Tag Man (17 page)

Gloria’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

Sally blinked at the surprised reaction. “Are you all right?”

The older woman’s hand fluttered like a hummingbird before settling on the doorknob. “Well, it’s just odd, is all.”

“How do you mean?”

“Paul used to live here, but he’s gone. At least I think he is.”

This wasn’t what Sally had been expecting, although she suddenly began to make sense of why her father had come up with this whole charade to begin with.

“You
think
he is?”

“He vanished,” Gloria explained. “Leaving a good many of his things behind, and a bit of a mess.”

Sally filled in the blanks. “You think he just went on a trip or something?”

“I don’t, not really,” Gloria confessed. “It was just so unexpected; I’m not sure what to think.”

“When was this?” Sally asked, slipping into her role, remembering what she’d seen on TV police shows.

“Three days ago, or nights, I should say, since that’s when I think he left. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come in?”

Sally made an executive decision, imagining her father’s blood pressure jumping. “Maybe for a few minutes. I think you’d enjoy sitting down.”

Gloria smiled gratefully. “I would, actually. This has all caught me a little by surprise. I don’t have much excitement anymore.”

Sally followed her inside, remembering what Dan had told her of this woman’s exuberant, globe-trotting life. She commented on the pictures and tokens crowding the ornate hallway and the coffer-ceilinged living room, where she was led. “It certainly looks like you had an exciting life once, and an amazing one. Did you collect all this on your own?”

Gloria laughed weakly, heading to an antique love seat and settling down. “Oh Lord, yes. I wish I hadn’t, nowadays—it collects so much dust and I don’t know what to do with it. Larry hates it; he’s my nephew.” She glanced about and sighed. “But it feeds my memories, and I do love to remember the old days…”

Her voice drifted off, prompting Sally to remind her, “About Paul…”

Gloria raised her hands in the air. “You see? Hopeless. Yes, yes. I’m so sorry. I simply can’t keep on track anymore. It’s a good thing I gave up traveling. Can you imagine what kind of trouble I’d get myself into?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Gloria lapsed into silence and stared into the middle distance for a moment, causing Sally to think that she’d have to prod her yet again.

But then she said, “I’m actually a little disappointed in Paul, to be honest. I know it sounds selfish, but I feel he’s done me a disservice, leaving me in the lurch. I gave him a helping hand when people like Larry told me I was crazy, and that he’d probably cut my throat in the middle of the night, or rob me blind.”

“Did he take anything when he left?” Sally asked.

“No. As I said, he actually left quite a bit behind—I think he took what he could carry on his back.”

“Do you know where he went?”

“I have no idea.”

“Family, maybe?”

“Maybe,” Gloria agreed halfheartedly. “But he told me when we met that he had no one in his life—that they were either all dead or should be.”

Sally nodded. “How
did
you meet?” She had no clue if her father wanted to know any of this—they hadn’t rehearsed this possibility—but by now she was rolling on her own head of steam.

“He knocked on the door, just like you,” Gloria told her brightly. “And by the end of the conversation, I’d offered him a room in the basement in exchange for his taking care of the place.”

“So he was pretty likable?”

Gloria looked thoughtful. “I couldn’t say that. Not truthfully. But I sensed that he was grateful enough that he’d never cause me harm, and I felt that it was long overdue for someone to show him a little kindness.”

She stared down at her hands momentarily before saying, “I have traveled ever since I could afford to, and visited places that most tourists avoid, in part because I was interested, but also because I felt I needed to understand that not every place is like this.” She took in the whole room with a gesture. “We Americans have it good, and I don’t think most of us understand that. Maybe I was responding a little to that when I took in Paul.”

“What did he say about himself?” Sally asked.

“That he was down and out, had no one to turn to, was willing to work for food. He saw that my grounds needed tending—my old gardener had retired and I hadn’t gotten around to replacing him. He was a quiet man, and I respected his privacy and, as I mentioned, I sensed he needed a harbor that I could supply.”

Gloria smiled impishly all of a sudden and added, “Plus, taking Paul in really irritated my nephew, and I love to do that.”

Sally laughed out loud. “Really?”

Gloria joined her. “Oh yes. He’s a real snob. Can’t wait for me to die so that he can sell everything you see here and probably go out and buy a fancy car or something. The man’s a fool. But he’s the only family I have left.”

Taking advantage of her father’s inability to cast a vote, Sally decided to take a plunge. “Mrs. Wrinn, I do thank you a lot for what you’ve told me, and I’m really sorry that Paul left you hanging. But I do have my assignment for the agency, and I’d love to see if I can do at least part of it. Is there any way my colleague and I could take a look at Paul’s old room, just to get an idea about him? We might be able to figure out where he went and do him some good—pick up where you left off, so to speak.”

Her hostess’s face brightened. “Oh, that would be wonderful. I am worried. It seemed so unlike him, and I’d like to know if he’s all right. When I got home from visiting in Connecticut, I found a broken table from the upstairs hallway and a smashed door, and it looked like someone had been in my bedroom. Two of the windows were messed up. So anything you could tell me would be appreciated.”

Sally thought to ask, “Did you call the police?”

“Why would I?” Gloria responded. “Nothing was missing. I have no idea how the table and door broke, but it didn’t involve anything precious or valuable, and I didn’t really care in any case. I didn’t think the police could do me much good, to be honest.”

Sally rose to her feet, still playing the young government worker. “Okay, well, then, if you don’t mind, I’ll round up my partner—he’s doing paperwork in the car—and that way, we’ll be out of your hair all the faster.”

Gloria joined her, if considerably more slowly, saying, “Oh my dear. I don’t want you gone faster. I’ve very much enjoyed your company.”

Sally left her at the door and crossed to the side street where her father had parked the car he was using as a listening post. She tried reading his expression as she drew near, but couldn’t quite get by the almost-polite smile he used to greet her.

“Nice job,” he said. “Expertly done.”

She cut to whatever was lurking beneath the compliment. “But?”

The smile became more genuine. “I was getting ready to run over there just to kill you. But you did very well.”

“So you’ll come in with me and meet with this lady?” she asked dubiously.

He hesitated before asking, “She alone?”

“I think she is, and she’s really nice. You think you could do that?”

“Of course, of course,” he said distractedly, stashing his headphones and recorder back in their case.

She knew he’d do it—there was too much at stake. But she recognized his need to ready himself. This was a spontaneous moment, involving a person he’d never met—a double negative in his hyper-controlled world. But he overcame his phobias all the time, as she knew he was about to do again.

He finally put the case aside and gave her a fiercely cheerful smile. “Let’s go to work.”

Sally reached inside the open side window and picked up the small camera she assumed they’d want also. “Good deal,” she said.

*   *   *

She called him John when she introduced him to Gloria at the door, and carried the brunt of the conversation as the three of them traveled slowly down the hallway to the kitchen that Dan already knew so well, and from there to the tucked-away staircase leading down.

There, Gloria stopped, saying, “This is as far as I go, I’m afraid. My legs aren’t what they used to be. These stairs almost gave me a heart attack when I was trying to figure out where Paul had gone, so you’re on your own. I hope that’s all right.”

“Perfect,” Dan said, speaking for the first time since being introduced.

“I’ll see you before we leave,” Sally promised, already halfway down.

Before Gloria had even made it back to the kitchen, however, Dan cautioned his daughter, “Hang on. Slow down,” as he caught up to her.

They halted at the bottom of the steps, by the closed door of the subterranean apartment.

“She checked once, right after she found him missing,” Dan explained, his voice tense and low. “That just means that this would be the best place for him to hide out now.”

“Oh,” Sally said, surprised and at last a little frightened.

Dan stepped ahead of her. He pushed open the door with his foot and, knowing the light switch’s location, merely reached in and flipped it on. There was no response from within when the light lit up the landing.

Dan and his daughter exchanged glances before he poked his head inside, half expecting to meet the business end of a baseball bat.

The room was empty.

“Okay,” he told her quietly, his relief audible. “We’re good.”

Sally crossed the threshold gingerly, for the first time experiencing a hint of her father’s odd predilection for other people’s private environs, and glanced around the barren room.

“Gross,” she murmured.

Surprisingly, despite his fastidious nature, Dan paid little attention, focusing instead on whatever story he could glean from Hauser’s debris. Gloria had been right—it looked as if he’d departed with only what he could carry. Littering the furniture and the floor was the jetsam of a man packing in a hurry—and a man still bleeding from a recent injury. Dan noticed with satisfaction several drops of blood on the floor, along with a bloody tissue.

The overall effect was like following in a burglar’s footsteps after he’d rifled through someone’s belongings. Most everything they saw appeared scattered and disorganized, as if tossed aside in anger and frustration.

Dan liked the tone of that—a faint but lingering scent of despair. As he saw it, that gave him a little insight, along with a small advantage in what he saw looming as a high-stakes contest of wills.

“Dad?”

He turned toward Sally, having almost forgotten her presence. “What’s up?”

She was looking at a loss, standing in the middle of the room, as if worried that something might rub off on her.

“What’re we doing here?”

“Two things,” he said, pointing at the floor. “First is to see if Hauser’s suitcase is still there.”

He dropped to his knees before a section of floor that Sally couldn’t distinguish from the rest.

“There’s a trapdoor?” she asked.

Instead of answering, he pulled out his Swiss Army knife and carefully slipped it between two floorboards. With a smooth flip of his wrist, he liberated a single board, and from there several more, to reveal a shallow hole underneath.

It was empty.

“That explains his traveling light,” Dan said, sitting back on his heels.

Sally leaned forward at the waist and peered into the dark space at her feet, as if expecting something to leap out. “He took the suitcase,” she confirmed.

“That’s what people do in a crisis,” Dan explained. “They grab the things they think they can’t replace. Sadly, that usually means photo albums of loved ones—not pictures of dead people.”

“So we’re screwed,” Sally said simply.

He rose easily to his feet, looking oddly satisfied. “Remember? I said two things. I didn’t expect to find the suitcase. That would’ve been too valuable to lose, not to mention just a little incriminating.” He thought back a moment to what he’d found in Lloyd Jordan’s office, and mused, “I’ve never understood why people collect the things that could cause them the most damage, and then hang on to them instead of putting them in the fire. Weird, self-destructive habit.”

Sally didn’t bother commenting about self-destructive habits. She was still digesting the pure irony of what he’d said.

“What’s the second thing?” she asked instead.

He looked around, forming a plan of attack. “People have no idea what they leave behind. And I’m not talking about fingerprints and hair follicles and DNA and the like. I mean the simple stuff—letters with return addresses, magazines with mailing labels, trash filled with information.”

He stopped to face her directly. “We need to find something that tells us about this man—a connection we can follow to hunt him down.”

He pointed to a spot near the door. “Start there and go through everything. If it’s clothes, check labels and pockets; if it’s a book or magazine, go through the pages to check for anything personal. Anything that catches your eye, put it in a pile in the middle of the floor.”

“What about Gloria?” she asked. “We can’t leave her dangling forever.”

Dan gave her a lopsided smile. “Then we better get cracking.”

Sally considered her father quickly before joining the treasure hunt. He was incredibly focused, zeroed in on his goal. Where she’d heard of an awful discovery and was now standing amid its source, fighting revulsion, she saw Dan as a man suddenly inspired, driven by the same influence as toward a valued prize. Sally shook her head slightly. She loved him dearly, but times like this reminded her of how differently he saw the world they shared.

There wasn’t that much to go through. Any DVDs they found, they just added to the pile for later checking. As for the rest, it amounted largely to trash and garbage generated from fast food outlets within walking distance of the house. There were no files, no piles of bills, no photographs or letters, no computer or even a sign that one had ever been here. There was nothing of a strictly personal nature whatsoever.

With one exception.

Sally nervously knelt before the long edge of the bed and peered underneath, hoping to see only dust. That she did—along with a small rectangle of something pale, caught between the baseboard and the wall.