Cold Blood

Chapter 6

Lorraine got on the freeway: Rosie had already contacted Phyllis Collins and she had agreed to see Lorraine, but not at the house. Phyllis eventually suggested they have coffee in the Plaza on Rodeo Drive as she had to be there to collect something for Mrs Caley from the Georgette Klinger shop.

‘What’s that?’ Lorraine asked.

‘I dunno, maybe a boutique, I didn’t ask.’

‘Okay, if you need me, I’ll have the mobile with me.’

‘Right, over and out.’

Lorraine checked her watch, parking the rental on a meter on Rodeo Drive. She had over an hour to kill so she decided she’d have her hair trimmed and chose a salon at random, asking if they could do her hair straight away.

‘Okay, Lorraine, gonna make you a new woman.’

Lorraine watched as Noël, the flamboyant Afro-American hairdresser, cut and snipped, looked at her with critical eyes, cut and snipped some more. She noticed on the shelf below the mirror some white tubes, the name Georgette Klinger printed down the side.

‘What is that stuff?’

He looked up. ‘Oh, those are the real expensive treatments, they’ve a shop further up the Drive. Some of our customers,’ he made a sweeping gesture with his scissors, ‘swear by it.’

At 2.45, armed with Noel’s card, she walked out. She still had fifteen minutes before she was to meet Phyllis so she walked down Rodeo until she got to the Georgette Klinger shop, peeked in, and then stepped back to admire herself in the window. The cut was good, tapered to the nape of her neck and long at the front. He’d made one side much longer, the scar side, and she liked the way it hid half her face when she leaned forward. In fact, she liked her new image. She was so busy admiring herself that she didn’t see Phyllis parking on the opposite side of the road, didn’t see her continue on to another parked car, a metallic green stretch Lincoln with black tinted windows, and get into the back seat.

‘Hi, I’m supposed to meet a friend, collecting something for Mrs Elizabeth Caley.’

Lorraine’s confidence in her new look faltered slightly as the elegant French woman behind the counter swished back her waist-length blonde hair.

‘I am zo zorry, who?’

‘Mrs Elizabeth Caley.’

‘No, I am zo zorry but I am not expecteeng anyone, unless... one moment, pleeze.’ She checked a leather-bound book. Lorraine busied herself looking over the various Georgette Klinger serums and lotions. ‘No, Mrs Caley is waiting for some of our sun protection creams but they have not arrived yet, not until next week. I am zo zorry.’

Lorraine asked for shampoo and conditioner and had a near heart attack when the bill was rung up. A second assistant walked in from the back of the shop, eager to help sell more products.

‘Theeze lady is a friend of Mrs Caley’s, she said she was expecting a delivery...’

The second woman smiled at Lorraine. ‘I called two days ago to apologize for the delay. The sun creams won’t be here until the end of the month.’

Lorraine collected her goods in their neat white plastic bag and left the shop. She checked her watch, worried she was going to be late for Phyllis.

Juda’s heavy breathing and sweet perfume made Phyllis feel sick; she disliked the woman intensely. ‘I am afraid Mrs Caley’s husband has put his foot down, there is nothing I can do. Please do not call the house again. Mrs Caley said she would contact you at a later date.’

‘I see, well, it’s up to her. But you know she can’t make appointments and just keep cancelling like this. I make the time for her and I have a lot of clients.’

Phyllis handed Juda an envelope. ‘I think this will suffice...’

Juda took the envelope. ‘Please tell my dear Elizabeth not to give up hope. I still feel a strong presence of Anna Louise, tell her not to give up hope.’

‘I will.’

Juda nodded, passing Phyllis a small square package, wrapped in brown paper. As Phyllis reached for the door, she said, ‘Perhaps Mr Caley is going away and Elizabeth can see me?’

‘I am sure Mrs Caley will call you. I must go...’

Phyllis got out of the car. The driver half-turned towards the back seat; he was only about twenty, with deep olive skin, and he wore a white shirt open at the neck. He watched as Juda opened the envelope and began to count 100-dollar notes, a lot of them.

‘Where to now, Aunt Juda?’

Juda glanced up, quickly stuffing the money into a soft leather purse. ‘Get me back home, Raoul, then go do a grocery shop. And keep your eyes to the front or you’ll be on the next bus.’

He chuckled. ‘Nobody messes with you, huh?’

She leaned back, staring out of the dark window. ‘You said it, sugar, an’ when they do, they get real sorry. Wait, stop a second, I just seen someone.’

Lorraine hurried along Rodeo towards the Plaza. She saw Phyllis get out of the Lincoln, saw her waiting at the roadside, but by the time she had actually crossed the road, she was already ahead of Lorraine.

Lorraine presumed the Lincoln was Mrs Caley’s, the chauffeur dropping Phyllis off for their meeting, so she didn’t give it a second glance. But Juda leaned forward in her seat as the nose of the Lincoln eased out from the parking bay. She was sure the blonde was the woman who had called on her, and by the look of it she was tailing Phyllis.

‘Lorraine,’ Juda said softly.

‘What? We stopping or moving on?’

‘Drive,’ Juda snapped.

‘A client?’ Raoul asked.

‘No, she’s no client that one, she’s a private investigator.’ She repeated the name Lorraine to herself and then clasped her fat sweating ringed hands together. Her chest heaved as her breath caught in her throat in loud rasps.

‘You got trouble?’ Raoul asked.

‘No, I not got trouble, but that lady is gonna have it, bad trouble.’

He didn’t joke any more. When she said stuff like that, when her big, false-eyelashed eyes stared sightlessly as if she was seeing through and beyond him, his aunt scared him like his mama could... but then they were sisters. His hands clenched the wheel as he took another furtive look at Juda, then at the wing mirror, wondering if he would catch a glimpse of the woman his aunt had referred to. But Lorraine had disappeared.

Lorraine caught her breath, joining Phyllis just as she sat down at one of the small white tables outside the coffee shop.

‘Sorry I’m a bit late but I wasn’t sure exactly which shop.’

Lorraine smiled. ‘Would you like coffee?’

‘Yes, please, a cappuccino. No need to go to the counter, a waiter’ll bring it, it’s not self-service.’

Phyllis spoke fast, nervously. Her eyes couldn’t fail to see Lorraine’s plastic bags from Georgette Klinger.

‘I don’t think you’ve been very truthful, Phyllis.’

Two pink spots appeared on Phyllis’s cheeks and her mouth tightened. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t imagine why you think that. You’ve had your hair cut.’

‘Yes, I had time to spare, and I also went to this store.’ She held up the bag of cosmetics and smiled.

‘Ah, yes, I was going to collect something for Mrs Caley.’

‘But it’s not in until the end of the month, I know.’

‘Yes, very irritating, waste of a journey. Still, I am free to see you, and you did want to see me, Rosie said, rather urgently.’

A waiter hovered and Lorraine ordered the cappuccinos. Phyllis’s right foot tapped nervously against the chair.

‘But you knew they wouldn’t have Mrs Caley’s sun protection, they called you. Well, so the assistant told me.’

‘Good heavens, did you ask them? Well, really, I think that is all rather unnecessary.’

‘Maybe, but as I was there...’

‘If that is what you term being dishonest, then I am sorry. I was going to call in just to make sure it hadn’t arrived. I also have other things to collect, so I wasn’t lying, and I rather resent your implying that I have been. Mrs Caley suffers so much from the sun, she cannot sit out in it at all...’

Tap tap went her foot, the table rocking a fraction, but she seemed unaware of it, constantly looking around, fiddling with her blouse collar. Lorraine let her stew for a while. The two pink spots on Phyllis’s cheeks faded before she spoke again.

‘Your hair is very nice, good cut, it’s all in the cut really, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, I just got lucky, I went to the salon further up the drive.’

‘St Julian’s?’ Phyllis asked. Her face reminded Lorraine of a bird’s, pecking, her thin nose sharp as she twisted her head and kept up the nervous kicking of the table. ‘My, you are taking your work to rather silly lengths.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘That’s Mrs Caley’s salon. Well, it was, they come to her now. But Anna Louise used it, she was always very particular about her hair.’

‘Really? Then it was just a coincidence, I walked in off the street. As I said, I got here early.’

The coffee arrived, with tiny flaky pastries. Lorraine smiled her thanks to the waiter.

‘How long has Mrs Caley been a drug addict?’

Phyllis’s pink spots returned with a vengeance. She stirred her coffee, her foot still tapping, and now her head twitched. ‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’

‘Yes, you do, and that’s why I wanted to see you.’

‘I really do not see that whatever medication Mrs Caley requires is any business of yours or Rosie’s.’

‘Medication? Come on, Phyllis, I know she’s on uppers, downers, cocaine, speed, you name it. Even her husband admitted—’

‘Mr Caley told you?’ Phyllis said, astonished.

‘Yes, but he implied they were simply pain-killers for an old injury and that Mrs Caley had, well, become dependent on them. But speed, cocaine, et cetera, are not what I would call pain-killers, and when I last saw her she seemed very hyper. She was also very disturbed.’

Phyllis’s jaw was working overtime now. ‘I think in the terrible circumstances, Mrs Page, anyone would be disturbed. Her daughter is missing, she could obviously be dead...’

‘Yes, I know, Phyllis. That’s why I have to investigate every possible motive.’

‘You mean you suspect Mrs Caley?’

‘No, but I need to know who she was getting her drugs from because there may be a connection.’

‘There isn’t, I assure you.’

‘You assuring me, Phyllis, is not good enough, I’m afraid. And if you care about finding out the truth, then you’ll stop this silly game. You could be arrested for procuring drugs, you know that, don’t you? You see, I know how it used to work, Phyllis. The friendly, sympathetic doctor — he could be arrested for dealing. I know you collected from his surgery, just as I know you later dealt direct with a man called Gerry Fisher.’

‘Oh, God,’ Phyllis was shaking now. ‘Does Mr Caley know you are talking to me?’

‘No, this is a private discussion between you and me, it won’t go any further. But I need to know if anyone got nasty or made threats to Mrs Caley. A three thousand dollar a week habit is big money for some, it gets to be competitive, understand me? And I know you cut out the doctor at one point so he lost his share.’

‘It’s not three...’

‘Come on, Phyllis, we’re not here to worry about a few hundred dollars this way or that.’

‘It’s five...’

‘What?’

‘Sometimes a bit less, and obviously I would say a lot of that is for... confidentiality. I mean, if it was ever to get out, she is very famous, sits on a lot of charitable boards, and then of course there is Mr Caley to consider. If it was ever to be made public, it would be dreadful for him.’

‘He doesn’t use drugs of any kind?’

‘No, no, not at all, he’s very much against them. He has tried every means possible to persuade Elizabeth to stop. She’s been in so many clinics but no sooner is she released... it starts again, and with this tragedy it’s made things a lot worse. She’s in a stupor for most of the day, and then when Mr Caley comes home she starts taking anything that’ll wake her up, so then of course she can’t sleep and the spiral begins. It’s a wonder she hasn’t killed herself yet. She must have the constitution of a horse, the abuse her poor body takes, but she still manages to put on a good show when it is needed. Nobody would know, and that’s part of the problem. She’s very sly, very devious, and will swear on a Bible that she was clean if you asked...’

Lorraine drained her cappuccino, Phyllis had hardly touched hers. She was not so agitated now, her hands folded in her lap.

‘How we’ve managed to keep it secret for so long I don’t know, I really don’t, but at least I haven’t got to meet that dreadful man.’

‘So who do you deal from now, Phyllis?’

‘Please, I don’t deal, Mrs Page. When Mrs Caley went to a rehabilitation centre, I told Mr Fisher his services were no longer required. Then it started again, I picked up her prescriptions from the surgery again, just something to help her sleep and relieve the anxiety. She’s not using the other things, that is the truth. He should be struck off but if he didn’t get what she wanted she would go elsewhere.’

Lorraine nodded, really needing a cigarette. ‘So you never contacted any other street dealer, just the doctor?’

‘Yes.’

‘So no one else knows, nobody is putting any pressure on her to use their goods?’

‘If they are, I don’t know about it.’

‘Mr Caley knows you are getting the stuff for her, does he?’

Phyllis chewed her lips. ‘He knows about the painkillers.’

‘Do they sleep together?’

Phyllis looked shocked. ‘I cannot discuss that, really.’

‘Do they share the same bedroom?’

‘They have different suites. What they do in their own time I really have no notion of. He is, to my mind, very caring and patient with her, and she can be extremely difficult, you know.’

‘What about Anna Louise?’

‘I’m sorry?’

Lorraine sighed. ‘Phyllis, did Anna Louise know about her mother’s addiction to drugs?’

Phyllis looked away. ‘Perhaps, well, it is hard not to if you live in the same house. Mrs Caley has extreme mood swings and sometimes she is quite irrational.’

‘Did they argue a lot?’

Phyllis nodded.

‘Did Anna Louise use drugs?’

‘No, no, she hated them, she wouldn’t even smoke a cigarette, hardly ever drank. In fact, sometimes she seemed more like the mother than the child, which is why this is so awful for Mrs Caley.’

Lorraine picked at her tiny pastry. ‘The day they left for New Orleans, what state was Mrs Caley in?’

‘She... she had taken something. She was very tense, always made the excuse she hated flying, that she needed something to calm down her nerves, but she was... I think the expression is “wired”. She kept on changing her mind about whether or not to go, but we got her packed and ready, and by the time Mr Caley returned, she was quite calm.’

‘How was Anna Louise?’

‘Well, she hated it when Mrs Caley got anxious, and I think at one point she said she didn’t want to go. But when Mr Caley came home they talked for a while, and then they all left.’

‘So the last time you spoke to Anna Louise was from the plane?’

‘Yes, that was the last time. She asked me to collect a dress, but you know this.’

‘And she sounded okay, not stressed out?’

‘She sounded relaxed and happy, as did Mrs Caley.’

‘So you also spoke to Mrs Caley?’

‘Yes, she was making sure I’d get the dress sent to the house and then I was to give it to the pilot who would return for it and take it on to New Orleans.’ Phyllis suddenly bowed her head. ‘It was a lovely dress, and... she never got to wear it. You think she’s dead, don’t you?’

Lorraine signalled to the waiter. ‘I am not in any position to say that, not until I know more. Do you?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Do you think she’s dead, Phyllis?’

She nodded, twisting her hands. ‘Yes, she would not do this to her mother, and especially not to her father, she was a very thoughtful girl. You know, if she was going to be late she’d call home, and when she went away she would call her father two or three times a day.’

Lorraine settled the bill for the cappuccinos; she could have bought a full meal in an Orange Grove coffee shop for what they charged. She collected her purchases and was rising to her feet, preparing to leave, when Phyllis spoke again.

‘It was very hard when she had friends to stay.’ She had sipped her cold cappuccino now and had a froth stain on her upper lip. ‘She was protective about Mrs Caley, afraid anyone would find out. You know, in this day and age it’s so difficult to trust people not to sell out to the tabloids. Poor Anna Louise was worried about how it would affect her mother, it seems so incongruous that she should be the one to make such headlines, in every paper too. And you know something extraordinary, sick really... after fifteen years, during which she could not get a phone call returned, well, not for serious work, maybe television but she would never do television parts, she’s suddenly been offered numerous scripts from some of the big studios. And one, it’s hard to believe, even hinted that they may make a film about Anna’s disappearance and they wanted to discuss Elizabeth playing herself. Disgusting, just disgusting. So it is understandable why she is so dependent, isn’t it? Even if it is very hard on me.’

‘Thank you for agreeing to see me and for being so honest, Phyllis. Obviously everything we have said was in confidence. And if there is anything, anything at all that you think may help me, will you call me? Or Rosie.’

‘Yes, yes, I will and... well, thank you for coffee.’

Lorraine hurried out of the Plaza on to Rodeo, leaving Phyllis still sipping her cappuccino. She was relieved that Lorraine had only wanted to discuss the drug situation. She had been scared she knew more, and she could not, would not have talked about Juda Salina, she daren’t. She dabbed her lips with her napkin and looked around. Not until she saw Lorraine actually disappear from view did she get up and go into the café to use the public telephone. She gave a quick, furtive look around as she punched in the number, and waited.

‘The Caley residence.’

‘Peters, will you check on Mrs Caley? And will you say to her that everything was all right and she has no need to worry. I will be home in half an hour or so.’

Lorraine sat in her car. It was sweltering, the seat burning her backside, so she opened her windows all round. The portable buzzed and hissed.

‘Rosie, can you call Robert Caley? He’ll probably be at his office, so try there and ask if he’ll see me.’

‘Sorry, hang on a second.’ Rosie was munching a carrot, her cheeks bulging. She swallowed quickly. ‘Sorry, let me put Bill on, he wants a word. While you’re on to him I’ll call Caley, okay?’

Rooney picked up the phone. ‘I’ve been trying to check out this casino deal.’

‘Yeah, what you got?’

‘Not a lot but I got what I could. Caley heads a consortium made up of him, a couple of local moneymen and a casino outfit from out of state. They’re ready to back the deal to the tune of around two hundred and fifty million.’

‘What?’

‘Yep, lot of dough, but Caley will take the major slice of ownership as he laid out the initial payment for the land, massive site near the riverfront. The complex will have a hotel and a lot of high-class shops as well as the casino.’

‘So what’s Caley’s problem?’ Lorraine interjected.

‘Well, there’s a number of little hitches. One, he’s been wanting to set this deal up for five years, but unfortunately the state of Louisiana hasn’t been too quick about getting legalized gambling on the statute book, while their good neighbours next door have been straight off the blocks — a lot of the gambling revenue for the whole of the south-east already has a happy home up the coast in Mississippi, and maybe it ain’t gonna move. Second, there’s some old money elements in the city that are dragging out some case about re-zoning the area, saying it’s prohibited by federal law: load of fucking horseshit, but they could hold things up quite a while. And third, get this, there’s some very fucking weird provisions in this gambling statute — the city gets to choose the guy who develops the site, but the state gets to say who runs the casino. Everybody has been thinking it would be Caley and his friends, as soon as they could get this legal mess straightened out about the site, but lately people are getting to wondering what’s holding things up. Some other rich guys down here seem to have got the message that maybe somebody else might just get the licence to run the show, so now Caley’s got a rival consortium on his back, call themselves Doubloons. One of his backers has dropped out until he has the operating licence in his pocket, and the other may walk too.’

‘You got the backers’ names?’

‘Yep, two guys named Bodenhamer and Dulay. They’re big-time owners of major corporations, Bodenhamer construction, Dulay liquor. They both stand to make a packet out of the casino, not only out of the gambling, but by selling the stuff they got to sell, and as yet they don’t stand to lose a cent. Caley’s in a lot deeper though.’

‘What do you mean?’ Lorraine asked, trying to assimilate all the information.

‘Caley paid for the land leases on the site. If he doesn’t get the licence he’s stuck with them. This is all common knowledge in New Orleans, but I’d get a lot more from being there.’

‘It might be common knowledge, Bill, but how come this isn’t detailed in any of the reports your pal Sharkey xeroxed for us?’

‘Maybe he was looking out for his own ass, I dunno, or maybe they didn’t think it important.’

‘No? Well, I think it is. You’re sayin’, in so many words, Robert Caley’s got to get the casino deal?’

‘Sure. He’s been cash-poor for years — he liquidated a lot of his assets, sold off properties in LA and Louisiana. If the deal is greenlighted he stands to make mega-bucks. So maybe Nick was right about Caley. He’s up against very tough opposition, mainly from this other consortium, but the door’s wide open now for anyone else to walk in.’

‘We got to get as much as we can and fast. I’ll see if Caley will give me further details. Rosie contacted him yet?’

Rosie took the phone. ‘Yes, be there about four-thirty. He’s warned security to expect you.’

Lorraine tucked the phone under her chin and started up the engine. ‘Okay, I’m on my way.’

Rosie replaced the receiver and bent down to start removing tin-foil dishes from a carrier bag of takeaway, spreading a newspaper as tablecloth on Lorraine’s desk.

‘It’s Japanese, Bill, nothing fattening — that’s prawn, that’s salmon and that’s fish, raw fish. It doesn’t taste so good first time, but give it a good chew and a dip in the sauce. Then we got grated lettuce and broccoli.’

‘No thanks, I’ll get a hamburger.’

‘This is better for you — at least just try it.’

‘No thanks, I’ll wait.’

Rosie laid out all the dishes, then speared a piece of fish on a fork and carried it to Rooney.

‘Just have a taste, it’s good, healthy, and if you don’t mind me saying so, that suit’d fit better if you lost a few pounds.’

Rooney made a face, but opened his mouth and chewed, while Rosie leaned over him, waiting. He swallowed, nodding his head.

‘Not bad, bit like Chinese, isn’t it?’ Rosie prepared two platefuls as Bill hovered over the dishes, picking up a prawn and nibbling it.

‘No rice? Didn’t you get any rice?’

‘No, you can’t eat rice with protein because it’s a carbohydrate and you can’t mix them. Next meal we can have a huge plate of pasta, as much pasta as you can eat, but no protein.’

‘That’s interesting. Where you getting all this from?’

‘Lorraine, she put me on to it.’

Bill sat down in front of his plate, tucking a paper napkin in his collar. ‘She knows a thing or two, does Lorraine.’

Rosie nodded, pouring some spring water into two cups. ‘She always impresses me, sort of takes me by surprise. She’s a funny woman, though, and I don’t mean to bitch about her behind her back, but sometimes she can have a sharp tongue, and then other times she’s as soft as a baby.’

Rooney had his mouth full, or he would have contradicted her vehemently, because in all the years he had known Lorraine Page he had never seen a side of her character that could be described as soft as a baby, but he said nothing, chewing in unison with Rosie. Even if what he was eating did taste like rubber and he would have preferred a huge hamburger special with sausage and bacon on the side, he liked the fact that he was not sitting at home alone. French fries he could get on his way home, sweet company he could not.

A young man with slicked-back hair, wearing a grey designer suit and floral tie, led Lorraine into Robert Caley’s office. He tapped at an immense floor-to-ceiling door, a green light blinked on an intercom by the side, and the floral tie opened the door. He peered in, Lorraine just behind him.

‘It’s Mrs Page, Mr Caley.’

He turned with a whiter than white, capped-tooth smile. ‘Please...’

The office was a vast windowed room, with blinds cutting out the afternoon sunlight. An enormous black desk with black glass top dominated the room. The carpet was grey thick-pile, and soft leather bucket chairs formed a semicircle in front of the black monster. Expensive prints lined the walls but there were no filing cabinets, no stray tables. Only a bronze sculpture of what looked like an elongated man on a plinth pointing to heaven was placed discreetly in a corner.

Robert Caley was speaking on one of the eight telephones lining his desk. The high back of his chair was facing Lorraine so she couldn’t see him, but his assistant indicated one of the bucket seats.

‘Fine, Bel Air, see you there.’ Caley eased round to face Lorraine as he replaced the phone. ‘Excuse me one moment, Mrs Page.’

He looked at his assistant. ‘Call my five o’clock appointment and move him to six — I have to go out to the Bel Air for a while. And grovel some more to Dulay’s office, Mark, he’s really pissed off.’

‘Yes, sir. Do you want any refreshments?’

‘No, unless...’ Caley turned his attention to Lorraine.

‘Nothing for me, thank you.’

Caley gave a curt nod and the doors were closed silently. ‘You wanted to see me, Mrs Page?’

He swivelled from side to side, and, not waiting for her to answer, tapped the phone he had used with his forefinger. ‘That was trouble.’

‘I’m sorry, if it is inconvenient...’

Caley smiled glumly and leaned on his elbows, cupping his chin in his hands. ‘It is, but maybe I need something to take my mind off the fact I might go belly up. You want to see something?’ He sprang out of his chair and pressed a button at the side of the desk. Lorraine turned as part of the grey wall to her right slid back to display a large architect’s drawing. ‘This is what might do me in. Come here, let me show you.’ He showed her the proposed casino site, hotels, shopping precinct, and talked her through his plans, much as Rooney had outlined. ‘Looks good, huh? As I owned the entire site, I would of course be the main shareholder. But I didn’t count on the state fannying around for fucking years while they commission fifty reports on how gambling corrupts widows and orphans and makes you go blind, before they get around to deciding that actually it’s an emerging area of the leisure industry, worthy new area of economic development, provision of employment, economic stimulation, just what the city needs. They realized all of that first time around up the coast. Five years of my life go into this plan, and my partners, who unlike myself have not laid out so much as a dollar, are getting cold feet, while a gang of other guys around town decide they might like a piece of the pie and get themselves into a little huddle too. So...’

Lorraine looked over the model. ‘So if your partners pull out, what are you left with?’

‘A lot of land, and no money. So you see, I need those partners, without them I couldn’t build myself a shed. That’s how deep in this mess I am.’ He clicked off the screen, pulled back the wall panel across the model and returned to his desk.

Lorraine sat back in her chair. ‘Are your partners dumping you?’

‘Yep, one gone and one just about ready to. He called in the last hour — asked me what I propose to do to ensure this goes through when he’s the one pushing the Governor’s fucking golf cart for him every weekend. There’s only so long you can string people like Lloyd Dulay — the brewery magnate, if you don’t know who he is. When you have his kind of money there are a lot of people like me dangling deals and you know these mega-rich bastards are always intent on anything that’s gonna make them even richer, they just don’t want to wait.’

‘You mind if I smoke?’ she asked.

‘No, go ahead.’

He opened a drawer and placed an exquisite onyx and gold box on the table. She took a cigarette, and he clicked open the gold Cartier lighter from inside the box for her. As she inhaled, she looked up and met his eyes. They stared at one another for a brief moment, then he let the cigarette box lid close with a snap. He passed across a black glass ashtray. ‘I need a drink.’

She watched him cross the thick-pile carpet to yet another hidden section in the pale grey walls. Another panel slid aside to reveal a large drinks cabinet. She could hear the clink of ice against the glass and her heart began to beat rapidly. Was he going to offer her a drink? More importantly, would she be able to refuse it?

Lorraine was there for a specific reason — to discover if Caley was financially in as much trouble over the casino deal as Rooney had surmised. Yet he had, without any prompting, told her. Either he was a consummate actor and had pre-empted her reason for being there, or he was being honest. He had confused her and she was at a loss as to how she should continue the meeting.

‘This office is a bit crass, isn’t it?’ he chuckled. ‘When I first took it over, I used to go down the corridor and down a back flight of stairs to the John. I didn’t know which button to press for my own en suite bathroom. Fucking nightmare of grey on grey, but it’s only rented.’ He placed a long crystal glass of sparkling water with ice and lemon on the desk. He had a small, square, cut-crystal glass with brandy.

‘Thank you,’ she said softly.

Again he met her eyes, and this time he smiled. ‘You didn’t think I’d offer you alcohol, did you?’

‘For a moment I did.’ He was throwing her sideways.

‘I wouldn’t do that to you, I know you have a problem. I should do, I live with a woman who has not one, but a number. But then I think we have already discussed my wife’s situation.’

She nodded, wondering if one of the grey walls also slid back to reveal a bed. If it had done and he did reveal it, she wouldn’t know how she would react. She found him even more attractive today, liking everything about him; his hands were strong and tanned, his suit more casual than the floral-tied assistant’s, and he wore a collarless shirt with two buttons open at the neck, and simple loafers. Everything about him was casual, apart from his blue eyes: they were as dangerous as his smile.

‘I have to go to New Orleans, tomorrow maybe. You want to come with me?’

‘Yes.’ She sipped the iced water.

‘I guess you want to see what you can dig up there.’ He laughed. ‘Dig being the operative word. I might be digging for the rest of my life if I don’t pull this deal off.’

‘But surely your wife has a considerable amount—’

He interrupted her. ‘Let me make this very clear, Mrs Page. My wife’s money is hers, I make my own. We have separate bank accounts, always have done, and in case you haven’t unearthed it yet, I signed a pre-nuptial agreement. What is my wife’s is hers, what is mine is mine, for what it’s worth.’

‘If she dies...’ Lorraine said quietly.

He glared.’What?’

‘You are her main beneficiary, aren’t you.’

‘No, Mrs Page, my daughter is...’

‘But if Anna Louise is dead?’ she said, keeping her voice soft.

‘I hadn’t thought of that. Dear God, is that the reason you are here? What the fuck do you think I am, huh? We are talking about my daughter, what do you think I have done, killed her so that I can get my wife’s money? Do you think I’m making plans to kill my wife, is that it? What do you think I am?’ He shook his head. ‘Jesus Christ, that is so sick.’

‘I’m not here for that.’

‘Well, I’m glad to hear it, because if you were I’d throw you out of here myself.’

‘I’m looking for motives for Anna Louise’s disappearance, Mr Caley. Maybe you’ve given me one.’

He glared again. ‘You seriously think I would be capable of murdering my own daughter?’

‘I don’t know you, Mr Caley, but as an investigator I have to look at all possibilities. You are, as far as I can see and in so much as you have just told me, the only person that, like it or not, would benefit from Anna Louise’s death.’

‘And I’d benefit a whole lot more if my wife also died, yes?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you think I am arranging to kill her? Is that what you came here to discuss? To find out by what means I intend to murder my wife? Well, in your capacity as a so-called investigator, maybe you could give me some tips.’

‘I am not, Mr Caley, a so-called investigator.’

‘You weren’t much of a cop.’

She stood up and leaned towards him across the desk. ‘You have no idea what I was and I am not prepared to sit here and be insulted.’

‘But you can insult me? Anna Louise is my daughter, now you get out of this office and do the job my wife hired you to do, because I did not kill my daughter and I have no intention of murdering my wife.’

Lorraine coughed, trying as best as she could to appear nonchalant. ‘Perhaps one of your business associates may have a connection.’

He sat back in his chair and stared at her, then swivelled round so she could not see his face. His voice became deeper, quieter. ‘Go on, Mrs Page...’

‘Well, you’ve just made it perfectly clear; there’s a lot of money to be made, there’s you and a rival consortium, and things would be a lot easier for them if you were just suddenly to lose interest in this project. Plus there’s the riverboats — presumably a casino like yours would take a lot of their business, right? So there is a possibility that your daughter may have been part of some kind of plot.’

‘Like what?’ he snapped.

‘Well, someone may have kidnapped her to persuade you not to go ahead with your project. You own the land, and your partners haven’t put in a cent so far...’

He remained silent for a moment and then slowly swivelled round in his chair to face her. ‘Go on.’

‘It’s just a theory, but someone may have been considering using her to make you back off. Has anyone approached you directly, warned you off personally?’

He stared, then shrugged. ‘No, no, they have not. You mean hold her to ransom?’

She nodded. ‘Has anyone offered just to buy out your land?’

He began to toy with his empty glass, moving it slowly along the desk top. ‘No, but tell me this, why, if what you are saying were true, was there no ransom note, no request for a meeting, no contact whatsoever? The Doubloons consortium has so much muscle that I do not believe for one moment they would resort to kidnapping Anna Louise as a means of threatening me.’

‘But they may have used some unsavoury goons to pick her up, maybe hold her, and it went wrong.’

‘You mean they killed her?’

There was that awful pain in his eyes, and she had to look away. ‘Possibly, which would explain why there was no note or no contact with you. All the publicity surrounding your daughter’s disappearance must have had an adverse effect on the deal.’

Caley pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘But they are successful enough at blocking any advancement of my development without my daughter, they didn’t need her. And if I continue to lose my partners, then...’

‘You’ve considered this, haven’t you?’

He nodded, sighing. ‘Yes, briefly, but then I dismissed it because I truthfully do not think they would sink so low.’

‘When millions are at stake you would be surprised how low people are prepared to sink, Mr Caley. So, if you had even considered the possibility, then you must understand why I must also look into it and why I will need to know who all the other parties are, specifically your competitors. Then by a process of elimination—’

‘You won’t get anywhere with this so-called elimination.’

‘Try me,’ Lorraine challenged.

‘Okay, you want to talk to the opposition, yes?’

‘Obviously.’

‘Well, Mrs Page, I think you will come up against the same brick wall that every other agent has met with, but far be it from me to dissuade you. In fact, I will do everything I can to assist you, as I have done throughout the enquiries. Now if you’ll excuse me...’

‘Did the other agents and the LA police question you about these people?’

He strode towards the huge doors. ‘Of course, and they also at one time suspected me.’

‘I see.’

‘No, Mrs Page, I don’t think you do. I had expected, after we had talked, that you would have believed I could not have harmed a hair on my daughter’s head, let alone be the type of man who would put his wife through such torment. You have suggested nothing new, nothing that I have not been subjected to before. Now excuse me, Mark will give you all the details you require.’

He walked out, closing the door behind him. A few moments later, the floral-tied assistant appeared with a thick file and crossed the office to Lorraine.

‘Mr Caley has asked me to give you these files, but please understand this is private and confidential information. You may make notes but not remove the file from the office. Mr Caley’s secretary will give you every assistance if you need anything clarified—’ He was interrupted.

‘So I remain in here?’ Lorraine took the files.

‘Yes, Mr Caley suggests you use his office so that if you require any assistance, or anything xeroxed that we agree to be released, his secretary or I will be on hand to help you. The file contains plans for the proposed casino development and—’ Again he was interrupted as Lorraine moved round Robert Caley’s desk.

‘Fine, thank you. I’m sorry, I didn’t actually catch your name.’

‘Mark Riley, I am Mr Caley’s personal assistant.’

She sat at Caley’s desk, opening the file. ‘Thanks, Mark. If you could just show me what button I press to talk to you or...’

‘Margaret is on line five, I am on line two.’

She smiled. ‘Thank you very much, Mark.’

He hesitated at the half-open door. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

‘Did you know Anna Louise, Mark?’

He looked surprised. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘Did she come here a lot?’

‘No, just occasionally for lunch with Mr Caley.’

‘Did you ever see her socially?’

‘No. I only met her when she came to see Mr Caley.’

Lorraine was left alone in the vast, cool office, sitting in Robert Caley’s soft leather chair. She opened the file and then reached for her purse to get her note-book. She found it, but no pen, so she looked down the side of the desk to rows of black steel-fronted drawers discreetly built into each side, to try to find one. There were no handles. She tried pushing at them, trying to fathom out how they opened, but they all seemed to be locked. She frowned and looked over the vast desk top and saw that it had a built-in square directly in front of the chair. She pushed at it but nothing happened. Then she noticed a small black raised button so she pressed it and the inlaid section eased back. The opening housed a blotter, a row of pens and pencils, note-books, memo pads, paper clips, all in neat compartments, and two photograph frames face down. She turned one over and it was of Anna Louise; the other was of Elizabeth Caley.

Sitting at his desk in his office, Mark Riley watched Lorraine on a small monitor. He turned to a dark-haired woman who was typing on her word processor.

‘Mrs Page is having a good snoop round the office.’

Margaret looked at him. ‘Yes, I noticed, but I’ve secured all the drawers so she can’t poke her nose any further.’

Mark looked over the diary. There was no record of the new appointment. ‘Who’s he meeting right now?’

‘Who do you think?’ Margaret said, half-raising an eyebrow.

Saffron Dulay was late, she always was, and Robert Caley checked his watch again, missing her entrance. But no one else did — she was hard to miss. Saffron moved gracefully between the tables, led by a maître d’ who bowed and gestured towards Caley’s discreet table in one of the alcoves of the Bel Air garden restaurant. Pausing just a fraction to smile and acknowledge a number of people she knew, Saffron gave only a slight incline of her beautiful head, behaving as if she was royalty, and the maître d’ was treating her as such.

Caley immediately rose to his feet as Saffron joined him, bending her head towards him for a kiss on the cheek.

‘Robert,’ she said huskily, ‘I’m sorry, I know I am late, please don’t get up.’

He did, pulling her chair out for her as she sat down with the passing swans at her back. He knew she liked to get a good view of the place and invariably knew anyone that was anyone. Saffron was rich, the only daughter of a brewing king, sole heiress to billions. She wore her wealth in that covert, simple way that only the truly rich can. Almost six feet tall, the sheer simplicity of her white négligée-type dress enhanced her height, while her glowing golden tan was set off by slim gold sandals and a million dollars’ worth of solitaire diamonds in her ears. As she eased her slender body on to the cushioned seat, she removed her only accessory — her gold-rimmed shades.

‘Hi, how you doing?’

Saffron was the wrong side of forty but one would be hard-pushed to estimate her age; her confidence in herself, boosted by her millions and her obvious physical perfection, gave the appearance of youth. Four marriages and endless lovers had not managed to dent her innocent girlish act, one she had perfected better than any hopeful starlet half her age.

‘You got any news about that little girl o’ yours?’ she asked in her Southern drawl.

‘No.’

She reached over and touched Caley’s hand lightly. ‘It must be s’ah hard.’

‘Yeah, it is.’

Her eyes flicked round the tables, then back to Caley. ‘You always choose this place.’

‘Yep, I can smoke, outdoors.’ He signalled to a waiter. ‘I’ve already ordered you your usual — I take it your tastes haven’t changed.’

She laughed, her eyes still darting around the restaurant, and all he could think about was Lorraine Page. She was as blonde, almost as tall, but so flawed, so real a woman in comparison with Saffron. He no longer wanted to fuck Saffron, that had been over a long time ago. He had never disliked her before, now he did. Perhaps Lorraine attracted him because she was so direct. He would like to screw Lorraine, and just thinking about it made him smile.

‘You got one hell of a smile, Robert Caley,’ Saffron said softly.

‘Why, thank you...’

She cupped her chin in her hands. ‘What you want, darlin’? You runnin’ short of funds again?’

The waiter brought her an elaborately decorated cocktail and another whiskey sour for him. It irritated him that she knew instinctively why he had asked to see her, that he had to play out the game. She sipped a tiny drop from the glass and then placed it on the table; she wouldn’t touch it again, she never did.

‘Ah’ll never understand why you don’t get that movie star wife of yours to finance you.’

‘I don’t want money from my wife.’

‘No, but you sure as hell need it, an’ you’ll take it from elsewhere.’ She leaned back, only now giving him her undivided attention. Being rich, she knew how to handle anyone about to put the touch on her, she was an old hand at it.

‘I don’t want a cent from you, darlin’, but I do need you to easy-talk your daddy. No need to go into details, you know we’re into this development deal together, but he’s hinted he might pull out and I know you can talk him round, so—’

‘Ah already talked to him, darlin’, soon as Ah put down the phone from you he called me. In fact, we must have been playin’ telephone games — he calls you, you call me, then he calls me... He may be more than seventy years old, but, man, he is a wily old bastard. Said he wants me to go to some function back home, you know, always keepin’ tabs on me and it drives me crazy. Since Mama died, he is trying to get me to go live back home, find a nice steady man and produce a grandchild.’

‘It’s understandable, you’re his only daughter. So did he mention my project at all?’

‘Why don’t we drive around a while to discuss this?’ She smiled sweetly, not waiting for him to reply, then tossed her napkin aside. Caley half-rose from his seat, watched her get up, then finished his drink, knowing she would be table-hopping for a good fifteen minutes. He paid the check, and knew he was now about to pay even more. As he threaded his way through the tables, he checked his watch; he had only forty-five minutes before his next meeting.

The driver could not see or be seen through the dark-tinted glass partition. Saffron’s limo had a wide couch section, a television and drinks cabinet, plus a fax machine, telephone and a computer deck. Caley sat opposite her; she was lying across a deep cushioned seat, unwrapping a peppermint.

‘You want a sweetie?’

‘Nope.’

‘No calories.’

He opened the drinks cabinet, filled a crystal tumbler with ice cubes and topped it up with water. He looked at Saffron, holding up the glass, but she shook her head.

‘I have to be back at my office by six.’

‘Fine, we’ll drive nice and slow... just the way Ah like it.’

She eased one shoulder strap down, then the next, and wriggled out of her white dress. She wore no underwear and was totally unselfconscious as she carefully folded her dress and spread her long tanned legs wide. She wore only her thin-strapped gold sandals. Caley watched her as he sipped the water and then drained the glass, leaving just the ice cubes. He jangled the glass for a moment, and she giggled.

‘Well, well, it’s been a while since Ah was cubed up, and you know how Ah like it...’

He didn’t even loosen his tie or remove his jacket; he didn’t need to. Saffron didn’t want to be held in his arms and wouldn’t want to have her discreet make-up disturbed by frantic kisses. She knew exactly what she wanted, and so did he. She began to massage herself, cupping her neat breasts in her tapering fingers until the nipples hardened. He knelt between her legs. With his right hand he stroked her nipples with an ice cube, making her moan softly, as his left hand began slowly to caress her thighs, inching up gradually between her legs until his thumb rubbed her, knowing the exact spot to arouse her, and she spread her legs wider and wider, eyes closed.

‘Oh, yes, yes, Ah like that, Ah like that.’

Slowly he let the ice cube slither down from her breasts, making her shiver, and her body arched as he adeptly inserted the melting ice cube high up into her vagina. He quickly reached for the rest of the cubes still in his glass and pressed in one after another until he could feel the cold ice with his thumb.

‘Oh, God, yesss, yess...’ She bent forwards, drawing his head down as he began to suck and lick her clitoris. She came quickly, letting out a scream, but still held his face between her legs with her hands. ‘Ah wanna come three times, make me scream three times, baby, do it, do it.’

Nick breezed into the office eating a hamburger, and Rosie wrinkled her nose.

‘That’s full of cholesterol, not good for you, Nick.’

‘I know, but I like it.’

He sat in Lorraine’s chair and swivelled round, stuffing the remains of the burger into his mouth as Rooney walked in.

‘Caught you, you’ve had a hamburger, I can smell it,’ Rooney said accusingly to Rosie.

‘I have not,’ Rosie replied self-righteously, ‘but he has.’ She pointed to Nick, who was wiping his mouth on his shirt cuff.

‘What the hell is this place? A health clinic?’

Rooney sat on the edge of the desk, grinning at Rosie.

‘Just a private joke. What you got — anything or nothing?’

Nick dug in his pockets, bringing out his scraps of notes.

‘I got a line into Elizabeth Caley’s doctor, pal of mine is sniffing around for me, and...’ They waited as he thumbed his way through his crumpled papers.

‘Fisher’s girlfriend is rapping to a pal of mine on the drug squad, and...’ Nick continued.

‘And?’ prompted Rooney. Nick ruffled his already untidy curls.

‘We got to move fast, word is they’re going to arrest Doc Hayleden for dealin’, so I’d kind of like to get to him before the bust, may be nice if her ladyship came with me, you know, see how a real pro works!’

Rosie said she’d call Lorraine on the mobile, and was about to dial when Nick held up his hand.

‘What is it with her? She got a problem with me?’

Rooney shrugged, looking across at Rosie.

‘No, why do you ask?’

Nick cocked his head to one side. ‘Well, I’m working my butt off, but I don’t want to get screwed.’

‘By Lorraine?’ Rosie asked.

‘Yeah, I know she’s edgy about me being on this gig, so... I’m asking you straight: I’m in, aren’t I?’

‘Of course you are,’ Rosie replied, and Rooney jabbed a finger into Nick’s chest.

‘Listen, we cut this four ways and that’s it.’

Nick grinned. ‘Okay, just needed it confirmed... is she screwing anyone? Not metaphorically. Just wondered.’

Rooney laughed. ‘You don’t stand a chance, Nick. Does he, Rosie?’

She hunched her shoulders. ‘I dunno, but do you want me to contact her or not? She’s over at Caley’s office.’

Nick grinned again. ‘You call her, but don’t you say nothin’ — about anything personal.’

Lorraine remained at Caley’s office desk, making notes, monitored by Mark and Margaret, but she called for no assistance from either of them. She sat at the big desk, ploughing methodically through the thick file, knowing it had been checked over by all the other investigators, but she could not afford to skim just in case she missed something. By six o’clock she had half-filled her notebook, and she sat back in the big leather chair.

Robert Caley’s finances were stretched to the limit. It appeared that all his money was tied up in properties, which still made him a rich man but one with no ready cash-flow. As he had told her, he had banked everything on the casino deal, and if it did not come off, he would still have to pay off the outstanding monies due on the land. If his partners pulled out, he would lose millions and would be forced to sell properties fast and thus at a loss in order to pay his debts. Lorraine had no access to information about Elizabeth Caley’s fortune and as far as she could ascertain, the Caleys did not have any form of joint finances or joint accounts.

Mark looked at the monitor and saw Lorraine stand up and stretch her arms above her head, yawning. He watched her close the file and begin to pack away her things.

‘I think she’s through,’ he said to Margaret. She was talking to Robert Caley’s chauffeur, who had just got back to the office.

Margaret pursed her lips. ‘I hope he’s not going to be late, Mario left him at the Bel Air. That bitch Saffron Dulay, dunno why he even sees her.’

Mark shrugged as he pointed to the video screen. ‘It’s called being fucking rich, Margaret! Mrs Page is leaving. Can you blast the air conditioning on in there? She’s been smoking...’

Mark hovered as Lorraine walked out of the office carrying the file. ‘You all finished?’

‘Yes, thank you. Is Mr Caley here?’

‘No, I’m sorry, he’s at a meeting and then he has another one at six o’clock. Do you need to speak to him?’

‘Er, well, not really, just thank him for me, would you?’ She passed him the file. ‘And, oh, just one thing. Mrs Caley, she has nothing to do with the business here, am I correct?’

‘Yes.’

‘I see, and she has not financed any of the real estate companies?’

‘Not to my knowledge,’ he said tartly.

‘They have no joint interests?’

‘None that I am aware of.’ He carried the file to a cabinet. Lorraine followed, standing just behind him.

‘She is very wealthy then, in her own right?’

‘Yes, I believe so, but I work for Mr Caley. I have never been privy to Mrs Caley’s private finances.’

‘But you must have some idea of what she’s worth. I mean, is it a few million, one million or a sort of clutch of millions?’ she smiled jokingly but he would not give an inch.

‘I really have no idea, perhaps you should discuss it with Mrs Caley herself He turned as Margaret approached with Mario. ‘Mario, will you walk Mrs Page to the elevator? I’ll inform security she’s leaving. This is Mr Caley’s chauffeur, Mario, Mrs Page.’

Mario nodded and headed for the door, holding it open for her. They went down in the elevator together.

‘I thought Mr Caley was still out.’

‘He is, ma’am.’

‘Are you employed by both Mr and Mrs Caley?’

‘Yes, ma’am, eight years now.’

He gestured for her to go to the security desk and she unpinned her badge, handing it over. He then opened the main doors of the building for her.

She hesitated. ‘Did you know Anna Louise?’

‘Yes, ma’am, I sometimes drove her and Mrs Caley.’

‘Did you drive her to any specific place? Particularly just before her disappearance, anywhere unusual?’

‘No, ma’am, I only used to drive them on shopping trips, sometimes to a social event, but Miss Caley had her own car. She was a really cute girl, always polite, always treated me with respect.’

‘And Mrs Caley?’

‘I’m sorry?’ He looked away.

‘Did Mrs Caley treat you with respect?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ He still held the door open but she got the feeling he wanted to get rid of her.

‘Did you drive Mrs Caley to and from her doctor’s at all?’

‘No, ma’am.’

‘Really? So you only drove Mrs Caley infrequently? Just shopping trips, a few social events?’

‘Yes, ma’am, that is correct.’

‘Did you ever take Mrs Caley to a Mrs Juda Salina’s apartment over on Doheny?’

‘I did sometimes take them.’

‘Them?’

‘Ah, well, yes, Miss Anna Louise went to see Mrs Salina a few times. Mrs Salina used to come by the house but Mr Caley didn’t like it, so then they used to go to her place.’

‘Did Anna Louise ever go by herself to Juda Salina?’

‘Er, maybe, once or twice.’

‘Immediately before she disappeared?’

‘I don’t want any trouble, please. Mr Caley doesn’t know I took them, he didn’t like her, and I don’t believe in all that stuff.’

‘So Anna Louise went to Mrs Salina’s just before they left for New Orleans, yes?’

He nodded his head.

‘You’re from New Orleans, aren’t you, Mario?’

He seemed to be very uneasy and the sweat stood out on his forehead. ‘Yes, ma’am, a number of the Caleys’ employees used to work for her family, and sometimes we go back there with them, when they’re gonna stay a while.’

‘If I need to talk with you, Mario...’

‘You can call me at the house or here, Mrs Page. I live in, I got an apartment over the garages.’

Mario looked at the security section, then back at Lorraine. He took out his card and wrote on the back. ‘That’s my portable, you can always get me on my portable, but you got to know I got nothing to say about Mrs Caley, or Mr Caley. They’re fine people and I am real cut up about Miss Anna Louise, as is everyone that knows them.’

Lorraine slipped the card into her pocket and smiled. ‘I’m sure it must be a very distressing time for everyone. Thank you, Mario.’

She walked out of the building and headed towards the car park. She saw the white stretch limo parked by the security gate. Robert Caley was bending into the passenger side, with his back to her. Lorraine hurried along the neat pathway and took a short cut across the grass, ducking under the white barrier. She was within feet of Robert Caley, who seemed angry.

‘All I’m asking is for you to see if he’ll give me time. Jesus, you play games, you know that?’

‘Me? You play the games, Caley, you get what you deserve. What you want me to do? Tell my daddy that you’ll go down on him?’

‘I’ll tell your daddy what his fucking bitch of a daughter gets up to...’

‘Hi, I was just leaving,’ Lorraine said from directly behind him. He whipped round, the door of the limo ajar, and she could see the still naked Saffron lying on the back seat. He slammed the door shut, the car backed away from the barrier and did a U-turn.

‘That was some meeting,’ Lorraine said, smiling.

He covered fast, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Yeah, but sometimes old partners can push their luck.’

She could see a small muscle at the side of his jaw twitching and she continued to smile. ‘Thank you for letting me use your office.’

‘Any time.’ His hands were clenched at his sides and although she knew he was trying hard to be civil, his eyes gave him away. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment.’

‘Sure, if I need to speak to you again...’

He was walking away. ‘You know where I am, Mrs Page.’

As Lorraine turned around towards her car, the security guard tipped his hand to his hat and headed towards her.

‘Evening, Mrs Page.’ He walked with her to her car. He even took her keys to unlock the car for her, holding the door wide. Everyone in the place seemed over-polite.

‘Must have been up in the seventies today,’ he remarked, making conversation, waiting for his tip. She passed him five bucks.

‘That was a nice limo.’

‘The big white one?’

‘Yeah, with the Louisiana plates. Whose is it?’

‘Used to come by a lot but not lately, business associate of Mr Caley’s.’ He shut the car door, tapping the roof with his hand. She wondered if she gave him another five bucks whether he would recall whose limo it was, and she lowered the window, keeping a fixed smile in place.

He lifted the security pole for her to drive through. As she came alongside him, she let the smile drop.

‘Who owns the limo, pal? Save me time checking it out at the station. Yeah, that’s right, I’m a cop, we come in all shapes and sizes now.’

He hesitated. ‘Miss Saffron Dulay, she’s Lloyd Dulay’s daughter, he uses her limo when he’s here in LA.’

‘Thank you,’ Lorraine said crisply, driving out through the barrier. So that was the business meeting. Well, maybe it was; Lloyd Dulay, Robert Caley had told her, was one of the casino partners, the brewery magnate.

Lorraine was heading back towards Hollywood when Nick called her on the mobile.

‘Hi, honey. If we wanna talk to Caley’s doc, we got to make it quick. I got a tip-off he’s gonna get busted, so meet me there as soon as you can make it.’

‘Okay, I’ll head straight over there, I’ve just got to make one call on the way.’ She punched out the office number.

‘Hi, Bill, anythin’.?’

‘Nope,’ he answered. ‘How you doin’?’

‘I had a couple of hours at Caley’s office, I got some names to check out. He gave me access to the casino deal file, which makes interesting reading. Will you dig up what you can about Lloyd Dulay’s daughter? She’s in Hollywood, name’s Saffron Dulay. I think Robert Caley’s got a scene going with her, so can you check her out?’

‘Sure, but Lorraine—’

She knew he was about to hassle her about wasting time in LA. ‘I got to go now, I’m on my way to meet Nick.’

The line went dead. Rosie leaned over Rooney’s shoulder, reading his notes. ‘Who’s Saffron... what’s the name?’

‘Dulay, daughter of one of the guys on the casino deal, rich, rich family. Lorraine seems to think Robert Caley’s screwing her, so I’ll check her out, start ringing round the social columns and society diaries.’

Rosie nodded. ‘I’ll do that, if you like.’

‘Okay, thanks. You smell nice, you wearin’ perfume?’

Rosie beamed. ‘It’s gardenia.’

‘Smells nice, fresh.’

‘Thank you.’

‘S’okay.’

Nick watched Lorraine drive into the car park adjacent to the doctor’s surgery on Santa Monica and Bedford, get out and head towards the building. He liked the way she walked, with long, easy strides. A raunchy woman, he thought to himself, all woman. Even with her blonde hair all ruffled and her suit crumpled, she looked good to him. He’d always liked leggy, tough blondes and Lorraine was a natural, kind of coordinated. He couldn’t help but smile, intuitively guessing she was also raunchy in bed.

‘What’s so funny?’ she snapped.

‘Nothin’, but you look like you want to sock somebody. You in a raw mood, are you?’

‘Yeah,’ but she was smiling when she answered. Nick Bartello had that ability to put you at your ease immediately.

He gave her that great smile of his. ‘Okay, this is what’s going down. You wanna sit in my jeep? I’m in the Doc’s parking bay. He’s inside by the way, but he’s also gonna be inside inside sooner than he knows.’

They crossed to a beat-up Cherokee jeep; even the seats were torn and shredded.

‘Holy shit, Nick, where’d you get this?’

‘Engine’s good an’ it was cheap. My dog screwed up the seats.’ He whistled, and a weird, long-haired head shot up from the back seat.

‘This is Tiger. Tiger, meet Lorraine Page, of Page Investigations.’

The dog, part German Shepherd and part sheepdog or maybe wolfhound, was as unkempt-looking as its owner, its freaky pale blue eyes like Nick’s.

‘Found him in a trash can two years ago, he’s a great guard dog but he craps everywhere, so he kinda lives in the jeep.’

‘Yeah, I can see that.’ Lorraine looked over the disgusting jeep’s seats; a food bowl, a water bowl, and an old blanket, along with Tiger, occupied the entire back seat. As Lorraine sat inside and shut the door, Tiger gave a low, rumbling growl.

‘Hey, back off, this is my partner.’

Tiger settled down, his head resting on Nick’s shoulder as he tapped out a cigarette from a squashed pack of Kools.

‘Remember the Fisher guy I told you about? My now deceased informant?’

Lorraine nodded.

‘Well, I made some more enquiries, autopsy report revealed it wasn’t a heroin OD but a blood clot, caused by injecting temazepam, that caused death. Kind of makes sense because he’d said the last time I met him he wasn’t using, but I just presumed he’d got back on the smack. His type usually do. This doctor is sellin’ prescriptions like it’s going out of fashion and he is still supplying temazepam to Elizabeth Caley. But if we want to go in there, let me do the talking. We won’t have long because Fisher’s girlfriend has been rapping to the cops, they picked her up a couple of nights ago. Don’t ever accuse me of not movin’ my ass, I been at this since early morning. Anyway, my tip-off is they’re gonna bust him any second, so if we need a bit of a lever to make him talk we can use Fisher.’

‘Okay, let’s go talk to the guy.’

The surgery was like a luxurious lounge, deep sofas, drapes and coffee tables, while Dr Hayleden, with his rimless glasses, pristine suit, coiffured hair and facework, resembled something from a waxworks.

‘I cannot discuss any patient. Unless, of course, he or she is privy to the discussion or you have a legal, written consent form.’

Lorraine said nothing. Nick remained silent.

‘So I think that concludes our interview.’

‘Not quite,’ Nick said softly.

‘Oh, I think so. You walk in off the street, you say you are a private investigation company, you ask questions about one of my patients, and obviously one that the media know only too well, and expect me—’

‘To cut the bullshit,’ said Nick quietly, ‘I know you have been prescribing Elizabeth Caley not just pain-killing drugs, but sleeping tablets, mild tranquillizers, right? And over a long period of time... only she’s got enough to tranquillize a fucking elephant.’

‘I don’t like your insinuations, Mr Bartello.’

‘Quite honestly, Doc, I don’t give a fuck. I know nobody, no matter how much of an insomniac they may be, who requires per week the bulk load of temazepam you have been prescribing for Elizabeth Caley. Enough to melt down the tabs and inject six or seven times daily. Now, we’re not talking the usual prescription-sized orders here, I mean two hundred a time. The reason I know this is a friend of mine was also dealing for you, a Mr Fisher. He and his pals were breaking into warehouses at chemical plants and delivering to your door. I know and you know, Doc, anybody doing that amount of gear is heading for thrombosis, like our pal Mr Fisher. He is dead, you know that?’

Dr Hayleden stared hard at Nick, trying not to show that he knew exactly what he was talking about. But they’d got to him, they could feel it. The sweat was breaking out on his forehead and his eyes widened in panic. Lorraine kicked Nick’s ankle lightly — no way did they want to frighten him too much.

Lorraine leaned forward. ‘We’re not from the drug squad, this is a private investigation. All we need to know is if Robert Caley is aware of what his wife is hooked on.’

‘I don’t know of any patient on my books called Fisher.’ Dr Hayleden was sweating profusely, his perfect hair-weave now damp round the edges, his lips dried out as he constantly flicked his tongue from corner to corner of his mouth. ‘You must understand, if a patient insists on misusing prescribed drugs there is little I can do about it.’

Nick got up. ‘If a doc continues to prescribe drugs knowing the dangers, I’d say he was in shit up to his armpits. Why don’t you answer the question? Better still, tell us if Robert Caley has ever picked up one of your little sweetie bags for his wife in person.’

Fifteen minutes later Nick and Lorraine knew that Elizabeth Caley was sometimes ordering over a thousand tabs a week and that Hayleden, never having met Robert Caley, had no reason to believe he was in any way aware of his wife’s drug abuse. Mrs Caley’s personal assistant had on occasion collected the tablets. Anna Louise Caley had never at any time been to his surgery.

By the time Nick and Lorraine had driven back to Pasadena, the LA drug squad had arrested Hayleden. He was to be charged with the selling of prescriptions and illegal drugs, would probably get off with just a fine, and be struck off the medical board. But his type just moved on and started up again in another state. Elizabeth Caley, using an assumed name, was only one of his many clients. Her real name would probably never even be linked to the case.

Over dinner back at the apartment, Nick remained adamant that Robert Caley was still their main suspect. Rooney listened as Nick and Lorraine filled him and Rosie in on their session with the doctor. The consensus was that they should now begin work in New Orleans. Only Lorraine held back, not satisfied that Robert Caley was their number one suspect. The others felt she was becoming obsessive with the Juda Salina scenario, and she insisted she still needed to talk with Phyllis again and have yet another session with both Elizabeth and Robert Caley.

Nick threw his hands up in agitation. ‘Why the fuck are you wasting time, sweetheart? It’s Caley, he’s got the motive.’

Rooney nodded in agreement. ‘Yeah, we got to prove it though, Nick.’

Nick wound some spaghetti round his fork and looked at Lorraine. ‘You give us reasons why we don’t go for him, push him hard.’

‘I honestly don’t have one, just a gut feeling.’

‘You mean you want to get into his pants,’ Nick said, laughing.

Lorraine sprang up. ‘Fuck you, that isn’t true. All I’m saying is, if he was involved in his own daughter’s disappearance, why give me access to his private files, why give me reasons or a fucking big motive? He’s not hiding anything, on the contrary.’

Nick poured a beer which he had brought himself because he knew neither Lorraine nor Rosie drank. ‘Hey! Let’s just hold it there. A guilty man is bound to want you to know before you find out, rules of the game, Lorraine, you know that. And you caught him out with Saffron what’s her name. We have got to move fast so that Elizabeth Caley doesn’t kill herself before we get him or we’ll lose out on that one million pay-off.’

Lorraine felt tired out. ‘You got anything on Saffron Dulay, Rosie?’

Rosie, more official then ever, opened her note-book. ‘For starters, she’s had more husbands than I’ve had hot dinners. She’s the only daughter and heir to a fortune and she puts it about, a lot. I contacted Melissa Dewhurst from the Hollywood grub mag and she filled me in without much preamble because Saffron sued her magazine for a lotta bucks ’cos Melissa wrote some article implying she was a nympho. By the way, she sued another mag because it hinted that she’d had breast implants. Judging from the pics I got sent over, I’d say she’s had a lot more than her tits lifted, she looks fantastic. And take a look at the apartment she lives in.’ Rosie spread out the magazine pictures.

Nick leaned forward and whistled. ‘Now, she’s a motive. What a body, and rich with it, nice one. Lorraine, have a look at her with clothes on. You saw her in the back of a limo at Robert Caley’s place bareass naked, right?’

Rooney stared. ‘You’re kiddin’ me!’

Lorraine sat back, pushing her half-finished plate away. She opened her briefcase and passed out her notes from Caley’s office files, putting them on to the table. ‘Don’t get food over them, but you two, and you, Rosie, should get clued up.’ She got up from the table.

‘What about Robert Caley?’ Nick asked, uptight.

‘That is about him, Nick, just read it, all of it.’

Nick yawned, winking at Rooney. ‘How about a drink? We can go through these in a bar.’

Rooney snapped the book shut. ‘Okay by me. See you tomorrow, Rosie, thanks for the spaghetti.’ He leaned over and kissed her cheek. It took her by surprise, and she blushed.

Nick gave her a wink as he held open the door for Rooney to pass. ‘Goodnight, see ya tomorrow.’

Rosie started clearing the table. It was nice having men around the place, it was a good feeling, and as she passed a mirror carrying the dirty plates to the sink, she gave herself a quick glance. Maybe tomorrow she should have her hair trimmed, start wearing a bit of make-up. Rooney’s peck on the cheek had meant a lot; she hadn’t been kissed by a man for a very long time. Not that Rooney had kissed her properly, but it was a show of affection and she hadn’t had much of that either.

Lorraine remained sitting at the table as Rosie began clearing up. She could hear Rooney and Nick laughing in the street below. She got up and stood by the window, looking out, then turned to Rosie.

‘Goodnight, Rosie, go to bed now, it’s late, and I’m tired out.’

‘Goodnight. Turn off the air conditioner or you won’t sleep.’

Lorraine turned off the air conditioning, then the lights, and stood in the semi-darkness by the window, arms folded, deep in thought. Nick Bartello had virtually taken over the case, she knew it, and she knew she would have to top him, to prove not only to Rosie but to Rooney that she was still running the show. He was ahead of her and he was good, she knew that. He might be laid back but he had come up with motives, and good ones. Was she losing her touch? Had her physical attraction to Caley made her fail to see through him? She sighed as she lay down on her sofa bed.

Was Robert Caley capable of covering up why his own daughter had been abducted, possibly murdered? Or was it Elizabeth Caley covering up not only her drug addiction but something more sinister? If so, why the hiring of private investigators? Unless it was a role she was acting out from one of her old movies?

Lorraine yawned, feeling her eyes droop with tiredness. Either way, she was convinced that the key to the disappearance of Anna Louise Caley was connected to her parents. The question was, which one? They had only two weeks to get that million, and two days were already gone.

The faces became blurred; one moment Nick Bartello was calling out to her, then Lubrinski. She was trying to drag the body to safety from a hail of bullets... She was screaming, the body was heavy, bleeding and moaning. Lubrinski’s face became Nick Bartello’s, then Lubrinski’s again, and she was weeping, unaware she was crying out loud. It was her own cry that woke her: just before she came to, the man cradled in her arms had become Robert Caley. She sat up shaking, panting for breath, her body drenched in sweat, and it took her a moment to realize where she was. Then she flopped back on to her pillows, closing her eyes, but she couldn’t go back to sleep. She didn’t want the nightmare to return, didn’t want to go back to the memory of Jack Lubrinski dying in her arms. She felt cold, very cold.

Nick Bartello was so like Lubrinski. He too always kept his notes in his back pocket, ripping pages out of her book to write in his thin, scrawled, unorthodox shorthand.

Rosie had heard the screams. She had sat bolt upright in her bed listening then crept to her door. She eased it open and peeked into the living room. She saw Lorraine curled up like a little girl, hands clenched under her chin.

‘You all right, partner?’ she whispered.

‘Yep, just had a bad dream. Did I wake you?’

‘Nope, see you in the morning.’

‘Rosie, you always go for the same kind of guy?’

Rosie leaned over the sofa and gently stroked Lorraine’s hair. ‘Listen, I been without one for so long, I’d go with anything offered, short or tall, fat or skinny, bald, blond or dark. Maybe not a red-head, never fancied red-haired guys.’

Lorraine turned over and smiled up at Rosie. She had such a lovely, sweet smile, it was sad she so rarely used it. ‘I always liked dark-haired guys. You know, maybe that is what I need.’

‘What?’ Rosie looked worried.

‘A man.’

Rosie laughed. ‘Thank Christ for that, I thought you were gonna say a drink. Mind you, in my experience they’re both as bad for you.’

‘Yeah, I guess so.’

Rosie’s gentle hand stroking her head was calming and Lorraine was asleep before she knew it. She didn’t even feel Rosie carefully lay her duvet cover over her, didn’t know Rosie waited until she was asleep, watching in part-fascination as Lorraine’s long slender hands slowly uncurled from fists. It was moments like these that made it all right between them; only to Rosie did Lorraine show her frightening vulnerability. Whatever bad dreams made her scream in such a terrible way were never referred to. But they were now less frequent, like her sweet smiles.