“But he could have gone back.”
“Yes, he could have.”
“Did he tell you where he was calling from?”
“No. It might’ve been his car-faint background noises.”
“Then why didn’t he call me with the news? My cell was on the entire day.”
I kept quiet. So did Tamara. She knew better than to share her dire speculations with a client.
Routine questions, then, me asking most of them by tacit agreement.
“I take it your fiance has never done anything like this before? Willfully disappeared for a short period without telling anyone?”
“Not in the year I’ve known him. Never, I’m sure. He’s simply not that sort of person.”
“Business problems of any kind that you know about?”
“No. He has a very secure position with Hungerford and Son.”
“Personal problems? Enemies?”
“None. Everyone likes David.”
I didn’t and Tamara didn’t and he’d been divorced three times, so the answer was ingenuous. So was her response to my next question.
“Pardon me for asking this, but we need to know. Does he have a history of mental problems or alcohol or chemical abuse?”
“Absolutely not. David is the most stable and sober man I’ve ever known.” The implication from her tone being that she wouldn’t have accepted his marriage proposal if he was anything but.
“Does he have any friends in the city, anyone he might contact if he had a problem or an emergency?”
“No. The only people he knows here are casual business acquaintances. We’ve driven up a few times for dinner, the symphony, a show. He would have introduced me to any friends he had here, or at least told me about them.”
Not necessarily, but I let it go. “Is there anywhere you can think of that he might have gone voluntarily?”
“No. And certainly not without notifying me or his office.”
“Do you own a second home?”
“My family has a house at Lake Tahoe, but David would never go there by himself. Besides, it’s closed up this time of year.”
“Okay. One more thing. A photo, if you have one.”
“Yes, but it’s wallet size.”
“That’ll do.”
It was a nicely framed head-and-shoulders snapshot, Virden smiling all over his handsome face, one eye half-closed as though he’d been snapped in the middle of a wink. She seemed reluctant to part with it. “It’s my favorite,” she said, “and I’m not sure I still have the negative. I’d like it back when you find David.”
“Of course.”
“You’ll start looking for him right away?”
I said we would, and that we’d let her know as soon as we found out anything she should know.
“Thank you. I hope…” She stopped, nibbled her lower lip, and substituted a wan smile for what she’d been about to say. Scared, all right, and trying not to show it. Her bearing remained regal, the wan smile fixed, as I showed her out.
When I came back, Tamara said, “No nonsense and a lot of cool. I like her and I feel sorry for her.”
“Same here.”
“Just the opposite of Virden. I wonder what she sees in him.”
“Something you and I don’t, evidently.”
“Gonna get hurt, whether we find him or not. Women ought to have better sense than to fall in love with guys like him.”
“Love doesn’t work that way, kiddo.”
“Not telling me anything I don’t know. Look at my track record with men.”
“You’ll meet the right one someday. And you’ll know it when you do.”
“Uh-huh,” she said. “So how come every wrong dude I ever hooked up with seemed like Mr. Right at the time?”
12
The Room for Rent sign was absent from the fence in front of the McManus house. No surprise there; it didn’t take long to find single tenants with modest needs in neighborhoods like Dogpatch that had easy public-transit access to downtown. The driveway was empty today, but the house wasn’t.
Deja vu when I thumbed the doorbell: the Hound of the Baskervilles started his furious barking, a woman’s commanding voice said, “Quiet, Thor!” to shut him up, and Jane Carson opened up wearing her toothy smile. One good look at me and the smile turned upside down.
“Oh,” she said, “it’s you again.”
“Me again. I’d like to speak to Ms. McManus.”
“She’s not home.”
“When do you expect her back?”
“No specific time. She has a busy schedule.”
“Me, too. Busy, busy.”
As before, the dog sat on his haunches behind and to one side of the woman, watching me with his yellow eyes. Maybe he sensed her chilly attitude or maybe he just didn’t like me any more than I liked him; the eyes looked hot and his fangs were visible in what I took to be a silent growl.
“What did you wish to see R.L. about?”
I held up Virden’s photo. Carson looked at it, but only for a couple of seconds. “This man.”
“I’ve never seen him before. Who is he?”
“David Virden, Ms. McManus’s ex-husband. The man who came to see her Tuesday afternoon.”
“I don’t know anything about that. I was away Tuesday afternoon.”
“And she didn’t mention his visit?”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Say anything about him after I was here on Monday?”
“No.”
“Tell me, Ms. Carson, just what is it you do here? Employee, tenant, companion?”
“I don’t see where that’s any of your business.”
“Simple question.”
“All right, then, I’ll give you a simple answer. I work with the dogs.”
“Been with Canine Customers long?”
“Not long, no.” Very cold and crisp now. Thor’s ears pricked up; a little more of his fangs showed. “Is there anything else?”
I got out one of my business cards, jotted a “please contact me ASAP” note on the back, and handed it to Carson-doing it all slowly with one eye on Thor. He sat still, but the yellow eyes followed every move I made. “Make sure she gets this, please. I’ll expect to-”
That was as far as I got, because she shut the door in my face.
I made a fifteen-minute driving canvass over a radius of several blocks. There was no sign of Virden’s black Porsche Cayman-or any other model or color Porsche. Finding him or his vehicle wasn’t going to be that easy.
McManus’s immediate neighbors were the next order of business. I didn’t make any effort to conceal my continued presence in the area; in fact, I parked across the street from Canine Customers and took my time walking around. If Carson was paying attention, I wanted her to see me and relay the information to McManus. It wouldn’t
