“Ertha Stadlbraun said Peaty never had visitors.”
“Ertha Stadlbraun goes to sleep by eleven,” I said. “Be interesting to know if anyone at the apartment recognizes the Gaidelases’ photos.”
He stared at me.
“Peaty, Andy, and Cathy. And let’s toss in Billy Dowd, because we’re feeling generous. What, some kind of misfit club?”
“Look at all those schoolyard shootings committed by outsiders.”
“Oh, Lord,” he said. “Before I get sucked into this vortex of fantasy, I need to do some boring old police work. As in pinpointing the phone booth and trying to pull some prints. As in keep searching for any troves Peaty might’ve stashed God knows where. As in…let’s not shmooze any more, okay? My head’s splitting like a luau coconut.”
Yanking his tie loose, he hauled himself up, crossed the tiny office, and threw back the door. It hit the wall, chunked out a disk of plaster, bounced a couple of times.
My ears were still ringing when he stuck his head in, seconds later. “Where can I find one of those amino-acid concoctions that makes you smarter?”
“They don’t work,” I said.
“Thanks for your input.”
CHAPTER 30
The Brazilian rosewood door of Erica Weiss’s law firm should’ve been used for guitar backs. Twenty-six partners were listed in efficient pewter. Weiss’s was near the top.
She kept me waiting for twenty minutes but came out to greet me personally. Late thirties, silver-haired, blue- eyed, statuesque in charcoal Armani and coral jewelry.
“Sorry for the delay, Doctor. I was willing to come to you.”
“No problem.”
“Coffee?”
“Black would be fine.”
“Cookies? One of our paras whipped up some chocolate chips this morning. Cliff’s a great baker.”
“No, thanks.”
“Coming up with black coffee.” She crossed a field of soft, navy carpet to an entry square of hardwood. Her exit was a castanet solo of stiletto heels.
Her lair was a bright, cool, corner space on the eighth floor of a high-rise on Wilshire, just east of Rossmore in Hancock Park. Gray felt walls, Macassar ebony deco revival furniture, chrome and black leather chair that matched the finish of her computer monitor. Stanford law degree tucked in a corner where it was sure to be noticed.
A coffin-shaped rosewood conference table had been set up with four black club chairs on wheels. I took the head seat. Maybe it was meant for Erica Weiss; she could always tell me that.
An eastern wall of glass showcased a view of Koreatown and the distant gloss of downtown. To the west, out of sight, was Nora Dowd’s house on McCadden.
Weiss returned with a blue mug bearing the law firm’s name and logo in gold leaf. The icon was a helmet over a wreath filled with Latin script. Something to do with honor and loyalty. The coffee was strong and bitter.
She looked at the head chair for a second, settled to my right with no comment. A Filipina carrying a court- reporter’s stenotype machine entered, followed by a young spike-haired man in a loose-fitting green suit who Weiss introduced as Cliff. “He’ll be witnessing your oath. Ready, Doctor?”
“Sure.”
She put on reading glasses and read a file while I sipped coffee. Then off came the specs, her face got tight, and the blue in her eyes turned to steel.
“First of all,” she said and the change in her voice made me put my cup down. She concentrated on the top of my head, as if something odd had sprouted there. Pointing a finger, she turned
For the next half hour, I fielded questions, all delivered in a strident rhythm dripping with insinuation. Scores of questions, many taking Patrick Hauser’s point of view. No letup; Erica Weiss seemed to be able to speak without breathing.
Just as suddenly, she said, “Finished.” Big smile. “Sorry if I was a little curt, Doctor, but I consider depositions rehearsals and I like my witnesses prepared for court.”
“You think it’ll come to that?”
“I’d bet against it, but I don’t bet anymore.” She peeled back a cuff and studied a sapphire-ringed Lady Rolex. “In either event, you’ll be ready. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an appointment.”
Ten-minute ride to McCadden Place.
Still no Range Rover but the driveway wasn’t empty.
A yacht-sized, baby-blue ’59 Cadillac convertible hogged the space. Gleaming wire wheels, white top folded down, tailfins that should’ve been registered as lethal weapons. Old black-and-yellow plates bore a classic car designation.
Brad and Billy Dowd stood next to the car, their backs to me. Brad wore a light brown linen suit and gestured with his right hand. His left arm rested on Billy’s shoulder. Billy wore the same blue shirt and baggy Dockers. Half a foot shorter than his brother. But for his gray hair, the two of them could’ve passed for father and son.
Dad talking, son listening.
The sound of my engine cutting made Brad look over his shoulder. A second later, Billy aped him.
By the time I got out, both brothers were facing me. The polo shirt under Brad’s jacket was aquamarine pique. On his feet were perforated, peanut-butter-colored Italian sandals. Cloudy day but he’d dressed for a beachside power lunch. His white hair was ragged and he looked tense. Billy’s face was blank. A grease stain rorschached the front of his pants.
He greeted me first. “Hi, Detective.”
“How’s it going, Billy?”
“Bad. Nora’s nowhere and we’re scared.”
Brad said, “More worried than scared, Bill.”
“You said- ”
“Remember the brochures, Bill? What did I tell you?”
“Be positive,” said Billy.
“Exactly.”
I said, “Brochures?”
Billy pointed at the house. “Brad went in there again.”
Brad said, “First time was superficial. This time I opened some drawers, found travel brochures in my sister’s nightstand. Nothing seems out of place except maybe some extra space in her clothes closet.”
“Packed to go,” I said.
“I hope that’s it.”
“What kind of brochures?” I said.
“Places in Latin America. Want to see them?”
“Please.”
He jogged to the Caddy and brought back a stack of glossies.
Pelican’s Pouch, Southwater Caye, Belize; Turneffe Island, Belize; Posada La Mandragora, Buzios, Brazil; Hotel Monasterio, Cusco, Peru; Tapir Lodge, Ecuador.
“Looks like vacation plans,” I said.
“Still, you’d think she’d tell us,” said Brad. “I was going to call you to see if you found any flights she took.”
