Damaged

by Lisa Scottoline

  Mary got out of her car and walked up the driveway, feeling a cool breeze off the water, which must’ve been on the other side of the development. The air smelled fishy, and the only sounds were seagulls squawking overhead or the rumble of somebody rolling a trash can to the curb. She reached the front door and she knocked using a brass knocker, then waited for someone to answer. No one did, so she knocked again, just to make sure. There was no answer the second time, but she wasn’t giving up.

  Mary went back to her car, got inside, picked up her phone, and called Geltz’s cell phone again. He didn’t answer, and the call went to voicemail, so she left a message: “James, it’s Mary again. I hate to be pushy, but it’s important that I talk with you tonight, so I’m actually sitting in front of your house. Can you call me at your earliest convenience? If not, I’ll see you when you get home. I’m sorry about the intrusion, but it can’t be helped. Thank you.”

  Mary hung up, then checked to see if Anthony had called, but he still hadn’t. She had no idea what he was up to, but she put him out of her mind for now. She scrolled through her email and answered a few emails from her other clients, but she was too distracted to work on anything but Patrick’s case. She happened to look up and noticed an attractive middle-aged woman with a blonde ponytail, coming over to her passenger-side window, holding a small liver-and-white colored spaniel under her arm.

  Mary lowered the window. “Hello.”

  “Excuse me, can I help you?” the woman asked, though her tone was less than helpful. “I noticed you sitting in front of the house. You’ve been out here for a good fifteen minutes.”

  “Right.” Mary smiled to show she came in peace. “I’m waiting for James Geltz to get home. I’ve been trying to reach him but I haven’t been able to. I’m an associate of his, and it’s about an important legal matter.”

  “Did you call him on his cell?” The woman’s eyes narrowed, and Mary sensed that she was trying to suss out if she had Geltz’s cell-phone number.

  “Yes, I called him on his cell but I haven’t been able to get ahold of him. Here, let me show you my card.” Mary dug in her purse, found her wallet, and extracted a business card, which she handed over. The woman squinted at the card in the relative darkness, then passed it back with a smile.

  “Well, hello, Mary. I’m Ellen Moravian.” The dog barked, so Mary assumed she had passed a test.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too. I live next door to James, and he asked me to keep an eye on the house. That’s why I came out to see who you were.”

  “Oh, where’s James?”

  “He’s gone.”

  “What do you mean, gone?”

  “He left about two hours ago. We both live alone, so we keep an eye on each other’s houses when we go away.”

  “Did he say where he was going?” Mary asked, frustrated. She had to get a lawyer for Patrick before Machiavelli did.

  “No, I didn’t speak to him, he left a note in my door. That’s the way we do it. I assume he went away for business or to his condo in the Caymans. He goes there quite frequently. He plays golf.”

  “Do you have a number where I can reach him in the Caymans, if that’s where he is?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “What did his note say?”

  “Just that he’d be gone for a few weeks and for me to please keep an eye on the house and make sure that everything was okay.”

  “A few weeks?” Mary groaned. “Did he leave a number for you to call in case something happened?”

  “No, I already know who to call. Patricia.”

  “What’s her last name?”

  “Van Marl, his secretary. She runs his life.” Ellen set the dog down. “Last winter we had a power outage while James was away, so I called Patricia and she handled everything. She lives at Water’s Edge, the apartment complex up the road. She would know where to reach him if he doesn’t call you back.”

  “I’m surprised that he would leave for an extended period of time. He didn’t mention anything about a trip, and we’re at an important juncture in a case.”

  Ellen shrugged. “I know he left, I saw him from my kitchen window, putting his suitcases in the car. He had to pack in the rain. I remember thinking, how’s he gonna get all those suitcases in the trunk? His trunk isn’t that big.”

  “What kind of car does he have?”

  “A Subaru sedan.”

  Mary blinked. “What color?”

  “Brown.”

  “Is it old or new?” Mary asked, surprised. It struck her as too coincidental that both Robertson and Geltz had brown Subaru sedans. She flashed on the brown Subaru, zipping past her on Moretone Street and parked across from the Philadelphia Children’s Alliance when she, Edward, and Patrick had gone there. Something didn’t make sense.

  “His car’s a few years old, I think. James isn’t the flashy type.” Ellen’s arm jerked as the dog tugged her away. “Oops, sorry. Peach has to go. Good night.”

  “Bye,” Mary said, shaken. She had been sure that Robertson had been the driver of the brown Subaru because he had showed up right after she had followed it, but maybe Robertson wasn’t the driver. Maybe Geltz was the driver and it was his brown Subaru that was following them, not Robertson’s. Maybe Robertson didn’t have a brown Subaru at all. Only Geltz did.

  Mary felt baffled, her thoughts racing. She remembered that she had caught a glimpse of the driver of the brown Subaru. He’d had a mustache, like Robertson. Geltz didn’t have a mustache, she remembered from his picture on the website. Mary didn’t know why Geltz would follow them anyway, but she still had to find him.

  She raised the window and started the engine.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  “Patricia?” Mary said, to the woman opening the front door. Patricia Van Marl was probably Mary’s age, in her mid-thirties, but looked younger in an oversized T-shirt that read I’VE GOT ATTITUDE TO SPARE and jeans. She was cute and petite with narrow blue eyes, pin-dot freckles over a turned-up nose, and curly red hair in a bumpy ponytail, sprouting like a fountain from the top of her head.

  “Yes, I’m Patricia, who are you?”

  “Mary DiNunzio.” Mary handed her a business card. “Sorry to bother you at home, but it’s an emergency. I’ve been working with James Geltz because he’s the executor of Edward O’Brien’s estate, who passed away recently.”

  “Oh yes, I remember. Deepest condolences.”

  “Thank you. I need to talk to James about authorizing expenditures for Edward’s grandson Patrick, but James didn’t return my calls, and his neighbor told me that he was out of town for a few weeks.”

  “No he’s not.” Patricia shook her head, frowning slightly. “Who told you that? Ellen?”

  “Yes. She saw him leave the house two hours ago. She gave me your name and said you might know where he went.”

  “Man oh man, if it’s not one thing, it’s another.” Patricia opened the door wider and gestured her inside. “Come on in.”

  “Thank you.” Mary looked around the entrance hall, which was bright and cheery, with yellow walls, a funky umbrella stand, and a multicolored pegboard stuffed with children’s jackets and raincoats. The living room beyond was well-furnished, as well as cluttered with children’s toys, and the townhome complex was lovely, just down the road from Riverlook.

  “I’d invite you in, but I don’t want you to get sick. My husband has the flu, and my six-year-old is getting it, too. Guess who’s whinier? Don’t even ask.” Patricia slid a cell phone from her pocket. “Let me call James.”

  “I’ve been calling him all day, but he hasn’t returned my call.”

  “Sorry, that’s not like him. He’ll answer this number. We call it the Batphone.” Patricia pressed a button on her speed dial. “We don’t give anybody this number. He gets so many client calls on his regular cell phone. Sometimes you have to be client-free, you know? You’re a lawyer, so you understand.”

  “Yes, I do,” Mary answered, relie
ved. She didn’t want to lose any more time to Machiavelli and she was still thinking about that brown Subaru.

  “Hmm, it went to voicemail,” Patricia said, holding the phone to her ear, then she said into the phone, “James, can you call me as soon as possible? I’m with a lawyer named Mary DiNunzio and she’s trying to reach you about Edward O’Brien’s estate. She’s at my house and she needs to talk to you ASAP.” Patricia hung up and started texting. “Let me text him, too. You’ll see, he’ll text back any minute. I call him a text maniac. I swear, it makes him feel young. Some days he’ll send me so many texts, I tell him, just freaking call me.”

  “Ellen told me he left her a note asking her to watch the house and she saw him packing suitcases in his car. He has a brown Subaru, right?”

  “Yeah.” Patricia checked her phone screen, puckering her lips.

  “I thought so. It’s funny, I thought I saw him driving the other day on Edward’s street, Moretone Street in Juniata, like around one o’clock. Do you know if he went to see Edward around one o’clock that day?”

  “No, I don’t know. He goes to meetings out of the office, so that’s possible. I don’t think he had anything scheduled with Edward, though. Edward only came in the one time and got his will done. I didn’t remember his name until James told me to pull his file.” Patricia frowned at her phone screen, newly worried. “Hmmm. He hasn’t texted back yet. Usually it’s instantaneous. He dictates his texts, so they’re fast but incomprehensible. It’s the attack of autocorrect.”

  “Where can he be?” Mary kept her tone light, though she wanted to get as much information as possible. “Ellen said he has a condo in the Caymans and he goes down there for golf trips. Do you think he would just take off and do that?”

  “No, not without telling me, and he wouldn’t take off this week. He has meetings all day tomorrow.” Patricia checked to see if the phone ringer was on mute. “I admit, this is strange. We know he’s not at the house, if Ellen saw him leave. I bet he’s at the office.”

  “Should we call the landline at the office?”

  “No, he never answers that. If he doesn’t answer the Batphone, that worries me.” Patricia met Mary’s eye, her concern plain. “I hope nothing happened, health-wise. He has afib and he had an ablation procedure last year. We even got a defibrillator for the office, just in case.”

  “Oh no.” Mary thought it didn’t square with packing suitcases, but didn’t say so.

  “I think I should stop by the office to check on him.”

  “Good idea,” Mary said, intrigued. “I’ll come with you, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure, it’s not that far. Stay here a sec, I’ll be right back. I want to tell my husband where I’m going.” Patricia left the entrance hall, hurried through the living room, and disappeared around the corner. Mary heard Patricia’s footfalls on a carpeted stairwell, voices upstairs, then Patricia descended the staircase and entered the entrance hall with her purse.

  “Good to go?”

  “Yes, but I’m going to call the Batphone one more time.” Patricia pressed REDIAL on her phone, held it to her ear, then frowned slightly. “It went to voicemail again. Let me leave a message.”

  “Sure.”

  Patricia said into the phone, “James, it’s me again. I’m starting to worry about you. Mary and I are coming over to the office. I’m hoping you fell asleep when you were working or something like that. Call me as soon as you get this though and save us the trip.” Patricia hung up the phone. “I’m trying.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “Let’s go. You can follow me in your car.” Patricia opened the door, and they both left the house and walked down the front walk to the pocket parking lot in front of the cluster of townhomes, where Mary had parked in a space marked for visitors.

  “What’s the address?” Mary didn’t remember Geltz’s office address, though it had been on Edward’s will.

  “It’s 2701 Gower Street. It’s off of Street Road. We can park in the back.” Patricia chirped a red Honda Civic unlocked, climbed inside, and backed out of the space, and Mary did the same. The two women took off, left the townhome development, hit Remington Road, then headed toward I-95, crossing under the highway to reach the east side.

  Mary instinctively started looking for the brown Subaru, though at this point, she had no idea who the driver was. It seemed impossible that both Robertson and Geltz had brown Subarus, so it had to be one or the other. Geltz didn’t have a mustache, so Mary stuck with her original assumption that the driver was Robertson. He was the one who had a mustache and a motive, and Geltz and Robertson didn’t know each other, so it couldn’t be that Geltz had lent Robertson his car.

  Mary followed Patricia through the warren of rowhomes, then turned onto wider streets and the area grew less residential. They reached Street Road, one of the busiest commercial stretches in the city, its four lanes lined with McDonald’s, Dunkin’ Donuts, Wendy’s, big box stores, and long stretches of auto dealerships glutted with new cars, slick with residual rain.

  They approached Gower Street and took a left turn, passing a strip mall of four businesses; a nail salon, a dry cleaner, a martial arts studio, and on the far end, a double-wide storefront that stood out because of its navy-blue awning and painted sign, discreetly lit, LAW OFFICES OF JAMES R. GELTZ, ESQ. All of the businesses were closed except for the martial arts studio, which was brightly lit and abuzz with activity. A class of about ten men and women in karate robes were finishing up, bowing to each other and the instructor, in a black belt.

  Mary followed Patricia to the right behind the strip mall and pulled into a narrow parking lot, which was packed because of the karate class. The back of the strip mall was tan brick and windowless, with metal security doors for the back entrance to each business. They drove to the end of the lot, but there was only one empty space, which Patricia pulled into. Mary turned around in the lot, went back out, took a right, and found a space on the side street in front of a truck mechanic’s shop, which was closed.

  Mary got out hurriedly, grabbed her purse, and hustled to the parking lot. She made her way to the back entrance, becoming edgy about what she might find inside. She hoped Geltz hadn’t fallen ill and she couldn’t fight the feeling that something else was going on, since he had left for a long trip without telling Patricia. Mary reached the door, and Patricia was struggling with the lock.

  “Sorry about that.” Patricia turned her key with a tiny grunt. “I didn’t realize it was the last space.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “This freaking lock needs to be replaced, I keep telling him. It takes forever to open this damn door.” Patricia grunted again, and finally the door opened. She reached inside and turned on a master switch, and fluorescent light spilled from the inside. “Come on in.”

  “Thanks.” Mary stepped inside, finding herself in a hallway with tan tiles and fluorescent lighting, containing a coatrack, metal umbrella stand, and stacked cardboard boxes.

  “Follow me.” Patricia closed the security door behind them and led the way down the hall, which ended in a white door. “He still hasn’t called on the Batphone. I really hope he’s okay. He’s a good boss.”

  “How long have you worked for him?”

  “Two years. I like it. The hours aren’t bad, and the pay is decent, and it’s so close to home.” Patricia unlocked and opened the white door. “Come in.”

  “Thanks.” Mary followed her through the door, which led to a hallway that was painted light blue and had deep navy carpeting.

  “James, are you here?” Patricia called out as she walked ahead, but there was no response.

  Mary followed her out of the hallway, which opened onto a wider hallway that had a glass-walled break room on the right, and directly opposite, a large conference room with a long walnut table. Mary oriented herself, realizing that the conference room was located at the office’s storefront on the strip mall.

  “James?” Patricia called again, but there was sti
ll no response.

  Mary walked behind her toward a waiting room with a reception desk and cushy blue chairs arranged around two walnut coffee tables, topped with magazines. An American flag stood in a stand next to a display case with fake-gold golf trophies, and laminated newspaper articles blanketed the walls. Behind the reception area, in the far left corner of the building, was a door, presumably to Geltz’s office.

  “James?” Patricia opened the door, and Mary came up next to her.

  James’s office was empty. His glistening walnut desk set on an angle, and in front of the desk were two blue leather chairs. Bookshelves containing case reporters and an array of photographs lined the room.

  “So what do you think?” Mary asked Patricia.

  “I feel better. He isn’t here, so he didn’t have a heart attack. Funny, his desktop computer is missing. I guess he took it with him.” Patricia went over to the desk, stood behind it, and looked around, moving some correspondence aside.

  Mary entered the office and came over, seeing what she meant. James’s desk had stacks of papers and case files around its perimeter, but its center, where a desktop computer keyboard would be, was clear. The power cord was missing, and on the floor was an empty surge protector. “Is that unusual for him to take his desktop?”

  “It’s not that unusual. He did it once last winter when he went down to the Caymans for, like, two weeks. He has a laptop but he prefers the desktop. He says he can read the monitor better.”

  “So that’s consistent with what Ellen said, that he was leaving for a few weeks. I do need to talk to him. How do we reach him in the Caymans?”

  “The Batphone or the cell. I don’t even know the landline.”

  Mary wondered if that was where he was and she wanted more information. “Ellen also said he was single. Does he date anybody? Could he be out on a date?”

  “No, he was dating somebody off and on a few months ago, but she moved to Denver.”