Gone

time, especially with an outmoded machine. ’Cause booting up by itself can cause power surges and- ”

Milo edged past him. Slammed his door.

“- drain energy.” Binchy smiled at me.

I said, “He’s had a busy day.”

“He usually does, Dr. Delaware.” Shooting a French cuff, Binchy examined a bright orange Swatch watch. “Whoa, noon already. All of a sudden, I got a burrito Jones. Hello, vending machine. Have a nice day, Doc.”

I opened Milo ’s door, nearly collided with him as he stormed out. He kept walking and I hurried to keep pace.

“Where to?”

“The PlayHouse. Just got a call from Brad Dowd. He’s got something to show us. Talking fast but he didn’t sound rushed to me. More like scared.”

“He say why?”

“Something about Nora. I asked if she was hurt and he said no, then he hung up. I figured I’d wait till we were face-to-face before applying my powers of detection.”

CHAPTER 22

The gate to the PlayHouse property was open. A sky heavy with marine fog browned the grass and deepened the house’s green siding to mustard.

Bradley Dowd stood in front of the garage. One of the barn doors was ajar. Dowd wore a black cashmere crewneck over fawn slacks and black sandals. The fog turned his white hair sooty.

No sign of his Porsche on the street. A red, split-windowed, sixties Corvette was parked up a bit. All the other vehicles in sight were as glamorous as oatmeal.

Dowd waved as we pulled to the curb. Something metallic glinted in his hand. When we reached the garage, he flung the door open. The structure’s aged exterior was deceiving. Inside were black cement floors polished to a gloss and cedar-plank walls adorned with racing posters. Halogen lights glinted from the ceiling rafters.

Triple garage, all three spaces occupied.

To the left was an impeccably restored green Austin Healy, low-slung, waspishly aggressive. Next to that, another Vette, white, happily chromed. Softer body style than the one on the street. Nipple taillights. One of my grad school profs had tooled around in a car like that. He’d bragged about it being a ’53.

A dust filter hummed between the two sports cars. It hadn’t done much for the dented brown Toyota Corolla in the right-hand slot.

Brad Dowd said, “I got here an hour ago, bringing my ’63 Sting Ray back from valve work.” The shiny thing in his grip was a combination padlock. “This piece of crap was sitting where the Stinger’s supposed to go. The doors were unlocked so I checked the reg. It’s Meserve’s. There’s something on the front seat that spooks me a little.”

Milo walked past him, circled the Corolla, squinted inside the car, returned.

“See it?” said Brad Dowd.

“Snow globe.”

“It’s the one I told you about. When Nora broke off with him she must’ve given it back. Don’t you think it’s a little weird that he kept it in his damned heap? And parked the heap in my space?” Dowd’s jaw trembled. “I called Nora yesterday, no answer. Same thing today. She doesn’t have to inform me of her comings and goings, but usually she returns calls. I’m going over to her house but first I wanted you to see this.”

Albert Beamish had spied Nora driving away four days ago. Milo said nothing about that. “Meserve ever leave his car here before, Mr. Dowd?”

“Hell, no. Nora uses the main building for the school but the garage is mine. I’m always in a space crunch.”

“Lots of cars?”

“A few. Sometimes I set aside slots in my buildings, but it’s not always enough. I used to keep a hangar at the airport, which was perfect because it’s right near the office. Then all the demand from the jet owners drove the rentals up.”

He jiggled the padlock. “What bothers me is that only Nora and I know the combination. I wanted her to have it in case of fire or some other disaster. She wouldn’t give it out to him.”

“You’re sure of that,” said Milo.

“What do you mean?”

“Nora’s an adult, sir. Maybe she chose to disregard your advice.”

“About Meserve? No way, Nora agreed with me about that lowlife.” Brad lowered his hand and swung the padlock. “What if he forced her to open up?”

“Why would he do that, sir?”

“To hide that thing,” said Dowd. He eyed the Toyota. “Leaving that stupid globe, there…there’s something off about it. What are you going to do about it?”

“Any idea how long the car’s been here?”

“No more than two weeks because that’s when I took the Stinger in for valve work.”

Milo circled the car again. “Doesn’t seem to be much in here other than the globe.”

“There isn’t,” said Dowd, wringing his hands. The padlock clicked. He hung it on the door hasp and returned, shaking his head. “I warned her about him.”

Milo said, “All we’ve got is his car.”

“I know, I know- think I’m overreacting?”

“It’s normal to worry about your sister but let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“What do I do with the heap?”

“We’ll have the heap towed to the police impound lot.”

“When?”

“I’ll phone right now.”

“Thanks.” Brad Dowd tapped his foot as Milo made the call.

“Within half an hour, Mr. Dowd.”

“Fine, fine- you know what else is bothering me? That girl- the Brand girl. She got mixed up with Meserve and look what happened to her. Nora’s too damned trusting, Lieutenant. What if he showed up and she let him in and he got violent?”

“We’ll check the car for signs of violence. Are you sure your sister and yourself are the only ones with the combination?”

“Damned sure.”

“No way Nora could’ve given it to Meserve? Back when she was still interested in him?”

“She was never interested in him- we’re talking a brief flirtation.” Dowd chewed his lip. “She’d never give him the combination. I explicitly forbade her to give it out. It’s not logical, anyway. If she wanted to open the garage, she could do it herself. Which she wouldn’t, because she knew the Stinger would be coming back.”

“Did she know when?”

“That’s what I was calling her about yesterday. To tell her I’d be driving it back. She didn’t answer.”

“So she didn’t know,” said Milo.

“Let me try her house again.” He produced a shiny black cell phone, punched a two-digit speed-dial code. “Still no answer.”

“Could Reynold Peaty have learned the combination, sir? From working here?”

Dowd’s eyes widened. “Reynold? Why would he want it? Is there something you haven’t told me about him?”

“Turns out he does drive. Has an unregistered vehicle.”

“What? Why the hell would he do that? I pay for a van pool to pick him up and take him to work.”

“He drove himself to a job in Pasadena today.” Milo read off the address from his pad.