“Uh-huh. Another sign?”
“The sign for wait is cute. Hold your left open hand, palm up by your left side. Then hold your right hand in the same position, a little closer to your body, fingers pointing to your left wrist and wiggle your fingers. Wait.” He demonstrated. “It’s the perfect sign for the word.”
“I agree. The sign is cute.” She turned onto the I-5 ramp and merged into traffic. “Sean seems calmer and more in control at home. Does Olivia stay with him all day?”
“He attends a special school—has since he turned three. She works with him after school and occasionally on the weekends. And, of course, during the holidays. As a live-in, she’s usually available, but Chuck tries to…when Chuck is home, he likes to work with Sean and help the girls interact with him.” Would he have the opportunity again? Quit the negative attitude. Jay made a conscious effort to relax.
Lela cleared her throat. “Raising a child with a disability must pose a strain for everyone. I haven’t been around too many kids like Sean. Of course, there were a few at school, but none of my friends had siblings in special classes, and my nieces and nephews are all nor…sorry. I’m trying to be sensitive. What’s the right word?”
“Wish I knew. Because none of us is normal. We can thank the Lord that our frailties aren’t as obvious as Sean’s.”
“You’re right. If our problems and imperfections produced colors, we’d all glow in psychedelic splendor. I’d drown in the vat of dye.” As Lela slowed, she veered onto the Old Town exit.
Nieces and nephews, but no children mentioned in her colorful past. Jay studied her profile. High cheek bones, determined chin, dainty ears half covered by her dark hair.
Lela parked outside a drab gray, single-story building on Congress Street. “This is the place. Do you want to come in and meet Bowen?”
“Why not?”
Once out of the truck, Lela popped the remote.
Walking by her side, Jay noticed she’d left the book in the vehicle. “You forgot Chuck’s journal.”
Head down, she proceeded then stopped. “Huh? Oh, right. I’ll fetch it.”
What weighed on Lela’s mind? Was it their previous altercation, or something else? When she caught up with him, he asked, “What’s the matter? You’re a dozen miles away.”
Producing a wide smile, she unlocked the door. “Nothing other than the journal, visiting Chuck’s office. You know.”
He followed her into a dim foyer. High on the wall, a security camera tracked their movements. Glancing at it, Lela waved and a lock on the door at the end clicked open.
“Through here.” She led the way to a large area partitioned into cubicles. Low voices from the rear indicated some were occupied. Doors across the back wall probably led to individual offices.
“Hi, Sadie. Is Bowen in?”
The woman at a desk near the door shook her head, dark curls bobbing around her face. “Left about an hour ago. Can I help you?”
“This is Jay Vashon, Chuck’s brother-in-law. Jay, Sadie is Bowen’s wife.”
Sadie eased out of the chair, one hand at her back, the other smoothing the maternity top over her swollen belly. “Hi, Jay.”
With a nod, he shook hands. “Pleased to meet you.”
Lela handed the journal to Sadie. “Since I’ve taken notes, it’s all yours. Maybe you can identify the people Chuck described.”
“I’ll check it as soon as I enter this data.” Sadie returned to her plush chair and pointed to her computer. “Working on a big insurance scam.”
“Sadie’s also one of our techies.” Lela pulled Jay toward the door. “Time to go. Give my love to Hannah.”
Sadie punched a buzzer on the wall beside her desk, and the door lock clicked open. “She misses you. If you’re free, come for lunch on Sunday.”
Out in the sunlight, Jay donned his sunglasses and eyed Lela. No longer distracted, she now wore a scowl that had appeared the second Sadie mentioned Sunday lunch. Buckled in his seat, he succumbed to curiosity. “Why the frown?”
Weaving in and out of downtown traffic at maximum speed, Lela drove south in silence.
Jay leaned over to retrieve Lela’s notes that had slid to the floor. “You don’t have to tell me, but slow down, would ya? I’d like to make it in—”
“I admire Bowen and Sadie.” The muscles in her jaw worked overtime.
How could he encourage her to open up? He wiggled the fingers of both hands at waist level. “I’m waiting. Patiently. There has to be more.”
She stole a glance and giggled. “Funny. I’ll tell you, but I don’t want a lecture. They’re more than co-workers. I transferred to San Diego to work with them. Bowen and I were operatives together for many years before he married Sadie. Hannah, Sadie’s little girl, is good friends with my twin nieces.”
A strand of hair loosened from her ponytail trailed across her cheek and over her shoulder. Was it as silky as it looked? He shifted in the seat.
Her next words threw a cup of ice water over his smoldering romantic notions. “Their religious talk makes me uncomfortable.”
Hanging onto the overhead handle as Lela made a sharp turn onto Columbia Street, Jay cocked his head. That explained the vibes he received from her when he prayed. A cold lump formed in his chest. Another woman who would reject him because of his faith. Another lost soul who wanted no part of the Gospel he longed to share. Lela’s scrunched up expression told him to back off the topic for now.
She parked on the street outside Chuck’s office building.
Jay opened the door and followed her inside where they stopped in the lobby to study the directory.
Who were they looking for? Ah, yes. People with the initials MF, LL, and…Lela didn’t like to discuss religion. All religion, or just Sadie’s? He scanned the names. Carl Franklin. Mark Dawson. Morris Washington. Had something in her past made her uncomfortable? Melissa Flores. He had to find out one way or another. He tugged on his ear lobe. Here he was revisiting his long-ago breakup with one woman who had little interest in God to pursue another who became uncomfortable at the mere mention of religion. What was wrong with him?
A tap on his shoulder broke into his mental war. “What?”
“Second column, fourth line. Melissa Flores. MF.”
Hadn’t he just seen that name? “But Melissa’s a woman’s name. Chuck indicated MF was a male.”
“She’s the only one with the initials he mentioned.” Lela scanned the list she’d brought. “No LL, ZE, WF, or VT.”
“What if he called MF a man to confuse anyone who read his journal? Let’s check her out. Melissa Flores, CPA, seventh floor, suite seven-six-three.” Jay punched the elevator up button. “We need to consider that the directory doesn’t list the names of associates or office staff. The initials Chuck used could belong to employees.”
26
Chuck, did you enjoy writing cryptic messages in your journal? Why didn’t you use people’s names? Jay shoved his hands into his back pockets. “My brother-in-law has complicated our search. We can’t investigate all employees in the building.”
“You’re right.” Lela fanned her face with the list. “But don’t give up. Let’s see if Yvette can help with the initials we have.”
The elevator doors dinged open and out strolled Perfume Lady. Exchanging a quick look, Jay and Lela sniffed, then entered, holding their noses. Their laughter only subsided when two men joined them at the next stop.
Exiting on the seventh floor, Lela and Jay searched for Melissa’s suite. A frosted glass door stood open. Soft classical music played in the background, and a voice down the hall hummed along with the aria. Cardboard boxes stacked in one corner and picture frames nested in a heap on an armchair indicated a new arrival.
Jay knocked on the door. “Hello.”
The humming stopped. “I’m coming.” A whirling noise grew louder as a motorized wheelchair glided into the office. “Hi. I’m Melissa Flores. Do we have an appointment?” A gray-haired woman smiled up at them.
Both Jay and Lela shook their heads, but Jay spoke first. “We’re in the wrong place.” Ms. Flores could not be Chuck’s friend. “How long have you been in this office?” A safe enough question.
“I moved in last week. My secretary took off early today, but I am seeing clients. Do you need an accountant?”
Lela backed up toward the door. “No, thank you, ma’am. Sorry to have bothered you. We’re looking for the man who used to occupy this office.”
A frown added to the wrinkles on Ms. Flores’s face. “I was told it had been empty for months. You’ve been given the wrong information.”
Smiling, Lela raised her hand in a brief wave. “Thank you. We’ll check the directory again.”
They returned to the elevators. “She’s not our MF. Chuck talked about him months ago.” Jay entered the crowded elevator and leaned against the wood paneling. Squeezing in, Lela stood close to him. He inhaled the delicate floral fragrance of her hair. She inched away.
As the doors opened to the tenth floor, Lela hurried into Chuck’s suite as if escaping Jay’s proximity.
“Good afternoon, Yvette.” Lela smiled. “Sorry to bother you, but we have more questions. May we use Chuck’s office, please?”
The corners of Yvette’s mouth lifted a fraction as she smiled back. “Jay and…and sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Lela Ortiz.”
“Ms. Ortiz. I’ll unlock it right away.” She closed the program on her computer and then produced a set of keys from her jacket pocket. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, thanks, Yvette. We won’t keep you long.” Jay arranged three chairs in a semi-circle in the office.
Yvette chose the seat where she could easily see her desk through the open door. “How can I help you?” She folded her hands in her lap.
Lela tugged a sheaf of notes from her vest pocket. “Do you know who Chuck’s been visiting on the seventh floor?”
With a hike of a bony shoulder, Yvette shook her head. “Seventh? No. Although we’ve been in this building a long time, I’m not familiar with any particular friends. Chuck chats with everyone he meets. If I see him in the cafeteria he’s usually with a group of people.”
“I have a list of initials I’d like you to identify. The first set is MF.” Her pen poised to take notes, Lela crossed her legs.
“I can’t think of anyone. Let me check our client list.”
Lela motioned for the secretary to remain seated. “That won’t be necessary. We believe these people work in the building. Next I have LL.”
A pause then Yvette shook her head.
“How about ZE?”
Eyes wide, Yvette nodded. “Yes. Zoe Epps. Not too many names begin with Z.”
“Who is she?” Lela asked.
“She’s a young woman who recently became a member of the secretarial association.”
“Where does she work?”
“On the seventh floor. I’ll have to check my notes for the exact office. One thing I remember is she said her boss stinks. Not sure if she meant figuratively or for real.”
Jay stood and thumped his forehead with a palm. “Of course. How could I have forgotten? Chuck hasn’t always been on the tenth floor.” He pointed in Yvette’s direction. “When he first started the company his office—”
“We were on the seventh floor.”
“Right. And he had two guys working for him.”
“Yes. Now what were their names?” Yvette tapped her lips. “It’s been such a long time.”
Would this information be the answer to a piece of the puzzle? Jay returned to his chair, his spirit a little lighter.
“Walter something. He was also a financial advisor. And the other man. Real tall.” Yvette’s eyes widened. “Victor Torres. Torres and…and Ferguson. That’s it. Walter Ferguson.”
Snapping his fingers, Jay said, “I remember them. WF and VT. Two sets of initials Chuck used.”
“Wait, wait. Walter Ferguson.” Lela jabbed the air with her index finger. “The black SUV at the ranch house in Mexico was registered to him. According to IRO, his last known address was in Sacramento.” A shadow clouded her eyes. “He’s involved in the kidnapping.”
A thick, ominous silence filled the office.
Yvette’s lips quivered.
Lela stared at the floor.
Jay fisted a hand so forcefully, his knuckles threatened to burst through the skin. He gritted his teeth. “Walter Ferguson.”
“When did he leave Chuck’s employment?” Lela asked.
Eyes dark and watery, Yvette wrung her hands. “Chuck caught Ferguson doctoring clients’ accounts about five, six years ago. Fired him. And Victor. He wasn’t an advisor but helped with Chuck’s side business.”
“What business?” Lela asked.
“Of course. Chuck’s short-lived vintage car restoration venture.” Jay directed his words to Lela. “I told you Chuck has diverse hobbies. As far as I know, he only wasted money on one of them. Unfortunately, he didn’t oversee the operation as meticulously as he should have. Lost a boatload of money on that little scheme.”
“That’s right.” The phone on Yvette’s desk rang. “Chuck discovered Victor was behind the loss and fired him. About the same time Walter left.” She stepped out of the office and answered the call.
“Walter and Victor. One of the men at the ranch house in Mexico was named Victor. Coincidence?” Snapping up her phone, Lela’s fingers flew across the keys. “I sent the info to Bowen. I know Ferguson is in IRO’s system, but last I heard, they don’t have anything current on him. He must have been under the radar for a while.” Lela stood and stowed her notes back in her pocket. “Since Chuck had his office on the seventh floor for a number of years, MF could be a friend from that time.”
“I agree. Are we done here?”
Stepping through the doorway, Lela nodded. “Yes. We can stop on the seventh floor again before we leave.”
At her desk, Yvette rested her face in her hands. “I checked my notes. Zoe Epps works in suite seven-nine-four.” A deep sigh emanated from her hunched body. “Jay, what should I tell our clients? Chuck was supposed to return from vacation Saturday and be back in the office Monday. I can help in minor situations, but I can’t make trades or buy shares.”
Her distress sent a spike through his gut. Would Chuck ever return? Shaking off the foreboding mood, he smiled. “Keep doing what you can and tell clients that Chuck’s taking an extra day or two. Pray we find him soon.” He patted her stooped shoulders. “We’ll stop on the seventh floor to see if we can locate his friend and chat with Zoe. Call if you need me.”
She lifted her head and gave Lela and Jay a weak wave.
In the elevator, Jay punched the button for the seventh floor. He and Lela had the space to themselves, but neither spoke. When the door opened, Jay led the way down the east hall to a suite close to the end. “This used to be Chuck’s. Let’s check the offices closest to it.” Jay raised an eyebrow. Lela had been unusually quiet.
Nodding, she pointed to the door advertising Goff and Sons, Attorneys at Law.
At his knock, a voice called for them to enter. A curvaceous blonde sat at the glass desk, tapping computer keys. Still typing, she asked, “How may I help you?”
Ushering Lela in ahead of him, Jay stopped mere inches from the desk. “Do you know if Chuck Davenport, who works on the tenth floor, is acquainted with any of the Goffs?”
She glanced up. “I don’t believe so. I’m not familiar with that name. These days, the elder Mr. Goff serves in a supervisory capacity. He comes in once or twice a year. The sons are in court right now. If you leave your card, I’ll ask them to contact you.”
Was that a good idea?
A brief nod and Lela turned to study a black and white photograph on the wall.
Jay removed a business card from his pocket and wrote Chuck’s name on the back. “Here’s my card. I appreciate it. Thank you.”
They arrived at the next office, Richard Ayers and A
ssociates, CPA Services, and entered. Two leather chairs and a coffee table filled the waiting area.
At the counter, the receptionist slid open a smoky glass partition and, without looking up, said, “We don’t take walk-ins. Do you want to make an appointment?”
Jay grimaced at Lela which made her chuckle. “No, ma’am, but I do need your help.” When she looked up, he presented his widest smile. It had gotten him out of tough spots before. “I just need to ask a question. Does anyone here know Chuck Davenport? He used to have an office on this floor.”
The brunette fixed her gaze on Jay, ignoring Lela. She fluttered her eyelashes. “Chuck? Yes. He and Mr. Ayers are friends. Have been for ages.”
Jay expelled a volume of air. Success at last. “That’s good news for us. May we speak with Mr. Ayers? It’s of vital importance.”
“Sorry. He’s on vacation and asked that we only contact him in an emergency.”
“When will he return?” Jay asked.
High heels tapped rapidly down the hall and slowed as they neared the office. The receptionist craned her neck to see around Jay and Lela and raised a hand. “Be with you in a minute, ma’am.” To Jay, she said, “Middle of next week. I believe Chuck Davenport is also on vacation. Must be nice.” Her expression dismissed them, and they turned.
Jay expected the other woman to move forward.
Instead, drumming heels hurried down the hall. No one waited behind them. Only the syrupy scent of roses remained.
They stared at each other.
The scurrying feet belonged to none other than Perfume Lady.
27
The woman’s swift departure had to be significant. Lela grasped Jay’s hand and drew him out of the office. “Zoe said her boss stank. What if she didn’t mean she was a bad boss but that she wore too much perfume?”
“Yeah.” His eyes twinkled. “Perfume Lady’s office is on seven. She took off like a bullet when she overheard us asking about Chuck. Let’s visit her. What number did Yvette say?”
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