The Wicked Wife (Murder in Marin Book 2) (26 page)

“Oh, God,” William said, as the potential gravity of the situation began to settle in.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Let’s take this an hour at a time. Hopefully, by this time tomorrow, we’ll all have a good laugh over what was nothing more than a colossal misunderstanding.”

Hearing that, and appreciating Eddie’s effort to give him an inside view of what procedure they would follow going forward, he shared with Eddie his memory of the ski patrol’s search for Fran. “They told me the same thing—not to worry, and that probably all would be fine. So you can see why this is all bringing back some very painful memories for me.”

“I completely understand. In fact, if you like, I’ll take a ride out to Tennessee Valley with you, and we can go see the car. Just keep one thing in mind, if you’ve got a spare set of keys, at this point it would be unwise of you to get inside the car.”

“I understand. Still, could we at least open the trunk?”

“Well…”

“I had a buddy in college whose father picked up a hitchhiker near his home in central Florida. This is over thirty years ago. The guy thumbing a ride robbed him and locked his dad in the trunk. God, I’d hate to think she was lying there suffocating in that trunk! It would just be a great relief to know she’s not in there.”

“I’ve yet to come across an airtight trunk. My guess is that the father died from heat stroke. Still, I can understand your concern. By all means, when we get there, I’ll open the trunk, but I’ll do it with gloves. After we look inside it, we shut the trunk. And no touching the rest of the vehicle, okay?”

“Fair enough. I don’t want to get in the way of you doing your job, and I appreciate the extra support you’re giving me at this time.”

On the ride over, William asked, “Do you think she was a victim of a carjacking or a robbery?”
 

Eddie shook his head. “In this part of Marin County, it’s damn near impossible to carjack someone in broad daylight without anyone noticing. Additionally, had it been a carjacking, your wife would have most likely been left at the side of the road as the thief drove off with her car.”
 

When they pulled up next to the car, Eddie slipped on a pair of skintight nitrile gloves, asked William to stand back to avoid placing extraneous prints on the car—or worse, rubbing against a perfect print that might provide a vital clue.
 

The trunk was spotless. “Wow,” Eddie said, trying to lighten the moment, “I don’t think I ever managed to keep a car trunk this clean.”

When there was nothing else to be done, William was still reluctant to leave the car. Eddie knew why. To William, it was akin to leaving his wife behind.

They talked very little on the drive back to Belvedere. Eddie did, however, ask a handful of questions about how William and Willow met, why she kept working, and how often she still went on the road for her work.

When they arrived back at the Adams’ house, Eddie said, “I can’t tell you not to worry because I know this doesn’t make a lot of sense. Here’s my card. Please call me if she shows up. In turn, you’ll be the first one to know anything we learn after her car is examined on Monday. Hopefully, you will have heard from her before then.”

William was pleasant and polite, but clearly shaken. With each passing hour, both men knew there was cause for increased concern.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

As Eddie promised, Willow’s car was impounded on Saturday evening. On Monday morning, two crime lab technicians began the methodical process of going over every inch of the vehicle.
 

On Tuesday morning, Eddie reached out to William, who by then had cleared his calendar for the next several days.

“There are no signs of a struggle having taken place inside the vehicle. No scratch marks on the seats, let alone anywhere else, and no hair or skin other than what particles all of us shed naturally every day of our lives. To that end, I do need your help with something.”

“Whatever I can do.”

“I’m going to have a county deputy sheriff come by your home in the next hour to pick up a hair brush that belongs to your wife. If you or your housekeeper would take Mrs. Adams’ hairbrush and just pick it up with a plastic bag and wrap it up, that will help us find a match to both her hair and skin cells.” He paused, then added, “We did find two spots on the driver’s side seat that had been bloodied and wiped clean. Unfortunately, we can’t tell if that happened on Saturday or a day or two before that. It was small, trace amounts of blood, and it could be something innocent like a scratch or small cut.”

“Could it mean something?”

“Perhaps, but any trace of blood is duly noted.”

“Anything else?”

“Not much. Neither of the two doors indicate that there was any tampering with the locks, so we can’t be certain whether it was your wife or someone else who left the car where it was found. What we do know is that there is no evidence of tampering with the ignition system. With the additional lock security system on her vehicle, it seems quite probable that the car was driven to the spot where we found it using the owner’s key.”

“What now?” William asked in a frustrated tone.

“I’ve been assigned to the case. For now, it’s filed as a missing person. I’m going to start by interviewing Holly and Sylvia, to get their full account of the sequence of events before their scheduled hike on Saturday.”

“Detective, will you keep me posted?”

“During every step of the way I’ll let you know where we stand.”

It was noon that same day when Eddie came by the offices of the
Standard
.

“Where have you been? I’m starving!” Holly declared, as Eddie handed her a roast beef on rye from Venice Gourmet.
 

“She’s grumpy when she’s hungry,” Eddie muttered to Rob, as he handed his friend his requested meatball hero.
 

Rob shrugged. “She’s grumpy all the time. Claims I pay her too little and ask too much.”

“Some women are never satisfied.”

“If you two are done, let’s get down to this missing person’s case,” Holly said, as she stole Rob’s pickle.

“Hey,” Rob barked, noticing her petty theft.

“What the hell do you need a pickle for when you’re eating a meatball hero? I’m the one with the deli sandwich.”

“Okay, you two, let’s not fight over a pickle.”
 

“Yeah, Rob. We’ve got a case to solve.”

“You know, Holly, you missed your true calling. You were on that Bradley case last year like a bloodhound.”

“Don’t forget she was there when you nabbed the guy. Perhaps not fully dressed, but she was there,” Rob added.

“Okay, if you boys are done having your fun, let a girl get involved with the wrong guy and you never let her forget it.”

“She’s right Rob, it’s not like her boyfriend was a serial killer. He had only murdered one guy!”

“Okay, boys, let’s get down to answering the most important question of the day—where is Willow? In fact, speaking of missing, where the hell are those salt and pepper chips I asked you to pick up?”

Eddie fished around in one of the two bags he brought in with him, found the chips, and tossed the bag to her.

“So, where oh where is Willow?” Rob asked.

“Damned if I know!” Ed snapped back.

“No clues in the car?” Holly asked.

“It was pretty clean. Luminol revealed that there had been a couple of small blood smears on the driver’s seat that got wiped down, but that doesn’t tell us a hell of a lot. We were hoping for the prints of someone who wasn’t supposed to be in that car, and there we pulled a blank.”

“Eddie,” Rob said, “I know you well enough that you must have a couple of working theories by now.”

“Guilty as charged, buddy.”

“So, what’s your gut telling you and what, if anything, have you told Adams?”

“I’m keeping pretty tight lipped with Adams. If he had anything to do with her vanishing, I take my hat off to him. He’s doing the best performance I’ve ever seen of an anxious and concerned spouse.”

“Poor guy,” Holly said. “With what he went through with his first wife, he must feel like this is part two of the same bad dream.”

“So, what’s on your mind Eddie?” Rob asked.

“Willow vanished over seventy-two hours ago. She might have appeared to be a bit flighty, but up until she missed that personal appearance in Seattle on Sunday afternoon, she’s been a professional her entire career. Disappearing acts have never been her thing. At this stage, I believe she was abducted, murdered, or perhaps both.”

“Got a hunch as to which of those two might be the right answer?” Holly asked.

“Sadly, yes. Murdered.”

“That’s a gruesome conclusion,” Rob said, putting down his sandwich, the direction of the conversation making it increasingly hard for him to swallow.”

“Why murdered?” Holly asked, taking another bite of her roast beef.

“If it was an abduction, it’s reasonable to consider that as the wife of a billionaire, he would have been approached about a ransom by now. I also don’t think she was hijacked, presumably at gunpoint, by someone who just wanted to keep her as a sex slave.”

“True,” Rob nodded.

“Further, she doesn’t fit the profile of the disgruntled wife who decides to leave her husband and run off to some far flung corner of the world with her secret lover. For starters, having her face on perfume bottles from Moscow to Melbourne doesn’t allow her to just blend into a crowd. And if she had decided to run off, her car would likely have been found at one of the Bay Area’s three major airports. But it wasn’t. Her car was left along the side of the road, as if she was out for a Saturday morning walk through Tennessee Valley.”

Holly stuck a chip in her mouth. “If she was murdered, where is she?”

“My guess is somewhere in those woods that run alongside that road.”

“Oh, God.” Holly put down her sandwich and started to tear up. “I didn’t want to think about it, but all weekend long I kept wondering, what if Willow were lying dead out there? That would just be so sad!”

“Okay, kiddo,” Eddie said, while handing her a tissue. “It’s just a theory. Maybe I’m off the mark. I certainly hope that I am.”

Eddie was able to round up five county sheriff’s deputies who joined him Wednesday morning at nine. They met near the site where Willow’s car had been abandoned.