Free Draw (The Jake Samson & Rosie Vicente Detective Series Book 2) (25 page)

“He was staying,” she told me, “with a friend of a friend of a friend.”

She caught my skeptical look.

“No, Jake, it’s more reliable than it sounds. And it’s better to approach things indirectly, anyway. References, you know. What I’ve done is passed the word that I’m interested in having a fundraiser for a woman I know and I want to talk to the guy Andy was staying with because he’s one of the organizers for Andy’s. He’s supposed to get back to me Saturday.”

“It’s going to take some fancy chat to steer the conversation the way you want it to go,” I said.

Rosie tasted her instant coffee and made a face. “I can handle it, Jacob. If the man is at all friendly he’ll want to talk about how Andy is taking this, and that leads us right into the time Andy spent at his place.”

I hoped so, but I knew that if anyone could do it, Rosie could. Charm goes a long way, sometimes.

She returned to the subject of lunch with Bunny.

“He said it was personal?” she asked. “That could mean almost anything. But if something at the company didn’t rush him into a decision…” She was thoughtful.

“Personal might have to do with Andy and Bill.”

“It might. But there are other possibilities.”

“Sure, but let’s not get too imaginative until we’ve exhausted the ones we know about.”

“Why not? We really ought to wrap this thing up soon. I can only stretch the work on the steps so far, you know. I’m beginning to look like the world’s slowest carpenter.”

Just then, Julia stuck her head in the open door. “Phone call, Jake. Chloe— I didn’t quite catch the last name. And another woman, Iris, called about an hour ago. I didn’t have a chance to leave a note. The next woman who calls, I’m going to tell her to take a number.”

I walked back along the lane with her.

Chloe sounded very sad, so I could guess what was coming.

“He was in Santa Cruz. So was Franklin. Neither one of them could have been in Mill Valley.”

“I was afraid of that. Any trouble about the files?”

“No. He hasn’t been around. Got to get off. Talk to you later.”

I called Iris. She wanted to see me that night. Wanted to go to a movie. I accepted. I was just about to leave when Julia stopped me.

“I almost forgot this message, Jake. Probably because it was from a man. Here’s the note.”

The message was from Hal, who had received the Morton letter that morning. It said, “Pretty vague stuff, but it’s being passed along. Thanks.”

It was raining a little harder when I started back, and the footbridge was slippery. I managed to cross it without falling, but nearly took a tumble in the mud on the other side. About the only thing more slippery than wet clay is ice.

Rosie had made herself another cup of coffee. I did the same and gave her the news. She just nodded.

“Since you’re going to the East Bay, could you give me a lift? The truck’s acting cranky and I want to let it rest. If you could drop me off at Carol’s and pick me up again in the morning.”

“Can I meet Carol?”

She smiled. “Okay.” She finished her coffee. “I want to go do some thinking now. See you around five?”

I wanted to do some thinking, too. I wondered if Rosie’s thoughts and mine were moving along the same lines. With Morton out of it for good, none of the alternatives were ones I liked very much.

We were both still thinking on the drive over, and hardly talked to each other.

Rosie’s friend Carol lived in South Berkeley, near the Oakland line, in a brown-shingled house with two housemates, a large mongrel, and three cats. She kissed Rosie and greeted me warmly, saying she’d heard a lot about me and she was glad to meet me. We drank a beer and sat around for half an hour. I liked the way she was with Rosie, affectionate and thoughtful. And I liked the way she was with me. She cared enough about Rosie to respect her choice of friends. She had red hair and freckles and bright blue eyes and was altogether gorgeous and delightful. When I left, I was sure I’d see her again.

I stopped at home for a while to shower and visit the cats and got to Iris’s house at seven-thirty. She wanted to have dinner at a very expensive French place that I’d taken her to when I’d gotten paid for the last job. I told her it was beyond my budget at the moment, but she convinced me that it was her turn to pay, anyway. Iris has a solid practice and I don’t usually have any objections to her spending money on me now and again. It makes her feel good and I don’t have any illusions about being a big, macho provider. I had a little problem with it this time, though, because I was also seeing Chloe. Even though Iris likes to keep our relationship open, I occasionally have twinges of monogamous guilt. Still, like I said, she convinced me.

The food was great. The movie— we caught the nine-thirty show— was funny. And Iris was in a terrific mood— witty, flirtatious, and even more beautiful than usual. I managed to forget about the case for a while. Mostly.

After we’d gone back to her house, and drunk herb tea, and made love, she wanted to know what was happening with the case. I told her I was chasing my tail. She didn’t ask if I was chasing anyone else’s tail and she dropped the subject, realizing I didn’t want to talk about it or didn’t know what to say. She curled up against my shoulder and fell asleep. I, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking. I figure I got about two hours of sleep all night.

Rosie was cheerful enough when I picked her up the next morning, but the closer we got to Mill Valley, the more thoughtful she became.

“Rehearsing your phone call?” I asked.

“That, too.”

“Andy might be okay.”

“He might. But where does that leave us?”

“With other leads to follow, other calls to make. Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Rosie?”

She told me what was on her mind. I wasn’t surprised. While Rosie was waiting for her phone call from San Francisco, we both had work to do. For her part, she said, she was going to have a talk with Hanley. And she was going to spend some time with Carlota, too.

There was a note on my door to call Chloe. She had phoned the night before. I dropped off my overnight stuff and went over to Artie’s.

Chloe had news about Bright Future.

“Morton’s quit,” she announced. “Armand called me in yesterday to tell me. He looked terrible. He said Morton was going to Seattle, where he has an interest in a new company.”

“Is he taking Bert with him?”

“I guess not. After I talked to Armand, I mentioned it to Bert, and I thought he was going to faint.”

“Maybe Morton didn’t want any gunslingers in his new operation. What about Bowen?”

“Armand said Bowen was upset about losing Morton, but I haven’t seen him myself.”

“What about Armand? Do you think he suspected something might be going on?”

“I think he suspected, just like Smith did. He looks scared. But he’s not leaving. I think he wants to try to hold things together.”

“But he’s the man who’s been handling the money.”

“The money that’s been recorded. Not Morton’s money. He says he’s going to talk to all the admirals, try to straighten things out, find a replacement for Morton.”

“Do you think Morton took off because he discovered his files had been raided? Or because I walked into his office and talked like I knew what he was doing?”

“I don’t know, but it sounds like he’s been planning the move for a while. At least Armand had that impression. About that letter you took— if it leads to an investigation, how much time do you think we have before the truth sets us free? From our jobs, I mean.”

“I don’t have any idea. I’d guess this kind of thing takes time.”

“Well, maybe there’ll still be a company in six months and maybe there won’t. Think I’ll start looking around. So, what about this weekend? Want to have dinner?”

“I’d love to, maybe tomorrow. But a lot’s happening right now. Can I give you a call back on it?” She said that was fine.

Just as I was hanging up, Artie came in.

“Hi, Jake. Could we talk? I feel like I don’t know what’s going on.” I felt a little guilty. I’d been avoiding reporting to him, preferring to plunge ahead on my own without endless explanations. But that was pretty selfish.

“Sure. Just let me make a couple more phone calls.” The first call I made was to Bill Smith in Mendocino. He said he was glad to hear from me, had, in fact, been thinking of giving me a call. There was this fund-raiser tomorrow night, and maybe I’d be interested in going.

“How much?”

“Fifty dollars.”

“Well, I do want to talk to you, but I think I’ll have to pass on the fifty bucks.”

He laughed. “I’m not surprised you want to talk to me. Bunny called to let me know you think Andy and I killed Crusader Rabbit. Can’t let you go around thinking a thing like that. Tell you what, I’ll be in Mill Valley Monday to see my sister. And my mother. How about I drop by then?”

I gave him directions to Charlie’s house and he said he’d be there around noon. I was about to say goodbye when he stopped me.

“Wait a minute. That description you gave me. Is that by any chance the place where my father died?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. Interesting.”

I made two more calls after that, one to Bunny and one to Mrs. Smith. I asked them both the same question, a question I hadn’t asked Bill. Bunny didn’t know the answer and Mrs. Smith gave me part of the right one.

Then I sat down with Julia and Artie and filled them in on what had been happening since we’d last talked.

“My God,” Julia said. “Is this ever going to end?”

“I hope so,” I told her. “And soon.”

Rosie and I got together again late that afternoon. She’d gotten the call we’d been waiting for. Andy was clear. He’d slept in San Francisco the night before the murder and had spent the morning hours working on plans for the fund-raiser. His host said Andy had been up and around the apartment early, anxious to get things done. Bill had not been with him.

Her talk with Hanley hadn’t given us what we’d hoped, even though he’d been more willing to talk to Rosie than he had been to me. He still insisted that he hadn’t been around on the day of the murder, hadn’t done anything, and hadn’t seen anything. But at least he admitted why he’d been watching Carlota. He was Mary’s friend, he said. And he suspected Carlota of having an affair with Mary’s husband.

“So much for that,” I said. “You don’t think, maybe…”

Rosie laughed. “Nona would kill her. Carlota’s proud of their friendship, but the only favors she wants from him are artistic.”

None of that really mattered, though. The real treasure came from Carlota herself. Rosie had spent two hours with her, digging through the nonsense, patiently plowing through the woman’s astounding egocentricity, and found out what we wanted to know. Carlota had seen a lot more the morning of the murder than she realized, even if she did spend most of her time looking in mirrors.

We went out for Chinese food and laid plans for the next couple of days. Then we found a bar with a pool table and slammed the balls around long enough and hard enough to work off some of our misery. Neither of us was happy about what had to be done. Sunday was a day of rest.

Rosie spent it in the East Bay. I spent most of it holed up in my room, going around in moral circles. I had brunch with Julia, Artie, and Jennifer. I guessed they felt as though they had to be hospitable, but only Julia really tried. Artie sat around looking depressed and Jennifer barely spoke to me. I got the impression she thought I was one lousy detective.

But I couldn’t very well tell them what we had. There were too many ifs, too many bad-luck turns our strategy could take.

After the meal, I crept off to use the phone in the bedroom. First I called Chloe to tell her I’d pick her up at six; then I gave my father a call, as I’d promised to do. When in doubt, my mother had taught me, be a good boy.

“Yeah?”

“Hi, pa. I said I’d call.”

“Good thing. I tried calling the Italian but there was no answer. We’re coming in September, you should have lots of notice.”

“That’s great. But you know it can get pretty hot out here in September.”

“And in June, it’s too cold. Some climate you got.” I didn’t make the obvious comparisons between the weather in northern California and the weather in Chicago. “But September’s best for the niece.”

“Niece?”

“The niece, the niece. Eva’s niece. The one you should meet. She’s running around Europe all summer.”

“Oh, yeah. The niece.”

“Listen, you got a place we can stay at your house a couple days?”

That could mean anywhere from three days to two weeks. “You can sleep in the living room. I can rent a bed.”

“The living room. That’s it? How many rooms you got?”

I’d told him before, but he found the reality so unbelievable he kept forgetting.

“Four, pa. A living room, a bedroom, a kitchen, and a little closed-in back porch. It’s too small for a bed.”

He laughed. “The toilet’s inside?”

I laughed too. “No, you got to dig a hole.”

“That’s a good one. I’ll tell Eva. She’ll love it. She’ll be sorry she missed your call.”

“She’s not home?”

“No. Sunday she plays cards. With the
yentas.”
My step-mother had been playing cards with the same group of women since the Great Depression. “So,” he continued. “We’ll stay in your living room. I’ll be a sport, I’ll rent the bed. Just the same, Jake, a man your age, his house should have a couple bedrooms.”

“I got to go, now, pa.” There’s only so much talk about my age I can take.

“He’s busy, the big shot? Okay. When you going to be home again?”

“Soon. Maybe. I’ll let you know.”

I got time and charges for the call and went back out to the living room. Artie was reading the paper, Julia was doing a crossword puzzle, Jennifer was watering the plants. I tried to give Artie the money for the call, but much to my surprise, he refused. He said something about how hard I’d been working.

“Why didn’t you call on a Saturday,” Jennifer snapped. “Isn’t it cheaper on a Saturday?”

“I think it’s the same on Sunday,” I said. Then I told them the same lie I’d told my father. “I have to go now. See you later. Thanks for brunch.”