'Willis's death is still an open question. Don't forget, the police have ruled it an accident.'
'It was murder. I'm sure of that now.' She clenched her hands at her sides. 'Rafe, I don't like the fact that two of my old crowd from the ice-prism research group got tangled up with this missing relic thing.'
'Three,' he corrected softly.
'What?' She shot him a quizzical glance.
'All three members of your old research study group got mixed up with the case. Willis, Lambert, and you.'
'I see what you mean.' Her brows drew together in a troubled frown. 'It is sort of a weird coincidence, isn't it?'
'Very weird. And given the fact that one of the old gang is now dead and the second nearly got himself iced today, I think I'm going to keep a very close eye on you, partner.'
Rafe left two more messages with Quentin Austen's gum-snapping secretary, but Austen returned none of the calls. The investment ploy was not working as well as it usually did. Time to try a different approach.
He was working on the new angle when the phone finally rang.
It was not Austen. It was Hobart Batt.
'I contacted Affinity Associates, Mr. Stonebraker,' Hobart said stiffly. 'Apparently you were misinformed. There is no Miss Orchid Adams registered with that agency.'
Rafe tightened his grip on the phone. 'Are you positive?'
'Absolutely. I spoke with one of the counselors. He very kindly double-checked the firm's files. He assured me that he has no record of her registration. None of the three counselors who work there remember her, although —'
'Although, what?'
Hobart sighed. 'One of the counselors who was with the firm until a couple of months ago left to take a position in New Vancouver. It's possible, I suppose, that she was the one who worked with your Miss Orchid. But even if that were the case, the file would have remained with Affinity Associates after she left. Someone else would have been assigned to handle Miss Adams.'
'Handling Miss Adams is easier said than done,' Rafe said before hanging up the phone.
Interesting, he thought. What were the odds of Orchid's file getting lost in a small agency such as Affinity Associates? Probably vanishingly small. Unless, of course, someone had deliberately seen to it that the file went missing.
As far as he could tell, the only person who had a reason to lose Orchid's marriage registration file was Orchid herself.
He was still mulling over the problem of Orchid's mysteriously missing file that night as he stood in the darkened hall outside the offices of Dr. Quentin Austen.
Orchid watched as he used a pick to deactivate the ice lock on the glass-paned door. 'Are you sure Dr. Austen is out of town?'
'I found out late this afternoon that he suddenly canceled all his appointments for the next couple of weeks and took an impromptu vacation. His receptionist doesn't know where he went.'
'Hmm.' She glanced up and down the hall again. 'What if there's an alarm?'
'There isn't. I checked.'
'How?'
'Called the building manager's office this afternoon. Pretended to be a sales rep for an alarm company. Said I'd make it worth his while if he'd supply me with the names of tenants in the building who might be potential clients. Austen's name was on the list.'
'Meaning that he did not already have a system?'
'That was the obvious assumption.'
'What if your assumption is wrong?' she asked.
'I'll think of something.'
'My, this is an exciting hobby you've found for yourself.'
'Beats the heck out of stamp collecting.'
He heard the faint hiss as the jelly-ice dissolved temporarily inside the lock, releasing the bolt.
He eased the door open and waited for a few seconds, listening with all his senses.
Nothing. Austen's offices were deserted for the night.
'All right, here we go,' he said softly. 'Watch your step. We don't want to make any noise that would attract the night janitor's attention.'
'I'm surprised there is a night janitor. This isn't exactly a high-rent office building. Guess Austen isn't the world's most successful syn-psych shrink.'
Orchid followed him into the outer office and gently closed the door behind her. 'What, exactly, are we going to look for in here?'
'I'm not sure. I'll know it when I see it.'
There were two sets of file cabinets in the outer office. The drawers in the one nearest the receptionist's desk were not locked. Those in the larger cabinet on the other side of the room were. Rafe started with them.
There was no trick to deactivating the simple drawer locks. He opened the one that contained the files of patients whose last names began with Q through Z. He played the narrow beam of the flashlight over the names on the folders.
There was no file for Theo Willis.
Orchid peered over his shoulder. 'I suppose that would have been too easy.'
'Probably.'
He closed the drawer and walked into the inner office. It was furnished with two padded leather chairs, one of which had a side table standing next to it. There was a box of tissue on the table. The client's chair, Rafe decided. The prints on the walls were nondescript designs in pale pastels. Probably intended to be soothing, he thought. They looked dull and lifeless to him. The rug was the shade of discreet gray that was guaranteed not to show stains for years. The desk was a cheap reproduction of an Early Exploration period piece.
Rafe aimed the flashlight at the top of the desk. The only items on it were a telephone, a leather blotter, and a fountain pen in a wooden stand.
'A little too neat, if you ask me,' Orchid said. 'I never trust anyone who maintains a perfectly clear desk.'
'I'll remember that. Here, hold the flashlight while I go through it.'
She stood over him and aimed the light while he quickly went through the desk's four drawers. Nothing caught his eye until he opened the last one on the bottom left-hand side and discovered a stack of garishly colored magazines.
'Well, well, well.' Orchid bent down for a closer look.
Rafe glanced at the bulging nude breasts that filled virtually the entire cover of the first magazine in the stack. He lifted it and looked at the second one. It contained an enlarged closeup of a woman's naked buttocks.
'Looks like Austen has a few fixations of his own,' Rafe said.
'Do you suppose the good doctor uses these magazines for therapy?' Orchid asked.
'More likely he uses them to jack off with in the men's room down the hall when he gets a break between clients.' Rafe closed the drawer. 'Damn. They've got to be here somewhere.'
'What?'
'The billing records.'
Ten minutes later he found what he was looking for in one of the unlocked file cabinet drawers next to the receptionist's desk. Satisfaction stirred in his gut when he found a file labeled Willis, T. There was a partially filled out billing log inside.
'We're in luck. Whoever removed the patient file on Theo Willis did not remember to take the financial stuff,' he said.
'Or didn't think that there was anything important in that file.' Orchid studied the log as Rafe removed it from the cabinet. 'After all, what can you tell from it except that Theo was one of Dr. Austen's clients? We already know that.'
