Private Eyes

“Garages? How many?”

“Ten. One long building with ten stalls, actually. It was built for her first husband’s antique car collection. Some of the vehicles are priceless. The doors are kept bolted at all times. Only the Dawn’s stall was left open.”

Milo jotted quickly, looked up. “Go on.”

Ramp looked puzzled.

Milo said, “Other buildings on the property.”

“Buildings,” said Ramp. “A potting shed, pool cabanas, a changing room off the tennis court. That’s it, unless you count the gazebo.”

“What about servants’ quarters?”

“The staff lives here in the house. One of the corridors upstairs leads to their quarters.”

“How many on the staff?”

“There’s Madeleine, of course. Two maids and the gardener. The gardener doesn’t live on the premises. He’s got five sons, none of whom work for us full time but all of whom are here from time to time, helping out.”

“Any of the staff actually see your wife leave?”

Ramp said, “One of the maids was polishing the entry, saw her walk out the door. I’m not sure if anyone actually saw her drive off. If you want to question them I can go get them right now.”

“Where are they?”

“Up in their rooms.”

“When do they go off shift?”

“At nine. They don’t always retire right away. Sometimes they stay in the kitchen- talking, having coffee. I sent them up early tonight. Didn’t want any hysteria.”

“They pretty upset?”

Ramp nodded. “They’ve known her a long time, tend to be protective.”

“What about other homes?”

“Only one. At the beach. Broad Beach. Malibu. She’s never gone there, to my knowledge. Doesn’t like the water- she doesn’t even swim in the pool here. But I called over there anyway. Twice. Nothing.”

“Did she say anything recently- over the past few days or even weeks- about taking off? Going away by herself?”

“Absolutely not, and I-”

“No hints dropped? Remarks that didn’t seem to mean anything then but do now?”

“I said no!” Ramp’s color deepened. He squinted so hard, my head began to ache.

Milo tapped his pen and waited.

Ramp said, “That wouldn’t make sense. She wanted more involvement with other people, not less. That was the whole point of her treatment- getting back into the social whirl. And frankly, I don’t see the point of this line of questioning- who the hell cares what she talked about? She didn’t go on vacation, for Christ’s sake! Something happened to her out there. Why don’t you drive downtown and shake up that psychopath McCloskey! Teach the idiots who let him go something about police work!”

Breathing hard. Temple veins swollen.

Milo said, “Before I came here, I spoke to the detective at Central Division who interviewed McCloskey. Fellow named Bradley Lewis- not the best cop, but not the worst, either. McCloskey’s alibi is ironclad- he was feeding the homeless at the mission where he lives. Peeling potatoes and washing dishes and ladling out soup all afternoon. Dozens of people saw him, including the priest who runs the place. He never left from noon till eight. So there’s no way the police could have kept him in custody.”

“What about as a material witness?”

“No crime, no witness, Mr. Ramp. As far as they’re concerned it’s just a situation of some lady who stayed out late.”

“But look who we’re talking about- what he did!”

“True. But he served his time; his parole’s over. Far as the law’s concerned, he’s Joe Citizen. The police have zero hold over him.”

“Can’t you do anything?”

“My hold’s less than zero.”

“I wasn’t referring to legal niceties, Mr. Sturgis.”

Milo smiled, took a deep breath. “Sorry. Donated my rubber hose to Goodwill.”

“I’m serious, Mr. Sturgis.”

The smile died. “So am I, Mr. Ramp. If that’s the kind of help you’re after, you’ve dialed a very wrong number.”

He put his pen away.

Ramp said, “Look, I didn’t mean to-”

Milo held out a hand. “I know this is hell. I know the system stinks. But rousting McCloskey right now is not in your wife’s best interest. Central Division said after they let him go, they drove him home- guy doesn’t have a car- and he went to bed. Let’s say I go over there, wake him up. He refuses to let me in. So I force my way in, play Dirty Harry. In the movies that works great- the power of intimidation. He confesses all, and the good guys win. In the real world, he hires a lawyer. Sues my ass, and yours, and the media find out. Meanwhile your wife comes waltzing in- she had car trouble, couldn’t get to a phone. A real happy ending except now she’s back on page one. The main feature on A Current Affair. Not to mention having to watch you cough up some dough to McCloskey or play defendant for a couple of years. What’s that gonna do for her psychological progress?”

Ramp said, “Christ, this is insanity,” and shook his head.

“I asked Central Division to keep a watch on him. They said they’d try, but to be truthful that’s not worth a lot. If she’s not back by morning, I’ll pay him a visit. If you can’t handle waiting, I’ll drive down there right now. When he doesn’t let me in, I’ll sit out there all night watching his door, write you a detailed surveillance report that sounds pretty impressive. I’m charging you seventy dollars an hour plus expenses. A bullshit hour gets billed the same as a productive one. But I just figured for that kind of money, you’re entitled to some independent judgment on my part.”

“And what is your independent judgment, Mr. Sturgis?”

“At this point, there are better ways of spending my time.”

“Such as?”

“Such as making more hospital calls. Phoning all-night service stations. The auto club- if you’re members.”

“We are. Those sound like things I can do.”

“You can. Feel free. The more people working on it, the faster we’ll get it done. If you want to do it yourself, I’ll write you up a list of the other things you can do and be on my way.”

“What kinds of things?”

“Hooking up with the paramedics and the independent ambulance companies, keeping in touch with the traffic divisions of the various police departments in order to make sure information doesn’t get lost in the shuffle- it happens a lot, believe me. If you want to go further, check out airlines, air charter services, car rental agencies. Run credit-card traces- find out what cards she carries, have the companies flag the numbers, so when they’re used to make a purchase, we know where and when and get the information as soon as possible. If she’s not back by morning, I’d also get to work on her bank records, see if she made any major withdrawals recently. Do you cosign on her accounts?”

“No, our finances are independent.”

“No shared accounts?”

“No, Mr. Sturgis.” Ramp had folded his arms across his chest. Each word seemed to crank him tighter. “Withdrawals, airlines- what are you saying? That she deliberately ran away?”

“I’m sure she didn’t, but-”

“She definitely didn’t.”

Milo ran his hand over his face. “Mr. Ramp, let’s hope she walks in any minute. If she doesn’t, it’s got to be approached as a missing-persons case, and missing-persons cases aren’t great for the ego- the egos of those left waiting. Because to do the job properly, you’ve got to assume anything’s possible. It’s like a doctor biopsying a