by Jean Martino
“Good,” she said.
“The other thing,” he said, watching her carefully for a reaction, “is this house. We haven’t been able to find any documents regarding it, not even insuring it, and as you know we have been unable to uncover a secret hiding place for them. Linda, it concerns me greatly that except for that one work file of Cindy’s, there are no documents of a personal nature in this entire house to prove they had occupied it. And Detective Grant has checked the Postal Department and said they never put a stop mail order for this address which indicates they had to be using a PO Box for their mail.”
“I know,” she said in a steady voice. “I always wrote to Cindy at a post office box. She said the mail theft had increased here and even though they had a locked mailbox these thieves could still find a way to get into it.”
“We’ll need to check if that post office box is still being used by them,” he said, making a note of it on a pad in his wallet.
“What else?” she asked.
“This house,” he said. “It’s too clean. Like it had never been lived in or at least has been cleaned out completely of anything personal regarding the owners. You said that you were amazed they could afford a house like this on Michael’s salary and so, quite frankly, am I. It’s a millionaire’s home Linda. It’s not a working man’s home. I asked Max to find out whose name is on the ownership papers.”
Linda shuddered. “That’s ridiculous,” she snapped. “They’ve lived here for almost two years and sold their Huntington Beach house and Michael got a huge bonus and was making excellent money.”
“Not enough for this opulence,” said Scott soberly.
Linda’s face was contorting now with anger and fear. She couldn’t assimilate what Scott was telling her. “Cindy would never lie to me about something like this,” she said angrily.
“Of course not,” he said. “But perhaps Michael wasn’t being completely honest with her on everything either.”
Linda jumped up from her chair her face contorted. “I don’t believe that! Michael loves Cindy. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.”
Scott got up quickly and faced her. “I am not suggesting that was the case. But, Linda, something weird happened here and your daughter is missing along with her husband and there has to be some underlying reason for it all. We have to check every angle, look in every corner, and sometimes that means uncovering things we wouldn’t want to know, but to find the answer we have no other choice. Please understand this is going to get worse and we have to prepare for it.”
The look on her face was of such anguish that Scott hated himself for having to destroy the relief she had felt last night. “Honey, please try to understand. I am trying to help find Cindy and Michael but without knowing why they disappeared I can’t find out where they disappeared to.”
“I know,” she cried, tears running down her cheeks as she stood trembling in front of him. “I do know, Scott, I just feel so bloody helpless.”
He put his arms around her his heart aching for her. “I know sweetheart,” he said, trying to soothe her. “I know, believe me, how terrible this is for you. But I promised you I’d help you find them, and you have to understand that things will come up now that will tear you to shreds. But that’s what I’m here for, to help you through it.”
For a long time she just sobbed in his arms, letting out all the fear and anger she had tried to cover last night with that one sign of relief she had gotten thinking Cindy and Michael were alright somewhere.
“There’s one other thing,” he said still holding her. “This house could be dangerous for you right now. I don’t know how or why but I have a sense about these things. As much as you feel closer to Cindy here, honey, we have to leave it for now.”
She struggled to break out of his grasp but he kept holding her firmly as he continued. “I know it’s secure and difficult to break into but there’s a strangeness about it that is making me feel very uneasy. I am not willing to put you at risk by letting you stay here any longer.” She struggled harder and he held her harder. “I am not leaving you, Linda,” he said, “but I am renting one of those furnished apartments down near the beach for us to stay in for now. We need to pack everything up this morning and leave here.”
Gradually she stopped struggling and he released his hold on her a little. For a long time they just stood there without moving. He could feel the anger starting to leave her once tensed up body. But he could not even begin to imagine the pain she was now feeling, the horrible desperation, the confusion, and the loss. She was a strong woman, he knew that. She would reach down somehow inside herself and find the inner strength that had brought her halfway around the world and that would continue to keep her going until she had found her daughter. God help her, he just hoped it would be soon.
CHAPTER 10
Thursday noon, June 19:
Scott had found them a fully furnished one bedroom holiday rental apartment overlooking the ocean, which Linda fell in love with immediately because of its sunny interior and being close to the beach. But when he went to pay for the two weeks rental which was the shortest period they could rent it for, plus a deposit, Linda and he had their first dispute.
“I’m paying for this, Scott,” she said stubbornly. “You’re losing money not being back in Sacramento working as it is, and I can well afford it.”
“The hell you are,” he objected. “I had intended taking a couple weeks off anyway and I can afford it also.”
The rental unit manager stood back in awkward silence wondering how this was going to end. Seeing the woman’s embarrassment, Scott said, “Please excuse us for a minute. We’ll be right back.” Then he took Linda’s arm and guided her out the door and, while the rental manager watched them through the glass doors, they continued the discussion she no longer could hear.
“I’m not staying here unless you let me pay,” Linda said defiantly.
“Lady, don’t push me. You know I don’t like to be pushed.”
“I’m not pushing you. It’s just that I don’t want to---”
“To feel obligated to me? Is that it?” he asked.
“Of course not,” she said, starting to realize how stupid it all was. “I’m sorry. I just have been so independent for so long I have a problem with letting you pay all that money.”
For several seconds they stared at each other, neither backing down. Then finally Scott said, “Would you feel comfortable then if we split it down the middle?”
“I would,” she said, feeling a giggle bubbling up inside her at the absolute absurdity of them fighting over who was going to pay the rent like a couple of kids in a candy store, when they had so much more serious things to think about. “Right down the middle.”
He stared back at her sternly.
Suddenly she couldn’t help it. The giggle became a laugh that burst from her like a floodgate had opened. Scott continued to stare at her but gradually his expression softened and he burst out laughing also and grabbed her in a hug. “You are one stubborn lady,” he said. Then, letting her go, he held out his hand. “Let’s shake on it, and no more discussions about who pays what. Everything right down the middle, except of course for---”
She grabbed his hand and shook it. “Everything,” she said.
Then with his arm around her waist they walked back into the office and both paid their share much to the manager’s amusement and delight.
The finances over with, Scott carried their cases and things up the stairs to the back door that led into the kitchen while Linda started unpacking and hanging things up. How strange this is, she thought, hanging Scott’s clothes next to hers. We have only known each other in real life for three days and yet we are acting like a married couple arguing about money.
Leaving Cindy and Michael’s house had been hard for her but she realized now the wisdom in Scott’s thinking. The house made her uncomfortable too. This place was more her style, simple and homey like her house in Adelaide. Nothing pretentious about it which
was what she liked. They had cleaned the house really good before they left, washed the sheets and replaced them on the bed, vacuumed, dusted the furniture and cleaned the bathrooms and kitchen. It looked as it had when they first arrived, spotless and unlived in. Scott had finally given in to letting her drive Cindy’s yellow ford to the beach unit but he insisted that the white Camaro stay in the garage for now. She had felt bad leaving it there unattended for some strange reason, as though she was deserting Cindy and Michael by doing so. When they left there Scott had removed the tape from the answering machine and taken it with him, unplugged the answering machine and the phones upstairs and down so no one would hear them ringing. If anyone called that number now it would just keep ringing until it rang out. After one final look around, they closed all the drapes, checked all the locks, reset the security alarm and closed the door tight behind them. But the one thing Linda refused to do was replace the key under the bird feeder. She felt she had to keep it with her for some reason.
“It’s nice,” said Scott, bringing the last of their things upstairs and walking over to the living room window to gaze down at the beach and ocean. “Perhaps later we could go for a walk along the beach.”
“That sounds lovely,” said Linda.
“Now I think I should go get some food for us while you finish unpacking,” he said. “Anything else you need?”
She walked over to him and smiled. “Just a hug.”
“You got it lady,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tight.
He ran down the stairs to the underneath carport parking where his rented Mercury Monterey was parked now next to Cindy’s yellow Ford. It was good that Linda had insisted on bringing it, he decided. She needed the feeling of being independent which he understood and respected.
After he had left, Linda closed and locked the door as he had told her to do, before finishing the unpacking. Then, settling on the couch overlooking the ocean, she made two phone calls; the first to Jessica and the second to Geoff and Carmel Brampton. They were the only ones she wanted to know where she was now. When finished she called Crowe Realtors and spoke to Jeffrey Baker, the property manager.
“This is Linda Rossi,” she said when he answered. “I own the rental house on Beechwood Drive in Costa Mesa you are managing.”
“Mrs. Rossi,” he said, surprised to hear from her. “Are you calling from Australia?”
“No,” she said. “I’m in California right now. I was wondering how everything was going with the property. Cindy said you were doing a great job of managing it and I just wanted to touch base with you and thank you also.”
“Thank you for saying that,” he said. “Actually I haven’t heard from Cindy for a few months now. How is she?”
“Oh she’s fine,” said Linda, not wanting to get into any complicated explanation with him.
“Good, good,” he said. “As far as the house, the tenants are excellent and taking very good care of it. In fact they keep asking me to ask you if you decide you want to sell would you please let them know.”
“That’s good to know,” she said. “At this point though I have no intentions of selling but if I change my mind I will notify you immediately.”
She hung up, deciding to leave things alone in that area for now. She had hoped he would have told her he had spoken to Cindy more recently but obviously not.
Now she needed to find out what was happening to her account with McLean’s Investments now that Michael didn’t appear to be handling it. It would be a difficult situation to handle but she needed some assurance that her investment was still secure. Perhaps it was time to take that money out of there if the market was set up right. She had allowed Michael full control over it knowing he would never do anything to hurt her financially. But she wanted to discuss that with Scott tonight and see what he could advise if anything.
* *
Before going to the market, Scott had swung by Dan’s house which was only ten minutes drive from the beach unit he and Linda had just rented. It had only been five hours since he had called and asked Max to check those things for him, but he knew Max would have gotten onto it immediately and needed some answers fast. He also wanted to talk to Max away from the beach unit, where, if the news was bad he could digest it before telling Linda about it.
Jocelyn had taken Mark shopping with her and Dan was working on retiling the kitchen counter when he arrived. “Hey boy,” said Scott hugging him.
“Hey yourself,” said Dan with a grin. “How‘s it going with the missing people mystery?”
“Long story,” said Scott. “It’s becoming more complicated than I thought possible.” This reminded him to also contact Detective Grant and discuss the check endorsement to try to find out where Michael’s bank account was. And tell him that they had moved out of the house and the police should now keep an eye on it. “We moved out of that house this morning and rented a place at the beach near here,” he told Dan. “Things just don’t look right from where I’m standing. Have to call Max in Sacramento and see if he found out some things I need answers on.”
“Call in the study,” said Dan. “The rug rat is not here to throw up on you right now.” They both laughed. “I’ll make some fresh coffee.”
Scott went into the study room to call Max. They’d been best friends now for almost 30 years since they’d first met as rookies in the Sacramento police force. Both of them had gone on to becoming detectives, but when Scott had retired last year, Max had stayed on in the force in the homicide division. Max was 58 now but still had that incredible energy that saw him running circles around the younger detectives in solving almost unsolvable cases. He had never lost a case yet and his photogenic mind was still as sharp as a tack.
When Max answered he sounded excited. “Hey man, what in hell are you getting yourself into down there in La La Land?” he asked.
“Sounds like you have some bad news for me,” said Scott, frowning.
“Well, here it is. Ready?”
“Sure.”
“First off; the ownership of that house. It’s free and clear and under the name of a Roger McLean. No mention of anyone else on the trust deed.”
Scott froze. “You’re positive about that?”
“Positive,” said Max. “And that brings me to an interesting situation that you didn’t ask me about but which ties in somehow. Roger McLean is the son of the founder of McLean’s Investments Inc., which he inherited when his father passed on ten years back. It was on the verge of bankruptcy when the son took it over but now is right up there giving Merrill Lynch some fierce competition. It’s now on the Pacific Coast Stock Exchange and McLean holds 51 percent of the stock through his and his families’ holdings and 49 percent are owned by public investors. Now, hold onto your hat, buddy. The FBI is presently investigating old Roger and his firm for money laundering. Seems they have some rather interesting investors with offshore bank accounts which are proving difficult to trace, and one of them happens to be a Carl Denholm who lives in Palm Springs and who was the previous owner of that house. Couldn’t find any paperwork on a sale; seems Denholm transferred it free and clear to McLean for some reason; perhaps in exchange for some favor in the investment business. I’ll check further on that.”
Scott remained cool but his heart was racing. This was much bigger than he had expected. CD! Carl Denholm. Shit! Cindy and Michael had really gotten themselves in a mess it would seem. “Is Roger McLean aware of this investigation, and also is McLean’s Investments management aware of it?”
“Far as I can tell it’s still undercover but there’s a possibility.”
“Shit!” whispered Scott.
“Double that,” said Max. “From what I could uncover on Denholm, seems he’s head of some consortium owning several hotels in Vegas. Oh, and as far as finding out if any Americans have left the country this last week, there seems to be some confusion on that score. Certain individuals are naturally kept track of by the FBI and CIA but depends who you were thinking of
. Want more detail, I’ll need names.”
“For now,” said Scott, “I need to assimilate all the information you just handed me. I’ll get back to you on the last bit. Hey, thanks for all your help buddy. Looking forward to our next fishing trip soon.”
“Me too. Keep in touch. And for God’s sake stay out of trouble. Don’t go messing with the big fish on your own now.”
“Right. Thanks again and talk soon.”
He then called Detective Grant and asked him how it was going, not mentioning what he had just learned.