once. “He’s decided to cut Mark loose,” I said.
“Yes, he called and told him after he talked it over with me and I agreed. It hurts, because of my friendship with Jen, but then, I’m also beginning to question that friendship.”
“I wouldn’t cross it off just yet. You know better than anyone what pressures she’s been dealing with. So that’s all you’ve got?”
“For now. Anything else you need?”
“Not at the moment. I’m going to have a surveillance run on Mark. Where are you?”
“The office. I came in to talk with Patrick, look at those charts he’s made up, get an idea of the big picture. But he’s not here.”
“Damn! He left me a message yesterday, and I haven’t been able to reach him since.”
“Let me see if anybody knows where he might be.” She put down the phone, returned a few minutes later. “Nobody’s seen him since about three yesterday afternoon.”
Around the time the clerk at the lodge had taken the message. “Well, thanks. Will you explain the situation with Mark to Craig and ask him to run the surveillance?”
“Craig’s pretty busy. I could-”
“Not a good idea. Mark knows you.”
“Well, what about Julia?”
I hesitated. A Latina might stand out in a wealthy enclave like the Aldins’, but there were also plenty of them- legal and illegal-working for the families there. To the casual observer, Julia, in the battered old car she’d recently bought, would look as if she were waiting for a friend.
“She’ll do fine,” I said. “Talk to her and give her the information she needs. I don’t have time to fill you in on everything else that’s going on right now, but I’ll write a report and e-mail it to everybody.”
I ended the call, made another to Mark Aldin. He sounded strained, his voice curiously flat. I skipped the pleasantries, got down to business.
“Nothing yet on Jennifer, but the various law enforcement agencies and my people’re on the alert,” I said. “I just talked with an informant who had important information on Laurel. The informant wanted a thousand dollars. I gave him five hundred, promised him the rest of it by wire.”
“Cheap enough. But why should I pay it? You’ve got the information.”
I thought of Emil Tiegs, alone except for his seeing-eye dog at the end of the pier, shivering in his thin windbreaker. I hadn’t liked him because I’m a strong proponent of law and order, and I particularly detest people who manufacture and distribute drugs. But Mark Aldin had many millions, some of them perhaps as a result of a crime, and he’d done something else I detested: lied to Ricky and damaged his already fragile trust in his friends.
I said, “Because I gave my word, that’s why you have to pay it. This is the bank and account number for you to wire it to.” I read it off to him, made him repeat it. “Make sure you do it today.”
“Whatever.” Aldin hung up.
No questions as to what the information was. No further questions as to our search for Jennifer. Having one of his biggest clients confront him about his past and fire him had depressed Mark more than the possibility of losing his wife.
When I got back to the lodge, there were two message slips waiting for me: Adah and Patrick. They’d both come in shortly after I left that morning.
I looked at the area code on Patrick’s message: 707. Well, that could be almost anywhere in the northwestern part of the state, from the Sonoma County line to the California-Oregon border. What the hell was Patrick doing out in the field? He was supposed to be in the office, coordinating our efforts. I dialed the number.
“Santa Rosa Travelodge.”
The Sonoma County seat, an hour and a half north of the city. Why had Patrick stayed the night there?
“Patrick Neilan, please.”
“I’m sorry, he’s checked out.”
“This is his employer. Did he indicate where he was going next?”
“No ma’am, he didn’t.”
“Thank you.” I hung up the phone hard, then felt ashamed of my show of petulence and hoped I hadn’t hurt the clerk’s ear.
Patrick would have had ample time to return to the office by now, if that’s where he’d been headed. Since he hadn’t, what the
Next I dialed Adah. She was at her desk at SFPD, and in top form.
“You ask somebody to get you information, she puts herself out for you, and then your damn cell phone’s either not on or busy. Had to call your office to find out where the hell you’re staying. You want to know about this Josephine Smith’s death or not?”
“Forgive me, I’m guilty of the terrible sin of being unreachable.”
“Smart-ass.”
“Sorry. What have you got?”
“The death was investigated as a suspicious one-normal procedure, under the circumstances. But the autopsy results showed nothing that was inconsistent with a terminally ill woman-who would have died in a matter of weeks anyway-taking a bad fall. Laurel Greenwood was a former registered nurse, a relative, and a lifelong friend of the deceased. Smith’s ex-husband, who lived upstairs, confirmed that Laurel was devoted to Smith. Tragic circumstances, but accidental. Case closed.”
“Thanks, Adah. I owe you.”
“You
I was in the middle of the report to my operatives-wishing Patrick were here to help me focus-when my cellular rang. By the time I realized what the feeble sound was, located my purse, and dragged out the unit, it had summoned me six times. I told myself that I had to get a better model than this antiquated one my staff had given me on my birthday a couple of years ago.
“Yes!” I snapped, thinking it was Patrick, and prepared to give him hell.
“Sharon? It’s Mark Aldin.”
“Yes?”
“My neighbor from across the street, Estee Pearson, came over a few minutes ago. She and her husband have just gotten back from a trip to Italy.”
“And?”
“She wanted to know if I knew when Jen had borrowed her car. I didn’t realize this, but Jen and Estee are in the habit of trading vehicles. Jen has a Mercedes SUV, which Estee likes for transporting groceries and large objects, and Estee has a Porsche Boxster, which Jen loves to drive. Estee came back and found the SUV in her garage and wondered when Jen would be bringing the Porsche back.”
Now, there was a break.
“Okay, Mark, now we know what Jen is driving. You’ll need to contact the highway patrol with the description and license plate number of the Porsche, as well as the other agencies who have BOLOs out on Jen’s SUV-”
“Can’t you do that?”
Again, his voice was curiously flat. Good God, despite his personal and professional setback with Ricky, didn’t the man care anymore if his wife was found?
I said, “The information should come from you, as next of kin and the one who reported her missing.”
“I don’t think I can deal with-”
I sighed impatiently. “What’s the color and license plate number of Estee Pearson’s car?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, will you find out?”
Silence
“Who?”
