sister.”
“If that’s the case,” I said, “why are you coming clean now? Why not just stonewall me?”
“You have to ask?” he said. “She told me to.”
I must have looked surprised.
“Last night she told me to tell you she’d meet you at the PT Croissant, that’s our Port Townsend bakery, at three this afternoon.”
He watched me for a few seconds. Apparently, I looked as befuddled as I felt. Slowly, a smile appeared on his face. “So,” he said, smirking, “now Gina’s given you an order. Are you gonna go?”
I stared at him, not knowing what to say.
Chapter 20
AT ONE THIRTY that afternoon, I drove on to the ferry Spokane at the Edmonds dock for the thirty-minute ride to Kingston on the way to Port Townsend. As soon as I parked, I grabbed a jacket and made my way forward between the rows of cars to the stairway leading to the passenger deck. I went upstairs, two steps at a time. The passenger deck is an inside deck with seating, restrooms, and a snack bar. I bought a Diet Coke and went through the double doors to the open seats on the outside deck at the front of the boat. The sun was out and warmed the deck nicely. The breeze was gentle. Two seagulls were perched, one on either side of a twelve-foot-long handrail. For a few seconds, they screamed at each other, each trying to claim exclusive use of the rail. Neither would budge, so in the end they quieted down, apparently resigned to sharing.
Angel Dance (Danny Logan Mystery #1) Page 24