Double

13: McCone

I was sitting in the hallway on one of those uncomfortable molded plastic chairs when Wolf came out of Knowles’s office. He looked at me, his expression a mixture of disapproval and concern, and nodded at the bank of elevators. I got up and followed him over there. He punched the down button impatiently.

“Doesn’t Knowles have anything else to say to me?” I asked.

“He seems to think it’s all been said.”

“Yes, I guess it has.” The Lieutenant had told me I was lucky he wasn’t going to book me for breaking and entering; he’d told me to keep my nose out of his case. On the other hand, I was to report anything I heard or remembered about Elaine Picard immediately; and I was to let him know if I planned to leave San Diego. He hadn’t expressed appreciation for my cooperation, even though I’d done my damnedest in that quarter.

Wolf made an annoyed noise and punched the button again. The doors of the nearest car slid open and we got on. In silence we rode to the lobby and went through the main door to C Street. Wolf led me around the big pinkish building that housed the sheriff’s department and onto Union Street, where a clunky-looking Chevy Monza was parked in front of a bail bondsman’s office. The car was pale yellow, with plenty of dents and scrape marks. Leave it to Wolf to rent the most scabrous vehicle in the airport fleet.

We got into the car and he started the engine. It wheezed to life like a wino waking up after a particularly bad night. Wolf said, “Where to?”

“Go down here and get on the freeway to Chula Vista. I’ll tell you how to get to Elaine’s house. My car’s still parked near there.”

Immediately I regretted mentioning Elaine. Wolf’s brows came together in a frown as he eased the clunker out of the space and turned toward the waterfront, where the freeway entrance was. “You really got yourself into it this time, didn’t you?”

“Listen, I know what you’re going to say, and I’d rather not hear it, if you don’t mind.”

“Well, it was a dumb thing to do.”

“I know.”

“You can lose your license—”

“I know!”

We drove in silence for a couple of blocks.

I said, “Anyway, I cooperated with Knowles. He can’t fault me on that.”

Wolf was concentrating on his driving, trying to get over toward the freeway on-ramp.

“I found some evidence in Elaine’s house and turned it over to him right away.” Actually, I’d turned it over to him when he’d announced his intention to search my purse.

“What kind of evidence?” Wolf guided the car into the stream of southbound traffic on Highway 5.

“A letter from Elaine to her lawyer, saying she suspected something illegal was going on at the Casa del Rey.” Briefly I outlined its contents for him.

When I finished, he was looking thoughtful. “Well, now,” he said. “Maybe that ties in with something I’ve discovered that doesn’t seem to be strictly aboveboard.”

“Oh, what?”

“Guests who were staying in one of the bungalows, but weren’t registered.”

“Who?”

“A woman and a little boy. They were at the hotel this morning, then gone suddenly this afternoon. Another guest saw them leaving with the assistant manager, Ibarcena. But when I asked about them at the desk, the clerk said they’d never been there. One of the maids denied it too.”

“Hmm. It’s illegal not to register guests, but that can’t be all of it. I wonder what’s going on. They didn’t seem to be there against their will, did they?”

“No. The woman seemed nervous and suspicious, though.”

“What about the kid?”

“Quiet and scared. He said his mother made him afraid.”

“That’s not good. Well, maybe Ibarcena’s giving free room and board to his relatives.”

“They didn’t look Mexican. And that’s hardly something that Elaine would get upset about.”

“Or not be able to figure out. She’d just have complained to Beddoes, and that would have been the end of it.” I stared out the window at the industrial section of National City.

“There’s another thing,” Wolf said. “One of the people from the convention, a local op named Jim Lauterbach, was hanging around that bungalow. I got the feeling he was also interested in Timmy and his mother.”

“Lauterbach. I met him. He’s kind of seedy, originally from Detroit. Wore a bright red shirt.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. I tried to find out where he has his agency, but it wasn’t listed in the directory.”

“That’s because he took over a friend’s operation. The Owens Agency, I think he said.”

Wolf nodded. “I guess I should tell Knowles about all this.”

“You’d better. We don’t want you in trouble too.”

His look told me he didn’t appreciate my attempt at humor. After a moment he said, “You’re not going to keep on poking your nose into this business, are you?”

“Of course I am.”

“Sharon—”

“Look, you yourself think that Elaine’s death might not have been an accident. It certainly wasn’t a suicide; people who are going to kill themselves don’t usually make appointments to review their tax situations — or write letters to their attorneys to protect themselves from being implicated in illegal situations. Something is going on at that hotel.”

“Yeah, and the sheriff’s department will find out what it is. I’ll talk to Knowles—”

“I’ve got a feeling that Knowles isn’t going to probe that deeply. Plus, Elaine’s death might not have anything to do with what’s going on at the Casa del Rey. There could be a more personal motive.”

“Like?”

“Like that Rich fellow, for instance — the one who accosted her in the bar. Tell me again what he looked like.”

“Good-looking, wavy brown hair, funny gray-blue eyes. Younger than her, maybe in his late twenties. Sharp dresser — Madras jacket and white slacks. You know the type.”

“How were his eyes funny?”

“Well, they had odd little lights in them — like fires, only down deep so you couldn’t really pinpoint them. Why are you asking all this?”

“Because even if Rich didn’t have anything to do with Elaine’s death, it occurred to me that if he were her boyfriend, she might have told him what was going on at Casa del Rey.”

“Possibly.”

“And if I find him, it might be a shortcut to getting that information.”

I told Wolf which exit to take and directed him up F Street toward Elaine’s house. When he turned the car onto Hilltop Drive, he said, “How do you expect to find Rich, with just a first name and a description?”

“Oh, stop — there’s my car.” I unhooked my seat belt and started to get out. “Thanks so much for rescuing me, Wolf.”

“Hold on a second.” He put a hand on my arm. “How do you expect to find this guy Rich?”

“Well... it stands to reason she’d have her boyfriend’s name in her address book.”

“You’re not going back in that house?”

“Certainly not.”

“Then how—?”

“I’ve got her address book in my purse.”

He stared at me.

“Let me explain before you go getting stuffy and paternal again,” I said. “One of the first things Knowles said was that he was going to search my purse to see if I’d taken anything from the house. I said that wouldn’t be necessary, that I’d give him what I’d taken. And I did — the letter and also a love note I found crumpled up in the wastebasket.”

“A love note?”

“Yes.” I told him what the note said. He looked thoughtful, but didn’t comment. “Anyway, Knowles has both letters now. But I was confused, and I forgot about the address book.”

“Uh-huh. But you remembered later, so why didn’t you give it to him then?”

“Because after I’d leveled with him and turned over the other stuff, he still insisted on pawing through my purse. He dumped everything out on the seat of his car and then tossed the stuff that was obviously mine back in. I guess he figured the address book belonged to me.”

“And you didn’t tell him otherwise.”

“No. It wasn’t really withholding evidence. And after what he did, I just didn’t feel like cooperating anymore.”

Wolf frowned, looking genuinely puzzled. “I don’t see why not.”

“Obviously you don’t know anything about women and their purses.” My hands curved protectively around mine, just thinking about Knowles’s treatment of it. “Purses are very private property. We keep all sorts of stuff in them, stuff we wouldn’t want anyone else to see.”

“Like what?”

“Well, in mine I keep a rock.”

“A rock.”

“Yes, a rock that an old boyfriend picked up and gave to me at the beach. And a piece of coral from a trip to Hawaii.”

“McCone the romantic.”

“I guess I am sort of sentimental. Anyway, who the hell wants some dumb cop looking at her piece of coral? I mean, it’s embarrassing.”

Wolf was grinning.

“What’s so funny?”

“Once, when I was first seeing Kerry, I fumbled around in her purse, looking for this little bottle opener she carries. And she yelled at me, told me to keep my hands out of there.”

“Of course. Maybe she hauls rocks around too.”

Wolf looked thoughtful, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “She lets me rummage in her purse any time I want now,” he said. “That’s a good sign, huh?”

“Very good.” Before he could bring the conversation back to the subject of my future plans, I opened the door and got out of the car. Leaning in, I said, “Wolf, for someone your age, you really don’t understand women very well.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said ruefully. “I never have.”

I thanked him again for helping me out, shut the door, and went to my car. Then I took out Elaine’s address book. I would check the two men called Rich, as well as the one called Rick, on the off chance that Wolf had misheard the name.

I figured when I found the right one, I’d know him by those funny eyes.