phone them, and get whatever money he wanted for whatever purpose-a toy at first, then booze, drugs and women.”
“It ruined him?”
She shook her head. “That’s too strong a word. I still have hopes. Josh just doesn’t understand what money is.”
“What happened to your husband?”
Another deep sigh. “He drank himself into a looney bin, virtually became a vegetable, then died a few weeks ago. That’s when I discovered I didn’t get a penny. It all went to my son. I had nothing, including a way to earn a living.” She shrugged. “Here I am, talking to you.”
“Hard to believe, Addie. Is there nothing you can do?”
“Nothing, I’m told, unless Josh wants to provide for me.”
“He will, I’m sure of it. Is there anything I can do to help now?”
“Yeah, give me a job and a roof over my head.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t take it out on you. Actually, there is something you could do-drive me out to the Kinkaid place.”
“Sure, but what for? I thought-”
“A friend of mine, at least someone I know, works out there in the kitchen. She phones me every so often with information about Josh and the Kinkaids. I thought if I could see her she might know where Josh is so I can get word to him.”
“I thought he was in Denver.”
“That was some time ago. He travels with the auto show.”
“Can’t you phone this woman?”
“She told me never to phone, but wait for her to contact me. She doesn’t know where to reach me, which is-”
“Another reason for you to go there.” He arose. “Let’s go.”
Byerly knew roughly how to reach the address she gave him, Pepper Tree Drive, north of Montecito in the foothills of the Santa Ynez mountains. He drove east, then north with Addie Kinkaid in the seat beside him.
“Is there no hope your son’s grandfather might help you?”
“None at all. I only ever saw him once or twice. I don’t think he knows I exist. He doesn’t give a damn for his grandson, either. Josh tells me he’s all wrapped up in his famous, much younger wife.”
“Who’s that?”
“You know her, everybody does, Joy Fielding.“
Walter grimaced. Celebs were Doreen’s thing, not his.
“You know, Dr. Joy, the advice guru?”
That still didn’t mean anything, but he’d learned never to admit his ignorance. Made him feel like a fool. “Oh her, now I know who you mean.” He’d ask Doreen.
“The marriage is not supposed to be commonly known. She says her husband doesn’t like notoriety. I guess it’s like the marriage Dolly Parton has.”
Dolly who? “They live in Santa Barbara?”
“Not really. The Kinkaids have no shortage of places to live. I doubt if they’re in Santa Barbara more than a couple weeks a year.”
Byerly had driven 15 or 20 minutes, making a wrong turn only once. They were in hilly, woodsy country, the road’s curvy and narrow.
“Lord, it’s beautiful out here,” Addie said.
He glanced at her, saw the same gee-whiz expression tourists often had. “It does make one want to sing a chorus or two of Mountain Greenery. Of course I’m no Mel Torme.”
“The leaves are such a deep green, and the foliage is so lush, almost tropical, yet the temperature isn’t much over 70.”
“Cool tropics. That’s a pretty good description of Santa Barbara.”
He finally found Pepper Tree Lane, north of Mountain Road, off of Cold Spring Canyon Drive.
“We sure are in the boonies. Whatever else might be said for him, Kinkaid surely likes his isolation.“
She laughed. “I’m sure that’s true.”
“Just going for a loaf of bread or a quart of milk is a safari. And if the family car broke down and Kinkaid had to walk to work, he might never be heard from again.”
“I doubt if there is a family car or that it would break down. Try a fleet of limos.”
“Or that he goes to work.”
Byerly slowed the van almost to a stop to negotiate a switchback turn. “Do people actually live out here? The only signs of human habitation are wrought iron gates. Maybe they’re keeping out the mountain lions.”
“Oh God, I forgot about the gate! We’ll never get in.”
“We’ve come this far.” He read numbers on mailboxes. “Getting close.”
“There it is, 1392.”
“Would you believe that! The gate’s open. What luck.” He braked to a stop, then looked ahead. “Might as well see how the super rich live.”
The Kinkaid driveway wound uphill, but not too sharply, then began to widen. Around a bend he stopped and stared through the windshield. There it was, as wide as a football field and almost as deep, a castle by God, build of dark stone with a huge single tower in the center. No windows were visible, only an immense mansard roof covering the front.
“Positively forbidding,” he muttered. “Enough to make Daphne du Maurier forget Manderley.”
“I shudder every time I look at it.”
The ground fell away and the woods diminished as he drove on, revealing the entire front. Beneath the mansard roof, the house was mock Tudor style with Elizabethan windows of leaded glass. A perfect hideaway for Henry and Anne Boleyn.
There was a second gate. Talk about major league security. Only it was also open. “We must be expected,” he said. Gravel rattled under his tires. No sneaking up on the Kinkaids unheard. To the right were stables and beyond them a pool and tennis courts. Not too shabby. Now he was in a circular drive approaching the house.
”Stop! Oh God, somebody’s home.”
There was a black limousine in the drive. A man in a black suit got out and raised a hand for him to stop.
“Please turn around, let’s get out of here.”
He rolled down his window as the man approached. “It’s too late now, Addie, it’ll be all right.” He remembered the Care Wheels logo on his van. “Is this the Munsters estate?”
“You got the wrong place. You’d better leave.”
The fellow looked dour with absolutely no sense of humor. He kept looking past him at Addie. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. Leave.”
“Do you know where the Munsters live?”
“No, goodbye.”
“Who’s place is this?”
“None of your damn business. Now, are you leaving or do I make you?”
“Sorry, my mistake.”
He turned the wheel and accelerated out of there. In his rearview mirror he saw the chauffeur looking after him, hands on hips.
“Do you think he recognized me?”
“Do you know him?”
“No.”
“Does that limousine mean the Kinkaids are in residence?”
“I’m sure of it.”
