License to Lie Page 7

“I spent about a half hour in here earlier trying to find something,” Roxy said. “I went through his drawers, everything. I can’t find his computer password.”

  Skip glanced from mother to daughter, then back again. So alike, yet so different. He scanned the desk. “He has no notes about anything? No reminders?” Roxy shook her head. There was nothing. Not a single clue.

  Skip opened the top desk drawer. Pencils. Pens. Postage stamps. Paper clips. How strange. He opened another drawer. He found an address book with only a few entries. “Do you know these people?”

  Evelyn said, “Most are relatives that live elsewhere. We’ve called everyone local that’s in that book. No one has seen Richard.”

  In a file drawer, he found lots of hanging file folders. Skip thumbed through the labels. “Was your husband in the title insurance business?”

  Evelyn nodded. “He sold the business, but could never quite give it up. He always said he wanted to stay on top of things just in case he had to go back to work.”

  All of the folders were blue with one exception, a yellow folder labeled “O-W Tech.” Skip pulled the folder and laid it on the desk. He noticed Roxy’s posture stiffen ever so slightly. He had warning bells—again. How did her business relate to her father’s disappearance?

  “I guess Dad also liked to follow what I was doing. I just found that folder this morning. I never realized he was so interested. I could have told him a lot more about it.”

  “Any significance to the color?”

  Evelyn picked up the folder and ran her fingers over the face. “Richard always liked color coding. He said it made finding things easier.”

  Roxy’s face remained impassive. “That’s the only reason I can think of. My dad’s pretty anal in that respect.”

  Skip flipped through magazine articles, white papers downloaded from the web, and brochures. Odd, he thought, how a man who was so interested in his daughter’s business wouldn’t talk to her about it—unless that had something to do with why he disappeared.

  Skip glanced around. “Evelyn, neither of you has cleaned this room, right?”

  Both women shook their heads. Evelyn spoke first. “I haven’t dared to clean up in here for the past couple of months. Richard would have torn my head off. He’s been very particular about this room.”

  Roxy laughed. “Don’t look at me. I have a cleaning service.”

  The pictures hung neatly on the walls. There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. The mouse was clean. Even the keys on the keyboard, which would normally have discolored with oil residue, were spotless. One thing was obvious—Richard Tanner was no ordinary drunk. And if these women hadn’t cleaned up in here, Richard Tanner had.

  Skip said, “Mrs. Tanner, he knew exactly what he was doing. He sterilized this room before he left it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Roxy

  As I watched Skip Cosgrove rummage around my dad’s desk, I had a short panic attack. What if he found Dad’s password? That would mean we’d find out what Dad had been researching. We’d learn what had been making him crazy. And I might be exposed.

  For the briefest moment, I didn’t want this guy to do anything. But that was stupid because I did want him to find my dad. I considered how I’d deflect the investigation if he hacked his way into the computer, then suppressed a smile. This professional was having no more luck than I had had earlier. He made a weird comment about the room being sterilized by my dad. To me, that would imply Dad wasn’t drunk.

  Mom’s brow furrowed and she glanced at me, then back to Skip. “What’s that mean?”

  “He didn’t want anyone following his trail,” I said.

  Skip nodded. “Exactly. People always leave a trace of what they’ve been working on. Here, there’s nothing. Your husband wanted to make sure that if something happened to him, nobody could come in behind him and retrace his footsteps. You could probably hire a forensic computer expert to go through this, but that would be expensive and time consuming. I know a guy who could do it. He might do it as a favor, but I don’t know if he’d be available. He’s got a big deadline. On second thought, maybe we’d be better off just going back to the old way of doing things.”

  “What’s that?” asked Mom.

  “Legwork,” he said. “I’ll need to go wherever he would normally go and ask around. I’ll need a picture and a list of places to visit.”

  This wasn’t anything I couldn’t do. In fact, that had been my next step—visit the places Dad would usually go—not that there were many. There was his Rotary lunch—a week away. There was the bar around the corner from the title company—he hadn’t been there in months as far as I knew.

  “He’d been going to Agua Hedionda a lot lately,” said Mom.

  “What?” I blurted. That was ridiculous. My dad, a nature guy? “When did he start visiting the lagoon?”

  “Maybe a few weeks ago.”

  “Had he gone there recently—in the last few days?” asked Skip.

  Mom shook her head. “No. Not in the last few days.”

  “Something’s bothering your husband, Evelyn. If we knew what that something was, we might have better odds. I suspect we won’t figure that out until we find him. The lagoon’s out for now. He’ll probably be going someplace where he can drink.”

  “Keller’s,” Mom said.

  I nodded. “The bar near the title company—Dad always used to go there after work. We could go do that now.”

  “I prefer to work alone,” Skip said. “Look, if he’s running away from something that happened here, seeing either of you might trigger a flight response. I’ll go down there myself.”

  No way was I letting this guy out of my sight. If he found Dad and they started talking, my business dealings might come up. I had to go. Besides, I needed more time to work him for access to Nordoff. “My dad and I were always very close. He wouldn’t run from me.”

  Mom’s jaw fell. “And he’d run away from me?”

  Skip stood and put his hand on Mom’s arm.

  I know he was only consoling her, but seeing him touch her like that pissed me off. I felt like an idiot. Was this guy stirring some primal instinct in me? Jealousy? Fear that he’d move in on my mom? I cleared my throat. “It’s probably got nothing to do with you. But he’ll be expecting you to come looking for him. If he’s trying to sort something out on his own, seeing you would tip him off. Skip and I can handle this without alerting him to what’s going on. Right?”

  Skip grimaced. Actually, he looked annoyed. “It would be better if—”

  “I’d like Roxy to be there,” Mom insisted. “Richard would do anything for her. As I think she would for him.”

  That comment sent a chill to my soul. Would I? What if he asked me to not steal the five million? I gave that thought a quick burial. No way, I wasn’t going there.

  Mom continued. “She should go with you.”

  He glared at me. “You have to agree to follow my directions.”

  Oh, big bully man, I’m scared. Careful, buddy, or I’ll knock you on your ass—unless you’ve got a higher-degree belt than mine in karate. “Sure. You’re the boss.”

  He stared at me for a few seconds, obviously unimpressed by my quick acquiescence.

  “What? I said you’re in charge. You want me to sign something?”

  He hesitated. “Fine. Just listen when I tell you to do something, okay?”

  Shit, you’d think he knew me or something.

  “Listen to him, Roxy. He knows what he’s doing.”

  Jeez. What was this, the We Know Roxy Society? “And I know my dad. I want him back as much as you do!”

  Mom took two steps and embraced me. She leaned her head against my shoulder. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s probably all my fault. I must’ve done something, I just don’t know what. Find him and bring him home. We’ll work it out.”

  I gripped her shoulders tightly. “We’ll find him, don’t worry.” I just wished I could believe that. “So, where’s a picture for Skip and
me?”

  Mom relaxed her grip and then turned away. “I’ll be right back.”

  Skip looked me in the eye. It gave me a creepy feeling, like he could see inside me or something.

  “Roxy, I’m serious. I think I should do this alone.”

  I held up my hand, palm facing him, fingers splayed. “Talk to the hand. I’m going along. Quit complaining.”

  “Just let me make the initial contact, okay?”

  As long as you get to him first, buddy. “I’ve got no problem with that. You did good with the Nordoff kid, I’m sure you’ll do fine here.”

  It was no more than ten minutes later that Skip and I were headed toward Keller’s in my Toyota. We’d agreed to take my car since we could always put someone in the back seat. I decided to stick to the business pleasantries. “Business must be good, you drive a Porsche.”

  In the glow of the dash lights, I found myself glancing sideways to take in Skip’s features. He had a strong jaw and well-defined nose, kind of ruggedly handsome—if you like that sort. Who was I kidding? I did. He seemed to take on a different appearance in every light. Maybe it was just that he was good at masking his feelings. Hard to read. Like me. Damned if that didn’t concern me. The last thing I needed was to be around a guy I couldn’t manipulate.

  “I only take a few cases like this. Mostly, I like to work with people to help build their self-esteem and improve their communications.” His voice was deep, almost melodic.

  “Are you a shrink?”

  He laughed. “No. I’m a criminologist. I’m also trained in clinical hypnosis. I started out in the police academy, but I was a square peg in a round hole. I quit that to do what I love doing most, helping people make themselves better.”

  Oh, brother. His was as big a racket as mine. “So you’re not a PI?”

  In the dimness, his five o’clock shadow dominated. He stared straight ahead, his eyes glassy in the reflected glow. “For the most part I stay out of crimes. Those guys deal with the criminal element. Me, I prefer finding people who didn’t break the law. Every now and again the cops bring me in. So what’s your business? You said venture capital?”

  Was he probing or just making small talk? Be careful around this guy, I thought.

  I tapped my brakes as we came down Tamarack, making sure to keep my speed at the limit—and my response generic. “This is my first big deal. I worked for a VC before, but didn’t like some of the practices.” Like not sharing the profits. We were approaching the I-5 on-ramp, so I flicked on my signal. “It’s a fascinating field, just tough to get a start.”

  “Where’d you get all that money, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “I’m just a broker. I put together the deal, other people have the money. But I will get a nice chunk of the profits from the deal.” Like, everything, I thought as we merged onto the 5.

  “I guess that’s how another client of mine got started, small deals.”

  “Nordoff?”

  “Yeah, Nordoff.”

  ”Is he looking for any new deals right now? I was thinking of calling him since I have one slot left open on this one.” I dared not look at Skip, sure that he was sizing me up.

  “So you know Herman Nordoff?”

  “Peripherally.” In the most generic six-degrees sense. I know you, you know him.

  “Hmmpf. I have no idea. He didn’t discuss his business deals with the likes of me. That’s way beyond my ken.”

  I slowed for the off-ramp to Carlsbad Village Blvd. So much for Round One. I’d work him a bit later, but for now he’d be left wondering why I hadn’t asked for an introduction or a recommendation. “Keller’s is down in the Village. We should be there in just a few minutes.”

  “Let’s hope we find our man,” said Skip.

  I made the turn onto Carlsbad Village Blvd. “I have a good feeling about this.” And I did. I was sure I’d already found mine. Gotcha, Skip Cosgrove.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Skip

  The Carlsbad night air had an uncharacteristic cold bite to it. Dampness clung to skin like a cold, soggy blanket, leaving behind a chill that crept through to the bone. Skip wanted nothing more than to find Richard Tanner, return him to Roxy and her mother, and get home to a cup of hot cider spiked with something strong enough to knock away the chill.

  Keller’s was located on Roosevelt just a short distance from Carlsbad Village Blvd. Roxy parked in a lot to the side of the building. She’d driven there almost as if on autopilot and Skip surmised that she was no stranger to this particular bar. As they walked toward the entrance, he asked the obvious question. “Been here a lot?”

  “Dad used to bring me here and sit me on the barstool. He’d feed me pretzels and beer.” She laughed. “The bartender never told me it was root.”

  Skip let her laughter warm him. In the streetlight, her golden hair shone. Her smile had a childlike quality to it that just made him want to laugh with her. He opened the door, resolving to get this done as soon as possible and to put this woman in his rearview mirror before she got to him. No sooner had the door closed behind them than his cell phone rang.

  “Go ahead, he’s not here anyway,” Roxy said.

  He nodded and punched the connect button on his cell. “Cosgrove.”

  “Herman Nordoff. What the hell happened with that interview?”

  Skip backed out of the warm surroundings and into the damp chill of night. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted me to handle that.”

  “I did. But you were supposed to keep them from calling.”

  In the distance, a car alarm went off. Skip said, “Who’s calling you, Herman? Which channel?”

  The car alarm ended.

  “Hell if I know, someone named Worthington.”

  “That’s not the reporter I talked to. It’s probably another station that picked up the story and wants an interview. Give me the number and I’ll handle them. If you get any more calls, tell them to call me.”

  Silence.

  “Herman? You there?” Skip said.

  “Do you know what time it is?”

  “Just after eight. Why?”

  “You should have been off the clock hours ago. I expected to get voicemail.”

  Skip chuckled and thought, so you called me anyway? To Nordoff, he said, “It’s no problem. Just keep my number handy and have the news chasers call me.”

  Nordoff gave him the number, thanked him for following through, then said good-bye.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow to check on Paul. You may even want to turn off the phone until morning.”

  Silence on the line had Skip beginning to wonder if Nordoff had disconnected. Several seconds later, he heard, “Skip, if you need anything. You know, a favor sometime. Call me. I like to repay my debts and no amount of money can repay you for what you did today. Thank you.”

  Skip blinked. It was the second time Nordoff had made the offer. Apparently, he was serious, not just being polite. “You’re welcome. I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

  When he disconnected, Skip stood in silence for a moment. The night air didn’t feel so cold now. Inside, in his heart, he felt just a bit warmer. And Herman Nordoff had a heart, too. He laughed. Who would’ve thought? He opened the door and did a quick search for Roxy.

  The inside of Keller’s had the typical pub atmosphere—lots of highly polished dark wood; a backlit bar lined with bottle after bottle of different gins, scotches, rums, and more; and a bartender wearing a Padres baseball cap. Skip spotted Roxy sitting alone at the bar.

  She motioned with her head for him to join her. She raised her glass of wine in his direction. “You want something?”

  He shook his head. “Not while I’m working. Did you ask the bartender if he’s seen your dad?”

  She took a sip from her glass. “Nice chardonnay. No, I thought you’d want the honors.”

  He sat on the stool next to her and planted his elbows on the lacquered countertop. The bartender, a tall, skinny man who looked old eno
ugh to be Roxy’s father, approached. Skip wondered if the guy’s Padres cap concealed a hairless scalp. The bartender tossed a white towel over his shoulder. “Hey, Hot Rox, how’s the wine?”

  Roxy smiled. “Superb, Tommy.”

  Skip raised an eyebrow and watched Roxy. “Hot . . . Rocks?”

  Tommy laughed and winked at Roxy. “Not like in a stone, man, like in short for Roxy. Girl’s thought she was hot since she was twelve. Probably before that. She conned me out of a quarter for the jukebox first time I met her.”

  Roxy smiled and tipped her glass in Tommy’s direction. “You remember that, huh?”

  “How could I forget? I’d worked here maybe two days when you walked in alone.” He turned to Skip. “She bets me a quarter she can get five bucks from the next guy who walks in the door. I figured I had nothin’ to lose, so I took the bet. It was her old man who walked in, but I didn’t know him because I’d only been here a couple of days. She walks up to him and says, ‘Hey, can I borrow five bucks?’”

  Tommy took a sip of water from a glass he kept behind the bar. “The guy hands her a five, then parks himself at the bar. She sticks out her hand and says, ‘Pay up.’ When her old man caught on, he was gonna make her give back the quarter, but I told him I’d lost fair and square. Kid did what she said she was gonna do. Been calling her Hot Rox ever since.”

  Skip watched Roxy’s face as she took another sip of her wine. The eyes, the smile—he could see how this guy had been suckered so easily. Even as a child, Roxy had surely been a tease. He turned to Tommy. “Lesson learned, I guess.”

  Tommy nodded. “Ain’t never taken another bet with another customer since, especially this one.”

  Skip leaned forward. “Actually, we’re here because her dad’s missing.”

  Tommy shook his head. “Drunk maybe, not missing.”

  The surprise was evident in Roxy’s voice. “He was here? Today?”

  “Till maybe an hour or so ago. He left with some guy I ain’t never seen before.”

  Skip glanced at Roxy. “At least it wasn’t a woman.”

  Roxy added, “Thank God for small favors. Where’d they go?”