“Well, that’s good,” I said. “I’ll give her a call and maybe stop by again if she’s going to be in.”
“You want to leave your name and phone number?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll get back to her. Thanks.”
I returned to my car and dug out my index cards. I removed the rubber band and rifled through them rapidly until I came to the notes I’d taken after my first meeting with Marvin. Felicia was the first name of the agent who was set to show Marvin and Audrey houses for sale on the day she disappeared. There could be a whole subset of agents named Felicia, but I doubted it. I would have loved confirmation, but I really didn’t want to talk to Marvin at this point. If the agent was the same, it couldn’t be a coincidence that she was offering cottages for sale or rent at an address that was tied to the consignment shop.
I closed my eyes, running the facts down in my mind. I couldn’t see a junction where all the points converged. I sensed the contours of the theft ring and I knew some of the players by name. I also knew how (but not what) they moved between locations. The problem was I had no authority to act. At best, I could make a citizen’s arrest, but I’d never set much store by the concept. If I managed to collar a crook, what would prevent his simply laughing it off and walking away? The minute I laid a hand on him, he’d respond with charges of assault. I’m a small-town private investigator. Bringing down an organization like this was the job of law enforcement.
I found the nearest pay phone and called Cheney Phillips’s direct line. When he picked up, he seemed to recognize my voice but I identified myself nonetheless. “Can I talk to you?”
He said, “Sure. I’ve got time this afternoon if you want to stop by. What’s good for you?”
“Not your office,” I said.
He was silent briefly. “Okay. Then where?”
“What about the Shack at Ludlow Beach?”
“Great. We can have lunch. My treat. See you there in twenty minutes.”
I hadn’t called him looking for a lunch date, but the minute he mentioned it, I realized I was starving so why not? I’d chosen the location because it was off the beaten path, a tourist spot as opposed to a restaurant frequented by local residents. The place was bound to be somebody’s favorite, but it wasn’t popular with cops. The Shack was right on the beach, sheltered from the view of passing cars by a large parking lot. Blue-and- white-striped awnings shaded the deck where the tables were set out. Once upon a time, I’d come close to being killed in the big trash bin outside. This counts as nostalgia for someone like me.
I found a table for two in the corner on the far side and sat facing the entrance. When Cheney appeared, I lifted my hand to attract his attention. He threaded his way between the tables, and when he reached me he gave me the obligatory buss on the cheek before he pulled out a chair and sat down. He was in chinos, a white dress shirt, and a sueded silk sport coat the color of wild brown bunnies. Cheney came from money and while he’d declined to go into his father’s banking business, a trust fund allowed him to dress with impeccable taste. He favored earth tones, colors that reminded me of nature’s softer side, in sensual fabrics I wanted to reach out and touch. He also smelled better than almost any man I’ve known, some combination of soap, shampoo, aftershave, and body chemistry. There were moments I remembered from our short-lived affair and I had to resist the temptation to sexualize my contact with him.
We chatted and then ordered and then ate. As hungry as I’d been, I scarcely paid attention to the meal. I was anxious and I could feel myself stalling, not wanting to launch into my spiel. I don’t know if I was afraid he wouldn’t take me seriously or that he’d judge the facts too thin to act upon.
Cheney finally pushed the point. “What’s on your mind?”
I reached into my shoulder bag, took out my report, and placed it facedown on the table. “I’ve put together some information that should probably go to Len, but I can’t bring myself to deal with him. You know how he feels about me after what happened to Mickey. He’d dismiss anything I said, but he might pay attention if it came from you.”
“Give me the gist.”
“Organized retail theft. I wouldn’t have known anything about it if it hadn’t been for Audrey’s death…”
I’d been engrossed in the subject for days and I laid it out for him in an orderly progression. I watched his expression alter as I worked my way through events from the beginning to the current moment. Cheney’s a smart guy, and so I knew I didn’t have to spell out the broader picture when I was already providing the specifics. At the end of my summary, he held out his hand for the report. I gave it to him and watched him leaf through the pages. Once or twice he looked at me in sharp surprise, which I confess I took as a compliment.
When he finished reading, he said, “How’d you come up with the connection to the consignment shop?”
“I was chatting with someone about fencing operations. The name came out of our conversation.” I told him about the boxes I’d picked up and the shipping labels.
He was momentarily quiet and not making eye contact, which didn’t bode well. He seemed to be filtering the information through a framework different from mine.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“Sorry. You caught me by surprise. I didn’t realize what you were up to.”
“I didn’t know you were so interested in Audrey Vance.”
“I don’t know why not. I told you Marvin Striker hired me to look into her past. That’s what I was asking about the day I ran into you and Len having lunch. What’s going on?”
“Nothing you could have known about.”
“What, like there’s already an investigation under way?”
“All I can tell you is you’re treading on sensitive ground and I suggest you back off.”
“Well, if it’s any comfort to you, I’ve come to a dead end,” I said. “If I knew what to do at this point, I wouldn’t be here. This is your bailiwick, not mine.”
“True, and I appreciate what you’ve accomplished. Now promise me you’ll let it drop.”
I said, “Ah. So I must be on track or you wouldn’t be clamming up.”
“This is not your concern. I don’t mean to be hard-nosed, but I know how you operate. You get on the scent of something and it’s hard to pull you off. I’m not faulting you on that score or any other.”
“Imagine my relief,” I said.
He looked down at the report. “You have copies or is this it?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I might need to confiscate the material for a period of time. I don’t want the information floating around.”
“You’re kidding.”
The look he gave me was utterly without mirth, so I thought it best to abandon my jocular tone.
I leaned toward him and lowered my voice. “Jesus, Cheney. If I was stepping in a pile of shit, why didn’t you say so at the time?”
“My fault entirely. I should have warned you.”
“Of what?”
“Just let it go, okay? I know you mean well…”
“I don’t understand what’s at stake. I don’t want to make trouble. You know me better than that, so what’s the deal?”
“You’re putting a CI in jeopardy.”
“How so? I don’t know anything about a confidential informant. This is all news to me.”
He studied me briefly. “I’ll tell you this if you swear you won’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”
“I swear.”
“The retail-theft ring is only one part of the equation. Priddy’s under investigation as well. The informant’s working both sides of the street. Len thinks he’s milking the guy for information, but the CI is reporting back to us and feeding him lines while we build our case. His testimony will be critical. Priddy’s a slippery customer. In all these years, no one’s been able to nail him.”
“Oh, I hear you,” I said. “I’d love nothing better than to see him brought down.”
“Leave that to us. Len’s got cop friends who’d do anything for him. We know some of them, but not all, so walk a wide path around him. You can trust me but don’t talk to anyone else.” He took out his wallet and extracted a twenty and a ten and put it under his plate.
“Lunch didn’t cost that much,” I said.
