“The whole world’s going to show up.”
“Yeah, but my point is that I’ll be in the Green Room at the War Memorial when high noon rolls around.”
“Well”-Juhle’s smile had no humor in it-“then in that case we’d better get your statement before eleven. In fact, keep talking much longer and we’ll drive downtown right now and get it all polished up before dawn if you’d like. Good?”
It didn’t sound good to Hunt. He’d heard the best offer he was going to get. So he stood up, shook Juhle’s hand, told him he’d be there before eleven, and said good night.
17
“I know it’s early,” Hunt began when Mickey picked up his phone at around seven o’clock the next morning, “but-”
“No sweat,” Mickey replied. “We saw CityTalk and figured, ‘Whoa.’ Tam’s in the shower now and as soon as she’s out, we’re on our way down. Unless you’ve got something for us to do out here.”
“No. We need to talk first before we do anything. You guys are great. Have you heard yet about Nancy Neshek?”
He hadn’t, and Hunt told him.
Mickey paused to take in the enormity of it. “This thing’s heating up pretty good, isn’t it?” he said at last.
“It’s not cooling down, that’s for sure,” Hunt said.
Hunt pulled a chair for himself from the back room, and forty minutes after Mickey had hung up the phone at his apartment, the three of them were all seated and gathered in the tiny reception area at the Hunt Club.
“We’ve got some huge issues to deal with today that weren’t here yesterday,” Hunt began. “First, Tam, I’ve got a list for you and I’ve got to put you on calling in some freelance troops to do some hourly work for us. Evidently, with the reward, word’s gotten out that we’re in the private investigations business again, and I’m not about to let the opportunity pass because we don’t have enough people. If I give you the assignments and deadlines, you think you’d be comfortable doling ’em out?”
This was a significant increase over any of the responsibilities Tamara had shouldered in the past, but Mickey could see that the idea hit her like a shot of adrenaline. Hunt clearly was trying to motivate her to stay on, take more ownership of her job, get back to the way she’d been before the meltdown. And this appeared to be an effective way to do it. “If you think I can.”
“I know you can. Get ’em in here so you can see them in person, make sure they’re not stoned or drunk, get an idea of what they’re capable of, tell them what we’ll pay, and parcel out the individual gigs. Good?”
“Good.”
“All right. Now. We got three new calls this morning, but the first two sound like crazies to me. We all agree?”
Nods all around. And no wonder, with one call being from Belinda the psychic again-apparently she was hot on the scent now-and the other from a guy who used to know Dominic at one of the projects and had seen him walking around near Japantown yesterday-he was sure of it.
“But the Len Turner call,” Hunt went on, “I’m going to have to talk to him again. He’ll be at the memorial service today. As you heard on his phone message, he’s pretty pissed off. He thinks we had something to do with the leak to CityTalk, if that’s what it was.”
Mickey raised a finger. “What do you think it was, Wyatt?”
“I think these reports were due to come out anyway and both Turner and Dominic knew about them in advance somehow. Beyond that, I think he’s a dangerous guy who thinks that since he’s paying us, we’ll do whatever he wants. Now, I don’t know what they did about these reports, if anything, but obviously somebody’s playing fast and loose with this community money. And meanwhile, I want to protect our position vis-a-vis the reward, and Turner’s clearly the guy to see about that. But first I’ve got to waste a couple of hours this morning talking to Juhle and Russo about finding Neshek’s body. So, Mick, we’re going to want to change our strategy.”
“Okay. Sure. Whatever.”
“This isn’t clearinghouse stuff anymore. Which is why we’ve got to be careful with Mr. Turner, since it’s not what he thinks he’s paying us to do. We don’t want to give him a reason to pull the plug, agreed?”
“Of course.”
He looked over at Tamara. “See why I love this guy?” Then, back to Mickey. “Okay. Even if we haven’t had any reward calls, you and I are both going to get in a quick look at this Neshek thing, if only because then we can eliminate suspects on Como.”
“How’s that?” Mickey asked.
“If somebody’s got an alibi for Monday night, two nights ago, when Neshek got killed, then odds are they didn’t kill Como. Assuming, of course, which I am, that the same person killed both of them.”
“Do Juhle and Russo think that?” Tamara asked.
“They won’t say so, at least not to me, but they’d be dumb if they didn’t.”
Mickey sat, his arm resting on the back of his chair, apparently relaxed. But he couldn’t stop tapping his foot. “So what’s the plan?”
“The plan is that I go to the memorial service this morning and concentrate on the Como people and see if there’s any I can eliminate. If, say, Mrs. Como had a bridge group over or went to Napa or something on Monday night, then she’s clear. Same with Al Carter. Or even your friend Alicia.”
Mickey shot a quick-angry? defensive?-glance at his sister, then said to Hunt, “What about Alicia? You’re not telling me she’s really still a suspect in this.”
“Well, she’s a person without an alibi for the time Como was killed. If she’s got one for Neshek… what’s that look?”
Tamara answered. “We had her and her brother over for dinner last night.”
“Her and her brother?” His jaw suddenly clamped down, Hunt looked from Tamara to Mickey, and back again. “Why did you do that?”
“Because they’re good people,” Mickey said. “I wanted to have them over. We’re starting to be friends.”
“I’m happy for you,” Wyatt said evenly. “But they’re also-or at least she is-a suspect in a murder investigation, unless she’s got an alibi on Monday night.”
Mickey and Tamara shared another furtive look.
“What now?” Hunt said.
Tamara let out a breath. “She slept out in her car by the beach Monday night. Got up early to surf Tuesday morning.”
After a pause, Hunt asked, “What beach?”
Mickey took it. “Ocean. Out by Seal Rock.”
Hunt hesitated again. “Did I tell you where Nancy Neshek lived?”
“No.” The defensive pose sitting heavy on Mickey now. “Where?”
“Just above Phelan Beach, well out that way.”
Mickey was shaking his head. “There is no way Alicia killed anybody, Wyatt. If you talked to her, you’d know that in five minutes.”
“How would I know that?”
“Because you could tell. You could just see the person she is.”
Hunt just barely did not snort. “I don’t think I’ve got to remind either of you how unreliable personal reactions can be. People can hide things, really for truly. They can fool you even with who they are.” He pointed a finger at each of them. “All of us know this firsthand, so excuse me if I’m not overly enthusiastic about Alicia’s overtures to become your friend.”
“She hasn’t made any moves, Wyatt. I asked her over to dinner.”
“That’s true,” Tamara added.
“I’m sure it is.”
