Finder's Fee (15 page)

Find was not a man like that. Wilson had sized the man up: he was full of anger, enjoyed throwing his weight around, but could be cowed easily enough. He had dealt with his kind before — the executive who could make an employee cry but couldn't hold his own in a real confrontation.

“I don't mind telling you, Detective, that I don't like what you're suggesting.” He shifted in the chair, his head held high as if he were the captain of an aircraft carrier. Wilson sat in a chair opposite the desk, a chair Find had taken pains to describe as “designed for this specific office, blending teak and leather like never before.” He sounded like a catalog.

“And I don't mind telling you, Mr. Find, that I don't care what you like. Now, we can make this a contest of wills or you can climb down off your high horse and answer a few questions.”

“I don't have to answer your questions. I'm not under arrest.”

“Would you like to be?”

It always happened this way. First, the interviewee was all goodness and light, willing to help in any way, then a question upset them — maybe because it got too close to the truth — so they put on their best I'm-so-offended-that-you'd-suggest-such-a-thing act, which was then followed by anger and resistance. Find went to phase three more quickly than most.

“I don't respond well to threats, Detective.”

“That's why I don't make threats.” He let the verbal bomb land. The question was whether Find would call his bluff. He had no reason to arrest the young exec.

“I don't know how that transmitter got in my office. I am not now nor have I ever spied on my stepmother.”

The word mother seemed to hang in his throat. “Who else has access to your office?”

“No one.”

“Not even Ms. Find?”

“Not even her.”

“Do you clean the office yourself?”

“Of course not. Well, there is the cleaning staff. They have a key.” Some of the wind left his sails. “But they're just janitors.”

“Just janitors, eh?” Wilson hated arrogance in all forms. Career prejudice irked him.

“You know what I mean. The device your man found is rather technical. Not the kind of thing you'd expect a janitor to deal with.”

Wilson sighed and rubbed his eyes for effect. “I worked my way through college cleaning offices.”

“Well … I didn't mean … of course you were gaining experience …”

Best to let him squirm a little.
It took effort not to smile at Find's discomfort. A moment later, Wilson asked, “Do you know how most high-tech crimes are committed? They're done by someone on the inside of the firm. Either an employee gets paid off, blackmailed, or initiates the crime himself. Let me ask you this: if the janitorial staff were to walk in here right now, could you identify the real ones from any imposters?”

Find frowned. “I doubt it.”

“You doubt it?”

“No, Detective, I wouldn't be able to identify them.”

“Well, I'm just a dumb cop, but if this were my business, I'd keep track of such things.”

Find squirmed but said nothing.

“Two things. First, we have learned that your stepmother's office was bugged with wireless microphones and a camera. The repeater was found in your office.”

“I'm telling you I didn't put it there. I didn't know a thing about it until one of your people came in and did what he called a sweep. That's when I first learned of the device.”

Wilson looked in the direction of a contemporary chrome and glass television stand that held a large, thin, plasma television. The device had been plugged into a wall socket behind the DVR and other electronic equipment. It would have been impossible to see.

“Any idea who might want to spy on Ms. Find?”

“We have lots of competitors, most of whom we've left in the dust over the last four years. Our stock has tripled, our name ID is through the roof, and we have one of the most coveted brand names of any business. So take your pick. I can name two dozen companies that would like to see us go under.”

“You have that many competitors?”

“Of course.” Find leaned forward. “Look Detective, Find, Inc., is multifaceted. Our products cover flooring, wallpaper, designer light fixtures, outdoor furniture, paints, fabrics — anything and everything that touches on interior design. So there are several companies that make paint, but our brand outsells them because of the Find name.”

“And because your stepmother is so well known.”

He bristled. “It might seem like that to someone unfamiliar with large business operations like this one, but her figurehead status is just that. We're the leader because we provide the best product.”

The time had come to spring the question he had been holding like an ace up his sleeve. “What can you tell me about the explosion in Fresno?”

“I don't know how the phone … What?”

“The house in Fresno. The one that exploded and your stepmother was seen entering.”

The color drained from Find's face. “You mean … ?”

“No. I'm sorry.” He wasn't. Wilson wanted to gauge the reaction. “No bodies found. Just a burned-out house Ms. Find was seen entering.”

“In Fresno? How did she … ? Oh.” He snapped up the phone and punched a button. His assistant answered. “I want you to find out where the jet is. Immediately. Call me right back.” He crammed the receiver back in the cradle.

“I take it this is all news to you.”

“Take it any way you want.” He shot to his feet and paced behind his desk. “Fresno? What's in Fresno? She said nothing to me.”

“The police in Fresno want to talk to her.”

“What is going on here? First the cell phone thing, then Terri's mishap, now you're telling me the offices have been bugged — ”

“Just Ms. Find's offices on this floor.”

“That's enough.” He began to swear.

“What about the cell phones?”

“None of them are working. Apparently our illustrious leader hasn't been paying the bills.”

“Is that like her?”

For a moment, Wilson thought Find was going to say yes, but he didn't. “No. She's pretty good about such things.”

“She pays the bills herself, does she?”

Find shook his head. “No, we have accountants and a CFO who take care of such details, but I spoke to them. He doesn't understand what the problem is. Nonetheless, the ultimate responsibility rests with her.”

The phone rang and Find seized it like a cat attacking a mouse. “What? When? Where is it now? Well find out.” Again the receiver hit the cradle. “That was my assistant. She determined the corporate jet left early this afternoon for a destination unknown. Well, I guess we know.”

“Is there a way to find out where the jet is right now?”

“Who knows?”

“I wonder if they filed a flight plan.”

“Probably.” Find returned to his seat. He seemed calmer — maybe too calm. Wilson saw a glint in his eye.

Wilson stood. “I'd appreciate it if you'd keep me informed if she contacts you. I'll let you know if we learn anything else about the electronic surveillance.”

“Thank you, Detective.”

Before Wilson could reach the door, Marlin said, “I'm sure this is all just a misunderstanding.” He could smell the lie. “I need to be prepared. What kind of trouble could my stepmother be in for this explosion thing?”

“That depends on involvement. If she is involved, then I can think of half a dozen felonies the D.A. would toss at her. Of course, she might be the victim. Someone has bugged her office. Whoever did that could be behind the explosion.”

“Of course, of course, I'm sure that's what it is.”

“Then again …” Wilson let the words hang.

“What?”

“The homeowner has gone missing. We might be looking at kidnapping. My advice is this: if she contacts you, you had better tell her to get to her lawyer and contact the police.”

“If this gets out …”

“Kinda makes that janitor job look good, doesn't it?”

Oddly, Find seemed to find humor in that.

Two steps outside the door, Detective Ben Wilson began to make phone calls.

The obnoxious detective had finally left his office. Marlin rose, crossed his office, closed the door, then returned to his desk.

He picked up the phone and buzzed his assistant. “I'm going to call for an emergency meeting of the board. Start making calls. Tell them it is a ‘must' meeting and that I expect everyone to be there — or at least to be available for a teleconference. I want as many faces as possible. The meeting will start at … make it four tomorrow afternoon.” He listened for a moment. “Yes, something is wrong. Just make the calls.”

Marlin leaned back in his chair and for the first time in a frustrating day sensed a cool flow of pleasure.

Maybe, just maybe.

O
kay, okay, everyone stay calm.” Luke scanned the restaurant.

Judith looked at Ida then back to Luke. “We are calm, Luke. I don't see anyone panicking.”

“Sorry. It just seemed the right thing to say.”

Judging by the response of the restaurant's patrons, the news story went unnoticed. What few diners watched the overhead televisions had eyes fixed to the ones with sports programming.

“What do we do now?” Ida asked.

Before anyone could answer, the waitress, still inspired by the twenty Luke slipped her, arrived with a broad smile. “Is everything delicious?” She looked at Ida's untouched food. “Is there something wrong with the salad?”

Ida blanched. “No, I just wasn't as hungry as I thought.”

“You want me to get you something else?”

We want you to leave us alone
. Judith kept the words locked in her mind.

Ida said, “No.”

“I know what you mean, honey. I don't like to eat before I fly either.”

For a moment, Judith thought Ida was going to correct the waitress but the woman caught herself and offered a simple smile.

The moment the waitress left, Judith relaxed, unaware that she had tensed as much as she had. Was the waitress
looking at them differently? Had she seen the newscast or had she been too busy keeping track of customers?

Luke sat in silence, his eyes shut, and his head moving slightly from side to side. She made eye contact with Ida then shrugged. Judith hadn't known Luke long enough to know what the motions meant. She suspected that Luke had fallen deep into thought.

A second later, his eyes snapped open. “This is a problem.”

In a less stressful situation Judith might have laughed at the understatement. “Think so? I kinda thought we had problems when someone tried to blow us up.”

Luke's mouth dipped. “What I mean is, this has become much more complicated. If the news media has the story, then we can be certain that police agencies everywhere have been notified. We have to assume that since a witness identified you, local police in Ontario are searching for you.”

“But we're in San Diego.” The fact gave Judith no comfort. The Puppeteer made clear they could not go to the police. They hadn't but now the police were involved, at least in trying to find them.

“That's our only advantage. We need to get the most out of it.”

“Oh.” Judith had a thought that removed what little appetite she had. Luke tilted his head in an unspoken question. “The jet. If they're looking for me, then what would they do? If they assume that it was really me the witness saw in Fresno, then they'll know I had to get there somehow. My car is at the office. Remember, I had Terri pick it up from Hutch's.”

“I remember,” Luke said. “And the cops can determine when you were last seen at the office and compare that with when you were seen in Fresno.”

“And know that I flew. It won't take them long to figure out the corporation has a business jet.”

Luke raised his hands to his face. “Please tell me the pilots didn't file flight plans.”

“I'm sure they did. It only takes a few moments. It can even be done verbally.”

“What's that mean?” Ida wondered.

Judith answered. “It means that it's only a matter of time before someone figures out that the jet traveled from Ontario to Fresno to San Diego.”

“We can't stay here much longer,” Luke said.

Judith agreed although a large part of her wanted to walk up to the closest airport security person and lay out the whole story, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Her future was at stake, then — and it shamed her that the thought came second — there was Abel's safety to consider.

“This changes everything.” Luke shifted his weight like a man perched on a pebble-filled cushion. “We had some advantage when we began, but now that the police and others are looking for us, we have to be even more careful about what we do.”

“They're not looking for you, Luke. They're looking for
me
. I'm a publicly recognizable figure. That must be why the witness knew who I was. You're not.”

“Granted, but it makes no difference. The Puppeteer has handcuffed us together.”

“Maybe we should go on separately.”

“How? How do we do that? He didn't say it specifically, but I think part of the deal is that we stick together.”

“And what about me?” Ida asked.

And what about you, indeed.
Judith had no ideas. They couldn't cart an unwilling woman along. They had no idea
what lay ahead and based on the narrow escape they just faced, the future might be dangerous. Of course, the demolished house provided proof enough that the woman was in danger. She couldn't go home. What was left?

No one spoke, the question too sticky to dismiss easily.

“I'm going with you.” Ida made the pronouncement in solid I've-made-up-my-mind tone.

Luke shook his head. “I don't think that's wise, Ida. We're not sure where we're going or what we'll find. There is too much uncertainty.”