“But you think Aaron knows?”
“Yes. Have you seen or talked to your brother in the past few days?”
“No. Aaron and I… we’re not close. He has his life and I have mine. I haven’t seen him in months. But he-”
One of the kids let out a scream. She said, “Now what? Excuse me,” and hurried out of the room. Runyon took a short turn around it, but there was nothing in there for him.
She was back inside of three minutes. “Kids,” she said, but with a motherly affection. Then she said, “Aaron called me last night.”
“Oh? Any particular reason?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t here. Nobody was here. The kids were with a neighbor and I was out with a friend and I had my cell phone on voice mail. He left a message.”
“Did you call him back?”
“Not last night. I… didn’t get home until very late. I tried this morning, but he didn’t answer at his apartment and he wasn’t at work and his cell was off.”
“What did his message say?”
“Just that he needed to talk to me. He sounded… funny.”
“Funny?”
“Not like himself. Upset or worried… shook up.”
“Is the message still on your voice mail?”
“… Should be. I don’t think I erased it. You want to hear it?”
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
She went and got her cell phone and played the message. It was a good quality unit; the voice and the inflections were clear.
“Sis, this is Aaron. I know it’s been a while but… I need to talk to you. I really need to talk. If you’re listening, pick up.” A few seconds of humming silence. “Oh God. I don’t think I can stand any more of this without… Look, call me back as soon as you get this, okay? It’s really important.”
“He does sound funny, doesn’t he?” Shari Lucas said.
Runyon said thinly, “Yes, he does.”
“He’s involved in Brian’s trouble. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” he lied. “But I’ll find out. Do you have a key to his apartment?”
She blinked at him. “A key? Why would you want-”
“Please, Mrs. Lucas. Do you have a key?”
“No. I never had need for one… Oh, sweet Jesus, you don’t think something’s happened to him?”
He pasted on a reassuring smile, pressed one of his business cards into her hand. “Do something for me, okay? Call Aaron’s friends, see if you can locate him. And call me right away if you do. Will you do that?”
“All right, but… Can’t you give me some idea of what this is all about?”
No, he couldn’t. What he’d just begun to realize about her brother and Brian Youngblood had shaken him a little; it would knock her down. He said he’d call her later, or Aaron would, and got out of there as fast as he could without scaring her any more than she already was.
22
The damn cell phone started in again as I was driving to work Friday morning. I was on the curvy part of Upper Market and I had to wait for a break in traffic in order to pull over into curb space.
I barked a hello, and a woman’s voice said, “This is Deanne Goldman. Mitch Krochek’s friend?” She made the last a question, the way some people do when talking to strangers.
“Yes, Ms. Goldman.”
“Mitch had to leave this morning before seven-an emergency at one of his job sites-and he didn’t want to bother you so early. So he asked me to call and let you know he won’t be available all day.”
“When will he be available?”
“He didn’t know. Probably not until sometime this evening.”
“Ask him to call me when he gets in,” I said. While she was saying she would, I had a thought. “Would it be possible for you to meet with me today? For a few minutes on your lunch hour, say?”
“… Why?”
“A few questions I’d like to ask you.”
“About what? I don’t know anything about Mitch’s wife.”
“I’m sure you don’t. Just some general questions.”
“Well… I suppose it’d be all right.”
“Suggest a time and a place that would be convenient.”
It took her a few seconds. “There’s Heinold’s at the foot of Webster Street. Do you know it?”
“I’ve been there, yes.”
“I’ll try to be at one of the outside tables.”
“What time?”
“Noon?”
“Fine,” I said. “How will I know you?”
She described herself. I told her what to expect in return.
When I got to the agency I filled Tamara in on what had gone down with Phil Partain. “So now we’ve got the beating cleared up, but I can’t see Partain as the person responsible for the disappearance. Two separate events.”
“Who, then? Lassiter’s out, QCL’s out, Partain’s out. One of her gambling friends? Somebody else she owed money to?”
“Possibilities, both. There’s another, too: Mitchell Krochek.”
“You think?” she said. “Why would he call you if he’s responsible?”
“Smoke screen. Make himself look innocent if the law steps in.”
“That’d mean he killed her and did something with the body.”
“If he did kill her,” I said, “chances are it was an accident-end product of a fight. He’s not the premeditated type.”
“Not the violent type, either, according to his BG.”
“You don’t have to be the violent type to lose control in a screaming argument. His wife gave him plenty of provocation and he’s been on the ragged edge. Still… What’s his first wife’s name again?”
“Let me check the file.” I went into her office with her while she brought it up on her computer. “Right-Mary Ellen Layne.”
“What have you got on her?”
“Let’s see. Not too much-I didn’t go very deep. Remarried, one daughter. Lives in San Bruno, works here in the city-”
“Where?”
“Tarbell Jewelers, on Post.”
Ten minutes from South Park. I said, “I think I’ll pay her a visit, see if she feels like talking about her ex- husband.”
T arbell Jewelers opened at ten o’clock. The address was half a block off Union Square, which meant street parking was impossible; I left my car in the Square’s underground garage and walked over to Post through a thin, misty overcast. It was five past ten when I got there. The two employees, one male, one female, gave me those bright-and-hopeful, early-morning looks that disappear when they find out you’re not the first customer of the day after all.
The woman was Mary Ellen Layne. Krochek’s age, conservatively dressed as befitted the surroundings- Tarbell’s was one of the more exclusive downtown jewelry stores-and a general body double for Janice Krochek. Mitch evidently liked his women slender, brunette, high-cheekboned, small-breasted. Her professional smile
