Finder's Fee (13 page)

The second call went through and Judith learned that Terri was out of the office while the crime scene techs examined the scene.

“The detective thinks that your office is bugged.” Terri sounded frightened. Judith thought she had a right to be.

“I know this is weird, Terri. I don't pretend to understand all that is going on, but I need your help.”

“You know I'll do whatever I can. Where are you?”

“I can't tell you that; I can't even tell you why. Don't ask questions, Terri. It might make things worse.”

“I don't understand.”

“Neither do I but that's the way it is. I need some research done and you're the best person in the company to do it. But here's the thing: You have to do it on the sly. Don't tell anyone what you're up to. Don't talk to the police about it.”

“This doesn't sound right, Judith.” She could hear the stress in Terri's voice.

“I know. Believe me, I know. Given those constraints, are you still willing to help?”

There was a pause. “Yes, of course.”

“Okay, here goes. Do you remember the Bertinelli rugs we experimented with about eighteen months ago?”

“I do. I remember thinking how odd it was to hire an Italian company to make Persian rugs.”

Judith had taken Terri with her to Italy to approve designs, tour the factory, and ink the deal. The trip brought fond memories.

“One of the rugs in the design series had a narrow beige border with a field of gray patterns. I think it was the second in the series.”

“It was.”

“Good. Now, do you remember the laminate flooring we did two years ago? The Stewart Blink design?”

“It's hard to forget. It didn't do all that well.”

Judith gave a mirthless chortle. “You're being kind. I'm still answering questions about how much we lost on that pattern. Here's what I want you to do. I need to know if there's a house out there with both the rug and flooring.”

Another pause. “You want me to find a single address that has both the rug and the flooring in common?”

“I know I'm asking a lot.”

The sound of Terri's long exhalation carried over the miles. Judith gave her time to think.

“The flooring went out under trial, so the number of retail stores is limited to maybe fifty or so. As I recall, we tested in the western states only: California, Arizona, and …”

“Washington and Oregon. That's it.”

“I suppose I can find out which stores returned the flooring and how much. That will tell me how much they sold. Same thing with the rugs, although some may still be hanging in stores. When do you need this?”

“Yesterday.”

“I'll head back to the office now. I might have to invade someone else's space if the crime scene people aren't done spreading fingerprint dust everywhere.”

The thought of black smudges all over her walls and furniture made Judith shiver. “Find out who's on vacation and borrow their work space. It might be safer anyway.” She assumed Terri understood the reference to the listening devices.

“How do I get hold of you?”

“You don't. I'll be out of touch for a few hours. I'll call you when I can.”

“I understand.”

“Terri? You're the best.”

“That's what I keep telling people.”

K
aren Rose stepped into Dwayne Hastings's office. He had buzzed her on the intercom and demanded that she come to his office immediately. It was the first and only such demand Karen had received.

“You wanted to see me, boss?” The office was clean to a fault. Most men in Dwayne's position would have stacks of file folders, news scripts, newspapers, “While You Were Out” slips, and a dozen other must-have-close-at-hand piles. Dwayne's desk, a red-oak chunk of woodworking that could double as a bomb shelter had a single pad of paper, a ballpoint pen, and a phone. His computer sat on a bureau behind him.

The starkness of the office didn't surprise Karen, she had been in the office before, but she did notice that the phone
had been pulled closer to the center of the desk. Dwayne stared at the phone and spoke into the air, the handset resting in its cradle.

“Here she is now.” Dwayne motioned for Karen to enter. He mouthed, “Close the door,” to her.

“Okay,” a voice said. Dwayne had the caller on the speaker phone. So this was to be a conference call.

Karen shut the door and took a seat in one of the worn guest chairs across from her editor.

“Karen, I have Bob Hazen on the line. He's with an affiliate station in Fresno. He's doing us a big favor.”

“Oh? Hello, Bob.”

“Hey, Kelly.”

“It's Karen.”

“Sorry, my bad.” The voice sounded tinny and came with more white noise than Karen liked, but she could hear well enough. The station really needed new phones. She was certain that wouldn't happen any time soon.

Dwight smiled. “Tell her what you got.”

“Okay, but this makes us square, Dwayne. Agreed?”

“Agreed. You don't owe me.”

“Not now I don't,” Bob said then added, “I want video of your report with a tag referencing this station.”

“Gladly.” Dwayne's smile broadened.

Karen gave him a quizzical look.

Bob's voice floated from the speaker. “Okay, here's the deal. Less than an hour ago there was an explosion in the east part of town. I've emailed the address and community name. You should have that by now.”

“I got it,” Dwayne said.

“This is an older neighborhood; filled with residents that have lived in those homes for better than thirty years and
young couples just starting out. It's a quiet place with almost no crime.” He cleared his throat. “About two o'clock, police and fire responded to an explosion and fire. The house was gutted and there's no sign of the owner, one Mrs. Ida Palek. I did a little checking on her. She became a widow two weeks ago. No one knows where she is.”

“The house just went up?” Karen asked.

“That's how the fire chief described it. At first they thought it might be from a broken gas line, but when I was doing the shoot, the arson guys showed up. That means the chief saw something that didn't add up.”

“Can we get that video?” Karen felt the rush of an interesting story, but she felt there was more coming. Dwayne wouldn't have demanded her presence for a fire in another city, especially not a single family residence. Houses burned down all the time. One in Fresno would have no interest for San Bernardino County residents.

“I'll post it on an in-house – only part of our station's website. You can download it from there. I'll send you the URL.”

Karen looked at Dwayne who still wore a grin. “Okay, so you have a house go up in flames and an explosion — ”

“And a missing owner,” Dwayne added.

Karen continued. “Okay … and a missing owner. What does that have to do with me?”

“First,” Bob said, “because there is an eyewitness and that eyewitness fingered someone who owns a business in your town. So I wanted Dwayne to send someone out and try to get an interview. You know, share the story.”

“We have lots of …” Alarms went off in Karen's mind. “You don't mean — ”

“Imagine my surprise when I learned that you had just been out to Find, Inc. There's nothing more powerful in the news business than serendipity.”

“Hang on a sec.” Karen stood. A gallon of adrenaline had just entered her veins. “You're telling me that you have an eyewitness who saw Judith Find near the house.”

“Not near —
in the house.
”

“Are you saying she's dead?” Karen worked at keeping her reportorial detachment in place.

“No. No bodies found in what's left of the house. The eyewitness saw her and someone else go into the house.”

“And the eyewitness is certain that he saw … or is it ‘she' saw?”

“He.”

“This guy is certain that it was Judith Find?” Karen began to pace, her mind spinning like an out-of-control carousel.

“She's a public figure. As I understand it, he recognized her from television.”

Karen could almost sense Bob's satisfaction. Reporters loved this kind of stuff. “Did you talk to the eyewitness?”

“I'm afraid not; he was gone when we got there. I have his name and one of my crew is trying to track him down.”

Karen looked at Dwayne. She started to ask if Dwayne had told Bob about the excitement at Find, Inc., but decided against it. If she knew her boss, he had withheld that tidbit.

“So when do you want the feed?” Dwayne asked.

“ASAP.”

Dwayne leaned over the desk. “We're on it. I'll shoot you an email when I get your footage.”

“Okay, but don't drag your feet on this, Dwayne.”

“You got it, pal. Thanks for remembering an old friend.”

“Just paying a debt, Dwayne. Just paying a debt.”

“Understood.” Dwayne switched off the phone.

“This is incredible.” Karen flopped back in the seat.

“I thought you might like it. Now get out of my office and get some footage from Find, Inc. Make it good. We have a scoop, let's not flush it.”

She stood and started for the door. “On my way.” Karen stopped. “By the way, just what did you do for this guy that earned such a decent payback?”

“It was years ago. We were both still field reporters. We were down a cameraman on an especially busy news day. I knew enough about the equipment to operate it. In his zeal to get to the scene of a story he smashed up the news van. Thing wouldn't budge. We had to be towed. My reputation had already dropped in the can, so I took the blame. Fortunately, no one else was involved so the police weren't called to the scene. My drinking was pretty well known at the station then.”

“You took the fall for the guy? Dwayne, that's nuts.”

“Yeah, I know. Here's the irony. I had been drinking that day. If I hadn't, I would never have volunteered to be the scapegoat.”

Judith thought about what he said. “This had better be everything he says it is, or otherwise he hasn't come close to paying you back.”

“It doesn't matter. What is, is. Now get out of my office.”

Detective Ben Wilson had just reached his desk in the Archibald Avenue headquarters building when the phone rang. He snapped up the phone and identified himself.

He listened then said, “You've got to be kidding. Fresno?”

Five minutes later, he was back in the car heading to the building he had left only a few hours before. This time his task was not to investigate a phone, but a person.

T
he business jet made a smooth descent and landed at Lindberg Field near the heart of San Diego. Warm air and a clear blue sky greeted Judith. She had been to San Diego many times and come to love its unique lifestyle, blending the laid-back approach of Southern California's most southern residents with the bustle of the big city. Most metro areas were just cities, but like Chicago, New York, and San Francisco, San Diego had personality. For the briefest moment she allowed herself the deception that she was here on vacation. The fantasy burst a moment later when Luke and Ida emerged. Ida made uncertain steps on the air-stairs but negotiated them without stumbling.

Ida had occupied much of Judith's thinking over the last hour of the short flight from Fresno. What was she to do with the woman? They couldn't take her with them. Judith had no idea what they were going to face and having a third person along might irritate the Puppeteer even more. Sending her back to Fresno could only endanger the poor, bedraggled woman. Her home didn't explode by accident. Luke had been right in hustling them from the house. It had saved their lives.

And what if they did find the boy? Would Ida allow him to be turned over to the Puppeteer? Not likely.

True as all of that was, Judith could not bring herself to just leave the woman to roam the large and confusing terminals of Lindberg Field.

“We should get into the building,” Luke said. “I don't like standing in the open.”

“You know, this airport has an FBO. We don't have to go into the main terminal.”

“FBO?” It was clear Luke was distracted. “Oh, fixed base operation. Yeah, I know. Your pilot said the same thing when I told him we wanted to exit as near the public terminal as possible.”

“And why is that?”

Luke cut a glance her way. “Because there is anonymity in crowds. It's easier to hide in a group.”

Despite it having saved their lives, Judith grew more impatient with Luke's paranoia. She didn't argue. They moved toward the concrete walls of the terminal. Judith led the way, Luke and Ida walked close behind.

Inside, the hubbub of travelers — grumpy with delays in security checkpoints, uncomfortable chairs, and employees (who looked at them but never truly saw humans, just customers) — stood next to walls, worked on laptop computers, and read magazines and books, waiting to board their flight.

The crowd made Judith nervous. A thousand strangers surrounded her; any one of them could be in league with the Puppeteer or with whoever decided to destroy Ida's home while the three of them were still in it.

“What now?” Ida asked.

Judith glanced over her shoulder then slowed so she could walk next to the woman. During the flight, Ida's emotional state had settled. Her eyes were still rimmed in red, but the weeping had stopped. In fact, it had stopped so suddenly that Judith worried the woman had slipped into some emotional coma.

“Are you hungry? Need to use the bathroom?”

“I'm fine. I just don't know what to do. What do you plan to do with me?”

“Ida, we haven't abducted you.” The question wounded Judith. “We brought you along because we feared for your life.”