Inherit the Dead (6 page)

“Which means?” Perry asked, though knew very well.

“Employment discrimination, an occasional wrongful death, that sort of thing. I loved it. Cases I could believe in, where I could do some good for the little guy.”

Perry nodded, but his bullshit meter was ringing. “But you quit because . . . ?”

Loki sighed. “Because the big corporate lobbies brought in tort reform. Killed my entire practice. Basically shut down the courtrooms for everyone but their cronies.”

“Gee, that’s a bitch. But I’ve got to hand it to you—those employment discrimination cases are tough. You ever go up against any of the bigs, like IBM or Mercedes-Benz?”

Loki’s stricken expression told Perry he’d rightly guessed that Loki’s experience went no further than the noble, well-rehearsed
speech he’d just given. Unfortunately for him, Perry knew something about the field. When Perry got shamed out of his uniform, a real civil rights lawyer had lobbied hard to get him to file suit against the department. She was convinced he’d been framed and was gung ho to prove it. Perry had thought about it, had wanted to get the chance to go public with the truth. It didn’t bother him that it would be an ugly street brawl of a trial. What did was the knowledge that he couldn’t win—on any level. The fix was in, the truth didn’t matter, and it probably would never even be known, given the kind of press coverage he’d get. So ultimately, he’d declined. But in the process, he’d learned a few things about employment discrimination cases—as the man squirming across from him had just found out the hard way.

Loki licked his lips and rubbed his hands on his thighs. “Uh . . . no, not really. I guess you could say I handled the less . . . complicated cases.”

Or,
Perry thought,
you could say that Loki is a bald-faced liar.
But Loki’s nervous retreat made it clear he knew he’d been busted. All to the good. Nothing like a little shaming to inspire honesty. “How’d you and Julia cross paths?”

Loki’s eyes darted anxiously around the room, managing to hit everywhere but the place where Perry was sitting. “A dinner for new associates. I started out at Schilling, Stearns and Castleman.”

Perry recognized the name. It was a high-power, multinational corporate firm. The kind only Harvard Law grads with big connects got into. The kind that represented those Goliath corporations Loki had just declaimed.

“So you met Julia shortly after you passed the bar?”

Loki took a deep breath and stretched his legs. “Yep. Married for thirty-two glorious, fun-filled years.” Though Loki said it with a tinge of irony, his voice held no rancor. In fact, Perry thought, his tone seemed a little wistful.

“Whose idea was it, the divorce?”

Loki turned toward the fire. Without meeting Perry’s eyes, he replied, “It was what you might call a mutually agreed upon parting of the ways.”

Should Perry pursue the issue? Loki and Julia Drusilla’s relationship might be relevant to Angel’s disappearance, but then again, it might not. Before he could make up his mind, Loki leaned forward, his face tight. “Look, you’re not, like, a real cop anymore, right?”

Perry tried not to wince. The admission still had the power to wound. “No.”

“It’s just that, this whole situation . . . it’s got me kind of stressed out. I really need to power down, man.”

“Have at it,” Perry said. Relaxed meant talkative. Fine by him.

Loki moved to the fireplace and reached under a framed photo of the Beatles (autographed by all four) walking barefoot at Abbey Road. It swung open to reveal a safelike cavity. Only there were no stock certificates or bundles of cash. There was just a large-size ziplock baggie of weed, an assortment of pipes, and one multicolored, blown-glass bong. Loki took out a small brass pipe and held up the baggie in silent invitation.

Apparently Norman Loki had exchanged the booze for the bong.

Perry’d always hated the stuff. It made him paranoid. And slow. And it stank. “No, thanks. But by all means . . . ”

After three long, loving tokes, Loki slid back in his chair and put his feet up. His eyes were red but a lot less darty. “Now where were we?”

“We were just chatting about what caused your divorce.”

“Oh, right.” That wistful tone again. “Let’s just say we found we had one too many things in common.”

Perry waited, hoping the old trick of silence would make Loki jump in to fill the gap. But Loki wasn’t jumping anywhere. His gaze drifted complacently over Perry’s right shoulder and out through the
window to the dark ocean. Perry sighed. Note to self: next time a witness says he needs to relax, hum something by Enya.

“I understand Angel’s been missing for two weeks?”

“Yeah.” Loki pulled his attention back with an effort. “Last time I saw her, she said she was going up to Hartford to see a showing with Lilith.”

“Does Lilith have a last name?”

“Bates. She’s Angel’s latest BFF.”

Perry would follow up on that shortly. “And what was the showing of?”

“Art. Something modern, I think. Lilith is an artist.” Loki’s mouth curved in a smirk. “ ‘She don’t look back.’ ” He glanced at Perry. “That’s—”

“Bob Dylan, yeah, I know. Did Angel tell you where they were staying up there?”

Loki’s expression sobered. “I know where she
said
they were staying. The Sheraton. But when I couldn’t reach her on her cell, I called the hotel, and they said no one by that name had ever checked in.”

“I assume you also checked under Lilith’s name.”

Loki gave Perry a look that said he was stoned, not a stoned idiot.

“Have you been able to reach Lilith?”

“I called her right after I called the hotel. She said she hadn’t gone to Hartford, didn’t know of any art showing, and didn’t recall Angel ever saying she was going there. Said she hadn’t seen Angel since . . . I guess it would be the day I last saw her.”

“So Lilith and Angel are close? How long have they known each other?”

Loki squinted. “A year? Probably less.” Loki shook his head. “Angel goes through BFFs the way Limbaugh goes through oxy. Always has. I give their little ‘womance’ six months tops before Angel gets tired of her.”

Pretty tough talk for a dad whose daughter was missing. But it was probably the most honest answer he’d given so far.

“You think Angel might be a little . . . flighty?” Perry asked.

Loki sighed. “In all fairness, probably no more than any other spoiled rich girl would be in her situation. But to just disappear this way . . . ” Loki’s mouth turned down.

“Has she ever done this before?”

“Not for this long. She’d fall off the radar for a day, maybe three days. But never more than that.”

“When was the last time?”

Loki stared off until Perry was ready to knock on his head to see if anyone was home, but finally, he continued. “About a year ago. She was supposed to go to her cousin’s wedding in Boston. Instead, she wound up in Woodstock. Never even made it to the reception. No heads-up, no apologies.”

“How’d you find her?”

“She eventually called. But it took a while, which worried me because I’d been leaving messages on her cell and she never turns it off. Keeps that thing glued to her side twenty-four/seven. Every time I called, it went straight to voice mail. Three days after the wedding, she finally got in touch. Said she couldn’t call before because there was no signal where they were staying.”

“Did you believe her?”

Loki shrugged. “Why would she make something like that up?”

Perry thought,
Because sliding up to Woodstock and missing her cousin’s wedding might have been the least of it?
But it was a year too late for that talk.

“Woodstock,” Perry said. “Does she usually go in for retro, hippie stuff like that?” Perry watched the other man for a grin, a raised eyebrow, some sign of recognition about apples and their proximity to the trees they fall from.
Nada
.

“Not necessarily. Angel’s just . . . adventuresome.”

“Does she go to school?”

Loki’s face brightened. “Sure did. She went to Vassar. Graduated in three years. With honors.” He stood up. “I’m parched. You sure you don’t want anything to drink? Water?”

“Sure, water’s fine.”

When Loki returned with two large crystal glasses of water, Perry asked, “Graduated in three years with honors? That’s quite a feat.” Especially for the girl Loki had just described.

Loki settled back into his chair, took a long swallow of water, and nodded. “She’s definitely got brains. And obviously discipline, too—when it suits her.” An edge of disappointment slid under the pride in his voice.

“But?”

“But it turned out the only thing she really cared about was getting done with school as soon as possible. She kept her grades up because she knew that if she didn’t, she’d get hell from me.”

“Not from her mother?”

“They rarely spoke.”

Loki glanced at the side table where he’d set down his pipe. Perry knew if he picked it up, their interview was over. He was about to knock his glass of water onto the floor to distract him, but Loki left the pipe alone and continued.

“Ever since she graduated last year, it’s been one long party.” Loki paused, shook his head.

The irony of Loki making a remark like that almost made Perry laugh out loud. He stifled the impulse by taking a long drink of water, then asked his next question. “And Angel doesn’t have any real expenses, right? She doesn’t pay rent here?”

“No.”

“So who does?”

Loki’s shoulders dropped, and he stared into the fire. “I have some investments . . . ”

“Might some folks call those investments ‘child support’?”

Loki shot a look at Perry out of the corner of his eye, then turned to stare into the flames. Busted—again—he didn’t even try to argue.

For a few moments, the only sounds were the
crackle
and
pop
of the wood. A log rolled off the top, and Loki picked up a poker and shoved it back away from the screen.

When he sat down, he dropped his head into his hands. “Having to call Julia last week and tell her that I’d basically lost our daughter was one of the worst days of my life.” When he finally met Perry’s gaze, his face was haggard. “Look, I know I wasn’t the best dad, but I wasn’t the worst, either. I may have been a little too permissive. But one thing I can say for sure: Angel always knew I loved her, which was a lot more than Julia—” Loki stopped abruptly.

“So there never was any love lost between those two?”

Loki pressed his lips together. “Honestly, I don’t know. The dynamic between mothers and daughters . . . it’s always complicated, isn’t it? You have kids?”

“I do. But my daughter isn’t about to inherit a fortune.”

Loki’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

Perry studied him for a long moment. “You don’t know that Angel gets access to a sizable trust fund on her twenty-first birthday?”

Loki sat forward. “This is the first I’ve ever heard of it.”

Perry’s bullshit meter was ringing again, though he wasn’t sure why the man would bother to lie. Maybe he was pretending to be shocked so no one would think he’d been Mr. Cool, Permissive Dad all those years in order to curry favor with his soon-to-be-stinkin’-rich daughter. Or, on a more sinister note, maybe there was something in it for Norman Loki if Angel didn’t claim her share of the inheritance. Perry was going to have to drill down on the exact terms of that trust
fund. Loki’s reaction didn’t ring true. It seemed a little . . . forced, over the top. Perry waited, hoping silence would lure him into saying something he’d regret. Frequently, silence was the best interrogator. But after several moments went by without a word, Perry was forced to concede it wasn’t working this time.

Perry replied, “That’s actually part of the reason Julia wants Angel to be found right away. Angel has to sign the papers on her twenty-first birthday to get that money.”

Loki broke into a laugh. And not a little chuckle, either. A big, hefty, belly shaking, “Ha-ha-ha.”

“I take it you don’t believe that,” Perry said. “According to Julia, she doesn’t need Angel’s share of the money.”

When his laughter had scaled down to a few stray chortles, Loki responded. “Oh, no doubt
that’s
true. Julia’s got more money than the Vatican. I just find it difficult to believe in this sudden . . . well, never mind.”

Perry didn’t want to never mind, but Loki had made it clear he wouldn’t share any more than he had to about his ex-wife. His protective attitude toward her was puzzling . . . or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was just a wise decision not to bite the hand that fed him. And was probably still feeding him.

“I’ll need Angel’s cell phone number—” Perry said.

“Of course. I’ll write it down for you.” Loki stood.

“And while you’re at it, I’ll need Lilith’s information, too.”

Loki nodded. “Good idea.” Loki went over to a small writing desk against the wall, wrote down the information.

He gave Perry the piece of paper, then held out his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Christo—”

Perry shook his hand. “Call me Perry.”

“Perry. Whatever you may think of . . . all this, I am extremely worried about Angel.”

At that moment, the doorbell chimed its absurd little tune. “That’ll be my trainer.” Loki retrieved Perry’s coat from the couch and handed it to him. “Whatever you need, please feel free to call me.”

“Thanks, I will.”

Loki opened the door to reveal one of the few men Perry had ever seen who truly deserved to be described as an Adonis. Well over six feet tall, with wavy, shoulder-length blond hair and pecs so large they showed through his waffle shirt. The warm smile he’d aimed at Loki turned to puzzlement when he saw Perry.

Loki quickly introduced them, and the man recovered his one-hundred-watt smile. After enduring his bone-crushing handshake, Perry bid them farewell. The moment the door closed, he wiggled his fingers to work out the kinks from that death grip.

As Perry turned to go, he heard the two men laughing. He slowly walked down the porch steps then stopped. It seemed odd that a worried father would have a trainer come out at a time like this. Odder still that he’d be in the mood to laugh. About anything.