“Her pet goldfish. It’s dead.”
Torrance and Kellogg exchanged a look Morris couldn’t decipher. “Let’s go see,” Torrance said, and Morris led the way to Sheila’s study.
Detective Kellogg looked closely into the fishbowl, her blond ponytail bobbing. “It’s dead all right,” she confirmed, jotting it down in her notebook.
Torrance grimaced. “Thank you, Kim.” He looked around the office before directing his gaze back to Morris. “So you’re saying it’s out of character for her to leave so suddenly, but she did call you to say she was going away for a while.”
“Yes, she did.”
“Have you tried looking for her?”
“She asked me not to.”
Torrance frowned. “You still have that message on tape?”
“I didn’t erase it.”
“Can you drop it by the station tomorrow?”
Morris stifled a sigh. “I can do it tonight.”
“What were the problems between you and your fiancee?” Torrance asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“The problems between you and Ms. Tao.” Torrance’s voice was patient, as if he were explaining something to a five-year-old child. “Obviously things weren’t going well between you if she decided to blow town a week before your wedding.”
Kellogg looked up, her pencil paused midair.
“It’s Doctor Tao.” Morris felt his jaw tighten, and he forced himself to relax. “We did have an argument, yes.”
“What about?”
“It’s personal. But we were still getting married.”
“Sir.” Torrance’s voice was flat. “Everything’s personal. We can’t help her if you don’t tell us everything you can.”
Morris stared at him. The detective stared back.
“Relationship stuff,” Morris said finally. “Nothing we wouldn’t have gotten past.” He didn’t want this man to know about Sheila’s sex addiction. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
Torrance sighed. Kellogg’s pencil scratched into the silence.
“And tell us again when the last time was you saw her?”
“A week ago. Wednesday.”
They were treating him like a goddamned suspect.
“But she was okay when you left her.” Torrance’s voice was breezy, but there was no denying the ice behind it.
“Are you kidding me? Why the hell wouldn’t she be?”
Torrance raised a hand. “Just doing my job, Mr. Gardener.”
Morris seethed in silence.
“So you said you got Ms. Tao’s message-sorry, Dr. Tao’s message-on Sunday while you were waiting for her at the hotel. What time did she leave the message?”
“I told you I don’t remember the exact time she called.” Morris was exasperated. “I can check my call display when I get home. And if you’re gonna ask me every question three different ways, Detective, we’re gonna be here awhile.” Morris glared at them.
“Do you have a cell phone?” Torrance was unfazed.
“Of course.”
“Why wouldn’t she call you on your cell? Didn’t you think it was strange that she called you on your home phone knowing you weren’t going to be there?”
“It was strange, yes. But she might have pressed the wrong button on her phone. Or she didn’t want to actually speak to me. Considering what she told me, I can’t blame her.”
“But when you got the message, you weren’t alarmed. You didn’t go looking for her?”
“Of course I did,” Morris said, the heat building in his neck. “I came here first thing, she wasn’t home. I called, she didn’t answer. What else could I have done?”
“Is it a normal pattern of behavior for her to just take off?”
“No. We’ve been dating for a year and nothing like this has ever happened.”
“You must have been pretty angry with her for dumping you over voice mail a week before your wedding day. Must’ve been pretty embarrassing for you to have to make all those phone calls to your guests.”
“It was the worst day of my life, yes.” Morris hated how defiant he sounded.
“So you still have that message on your answering machine?”
“For God’s sake, Detectives. Yes. I will bring it by tonight.”
“It would be good if you could,” Kellogg piped in sweetly.
Morris felt like ripping her ponytail from her pretty little head.
“All right then, I think we have everything we need for now.” Torrance nodded to his partner, who was still writing in her notebook. “Thanks for calling us, Mr. Gardener. We’ll get her missing person’s report on file.”
“And then what?” Morris was relieved that the questioning was over, but he was still pissed off. “What’s your plan?”
“Our plan?” Torrance was barely able to keep the condescension out of his voice. “Well, we’ll pop around the university and see if her colleagues know anything. We’ll chat up her neighbors. Does she have close friends? Family?”
Morris thought of giving them Marianne Chang’s name, but then he shook his head. Sheila’s therapist obviously didn’t think anything was wrong, and he didn’t want the detectives contacting her and deciding they agreed before they conducted a thorough investigation. “Both parents are dead and she’s an only child. The only friends she ever talked about are from work.”
Torrance nodded, then glanced at Kellogg again. They seemed to have a wordless way of communicating with each other. It was irritating. “Listen, Mr. Gardener-”
“Call me Morris.”
“Morris. For what it’s worth, it doesn’t sound to me like anything bad’s happened to your fiancee. What she did may be unusual, maybe even out of character, but it’s not necessarily cause for concern. She’s an adult, and she left a very specific message telling you that she was leaving town. If we don’t find evidence of foul play, we won’t be able to pursue this. People have the right to up and walk out of their lives.” Torrance paused. “It’s shitty, but it happens every day.”
“She wouldn’t have let her fish die,” Morris said stubbornly. “How long can a goldfish go without being fed?”
“Five days,” Kellogg answered. She smiled, sheepish, when the men turned to stare at her. “I had one when I was a kid. Never remembered to feed it on time.”
Torrance gave her a look and her grin faded.
“Okay then.” Torrance stuck out his hand. Morris shook it halfheartedly. “We’ll be in touch. Don’t forget to bring that tape. And also the time of the call and the number she called from.”
“Got it,” Morris said, tired. He couldn’t have forgotten if he’d wanted to.
“You leaving with us?”
Morris shook his head. “I need to lock up.”
He saw them back to the door and watched them drive away, just as his BlackBerry rang. Private name, Seattle number. He answered the call.
“Morris?” a voice said.
His heart deflated. It wasn’t Sheila. “Yes?”
“This is Dr. Chang.” Her voice was more anxious than the last time they’d spoken. “I tried you at home first. I thought I would let you know that I called the treatment facility I thought Sheila might have checked into. They have no record of her. Neither do a dozen other places I’ve tried.” The therapist paused. “It was an in-patient program?”
