Fiona emerged from the bathroom and moved to the bed, where a second hard-sided suitcase was already laid open on the pristine spread. She began to remove the articles of clothing she’d packed with such care. “Why don’t you start from the beginning and fill me in.” I opened my verbal recital with an improvisational medley of interviews, going back over my report in a series of beautifully articulated summations of events. I began with Detective Odessa, segued into my visit with Crystal Purcell, and then moved on to Pacific Meadows, at which point I delineated the nature of the difficulties Dow Purcell was facing. I wasn’t even fully warmed up when I hit a sour note that undercut my confidence. Fiona had been moving back and forth from the bed to the walk-in closet, carrying blouses and skirts, which she hung on matching white satin-padded hangers. She said, “You might as well follow me. Otherwise, I won’t hear you and you’ll have to repeat. My ears are still stopped up; just one more reason for taking the train.”
I moved to the closet and stood in the doorway to continue the program. “At any rate, Saturday afternoon I went up to Blanche’s shortly after she phoned . . .”
Fiona turned to me. “You went over to see Blanche? Why in the world did you do that?”
“She called me at home. I got the impression you’d already spoken to her.”
“I did no such thing and I can’t believe you’d take such a step without consulting me. No one’s to be brought into this unless I say so. I’m paying for your time. If I’d wanted you to see Blanche, I’d have given you her number.”
“I thought you did.”
“I gave you Melanie’s, not hers. How much did you tell her?”
“I really don’t remember. Honestly, I’m sorry, but she acted as if she knew all about me, so I assumed she’d talked to you or to Melanie. She said the two of them were so relieved because they’d been urging you to hire someone ever since their father disappeared.”
“That’s immaterial. I’ll pass on information to the girls if it seems relevant, but I think it’s inappropriate coming from you. Is that clear?”
“Of course,” I said, stung. Having paid Richard Hevener the entire $1,500 Fiona’d given me, I no longer had the means to refund her original retainer. Deducting $50 for the time I’d spent with Trigg, I now owed her $1,075 worth of services and realized if I quit, there was no way to pay her back, short of pulling the money from my savings account.
“Please go on,” she murmured, resuming her chores.
My temper emerged hard on the heels of injury and I had to bite my tongue bloody to keep from telling her where to stick it. This resolution lasted until I opened my mouth. “You know what? Fun as this is, I’m already tired of taking crap from you. I’ve worked my butt off this weekend and if my methods don’t suit you, I’m out of here.”
For the second time within minutes, I’d managed to surprise and amaze. She seemed genuinely flustered, backing down as fast as she could manage it. “That’s not what I meant, I apologize if I offended you. That wasn’t my intent.”
There’s nothing more effective than an apology for knocking me off my high horse. I backed down as fast as she had and we spent the next few minutes smoothing one another’s ruffled feathers before moving on.
Then Fiona asked me about the game plan. Like I had one. “How do you intend to go about finding him?”
“Ah,” said I. “Well. I have some other people I want to talk to first and then we’ll see where we stand.” In truth, I was at a loss.
Her eyes glittered briefly and I thought she might challenge me, but she seemed to think better of it.
“Couple of questions,” I said. “Someone thought Dow might have gone into an alcohol rehab facility on the two occasions when he disappeared in the past. Any chance he might have left the country instead?”
She hesitated. “What difference would that make?”
“Lonnie Kingman questioned it. He’s the attorney I rent space from. He suggested Dowan might have been moving currency into foreign bank accounts in preparation for flight.”
“It never occurred to me.”
“I didn’t occur to me, either, but the first time we met, you did seem to think he might be in Europe or South America.”
“Well, yes, but I can’t believe he’d plan such a thing all those years in advance.”
“Did you ever look at his passport?”
“Of course not. What reason would I have?”
“Just an idea,” I said. “Maybe that’s why the passport’s missing- he took it so no one could go back and see where he’d been on those earlier trips.”
“You mentioned two questions.”
I waited until she made eye contact with me. “Why didn’t you tell me he was on his way over here that night?”
Casually, she placed a hand against her throat. The gesture was self-protective, as though she were warding off a slash at her carotid artery. “He never arrived. I thought it was a miscommunication. I tried calling his office the next day, but he was already gone by then.”
“Why was he coming?”
“I don’t see why it matters since he never showed.”
“Was anyone else in the house with you that night?” I asked.
“To support my story?”
“That’d be nice, don’t you think?”
“I’m afraid I can’t help. This is a small town. Tongues wag. I wouldn’t even let him leave his car on the parking pad. I had him pull into the empty garage. No one knew about his visits.”
“At least no one you told.” I felt badly as soon as I said it because the look in her eyes was one of betrayal.
“He swore he wouldn’t tell Crystal. He said it would only hurt her and neither of us wanted that.”
“I didn’t say he told Crystal. This was someone else.”
“Trigg.”
I said, “Yes.” After all, it was her money. She was entitled to the information. My scruples, though few, are somewhat spotty as well. “What about Lloyd Muscoe? Did Dow ever talk to you about him?”
“A bit. They disliked each other and avoided contact whenever possible. At first, it was territorial-they were like rival apes-which Crystal must have enjoyed. Later, the friction between them was more about Leila’s relationship with Lloyd.”
“I heard that Dow considered Lloyd a bad influence on the girl.”
“I don’t really know Lloyd so I’m reluctant to discuss the subject.”
“Oh, give it a try. I’m sure you can manage something.”
“He’s common, for one thing.”
“Happily, that isn’t a crime in this state or I’d be under arrest myself.”
“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about. They’re paying a great deal of money to send her to that private school. I don’t see the point when she spends half her weekends with someone like him.”
“But Lloyd’s the only father she’s known. Crystal must feel it’s important for Leila to maintain a relationship with him.”
“If that’s her motive. Perhaps she prefers to have the time to herself. Leila’s behavior goes way beyond the norm for her age. It’s obvious the girl is seriously disturbed. I’m sure Lloyd resented Dow’s interference. Instead of taking time with Blanche, you should have been talking to him.”
Trigg had told me Lloyd lived in the little studio behind the big yellow shingle house at the corner of Missile and Olivio. I parked out in front and made my way down the narrow driveway on foot. Shaggy hedges encroached on either side, forming walls of wet foliage that showered drops as I passed. There was a 1952 Chevrolet parked on the grass at the end of the drive. The occasional wet leaf was plastered to the hood, but aside from that it seemed clean and well cared for. The backyard was overgrown and the small wood-frame studio might have been a gardener’s shed at one time. I went up two shallow wooden porch steps and rapped on the frame of the screen door.
No one answered my knock. I took a few minutes to circle the studio, moving from window to window, peering in at the place. I could see four small rooms-living room, kitchen, two tiny bedrooms, with a bath between-all empty. I went back to the front door and opened the screen. I tried the knob. The door swung open at my touch. I turned and stared at the main residence, but no one seemed to be staring back at me. I entered the studio, my footsteps echoing against bare plaster walls.
The rooms smelled of mildew. The floors were covered in scuffed linoleum, the pattern worn. In the first bedroom, there were coat hangers strewn about. Nothing in the closet. In the second bedroom, there was a bare twin-sized mattress on the floor, and when I opened the closet door, I spotted two bedrolls tucked out of sight to the right. The window in that bedroom had been left open a crack, a detail I hadn’t noticed when I circled the place. Maybe Lloyd crept in here to sleep now and then. Anyone could ease in along the hedges to the rear of the place, gaining access to the cottage without being seen. There was nothing in the bathroom, with its claw-footed bathtub and its toilet stained with rust. In the kitchen, cabinets stood open. On the counter, I could see a take-out cup holding the dregs of some drink. Smelled like bourbon and Coke, or something equally gross. I opened all the kitchen drawers. Optimist that I am, I’m always hoping for a clue, preferably a torn scrap of paper with a forwarding address.