“Keliyah, this is Jeremy Barnes, Irv’s friend,” I told her.
“Oh, sure,” she said, “the private detective. I remember you, Jeremy. Geez, I hope this isn’t anything important, ‘cause Irv’s in Tennessee. His father had a heart attack yesterday afternoon, and Irv caught a flight down there last night.”
“Any word on his father?” I asked.
“He’s doing much better,” she said. “Irv called here this morning and talked to Eleanor, the manager. He told her his dad’s attack was minor. The doctors say he’ll probably be able to go home this weekend. Irv’s going to stay down there until then. Right now, he’s planning on flying back on Sunday night. If you really need to get in touch with him, I think Eleanor has the number at his parents’ place.”
“No,” I said. “Thanks, but what I need from Irv has to be done in person. I’ll just want until he returns.”
After thanking her once more, I hung up and then dialed Irv’s number again. This time, I left a message telling him I hoped his father was all right, and asking if he’d give me a call as soon as he got back.
Before calling Chaney and Cox, I went into my kitchen and made some lunch. I wanted to sit and think a bit about exactly what I would say before I made the call. Fifteen minutes later, I was outside of a ham and cheese sandwich and ready for Elias. My main concern was to let him know about the existence of the disc while at the same time distancing Rachel from the whole thing.
I was surprised to hear Elias’ voice answering my call.
“Chaney and Cox,” he said.
“Boy, Melanie, those testosterone treatments you told me about are really working.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Elias. The man’s sense of humor must have been surgically removed years ago.
“It’s Jeremy Barnes, Elias.”
“Oh. Mr. Barnes. Melanie’s down the hall, and I was passing by when her phone rang.”
“You’re a trooper, Elias,” I told him.
“Uh . . . yes. Well, what I can do for you?”
“I just wanted to check with you on something that might be related to Terry Pendleton’s death.”
“Of course,” he said. “Give me a minute to get back to my office, would you? I’ll transfer you back there right now.”
Which he did. Twenty seconds later, he came back on the line.
“Now, Mr. Barnes, how can I help you?”
“It’s probably nothing, but when I was doing a follow-up interview with Rachel Pendleton recently, she mentioned that, a day or two before Terry was murdered, he had a disc at home, a disc that he told her had something to do with that partnership offer he seemed to be expecting. He didn’t go into any detail, and Rachel has no idea at all about what’s on the disc, but she does know that it isn’t anywhere in the house. In fact, the two of us spent several hours this morning looking for it. I was wondering if there might be any chance that the disc is in Terry’s old office.”
“Hmmm, I doubt it,” said Elias. “As for the partnership thing, well, we’ve already gone over that. I have no idea where Terry got that idea. All of Terry’s personal effects were, of course, given to his wife. Tell you what, though. Give me a little time to see if anyone here knows anything about this disc, okay? I’ll get back to you later today.”
“That’ll be fine, Elias. I appreciate your help.”
“Any progress on the case, otherwise?” he asked.
“Oh, you know, you keep gathering information and sorting it out and seeing what sense you can make of it.”
“Well . . . of course,” he said. “All right, then, I’ll call you later.”
After changing into shorts and a cut-off T-shirt, I went into my weight room and put on a Ramsey Lewis Trio CD. The In Crowd. One of my favorites. Blame it on my Uncle Leo. He’s a real jazz buff, and he always had the stuff on at his office, his home, the car, everywhere. It didn’t take me long to become somewhat of an aficionado myself. I especially like to have it on while I’m lifting.
I spent the next hour working on both my upper and lower body, finishing with a little extra concentration on the pectoral area. Upper body strength. Always helps. And it never hurts to look good in a T-shirt, either.
After showering and throwing on slacks and a pullover, I sat in my living room for a while and read the paper. I had a hunch that Elias wouldn’t wait too long before getting back to me, and I was right. He called at 3:45, just as I was finishing an article about how much money the CEOs of some of Pittsburgh’s biggest corporations had made in the past year. I’ve always regretted not checking “CEO” instead of “teacher” when I had that session with the guidance counselor my senior year of high school.
“Mr. Barnes,” Elias said, when I picked up the phone, “this is Elias Chaney. I’m glad I got you at home.”
“Thanks for calling, Elias,” I said. “Any luck with that disc thing?”
“I’m afraid not,” he said. “There were several discs in Terry’s office the day of his death, but none of them dealt with anything but the most mundane of business transactions. There was nothing in the least bit suspicious and, of course, nothing at all pertaining to a partnership for Terry. I’m sorry.”
“Well,” I told him, “it was a long shot, anyway. Thanks for trying.”
“I was happy to help,” he said. “Actually, I had another reason for calling you. I wonder if you’d be willing to have lunch with me this Friday. There’s something I’d
