“And she was alone at the time?”
“All alone. Nobody else around.”
“How did she seem to you? Nervous, upset, anything like that?”
“Nope,” Powers said. “Just walking across the street to her car.”
“Coming from where?”
“Didn’t see. Someplace on this side.”
“What did you think? I mean, a young black woman, a stranger, sitting in a parked car two nights in a row.”
“Figured she was waiting for somebody. Which is just what she was doing, so you told me.”
“Didn’t make you suspicious?”
“Nope. Why should it?”
“Some people might’ve been.”
“On account of her being black? Not me. I notice things, but I mind my own business unless there’s a good reason to mind somebody else’s. And I don’t judge a person by what color he is or what he looks like. Ethnic diversity’s one of the reasons I like living here-three black families on this block, Hispanic couple, Asian family in the next.”
“Too bad more folks don’t feel that way.”
He showed his teeth again-good teeth to go with the engaging grin. “Won’t get any argument from me on that score.”
“Three black families on this block, you said. Any of them mixed race?”
“Don’t think so, no.”
“Could any of the men be half Caucasian?”
“Well… a couple are light-skinned, but a lot of African-Americans are. Why?”
“Just checking possibilities,” I said. “Did you see the young woman again after eight o’clock?”
Powers shook his head. “But her car was still there when I went to bed.”
“What time was that?”
“Oh, around ten-thirty. Can’t stay up as late as I used to.”
“And she was in it at that time?”
“Can’t swear that she was, no. Pretty dark at night where she was parked.”
“Which was where?”
“Under that bay tree over there, just up the block.”
“The car was gone this morning?”
“Yep. No sign of it then or since.”
Ten-thirty was late for Tamara to be maintaining a surveillance. As much of a Type A as she was, she’d have had trouble sitting still that long. Still, if there’d been some reason for her to continue the stakeout, she’d have done it. One thing she’d never been was a quitter.
I said, “The house she was watching is number eleven twenty-two. The white frame with hedges and Cyclone fence. Supposed to have been vacant the past three months.”
“Is that right?”
“Meaning it hasn’t been?”
“Well, I’ve seen lights inside,” Powers said. “And a man there a couple of times recently, coming and going.”
“Caucasian about forty, heavyset, mustache, longish brown hair?”
“Sounds like him, except for the mustache. Clean-shaven.”
“Stranger to you?”
“First time I saw him he was. Unfriendly cuss-I said hello to him once and he looked right through me.”
“What name is he using?”
“Never heard it. Keeps to himself, doesn’t talk to anybody in the neighborhood. What’re you after him for?”
“Nonpayment of child support in Oregon.”
“Uh-huh,” Powers said. “One of those.”
“You see any sign of him last night?”
“Nope.”
“Night before last?”
“Nope. Not in three or four days.”
“What kind of car does he have?”
“Blue Plymouth Fury, last year’s model. I don’t know the license plate number, but you won’t need it.”
“… I won’t?”
“Your timing’s perfect,” Powers said. “That’s him and the Fury just pulling into the driveway over there.”
I turned in time to see the car roll to a stop, the headlights frozen on the garage door as it started to swing up. I made a parting gesture to Powers, headed over there at a half trot. The driver-suit and tie, carrying a briefcase-was just coming out of the garage when I reached the driveway. He pulled up sharp when he saw me. The interior of the garage was lit from a bulb on the automatic opener; he had the remote in his hand and he pressed it and the door began to whir shut. But not before I had a clear look past him at the Fury’s license plate.
As I neared him, he brought the briefcase up tight against his chest, holding it with both hands. Defensive stance: tense, wary, poised against attack. That told me something about him. Man on the edge, ruled by base emotions-the kind of survivalist capable of just about anything, if he were cornered, to save himself and preserve his freedom.
“Who are you?” Fear put a thin crack in his voice. “What do you want?”
I stopped a couple of paces away, manufactured a smile, and stood relaxed so as not to provoke him. I couldn’t see his face clearly, now that the garage door was all the way down, but there wasn’t much doubt that he was George DeBrissac. “Just want to ask a couple of questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
“I assume you live here?”
“What business is that of yours?”
“I’m trying to find a missing woman, a young black woman who was in this neighborhood last night.”
No reaction to that.
“She’s about twenty-five,” I said, “driving a red Toyota Camry. I wonder if you might’ve seen her.”
“I wasn’t home last night.”
“Well, she might’ve been here pretty late-”
“I haven’t been home at all the past three days,” he said. “Out of town on business. Can’t help you. Now if you don’t mind…”
I stayed where I was, still smiling. “I’m really worried about her,” I said. “She’s a very responsible young woman-”
“I told you I can’t help you. I’m sorry, good night.”
He sidled away from me, his body half turned and the briefcase still up like a shield between us. Didn’t take his eyes off me as he crossed the yard, climbed the front steps, fumbled his key into the door lock. The defensive tension seemed not to loosen even after he got the door open; he took it inside with him.
I retreated to the sidewalk without looking back. He’d be at a window now, with a corner of the curtain pulled aside, watching me; I could almost feel his eyes. Some DeBrissac. Some little deadbeat coward.
But was that all he was? If Tamara had braced him and he’d realized somehow who she was and felt threatened enough by her, I could see him reacting with the sudden mindless viciousness of a trapped animal. And then frantically covering up to save his ass.
Only I didn’t believe something like that had happened-didn’t want to believe it. Too many things argued against that kind of scenario. DeBrissac’s lack of reaction when I mentioned Tamara. His disinterest in who she was, who I was, and why I was looking for her. His claim that he’d been out of town the past three days-easy enough to check up on. And the fact that Tamara was seasoned enough not to have either alerted or provoked him; if she’d talked to him at all, she’d’ve done it with a ready excuse and only long enough to make certain of his
