Damaged

by Lisa Scottoline

  “Does he have kids he could be with?”

  “No, his daughter lives in London.”

  “What about his friends? Does he have any good friends he might be with?”

  “Hmm, maybe so.” Patricia brightened. “There are three guys he plays golf with. He could be with one of them. If it hadn’t rained so hard earlier, I would’ve bet he was playing nine holes and had dinner at the club. Maybe they got caught on the course in the rain.”

  “Maybe they did. Which club does he belong to?”

  “Whitestone. He lives there in summer. Golfers are nuts.” Patricia took her phone out of her back pocket, checking the screen. “Still it worries me that he didn’t return my call or text. The Batphone always works. Maybe he lost the Batphone on the course.”

  “Could he be en route flying to the Caymans? Then he’d have no cell service.”

  “That’s also possible. You have to take two planes. It’s a hike.” Patricia scrolled through her phone.

  “Or could he be with clients? Taking them out, socializing?”

  “Probably not. He networks with the Vietnam vets organizations. Most of them are older, like Edward. It’s not like they party hearty.”

  “Did he serve in Vietnam?”

  “No, I never asked him why. A lot of the vets have done very well, so they’re good clients and they need estate planning. He goes to all of their functions.” Patricia pressed a number into her phone. “Excuse me while I call his golf buddies. I bet he’s with one of them.”

  “Thanks,” Mary said, seizing the opportunity to snoop around. She skimmed the correspondence on the desk, scanned the red case accordions, then gravitated to the photographs.

  Patricia spoke on the phone. “Hello, Don, this James Geltz’s secretary Patricia. Is he with you? I haven’t been able to find him and I need to talk to him…”

  Mary scanned the photos on the bookshelves behind the desk, and there were a few pictures of a pretty young girl who must have been James’s daughter, as well as a bunch of group photos with men in ties holding drinks or wearing golf clothes with verdant backdrops. She looked at the faces but she didn’t recognize James in the photos.

  “… You haven’t seen him since when? Okay, thanks. Sorry to interrupt you. Good night…”

  Mary picked up one of the group photos and held it up for Patricia. “Is one of these men James?”

  “Sure, yes.” Patricia hung up the phone then pressed more numbers into the keypad. “Dan hasn’t seen him, and I’m going to try Morris. He could be with Morris.”

  “Thanks.” Mary eyed the photo again. “In the photo, which one is James?”

  “He’s the man in the middle, with the mustache.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  “James has a mustache?” Mary masked her alarm. “I looked him up on the website and he didn’t have a mustache.”

  “That picture is five years and fifty pounds ago. Also, he wasn’t dyeing his hair then. The clients tease him about it. They call him Grecian Formula.” Patricia said into the phone, “Hi, is this Morris? Morris, this is Patricia, James Geltz’s secretary. I was wondering if James is with you…”

  Mary turned away, hiding her surprise. She set the photo back down on the shelf, her thoughts on fire. So Geltz did have a mustache. Then it could’ve been him in the brown Subaru on Moretone Street and at the Philadelphia Children’s Alliance. And if Geltz had gained weight, his face would’ve been more fleshy, too. So was it Geltz, following Edward and Patrick? Why?

  “… You haven’t seen him? I called Dan but he doesn’t know where he is. I think you’re right, he probably went down to the Caymans. Right, his golf bag’s always in the trunk. Okay, good night. Sorry to bother you.”

  Mary turned around. “No luck?”

  “Not yet. That was two strikes, and I’m going to try the third, but they’re not worried about him. Morris told me he’d been talking about the Caymans and he thinks that’s where he might be.” Patricia scrolled through her phone to find another number, then called. “Cal, hi, this is Patricia, James Geltz’s secretary? I wonder if he’s with you. Sorry to bother you, but I have a client who needs to speak with him. He’s not there? Did he mention anything to you about going down to the Caymans? Oh, okay. All right, I won’t worry. Thanks a lot.”

  Mary remembered that the two times she had seen the brown Subaru was on Thursday afternoon between three and four o’clock, when they were at the Philadelphia Children’s Alliance, and on Friday, late afternoon, when she had followed it down Moretone Street then lost it on the way to Robertson’s house. She went back to the desk and looked around for James’s calendar, but she didn’t see one. He must have it on his phone.

  Patricia hung up. “I give up. He’s a big boy. He’s not with them, but I’m not worried about him anymore. They think he went to the Caymans. That’s probably why he took the computer.”

  “Patricia, let me ask you, does he have a calendar or does he keep it in his phone?”

  “He keeps it in his phone, but I can access it, why?”

  Mary tried to act casual. “It’s funny, I’m sure I saw him driving by on Thursday between three and four, and on Friday, in the late afternoon. Do you know where he was at those times?”

  “Does it matter? I really should get home. I have a child to take care of. And a six-year-old.” Patricia chuckled.

  “Please? Can you just check his calendar? I’m curious. It’s driving me crazy.”

  “Okay, hang on.” Patricia thumbed through her phone, then stopped, reading it. “He was out at a client meeting on Thursday afternoon between three and four and on Friday afternoon, late, but he didn’t say which clients. He just put in ‘client meeting.’”

  “Is that typical, that he does that?”

  “Sometimes.” Patricia put the phone back into her pocket.

  “But he has to bill time. Do you do the bills?”

  “Yes, and I take care of all of the expenses for the office, too. He takes care of his own money, that’s it.”

  “How do you know who to bill his time to, if he only writes ‘client meeting’?”

  “I take it from his time sheets, not the calendar. Usually when he writes ‘client meeting,’ he doesn’t assign it to any client on his time sheets. I noticed it a while ago, but I figured, so what? He can take down time. It’s his business, not mine.” Patricia checked her watch. “Okay, I gotta go. Let’s lock it up.”

  “But wait, Patricia, I’m sure it was James I saw on both of those days, watching Edward’s house and following him around.” Mary hadn’t wanted to tell Patricia, but this was her last chance.

  “Why would he do that?” Patricia recoiled.

  “I don’t know, that’s what I’m trying to find out. I mean, he told me Edward hadn’t been in for four years.”

  “That’s right.”

  “So they had nothing to do with each other for four years, then all of a sudden, James starts following Edward around?”

  “Oh, come on,” Patricia snapped, newly defensive. “He didn’t follow anybody. Now you’re being ridiculous.”

  “But I know he did, I saw him.”

  “You saw my boss following his client? Are you sure it was him?”

  “Yes. Last Thursday and Friday.”

  Patricia hesitated. “Well, I remember something minor about Edward, but it probably doesn’t matter.”

  “What?” Mary asked, intrigued.

  “I think it was on Wednesday last week, Edward called the office. He called on the landline and I took the call.”

  “What did he want?”

  “He wanted to talk to James but James wasn’t in. So then I asked him what it was in reference to, and he said that he needed a referral for a lawyer. He didn’t say what kind of lawyer and I didn’t ask him why.”

  Mary put two and two together. “That must have been when he was looking to hire me. It was for a Complaint that had just been filed against him in connection with his grandson, Patrick.”

&n
bsp; “Oh, he didn’t say that. Anyway, he asked me if I knew any good lawyers and I said no. I didn’t think James would want me giving referrals, willy-nilly.”

  “Sure, right.”

  “So then later, I told James that Edward had called asking for a lawyer. That’s all.”

  “What did James say?”

  “He got mad at me, asking me why didn’t I find out what the matter was and why Edward wanted a lawyer. He snapped.”

  Mary felt stumped. “Why would he snap at you for that? Why would he care if Edward needed a lawyer?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “So then what happened?”

  “I don’t know.” Patricia shrugged. “I assume James called Edward and referred him to a lawyer. To you, I guess.”

  “No, he didn’t, because our receptionist said that Edward came to me because of our website. James doesn’t know me and he wouldn’t refer Edward to me.”

  “I don’t know. That’s his business.”

  “No, but it’s also my business, because of Edward. I mean, let’s be real, doesn’t it seem strange that James would act that way? Why would he care if one of his clients needed a lawyer?”

  “Maybe he thought we were going to get fired?”

  “That can’t be it. If you’re going to let go of your lawyer, you don’t ask him for a referral.”

  “Well, I don’t know, and I don’t think it matters. I really need to get home.” Patricia became impatient, which Mary understood, but couldn’t let it go.

  “Wait, please work with me for one more minute. Given the chronology, it seems like James was worried that Edward was going to call a lawyer, and James was following Edward around to see if he did, or what he did.” Mary felt like she was onto something.

  “Whatever, I really have to go.” Patricia headed for the door, and Mary fell into step with her.

  “But I still need to talk to James.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m really sorry.” Patricia left the office and headed down the hall, but Mary took her arm.

  “Patricia, please, you’re a mom. There’s a ten-year-old boy in foster care and I’m trying to give him his future. If I don’t talk to Edward, I can’t get him a new lawyer, and he can end up in foster care for the rest of his life. You’ve been so terrific, but isn’t there any other way we can find him? Could he have gone back to the house? Should we check there?”

  “There’s no reason to. I called everybody who he might be with.”

  “Isn’t there anybody else who might know where he is? Somebody who he talks to?”

  “I don’t think so.” Patricia stopped abruptly, raking her fingers through her red curls. “Oh, wait. I know somebody we could try. He doesn’t golf but they talk on the phone. Dave Kather.”

  “The stockbroker?” Mary didn’t say so, but she remembered that Dave Kather had told her that he never talked to James. “Dave Kather was Edward’s stockbroker at Cornerstone Financial.”

  “I’m sure. James sends all of his clients to Cornerstone Financial. They all invest with Dave. I think every Vietnam vet in the tri-county area invests with Dave, thanks to James. So Dave might know where James is.” Patricia reached for her phone. “I’ll call him for you.”

  “Hold off. I have his number.” Mary was thinking steps ahead. “Do you know Kather?”

  “No, never met him.”

  “He doesn’t come by the office?”

  “No.”

  “Have you spoken to him on the phone?”

  “I don’t know, once or twice maybe? I really do need to go.” Patricia resumed walking to the white door that led out of the office proper.

  “How do you know that James sends him clients?” Mary followed on her heels.

  “I just do. James will tell me to send a client Dave’s number.”

  “Does Dave have the Batphone number?”

  “I don’t know, I never gave it to him.” Patricia opened the white door, and Mary went through into the tan hallway.

  “When Dave called the office, does he call on the cell or the landline?”

  “The cell.” Patricia closed and locked the white door.

  “Do you know any reason why Dave would tell me that he doesn’t talk to James, when he does? I mean, Dave and James have some sort of business relationship. James refers him investment clients. Why would they want to keep that a secret?”

  “They don’t, they just didn’t tell you about it, and I don’t think it means anything. I’m sure there’s email about it. I know they email each other.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I’ve seen emails from Dave on James’s computer.”

  “On the desktop that’s missing?”

  “Not missing, he took it with him.” Patricia led the way down the corridor, and Mary couldn’t help but feel that she was onto something, but it was just out of her grasp.

  “Do you have access to James’s email?”

  “I have access to his main email but he has a private email that I don’t have access to. Not that this is any of your business.”

  Mary let it go. “Do you know if James communicates with Dave on the main email or the private email?”

  “No, I don’t. I only noticed it on the computer once or twice. I don’t spy on my boss, there’s no reason to.” Patricia reached the security door, twisted the deadbolt, and opened it. “James is a nice old man and he does a good job for his clients. And it’s not suspicious or anything that he didn’t tell you the details of his personal business.”

  “If he calls, will you let me know?”

  “Totally.” Patricia closed and locked the security door, handing Mary her phone. “Here, put your number in my contacts. He’ll call me when he lands. This will sort itself out.”

  “Thank you.” Mary took the phone, scrolled to CONTACTS, plugged in her information, then handed it back. She glanced around the parking lot and noticed that it was practically empty, with only three cars left. The martial arts class must’ve let out, and two men stood talking between their cars, parked behind the studio.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Thanks again for the help. I hope your husband feels better.”

  “That makes two of us.” Patricia hurried to her car, chirping it unlocked. “Good night.”

  “Good night.” Mary watched Patricia drive out of the lot. Her head was swimming. She felt so frustrated that she hadn’t been able to persuade her that something was amiss, but she wasn’t stopping there. She went in her purse, rummaged for her wallet, and pulled out a business card.

  Detective Randolph’s.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  “Hi, this is Mary, Detective Randolph.” Mary walked through the parking lot, and the men from the martial arts class got inside their cars, started the engines, and left.

  “I’m busy at the moment. Can I call you back?”

  “But this is important. I think there is something you need to investigate in conection with Edward’s death. There’s been some very fishy things going on—”

  “Mary, it’s late, and I’m busy.”

  “But just hear me out.” Mary collected her thoughts. “I needed to see Edward’s executor to get a disbursement from the estate, but he took off for the Caymans for no apparent reason and without telling his secretary or his friends.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “That’s strange enough behavior, and before that, he was following Edward around in his car. Edward called his office and told him that he needed a referral for a lawyer, and as soon as that happened, the executor started following Edward.” Mary reached the sidewalk and walked down the street. The asphalt shone in the ambient light. “I thought it was Robertson who was following him, but now I think it was the executor.”

  “Mary, I’m out on a job. I don’t have time—”

  “But I think this is related to Edward’s death. Patrick didn’t do it, I swear to you.” Mary walked down the street toward her ca
r. “I found out tonight that the executor has a mustache and he drives a brown Subaru. That means it was him, not Robertson.”

  “Hold on. What did you say?”

  “He has a mustache.”

  “No. What kind of car?”

  “A brown Subaru. A sedan. A neighbor saw him packing his trunk and—”

  “This executor, what’s his name?”

  “James Geltz. He’s an estates attorney in the Northeast. I’m at his office now, I’m just leaving.”

  “You’re at Geltz’s office? What are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to find Geltz. I was just talking to his secretary, and he left town, taking his desktop. I’m thinking he was trying to hide whatever was inside it—”

  “Mary, Geltz is the job I’m on.”

  “What?” Mary gasped.

  “Yes, James Geltz was found dead in a brown Subaru, parked in an industrial stretch off I-95. He died of a gunshot wound to the head, an apparent suicide.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  “Geltz killed himself?” Mary asked, stunned. “Oh no! My God!”

  “Now tell me again how you—”

  Mary heard nothing else. Suddenly she was shoved from behind with brute force. She flew off her feet, staggering forward. She had no idea what was happening. It came out of the darkness.

  She landed facedown on the sidewalk. She broke her fall instinctively, scraping her palms. The wind got knocked out of her. Her chin hit the concrete. Her jaw reverberated with shock.

  She gasped for breath. Her purse was jarred off her shoulder. Her phone went skidding under her car. She could hear Detective Randolph saying, “Mary? Mary?”

  A man was upon her, his dark figure silhouetted in the faraway lights of Gower Street. She realized she was being mugged. She torqued her body around, groped for her purse, and flung it at the man. “Take it, I don’t care!” she shouted, cowering.

  She looked up, but the man had gone after her phone, diving under the car. She realized it was a chance to get away. She left her purse, scrambled to her feet, and bolted back toward the martial arts studio.

  “Help!” Mary shouted at the top of her lungs. She ran as fast as she could. She knew the mugger wouldn’t follow her. He wanted her phone and purse. Still she had to get away.