Cold Blood (20 page)

He turned as Margaret approached with Marioť

“Mario, will you walk Mrs. Page to the elevator? I’ll inform security she’s leaving. This is Mr. Caley’s chauffeur, Mario, Mrs. Page.”

Mario nodded and headed for the door, hfcing it open for her. They went down in the elevator together. ^

“I thought Mr. Caley was still out.”

iT T J

“

He is, ma am.

“Are you employed by both Mr. and Mrs. Caley?”

“Yes, ma’am, eight years now.”

He gestured for her to go to the security desk and she unpinned her badge, handing it over. He then opened the main doors of the building for her.

She hesitated.

“Did you know Anna Louise?”

“Yes, ma’am, I sometimes drove her and Mrs. Caley.”

“Did you drive her to any specific place? Particularly just before her disappearance, anywhere unusual?”

“No, ma’am, I only used to drive them on shopping trips, sometimes to a social event, but Miss Caley had her own car. She was a really cute girl, always polite, always treated me with respect.”

“And Mrs. Caley?” He hesitated.

“Miss Saffron Dulay, she’s Lloyd Dulay’s daughterhe uses her limo when he’s here in LA.”

“Thank you,”

Lorraine said crisply, driving out through the barrier. So that was the business meeting. Well, maybe it was; Lloyd Dulay, Robert Caley had told her, was one of the casino partners, the brewery magnate.

Lorraine was heading back toward Hollywood when Nick called her on the cell phone.

“Hi, honey. If we wanna talk to Caley’s doc, we got to make it quick. I got tipped off that he’s gonna get busted, so meet me there as soon as you can make it.”

“Okay, I’ll head straight over there, I’ve just got to make one call on the way.”

She punched out the office number.

“Hi, Bill, anythin’?”

“Nope,”

he answered.

“How you doin’?”

“I had a couple of hours at Caley’s office, I got some names to check out. He gave me access to the casino-deal file, which makes interesting reading. Will you dig up what you can about Lloyd Dulay’s daughter? She’s in Hollywood, name’s Saffron Dulay. I think Robert Caley’s got a thing going with her, so can you check her out?”

“Sure, but, Lorraine”

She knew he was about to hassle her about wasting time in LA.

“I got to go now, I’m on my way to meet Nick.”

The line went dead. Rosie leaned over Rooney’s shoulder, reading his notes.

“Who’s Saffron … what’s the name?”

“Dulay, daughter of one of the guys on the casino dealrich, rich family. Lorraine seems to think Robert Caley’s screwing her, so I’ll check her out, start ringing around the social columns and gossip sheets.”

Rosie nodded.

“I’ll do that, if you like.”

“Okay, thanks. You smell nice, you wearin’ perfume?”

Rosie beamed.

“It’s gardenia.”

Nick watched Lorraine drive into the parking lot adjacent to the doctor’s office on Santa Monica and Bedford, get out and head toward the building. He liked the way she walked, with long, easy strides. A raunchy woman, he thought to himself, all woman. Even with her blond hair all ruffled and her suit crumpled, she looked good to him. He’d always liked leggy, tough blondes, and Lorraine was a natural, kind of coordinated. He couldn’t help smiling, intuitively guessing she was also raunchy in bed.

y

“What’s so funny?”

she snapped.

“Nothin’, but you look like you want to sock somebody. You in a raw mood, are you?:^’

“Yeah,”

but she was smiling when she answered. Nick Bartello had that ability to put you at your ease immediately.

He gave her that great smile of his.

“Okay, this is what’s going down. You wanna sit in my Jeep? I’m in the Doc’s parking space. He’s inside, by the way, but he’s also gonna be inside inside sooner than he knows.”

They crossed to a beat-up Jeep Cherokee; even the seats were torn and shredded.

“Holy shit, Nick, where’d you get this?”

“Engine’s good an’ it was cheap. My dog screwed up the seats.”

He whistled, and a weird long-haired head shot up from the backseat.

“This is Tiger. Tiger, meet Lorraine Page, of Page Investigations.”

The dog, part German shepherd and part sheepdog or maybe wolfhound, was as unkempt-looking as its owner, its freaky pale blue eyes like Nick’s.

“Found him in a trash can two years ago, he’s a great guard dog but he craps everywhere, so he kinda lives in the Jeep.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Lorraine looked over the disgusting Jeep’s seats; a food bowl, a water bowl and an old blanket, along with Tiger, occupied the entire backseat. As Lorraine sat inside and shut the door, Tiger gave a low, rumbling growl.

“Hey, back off, this is my partner.”

Tiger settled down, his head resting on hiBhiaster’s shoulder as Nick tapped out a cigarette from a squashed pack oWCools.

“Remember the Fisher guy I told you about? My now deceased informant?”

Lorraine nodded.

“Well, I made some more inquiries. Autopsy report revealed it wasn’t a heroin OD but a blood clot, caused by injecting Temazepam, that caused death. Kind of makes sense because he’d said the last time I met him he wasn’t using, but I just presumed he’d got back on the smack. His type usually does. This doctor is sellin’ prescriptions like it’s going out of fashion and he’s still supplying Temazepam to Elizabeth Caley. But if we want to go in there, let me do the talking. We won’t have long because Fisher’s girlfriend has been rapping to the copsthey picked her up a couple of nights ago. Don’t ever accuse me of not movin’ my ass, I been at this since early morning. Anyway, I know they’re gonna bust him any second, so if we need a bit of a lever to make him talk we can use Fisher.”

“Okay, let’s go talk to the guy.” The office was like a luxurious lounge, deep sofas, drapes and coffee tables, while Dr. Hayleden, with his rimless glasses, pristine suit, coiffured hair and facework, resembled something from a waxworks.

“I cannot discuss any patient. Unless, of course, he or she is privy to the discussion or you have a legal, written consent form.”

Lorraine said nothing. Nick remained silent.

“So I think that concludes our interview.”

“Not quite,”

Nick said softly.

“Oh, I think so. You walk in off the street, you say you are a private investigation company, you ask questions about one of my patients, and obviously one that the media know only too well, and expect me”

“To cut the bullshit,”

said Nick quietly,

“I know you have been prescribing Elizabeth Caley not just painkilling drugs but sleeping tablets, mild tranquilizers, right? And over a long period of timeonly she’s got enough to tranquilize a fucking elephant.”

“I don’t like your insinuations, Mr. Bartello.”

“Quite honestly, Doc, I don’t give a fuck. I know nobody, no matter how much of an insomniac they may be, who requires per week the bulk load of Temazepam you have been prescribing for Elizabeth Caley. Enough to melt down the tabs and inject six or seven times daily. Now, we’re not talking the usual prescription-sized orders here, I mean two hundred a time. The reason I know this is a friend of mine was also dealing for you, a Mr. Fisher. He and his pals were breaking into warehouses at chemical plants and delivering to your door. I know and you know, Doc, anybody doing that amount of drugs is heading for thrombosis, like our pal Mr. Fisher. He is dead, you know that?”

Dr. Hayleden stared hard at Nick, trying not to show that he knew exactly what he was talking about. But they’d got to him, they could feel it. The sweat was breaking out on his forehead and his eyes widened in panic. Lorraine kicked Nick’s ankle lightlyno way did they want to frighten him too much.

Lorraine leaned forward.

“We’re not from the drug squad, this is a private investigation. All we need to know is if Robert Caley is aware of what his wife is hooked on.”

“I don’t know of any patient on my books called Fisher.”

Dr. Hayleden was sweating profusely, his perfect hairweave now damp around the edges, his lips dried out as he constantly flicked his tongue from corner to corner of his mouth.

“You must understand, if a patient insists on misusing prescribed drugs there is little I can do about it.”

Nick got up.

“If a doc continues to prescribe drugs knowing the dangers, I’d say he was in shit up to his armpits. Why don’t you answer the question? BettdPftill, tell us if Robert Caley has ever picked up one of your little sweetie bags for his wife in person.”

Fifteen minutes later Nick and Lorraine knew that Elizabeth Caley was sometimes ordering over a thousand tabs a week and that Hayleden, never having met Robert Caley, had no reason to believe he was in any way aware of his wife’s drug abuse. Mrs. Caley’s personal assistant had on occasion collected the tablets. Anna Louise Caley had never at any time been to his office.

By the time Nick and Lorraine had driven back to Pasadena, the LA drug squad had arrested Hayleden. He was to be charged with the selling of prescriptions and illegal drugs, would probably get off with just a fine, and be struck off the medical board. But his type just moved on and started up again in another state. Elizabeth Caley, using an assumed name, was only one of his many clients. Her real name would probably never even be linked to the case.

Over dinner back at the apartment, Nick remained adwmant that Robert Caley was still their main suspect. Rooney listened as Nick and Lorraine filled him and Rosie in on their session with the doctor. The consensus was that they should now begin work in New Orleans. Only Lorraine held back, not satisfied that Robert Caley was theft number one suspect. The others felt she was becoming obsessive with the Juda Salina scenario, and she insisted she still needed to talk with Phyllis again and have yet another session with both Elizabeth and Robert Caley.

Nick threw up his hands in agitation.

“Why the fuck are you wasting time, sweetheart? It’s Caley, he’s got the motive.”

Rooney nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, we got to prove it, though, Nick.”

Nick wound some spaghetti around his fork and looked at Lorraine.

“You give us reasons why we don’t go for him, push him hard.”

“I honestly don’t have one, just a gut feeling.”

“You mean you want to get into his pants,”

Nick said, laughing.

Lorraine sprang up.

“Fuck you, that isn’t true. All I’m saying is, if he was involved in his own daughter’s disappearance, why give me access to his private files, why give me reasons or a fucking big motive? He’s not hiding anythingon the contrary.” Nick poured a beer, which he had brought himself because he knew neither Lorraine nor Rosie drank.

“Hey! Let’s just hold it there. A guilty man is bound to want you to know before you find out. Rules of the game, Lorraine, you know that. And you caught him with Saffron what’s-hername. We have got to move fast so that Elizabeth Caley doesn’t kill herself before we get him or we’ll lose out on that million-dollar bonus.”

Lorraine felt tired out.

“You got anything on Saffron Dulay, Rosie?”

Rosie, more official than ever, opened her notebook.

“For starters, she’s had more husbands than I’ve had hot dinners. She’s the only daughter and heir to a fortune. I contacted Melissa Dewhurst from the Hollywood grub mag, and she filled me in without much preamble because Saffron sued her magazine for a lotta bucks ‘cause Melissa wrote some article implying she was a nympho. By the way, she sued another mag because it hinted that she’d had breast implants. Judging from the pics I got sent over, I’d say she’s had a lot more than her tits lifted, she looks fantastic. And take a look at the apartment she lives in.”

Rosie spread out the magazine pictures.

Nick leaned forward and whistled.

“Now, she’s a motive. What a body, and rich with it, nice one. Lorraine, have a look at her with clothes on. You saw her in the back of a limo at Robert Caley’s place bare-ass naked, right?”

Rooney stared.

“You’re kiddin’ me!”

Lorraine sat back, pushing her half-finished plate away. She opened her briefcase and passed out her notes from Caley’s office files, putting them on the table.

“Don’t get food over them, but you two, and you, Rosie, should get clued in.”

She got up from the table.

“What about Robert Caley?”

Nick asked, uptight.

“That is about him, Nickjust read it, all of it.”

Nick yawned, winking at Rooney.

“How about a drink? We can go through these in a bar.”

Rooney snapped the book shut.

“Okay by me. See you tomorrow, Rosie, thanks for the spaghetti.”

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. It took her by surprise, and she blushed.

Nick gave her a wink as he held open the door for Rooney to pass.

“Good night, see ya tomorrow.”

Rosie started clearing the table. It was nice having men around the place, it was a good feeling, and as she passed a mirror carrying the dirty plates to the sink she gave herself a quick glance. Maybe tomorrow she should have her hair trimmed, start wearing a bit of makeup. Rooney’s peck on the cheek had meant a lot; she hadn’t been kissed by a man for a very long time. Not that Rooney had kissed her properly, but it was a show of affection and she hadn’t had much of that either.

Lorraine remained sitting at the table as Rosie began clearing up. She could hear Rooney and Nick laughing in the street below. She got up and stood by the wiĽf8ow, looking out, then turned to Rosie.

“Good night, Rosie, go to bed now, it’s late, and I’m tired out.”

“Good night. Turn off the air conditioner or you won’t sleep.”

Lorraine turned off the air-conditioning, then the lights, and stood in the semidarkness by the window, arms folded, deep in thought. Nick Bartello had virtually taken over the case. She knew it, and she knew she would have to top him, to prove not only to Rosie but to Rooney that she was still running the show. He was ahead of her and he was good, she knew that. He might be laid back but he had come up with motives, and good ones. Was she losing her touch? Had her physical attraction to Caley made her fail to see through him? She sighed as she lay down on her sofa bed.