should.”
“Put it on the expense account.”
“I will,” he said. “I take it you want me to go to the club meeting in SoMa Saturday night?”
“Probably, if you can keep from having sex with one of them.”
He laughed. “Cost you extra if I can’t.”
Tamara just looked at him.
“Okay, not funny. Sorry. Don’t worry; I can handle it.”
“I wasn’t worried,” she said. “What’s the SoMa address?”
“One-eight-seven-seven-nine Harrison. Top-floor loft, Unit Six. You figure on being there?”
“I don’t know yet. See what happens between now and Saturday.”
“If you do want me to go and Zeller shows, I could find a way to slip out and give you a quick call, let you know. And then see what I can find out about him-where he lives, what he’s doing for his bread.”
“And get him talking about his mother, if you can.”
“His mother? Why?”
Tamara stonewalled the question.
Stewart shrugged and said, “Okay. What’s her name?”
“Alisha. But you’re not supposed to know that.”
“Anything else?”
“If there’s any relationship between him and Roland, aside from the club thing.”
Stewart nodded. “You want the whole evening recorded, all the sports rap?”
“No need. Just anything that’s relevant to Zeller, his mother, Roland.”
“You got it.” He shoved his hands in his coat pockets, said, “Be seeing you,” and went away toward 3rd at a fast walk.
Tamara crossed the street, unlocked the front door to the building, and climbed the stairs to the agency offices. Stewart had been thoroughly professional tonight, except for that one wisecrack; hadn’t come on to her at all. Good. Fine. And yet, in spite of herself, she couldn’t help feeling a vague disappointment. The man was a hound and the only women hounds didn’t bother to hit on were the ones nobody wanted, the skanks and woofers. A tacit rejection to make her feel unattractive and undesirable…
Pathetic.
Don’t start trippin’ on yourself, girl!
In her office, the first thing she did was to boot up her Mac and check on Psychic Readings by Alisha. There was a listing in the current city directory; Tamara made a note of the phone number. No Web site, no other Net reference. City treasurer and tax collector’s office next. No Business Registration Certificate. And no application for a New Business Permit on file.
So Mama hadn’t been operating here for long. Three months max, that was about as long as you could get away without applying for a business license in San Francisco before you got caught. One more strike against Alisha. One more reason to believe she was into a bigger scam than phony psychic readings.
Tamara ran the Fillmore Street address to find out who owned the building. Eldon Management Company. Thomas Eldon, president. Address on Sutter Street downtown. Eldon Management owned three contiguous buildings on that block of Fillmore, in fact, but none of the tenants’ names was listed. Tomorrow she’d try to pry Alisha’s last name out of Thomas Eldon or one of his representatives, and at that it probably wouldn’t be her real name. Good bet that she’d paid her deposit and rent in cash and that the management company, like a lot of them, wasn’t too scrupulous about making background checks.
Something else that would have to wait until the morning: finding out who Roland was. State law forbid licensed detective agencies from running direct DMV license searches to get the names and addresses of registered car owners. She had a contact in the bureau who’d do it for her, but only during business hours.
Time for Stewart’s tape. She plugged it into her Sony digital, fast-forwarded to near the end, ran it back and forth until she found the exchange he’d told her about. Lots of background noise, as Stewart had said, but with the volume turned all the way up the men’s voices were clear enough-Roland’s was a deep baritone-and you could understand all but a few words here and there.
Doctor Easy: Before we leave, Roland… have you made a decision yet?
Roland: About the fund? I think I’m ready to go ahead, as long as you and Lucas are still on board.
Doctor Easy: We are. It’s a solid investment, seems to me. And a worthwhile cause.
Roland: No question about that.
Doctor Easy: You still sound hesitant.
Roland: I’m not, but [I? Vi?]… completely convinced yet.
Doctor Easy: Another reading?
Roland: Yes.
Doctor Easy: Will you know by Saturday night?
Roland: I think so.
Doctor Easy: Good. Lucas is anxious to get things moving.
Stewart: What sort of investment, if you don’t mind my asking?
Doctor Easy: You’ll meet Lucas tomorrow night. He’ll give you the details if you’re interested.
Stewart: You said it was a worthwhile cause?
Doctor Easy: Worthwhile, and potentially lucrative for the investors. Helping black families in need.
Stewart: Helping them how?
Doctor Easy: Tomorrow night, Deron. Let’s be moving on now. I’m late for dinner as it is.
Investment fund to help black families in need. Worthwhile, lucrative-the perfect con to work on well-off African Americans who were both socially conscious and greedy. Uh-huh. Scam devised by Lucas, probably with Mama’s help. Manipulate the vics by pretending to be one of the investors himself. Roland needs more convincing than Doctor Easy, but he’s into psychics, Lucas introduces him to Mama, and she tells him it’s a terrific deal and he should go for it. One more reading-yeah. Chances are he’s the big pigeon, with the most money to invest; that’s why they’ve spent so much time and effort setting him up.
Tamara listened to the section again, and a third time, trying to make out the words Roland had said right before “completely convinced.” Somebody had called out for the bartender at that point. First word: “Vi,” not “I.” She was pretty sure of that now. The other missing word. “Isn’t?” Had to be.
“Vi isn’t completely convinced yet.”
Vi. Short for what? Violet, Viola, Vivian… and a bunch of other possibilities. Whatever, she must be Roland’s wife. So were they both into psychics? Or maybe just her and she was the one who needed convincing by Alisha’s readings? But if that was it, then why had Roland gone straight to Mama’s from the lounge meeting tonight?
Lots of questions that needed answering before she could figure out the best way to blow up the scheme. She had to have evidence, too, in order to put Lucas and Alisha away. Didn’t exist anymore where the identity and property theft was concerned; and using somebody’s name wasn’t a crime, unless you did it to commit fraud. But setting up a scam wasn’t a fraud felony until and unless money changed hands. And if you waited too long after that happened, they’d skip and disappear with the loot.
Tamara listened to the entire tape, start to finish, in case there was anything useful Stewart might’ve missed. There wasn’t. Most of the conversation was feeler stuff, strangers getting to know one another in general ways, and sports chatter. Doctor Easy did most of the talking, asking Stewart questions, some of them with thinly veiled sexual overtones. Stewart fielded them all smoothly and with just the right amount of nervousness, the way he had on the phone with Hawkins. Roland, as Stewart had told her, didn’t have much to say. A listener, she thought. Brought along to evaluate the new recruit. At some point Roland had probably given Doctor Easy a signal to go ahead and issue the invitation to the club meeting tomorrow night.
Zeller was mentioned a few times, mostly by Stewart in casual attempts to draw out information. No such luck. The brief exchange about the investment fund was all there was on that subject.
It was late, after ten o’clock, when she switched off the recorder and locked the tape in her desk drawer. She was tired, gritty eyed, but she doubted she’d sleep much again to-night. Too keyed up.
Quiet in the office, too-too quiet. That late-night stillness empty buildings had. The walls were thick enough
