“This was handled by the SLO County Sheriff’s Department?”
“Right.”
“She talk to the investigating officers?”
“The guy in charge has died. The deputy she spoke with wasn’t very interested in helping her. Can’t blame him; it’s a cold case, and he’s got better things to do with his time.”
“So she came to you, since you used to be an investigator.”
“Actually, no. Mark got worried about her obsessing. She was losing weight, not sleeping or eating properly, not working well. So he decided he’d bankroll a full-scale investigation into her mother’s disappearance, and asked Ricky if he thought your agency would be right for the job. Of course, he said it would.”
“A full-scale investigation into a cold case?”
“The works. Mark’s willing to spend whatever it takes to give Jen peace of mind.”
“Sounds like he loves her a lot.”
“Yeah, he does.”
I asked, “So why didn’t Jennifer Aldin approach me directly? Why have you pave the way?”
“She only decided to go ahead with the investigation yesterday. Last night, the four of us were having dinner, and when I mentioned that Ricky and I were coming up here for the party, she asked me to speak with you. The thing is, she wants you to handle the case personally.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re the best there is.”
“According to…?”
“Ricky and me. The man on the street. Oh, hell, Shar, will you take it on? Jen needs closure in order to get her life back on track.”
I considered. Late last month I’d wrapped up a case that had been very personal and had threatened my career, as well as the existence of the agency. After having my attention taken away from normal business affairs for two weeks, I’d been trying to make up for lost time, but managing our heavy caseload and the attendant paperwork threatened even now to overwhelm me. Still, Ted could pick up some of the slack in the paperwork department, and I had a couple of new operatives who were coming along fast…
I was mentally shifting priorities and assignments as I said to Rae, “Okay. I’ll call Jennifer tomorrow, and maybe we can set something up for later in the week.”
“If I know her, she’ll want to see you soonest.”
“If so, I can fit her in on Tuesday afternoon. We’re flying down tomorrow night.”
“What, so soon? You and Hy aren’t taking any more time off?”
“Can’t. He’s due in La Jolla at RKI headquarters on Wednesday. Business is booming-their clients see terrorists behind every tree-and they’re hiring so many people that they need to restructure their training operations.”
Rae said, “So marriage isn’t going to change anything for you guys.”
“We don’t expect it to.”
She grinned. “Wait and see.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just wait and see.”
Tuesday
Jennifer and Mark Aldin lived down the Peninsula in Atherton, an old-money, quietly rich suburb some twenty- five miles south of the city. Red Hawk Lane had a country feel, narrow and overhung with big oak trees; a high tan stucco wall surrounded the Aldin property, and behind it sprawled a matching stucco house with a red tile roof. Sprinklers threw out lazy streams of water onto an improbably green, manicured lawn, the droplets glistening in the early afternoon sun.
A uniformed maid-Latina, with a thick accent-answered the door and showed me to a living room with a beamed ceiling and terra-cotta floors covered with jute area rugs. As she urged me with hand gestures to sit on one of a U-shaped grouping of mission-style sofas in front of a fireplace, she said, “Mrs. Aldin, she will be with you in a short time.”
“
A smile flickered across her lips. “
California: the ultimate melting pot of this already diverse country. Some fluency in Spanish is almost a necessity here-indeed, Latinos are now the fastest-growing ethnic group in our population. For people in my profession, it also helps to understand some Chinese, Japanese, and Tagalog-as well as a smattering of ghetto slang.
As I waited for Jennifer Aldin, I looked around the room. French doors opened onto a patio with a black- bottomed pool and a scattering of teak tables and lounge chairs. The air that filtered through the doors was faintly scented by chlorine and cape jasmine. Because of the walls’ thickness, the living room remained cool in the afternoon’s heat, and the white cushions of the spartan-looking sofa were surprisingly comfortable. I settled back and studied a framed piece of cloth that hung over the mantel-red, orange, black, and gold, woven in a complex, abstract pattern that might have been a replica of a fire in the hearth below. Jennifer Aldin’s work? If so, even to my untutored eye, she had a good deal of talent.
I heard footsteps behind me, turned, and then stood. The woman was as tall as I and slender to the point of being emaciated, clad in narrow-fitting white jeans and a matching tunic, her honey-colored hair hanging dull and stringy to her shoulders. Her eyes were deeply shadowed, her skin dry. The smile she gave me was wan, the nails of the long-fingered hand she extended me bitten down to the quick. Jennifer Aldin, I saw, had once been beautiful, but five months of obsessing over her mother’s disappearance had taken their toll.
“Sharon,” she said, “I’m Jennifer. Thank you for coming.”
In spite of her fragile appearance, Jennifer had a strong handshake, an open face with a scattering of freckles across her small nose, and direct blue eyes. A straightforward woman. I understood why she and Rae had become friends.
After the usual pleasantries-“Happy to try to help you; Rae speaks highly of your friendship.” “Congratulations on your marriage. How was the party?”-we got settled on the sofas, a wide glass-topped table between us. Immediately the maid-Alicia, Jennifer called her-appeared with a tray containing a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses. After she served us and departed, I took out my voice-activated tape recorder and asked Jennifer if she’d mind if I kept a record of our conversation. She didn’t.
“I’ve come to this meeting better prepared than at most of my new-client consultations,” I said. “Rae has briefed me on your situation, and this morning I accessed the news reports of your mother’s disappearance. What we need to do now is discuss what you expect of me and my agency, as well as what we can reasonably hope to provide. I take it Rae’s told you she considers the investigation a long shot?”
Jennifer nodded. “She did say that. And I’ve reviewed every piece of information I could find about… that time, so I know how little there is to go on. But… Sharon, do you know what it’s like to lose a parent?”
“Yes, I do. My father-adoptive father, actually-died of a heart attack a couple of years ago.”
“And that was painful, I’m sure; I lost my own dad to cancer only a few months ago. But my mother… What would it have been like if your father had simply disappeared, if you never knew what had happened to him?”
“I can’t imagine.”
“Let me try to describe the experience. You’re ten years old. Your mother comes to your bedroom one night and together you read a chapter of the current book-in this case it was
