About Face (9 page)

“She asked me if I knew.”

“She was testing to see if you had any idea. I wonder if she knows herself.”

Rod lowered his head to the desk, resting his forehead on his arms. The bravado spurred by the grain of irritation with Mike left him. “It's the only explanation that makes sense. Unless Alissa's been the victim of some random . . .” His muffled voice trailed off. “What the hell was Wendy doing there, Bill? And what the hell was she doing wearing the necklace I gave Alissa?”

“She needs something from you. I don't know what it is yet, and she chose a strange way to get it. But she knows how much you dislike her. She might have thought it was the only safe way to see you.”

“All she would have had to do is tell me Alissa was with her. I can't believe Alissa would lend that necklace to her.”

“Wendy could be up to any number of things. Do you remember I told you on the way home that the muscleman receptionist from SG was lurking in the bar?”

Rod looked up again. “Really? What's his name—Gary, I think. You saw Gary?”

“If Gary's the guy with the billboard mustache and arms like tree trunks, I saw Gary. He pretended he didn't know me and that he didn't see Wendy leave. Now, he might have just been there to watch for Alissa. But he and Wendy could also have cooked up something. And we can't count out the possibility that Wendy and Alissa are working together.”

Rod's face turned a paler shade than it already was. “That's an unbearable idea.”

“Tell me more about Wendy. What her motives might be. Contacts, places I might be able to track her down.”

Rod shook his head. “I preferred not to know. Alissa was born in Phoenix. They moved to L.A. when she was young. That's where Wendy did most of her scheming. She'd leave Alissa at a friend's house while she went out on a casting call or whatever bogosity she was up to, then neglect to pick her up until the next morning. Sometimes Alissa would make her way home herself and find Wendy in the house with a man. Or two men. There was always a new one around: the one who was going to transform their lives. Every week Wendy promised Alissa they were on the verge of moving to some grand life with swimming pools and manicured gardens. Alissa believed it for a long time. She was crushed when it dawned on her it might never happen.”

“The illusion that real life is just around the corner can keep a person treading water for years.”

“I don't know where to look for Wendy now,” Rod said. “Last I heard she lived in Reno.”

“Dr. Plush winked at her last night. It was the kind of wink you give someone who's in on a secret. Would he know her?”

“Oh, God. Yes, I forgot about that. That was Alissa's original link to Plush. Wendy knows half the plastic surgeons in L.A.,
of course, and she heard about Plush. She wanted in on his treatments a few years back, before Eternaderm. I don't know what happened with that, but she ended up in some of their promotional materials. Before and after photos, that kind of thing.”

“Which was she, before or after?”

Rod came fully upright, stricken. “I don't know—but shit, Bill, if the Plushes recognized her, they know she was a phony date. They could spread the word.”

“I wouldn't count on it, unless Connie has some reason to undermine the deal. The doctor doesn't talk about anyone but himself.”

“Connie was cooler to the deal than Sylvain. Sylvain were the ones who grokked the fit between Algoplex and biotech. Connie kept warning me not to give up too much of the company to them. Maybe it was her way of trying to sabotage the deal.”

“If Connie really wanted to stop it, she'd have done her damage before the contracts were signed. Was Wendy still in touch with Plush?”

Rod shook his head. “I hope not. She came back into the picture when Eternaderm was being developed. She was desperate for it. I advised them to bar the door.”

“Connie Plush is no fan of Wendy's, either, judging from a look she gave her.”

“That's good.” Rod cocked his head. “Bill, I just remembered something. You'd better know about it. I said some things to Wendy last night during dinner. I leaned over to whisper into her ear. What I whispered was that she'd been a poisonous mother to Alissa. And that if she ever bothered me again, I'd perpetrate some fairly egregious acts on her. I'd rather not say what they were.”

I nodded slowly. “Those things happen.”

The color had flushed back into Rod's face. “As you know, I'd been drinking, and, well, I just let out my real feelings. I don't
usually lose it like that. I believe in rationality. I've always been able to sublimate my most dangerous emotions. But right now I feel out of control. I'm embarrassed.”

“That may be why Wendy left when she did,” I said. “I kept waiting for her to deliver the punch line, tell us what it was she wanted.”

“It was such a relief when she left. I finally felt relaxed. I'm afraid I may have embarrassed myself again while our film was being shown.”

I chuckled. Rod had become garrulous during the show, probably because he was self-conscious about seeing himself on the screen. He'd tossed out a number of remarks making fun of himself. “Oh my God,” he'd said during the Frisbee scene, “getting in touch with my inner dork.”

“Don't worry,” I said, “your commentary won them back.”

Rod massaged his temples. “Never again.”

The intercom buzzed. Rod glared at it as if it were deliberately adding to his pain. He pressed the button and said, “What?”

“A Wendy is calling for you. She said it's urgent.”

Rod looked at me. I nodded. “All right,” he said, and switched the phone to speaker.

Wendy pitched her voice high. “Hello, Rod. I'm sorry I had to leave early last night. I hope the rest of the dinner went well.”

Rod's jaw set. He showed me two pairs of crossed fingers and said, “I'm the one who should apologize. I had a little too much to drink. I'm sorry if I said—”

“Don't be silly, Rod, it was your big night. You should celebrate however you like. Honestly, I was just trying to help because Alissa couldn't be there.”

“Yes. Well . . . why don't we put our heads together on this, Wendy? We both want to find her.”

“Oh, I thought I told you, Rod. I'm in touch with Alissa. You don't need to worry, she's fine.”

Rod gulped. It pained him horribly for Wendy to have this apparent knowledge while he didn't. “I'd like to see her.”

“Of course, honey. She'll meet you tomorrow night. Go to the Cheshire Cat nightclub on Currey Drive at ten-thirty.”

Rod's relief overcame his aversion. “Thank you very much, Wendy. Please tell her I look forward very much to seeing her.”

“She says the same. I know you'll dress up nice. And you'll come alone. She'll only see you if you come alone.”

I was waving madly at Rod. Finally he looked up. “Uh, Wendy, could we . . .” He paused a moment to read my lips. “Could we meet later today? I feel I've been unfair to you.”

“Oh, that's nice. But I'm really busy. Don't forget about tomorrow night.”

I leaped for the phone myself. By the time I had the receiver, only the static of a dead line could be heard. I replaced it in the cradle.

“Sorry,” Rod said. “I tried.” He gave me the same entreating look as when he heard Wendy say Alissa would meet him. “Do you think it's true that she'll be there?”

“I think we should assume Wendy is setting you up. I could be wrong—it's possible you really did give her a jolt last night. Either way, I'll be there to keep an eye out.”

“But she said to come alone. I don't want to scare Alissa away.”

I smiled at him. “You won't recognize me.”

Rod's forehead crinkled. “O-o-o-kay . . . Bill, none of this makes any sense to me. I don't know why Alissa doesn't just call me herself.”

“That's the question, isn't it? I don't buy anything Wendy says, including the fact that she's in touch with Alissa. She's
trying to smoke you out—but why, I don't know. Can you think of anything else you have on her, anything you have that she wants?”

Rod took a moment. “I can't, Bill. I told you about the Plushes—that I said they should keep her away from Eternaderm. And, of course, I was trying to convince Alissa to cut off contact with Wendy. Making progress, too.”

“So she might think you're the one who's got Alissa and you're hiding it from her.”

“But it's so obvious I don't. Can't she tell that?”

“You heard her just now. You saw her at the dinner. She can put on any voice, act any role. She probably assumes other people are doing the same. I could tell that you're genuinely hoping to see Alissa Wednesday night, but she might assume it's an act.”

“I don't understand these kinds of people, Bill. I was right to try to get Alissa away from her.” Rod stood up, began pacing, then stopped. “I thought you also said Alissa and she could be working together.”

“That's the other theory.”

Rod paced again. My cell phone rang. “I better get that,” I said, digging it out of my camera bag.

It was Rupert Evans. He said he wanted me to come to SG immediately. The greatest importance and so on. “How did you get my number?” I said.

“Just come,” Rupert replied. “If you're with Rod, don't mention my name. This concerns him. You'll see him in a new light.”

“Right, Rupert.” I clicked off.

Rod looked up when I said the name.

“I'm going over to SG. Rupert has some big secret to share with me. What else have you done that I should know about?”

He raised his eyebrows and laughed. “You know more about me than any living person ought to, Bill.”

“You'd make a great subject for a film.”

Rod snorted. “I didn't get the chance to tell you—your work was first-rate. I wasn't too drunk to see that last night.”

“Thanks, Rod. I'll let you know what Rupert has to say.”

He waved to me as I closed the door, an expression of utter trust in his eyes. It did not occur to me it could be unwarranted.

Rupert Evans
had an awfully smug look on his face. I would have felt better if there was more guile in it. His expression told me he felt confident he had the goods on Rod.

He gave me the red-carpet treatment: hung my jacket with care, sat me down on the zebra-skin sofa in his office, and offered me tea, coffee, soda—every time I shook my head he thought of another beverage.

“I don't want anything, Rupert,” I said. “Except to know what your man Gary was doing at our restaurant last night and why he pretended he didn't know me. He wasn't at the desk when I came in just now, or I would've asked him myself.”

Rupert was clinking bottles at the bar. He looked over his shoulder and gave me a sebaceous smile. “Please forgive us. Gary is rather shy. You know how I want Alissa safe and sound. We were hoping to see her.”

“She was there. He missed her.”

Now I was indulged with a laugh. “You like to test me, don't you, Bill? I understand. But surely you also understand our position. Your presence was a surprise at our first meeting. I did not know what kind of man I was dealing with. However, from what I've learned, you're a reasonable man. Especially in the face of hard evidence.”

“Who did Gary see, then?”

“The same person you did.” Rupert smiled again and joined me on the sofa. “Let me ask you a question. Your assignment is to find Alissa. Now, are you more true to the assignment or to your employer?”

I stared at Rupert, waiting for him to get to the point.

“I'm about to show you evidence that convinces me Rod is behind her disappearance,” he went on. “If your loyalty is strictly to Rod, you may leave. I'll hand the materials over to the police. If you want to know what happened to Alissa, I suggest you look and learn.”

I'd been paying attention to the way his thin lips moved like clockwork. A hunting idyll played above his head, hounds baying after a frightened fox. “If you're going to show me, show me,” I said.

He unzipped a document pouch. The first document he handed me was a photograph. It did cause an intake of breath. Rod's arms were wrapped around Alissa, and not in a tentative way. He was squeezing her, pressing her against a stucco wall, pressing his mouth forcefully to hers. The compressed look of the picture told me it had been taken with a telephoto lens.

Rupert chuckled. “Not the meek engineer he seems, is he? We have more explicit fare. But you may prefer to respect your client's privacy.”

“So they kissed. Maybe more. Maybe there's more to SG's services than advertised.”

“We are not an
escort
service.” He said the word as if it were in quarantine. “We do not provide
massages, suntans
, or
photo sessions
. We provide legitimate—”

“Where'd you get your tan, by the way?”

The question threw him off. He touched his cheek before recovering. “I enjoy the fresh air, Bill. I'm an outdoorsman.”

The poolside kind, I thought, then glanced at the painting above him. “Big hunter?”

“I'm more the protector type. It's stated explicitly in Rod's contract that there's to be no sexual contact with our associates. He's clearly violated the contract.”

“Maybe they liked each other. It's against your rules, but rules can be trumped by the laws of human nature.”

The rigidity in Rupert's spine slowly relaxed. He leaned forward and, with a tic of a smile, handed me a letter from the document pouch. Alissa had written it on salmon-pink stationery with a filigree border. The script was swooping and girlish. It began “Dear Mom” and went on to talk about how she planned to decorate her apartment, clothes she'd buy courtesy of Silicon Glamour—all the new vistas her job was opening up for her. I paid closer attention when she came to the subject of Rod.