Finder's Fee (22 page)

The events of a few hours before replayed in Pennington's mind.

“You're kidding me, right?” Silk Saccio sounded more stunned than he looked. “A body?”

“Yeah. His name is … was, Dr. Zarefsky. Got that? Alex Zarefsky.”

“Alex Zarefsky. I got it.” Silk took no notes. He knew better.

“Alex Zarefsky is a famous and rich infertility doctor. Early this evening, the police were here because someone reported shots fired.”

“And they wouldn't leave without poking around and making a nuisance of themselves.”

“That's right, Silk. Apparently, someone snuck in when the gate was open for the police and hid. We don't know when, but he got in the house. There was a struggle; things got knocked over including some silverware. Zarefsky took a knife in the back. As he was bleeding to death he used a fork to scratch a name in the wood floor of the kitchen.”

“Name scratched into the floor. Got it.”

“You were called because I recommended you for some security work at his home and clinic. He told you some woman has been harassing him and he didn't know why.”

“Which means I don't know why.”

“Right. He called you to come over and check the grounds. He told you he didn't want to call the police — ”

“Because they made a hash of things the last time they were here and he was also afraid they wouldn't believe him.”

“I like that last part. Good thinking. Here's what I want you to do. Walk into the house but only as far as the end of the foyer. The kitchen is to your left. There's an opening, so you can see into it. You look, you see the body, you walk back out and call the police and wait for them.”

“And that's all I know, right?”

“Right. If they remember that I was here earlier and ask about me, tell them you don't know where I am but you have my cell phone number. I'll give it to you. Encourage them to call. I'll take it from there.”

“You know, this is no small thing you're asking me to do, boss. The cops are liable to drag my fanny downtown — ”

“One hundred thousand dollars.” Pennington smiled. He understood where Silk was headed. “Cash if you want it that way.”

“That'll do it.”

“Remember, you touch nothing. When all is said and done, they will find no evidence to hook you into this. No fingerprints, no blood splatter on you, nothing. Just tell the story as I gave it to you.”

Silk nodded then stared at Pennington for a long moment.

“No,” Pennington said. “I didn't kill him. I'm leaving because I made a promise to protect some of his property. You don't need to know about that. I can be reached.”

Silk continued his gaze then gave a reassuring nod. Pennington fought the urge to smile. Silk wasn't the only one who could lie on a moment's notice.

“Five minutes.” The pilot's voice pulled Pennington back into the moment.

“Understood.”

It was going to be a long day and timing was everything.

“You sure you didn't touch the body?” The detective stood tall and slender and looked like he had just crawled out of
bed. The newborn day cast a pale light on his features as he stood close to Silk. He gave his name as Detective Jed Cary.

“Of course, Detective. I'm a professional private investigator. I didn't get my license out of a cereal box. I know not to mess with a crime scene. Especially a murder scene.” Silk pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. “Mind?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Come on, Detective. It's not every day I see a client face down in his own blood. It may be everyday work to you, but it's a shocker to me.”

“You seem a little nervous, Mr. Saccio.” The cop looked at the driver's license, PI license, and business card Silk had given him.

“And if I was all cool and calm and collected, then you would suspect something else was wrong. Of course I look nervous. I
am
nervous. I didn't get here in time to save a client.”

“Judging by the size of this house, he must have paid you pretty good.”

“Not a dime yet. We were negotiating for some work for his firm. He's a fertility doctor. You know, he helps women get pregnant who can't get pregnant. Fixes their plumbing or something.”

“I know what a fertility doctor is, Mr. Saccio. What's the name of his firm?”

“Ah, the ol' let's-test-the-suspect's-statement approach.” He fingered the unlit cigarette and struggled to recall what Pennington had told him. “Coast Fertility Care Center is the business he talked to me about. I wouldn't doubt he has other enterprises. I was hoping to score some work on those too. I guess that won't be happening.”

“So you didn't scratch the name in the floor?”

“I told you, boss, I didn't go in the kitchen. I made it as far as the foyer, saw him dead on the floor and exited.”

“You didn't try to see if he was alive?”

“No. The gigantic pool of blood and unblinking eyes made me think that his day was done for good. Dead is dead, Detective. You know that. Sometimes you can just tell, and this is one of those times.”

“Did you see the name he wrote?”

“Not really. It looked like a word not a name.
Find
was what it looked like to me, but like I said, I didn't go in the kitchen.”

“It's a name. He wrote two words: Judith Find. Any idea why he would do that?”

Silk stuck the cigarette in his pocket. “No. The name means nothing … wait a sec. Judith Find? Isn't she that interior design chick I see on television every once in awhile?”

“Maybe. Do you have any reason to believe that's her?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“I need you to go downtown for a few more questions. Oh, and I'm going to need your clothes.”

Silk had expected this. “Okay, here's the deal. I'll go downtown. You can have everything I'm wearing from shoes to skivvies. I'll get my old lady to bring some fresh duds. But while I'm there, I want you to take whatever else you need. I give you permission to swab for DNA, take hair samples, examine and photograph my hands, the whole nine yards. But let's do it all in one fell swoop, shall we? I don't want to keep driving to the station because you need one more thing. I hate downtown traffic. So do it up right, Detective. I ain't got nothing to hide.”

Fifteen minutes later, Silk slipped into the backseat of a patrol car and wondered how he'd spend the one hundred thousand dollars coming his way.

T
wo hours later, after they left the La Jolla hotel, Luke found a Jack in the Box and bought breakfast sandwiches for everyone, pulled through the drive-up window and backed into one of the more distant spaces on the fast-food parking lot. Judith didn't need to ask for the odd parking decision. Her own paranoia had grown sufficiently that she too wanted a clear view of the lot and the street. In fact, it had been her idea that they eat in the car for fear of being recognized. That morning she had decided to pull her hair back and to avoid makeup.

The food tasted wonderful. Nerves and apprehension had made her famished. Judging by the way the others ate, the affliction was shared. Luke had killed the engine but left the key turned enough to allow the radio to play. He found a news station which struck Judith as being a radio station of commercials occasionally interrupted by news. Traffic reports were given every ten minutes and national and local news orbited the reports. Earthquakes, crimes, and political intrigue took a backseat to the need to know what was happening on the I-10 and other freeways. In Southern California, transportation was everything.

Judith didn't want to listen to the news, much preferring the chirping and singing of birds in a nearby tree. She recognized the symptoms. Ever since childhood, when life became difficult, when pressures threatened to crush her, she would displace her thoughts, traveling the corridors of imagination, living in a place outside herself. At the moment, she'd love to be someplace else;
be someone
else.

The voice of a traffic reporter in a helicopter somewhere over the I-210 bounced around the interior of the rental car and Judith took little notice of him. The reporter finished and the news anchor took over.

“That was Bob Relnic in the traffic copter helping you get where you need to be. A strange story just in from police in San Diego.”

Judith snapped her head around and faced the radio as if doing so would make the report stop.

“Uh-oh,” Luke said.

The anchor continued. “Homicide detectives are looking for Judith Find, the well-known executive of Find, Inc. Police are not releasing details but have said that she is wanted for questioning in the murder of prominent physician Dr. Alex Zarefsky in La Jolla. We'll stay on the story and provide more details as they become available. Hmm. Does this mean another decorating diva is going to jail?”

Luke switched off the radio. “Used to be that news stations just gave the news without commenting on it.”

“Did … did he say Dr. Zarefsky has been murdered?” Ida's words tumbled out.

“Yes,” Luke said.

Judith looked at him.

“Hey, don't look at me. I didn't kill him. I didn't go near the house, did I, kid?”

“Nope,” said Abel. “Didn't go in the house.”

Judith turned to face Abel. He looked pale. So did his mother.

“Who would kill Zarefsky? ” Luke bunched up the remains of his sandwich in its wrapper and threw it in the bag. Judith had lost her appetite as well.

“And how are they connecting it to me? No one knows I went to San Diego. I didn't step foot on the property.”

“You're being set up,” Luke answered. “That has to be it.”

“But why me?”

“Because the guy at Fresno named you. He saw me too but doesn't have a name to go with my face. He knows we're together. Especially after you coldcocked him. He can't find us, so he gets the police to chase after us. That puts us on the defensive and maybe he thinks it will frighten us off.”

“He's pretty close to right.” Judith folded her arms over her stomach and leaned forward.

“You're not going to be sick, are you?” Luke said. “If you're going to hurl — ”

“I'm not going to be sick. I just … I'm just stunned beyond all reason. I need a moment.”

“Mr. Pennington killed Dr. Zarefsky.” Abel's voice sounded hollow. Eight years old and he had endured an abduction, been held captive, chased, seen adults fighting, and now was exposed to murder. “He has no truth in him.”

Luke turned. “What does that mean, Abel? You said the same thing at Zarefsky's house when we first met. You said I had truth in me and now you say that Pennington doesn't.”

“You have truth in you. Mr. Pennington doesn't. The evil is on him — in him.”

“I don't understand, Abel. How do you know that?”

He shrugged. “I see it.”

“You see evil in people?”

“Yes, and good.” He took a bite of his sandwich. “We all do.”

“Who is ‘we,' honey?” Ida asked.

“The children like me. The ones in the mountains. The ones in danger. The ones we're going to save.”

“You've met these children?” Judith asked.

“No.” Abel seemed unbothered by the incongruity of his statement.

“Then how do you know they see the same things you do?” Judith pressed.

“I don't know.”

She repositioned herself in her seat. “I am so confused.”

“That makes two of us,” Luke said. He turned to Ida. “Has Abel always been like this?”

“Yes, although I don't understand about the seeing of truth and evil on people. He's always been different. I had to homeschool him because the other children would torment him because of his eyes and because he was so much brighter than them.”

“We are going to save the others, aren't we?” Abel sounded worried.

“I'm not sure what the three of us can do. It seems every hour the danger increases, the mystery deepens, and the futility of it all becomes apparent.”

“Four of us,” Abel said with authority.

“I can't take you into a dangerous situation, kid.” Luke looked defeated.

“We're already in danger. I was in danger when you came for me. It's the same thing.”

Luke sighed. “I'm too tired to argue with you, buddy. Besides, I think you'd win. You're probably smarter than all of us.”

“The truth is in you and Mrs. Find too. The truth will win. The truth always wins.”

“How can you know that?” Judith asked.

“I dunno.”

“We're going in circles.” Luke started the car and pulled from the parking lot.

“Where are we going?” Judith asked.

“To save the kids. Abel is right. You're right. We can't let them be shipped off to Singapore to be lab rats.” He paused. “Who knows, maybe by saving them we can save ourselves.”

A new frozen fear pressed in upon Judith's soul. Never had she been so frightened; never had she wanted to run away more than at that moment. She bit her lip. She rubbed her hands together. She shifted constantly in her seat. Her eyes flicked from the view in front of her to that out the side window to that in her mind.

Oh, God. Dear God.
Judith couldn't remember the last time she prayed and she was making a shambles of it now. Terri would be glad to know her boss had taken up the habit of prayer, even if she didn't know how to do it right.

“I see more truth in you, Mrs. Find.”

Judith turned and looked at Abel through teary eyes. He smiled.

Something tickled the back of Judith's brain.

The helicopter rested on the ground for less than two minutes, just enough time for Pennington to exit and make his way to a waiting H2 Hummer. The moment he closed the door to the large vehicle, the chopper lifted off scattering dust and debris from the dirt landing pad.