Ellipsis (18 page)

Lark bridled and lashed out. “No.
Nothing
like that. Chandelier's a
wonderful
mother. Why are you asking these questions?”

“Mickey Strunt acted funny when I mentioned Violet's name.”

“Mickey hated the idea that Chandelier had a child.”

“Why?”

“Because he knew Chandelier wouldn't give a damn about him after Violet came into her life. And because he knew Violet would be Chandelier's only heir.”

“Did Mickey ever do anything to Violet directly? Mistreat her in any way?”

“No. Never. Chandelier wouldn't have stood for it.”

“Maybe Chandelier didn't know.”

“Chandelier knows everything,” Lark said, firmly enough to make me believe it.

“I guess I'll get back to work. But we need to take care of some things first.”

“What things?”

“We should augment the security at the hospital. Put a guard on Chandelier's room to make sure no one makes another try at her.”

Lark's voice fluttered. “You think that's really possible?”

“I'm afraid I have to assume it.”

“But I don't know anyone who could spend time over here without—”

“I do,” I interrupted. “A woman named Ruthie Spring. She's an experienced investigator and a former sheriff's deputy. If she's available, she'd be perfect. If not, I'll get Burns or one of the other big agencies to help out.”

“Then you'll take care of it?” she asked, not bothering to disguise her relief at escaping yet another task being added to her already crushing burden.

“I'll handle it,” I confirmed. “But we should also get a guard on Violet.”

“But why would …” She gasped with incredulity. “Of course. If the goal is to cause Chandelier pain, harming Violet would make the burns from the bomb seem like splinters. My God. This is like the old movies Chandelier likes so much.
Cape Fear
or something.”

“Do you know anyone who might be able to watch over Violet for a while?”

Lark paused. “I can't think. My mind is asleep, even if the rest of me isn't.”

“Ruthie Spring has a woman she works with on occasion. I'll find out if Ruthie can bring her on board. If not, I'll try somewhere else. One way or another, there'll be someone on Violet by the time she gets out of school. Laurel Hill. Right?”

“Right.”

“Just so you understand, I'm going for around-the-clock coverage. It'll cost big bucks, but if anything happened to either of them we'd hate ourselves for not going all out.”

“I agree. Of course. And you'll take care of it?” she asked again, unused to anyone offering to lighten her load rather than add to it.

“No problem. Now you go home and get some sleep.”

“I hate to wimp out.”

“Don't be silly. You're not going to do Chandelier or anyone else any good if you're out on your feet.”

Lark stifled a yawn and sighed. “How are
you
, by the way? You look like you've been skiing at Squaw for a month.”

“I'm fine,” I lied.

“I don't see how you could be. If you need medical assistance, I'm sure Chandelier would foot the bill.”

“No need. I'll make the security arrangements and get back on the job.”

“That would be fine.”

“Go home,” I ordered.

“I can't.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I …”

“Go. Now.”

“Maybe to a motel. So I can be back in a hurry if—”

“Fine. Whatever. Just sleep. Is this number always good for you?”

“Yes. I have call forwarding to my cell phone. One number fits all.” She choked back another sob. “Be careful, Mr. Tanner. Please. They tell me the burn ward's already filled up.”

Lark McLaren hung up. As I was about to call Ruthie Spring, Ruthie called me. “What the hell, Sugar Bear?” she began. “I got to sit on your lap to keep you out of trouble?”

“Guess so, Ruthie.”

“Car bomb?”

“Yep.”

“Not the weapon of choice in these parts.”

“Nope.”

“You haven't gone spook on me, have you?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good. Those towel heads play rough. You responsible for the integrity of the vehicle?”

“Not directly. Guy named Filson had that part.”

“The spud in the car.”

“Right.”

“But you feel guilty anyway.”

“Right.”

“Like you should have done more to prevent it.”

“Right.”

“Like if you were good at your job, Filson would still be alive and the Wells woman would still be a bitch on wheels.”

“Something like that.”

Ruthie clucked like a tom turkey. “That's a hobby you should give up, you know that, Sugar Bear?”

“I know, but apparently it's even harder than quitting smoking.”

Ruthie laughed, then turned serious. “So how can I help?”

“If you're free, I'd like you to go over to Alta Bates and stand guard over Chandelier.”

“How bad is she?”

“Bad. Have you got some spare time?”

“For you I do.”

“Thanks, Ruthie. And it's on the clock. She's authorized the expense.”

“On, off, whatever. Just so it don't come out of your pocket.”

“No chance.”

“That's what you said the last time.”

“This time it's straight.”

“It better be. When should I be there?”

“As soon as you can. Chandelier's in intensive care. A woman named Lark McLaren is the contact—you saw her at the book party. She's probably home asleep right now, but when she gets back, she'll get you up to speed.”

“Check.”

“If you have any trouble, call me. Do you have someone who can relieve you at night?”

“No problem. Cops likely to get sand in their shorts from me hanging around?”

“I don't know why they would. I'm the one they're going to get excited about.”

I asked Ruthie if she knew anyone who could stand watch over Violet Wells for a few days, and she told me she did and would take care of it right away. We made some record-keeping arrangements, promised to get together that evening to compare notes, and hung up hoping there weren't any more bombs in the cards.

Chapter 18

I was down at the office, swilling coffee, eating a bagel, and putting together a plan of action that might smoke out Chandelier's attacker, when there was a knock on the door to the outer office. The only person I was expecting was a Berkeley police detective coming to take a formal statement about the bombing. When the guy came in wearing a tweed sport coat, open-necked polo shirt, and well-worn cordovan oxfords, I assumed that's who he was.

“Mr. Tanner?” he said as I invited him into the inner sanctum.

“I'm him. You must be from the Berkeley PD.”

He sat down in the client chair, crossed his legs, and folded his hands in lazy nonchalance, as though he held a second mortgage on the place and I was two months delinquent. His face was round and full, but more forbidding than fat. His jaw was firm and his eyes were hard-boiled eggs and his matched set of inverted wrinkles suggested he spent more time scowling than smiling.

“Assumptions can get you in trouble,” he said after he'd made a mental inventory of the room and didn't see anything that made him sweat.

“What kind of trouble?” I asked, just being sociable until he gave me a reason not to be, which he was sure to do sooner or later.

“For one thing, they can make you see a friend as an enemy,” he was explaining.

“And vice versa, I assume.”

“True enough.”

I smiled, still the affable dunce. “Which is it in this case?”

“I'm most definitely a friend.”

“Of whom?”

“You. And Ms. Wells. But mostly of Jed Filson.”

“The limo driver.”

He nodded somberly. “The late lamented Jedediah. Yes. Name's Hugh Cadberry. Like the candy only spelled differently.” He extended a hand and I extended my body and we shook across the litter that always seemed to find its way onto my desk.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Cadberry-like-the-candy?” I asked as I retook my seat.

He didn't find my levity amusing. Given its quality, I didn't hold it against him. “Ever hear of something called ARFA, Mr. Tanner?”

I shook my head. “What is it, some kind of dog food?”

His laugh was enough like a bark to suggest my quip had touched truth. “ARFA is the Association of Retired FBI Agents.”

“A boys' club.”

“If you will.”

“Sounds like fun.”

Cadberry didn't look like fun had ever been on the agenda. “We have our moments.”

“You're a member, I take it.”

“Regional vice president.”

“Congratulations. But I'm not retired and I'm not an ex-agent.”

Cadberry looked at the painting behind my desk, the one that's worth more than the building. If he wondered how I'd managed to acquire such a prize, he didn't ask and I didn't tell.

“Jed Filson was a member in good standing of ARFA,” Cadberry said easily, as though he were reading a box score. “When one of ours goes down, we make it our business to know why. We don't make a lot of noise and we cooperate with the authorities as much as we can. But our bottom line is, there are no unsolved cases when it comes to dead agents and no one or nothing gets in our way until we close the file.”

“No open cases whatsoever?”

Cadberry shook his head. “Not on the West Coast. Not in the ten years I've been heading up the Investigations Division.”

“Good for you. I see a national office in your future. Treasurer, maybe.”

He froze as if I'd belched. “This is not about me, Mr. Tanner.”

“It is so far.”

He started to object, then shrugged. “You were hired to protect Chandelier Wells.”

I just sat there.

“You didn't do it.”

“Neither did the ex-agent.”

He nodded. “Clearly. May I assume you're still on the case?”

“You may.”

“In an investigatory capacity?”

“Among others.”

He nodded. “Good. That's why I said that we're friends. ARFA can be a help to you in this, Mr. Tanner.”

“Too many friends can fuck up the gumbo sometimes, Mr. Cadberry.”

“Hard to see how that could happen in this case, isn't it?”

I smiled my friendly smile. “That's funny. I can see it pretty clearly.”

“Assumptions again.” Cadberry sounded like a bored lecturer in a required course. “We're like no other organization in this country, Mr. Tanner. We can bring so many chips to the table you can't count them—forensics, DNA work, fingerprint bank, liaison with international police agencies. We have access to virtually any federal resource we choose to consult, and we've got a skills bank among our roster of retired agents that makes any other investigative agency pale by comparison, including the active Bureau.”

I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair. “That's impressive, but if forensics and DNA are the key to this case, I'm sure the Berkeley cops will root it out.”

He shook his head. “Not necessarily, I'm afraid. Cops can be slow as Sunday. There's a backup of at least six months at the state crime lab and their DNA base isn't even onstream yet. We, on the other hand, are fast as lightning. Especially when we have a head start.”

I smiled. “This must be where I come in.”

“Affirmative. You tell me what you know and we'll get a level-one inquiry under way right away. Keeping you apprised, of course. And giving you help if you need it. And credit as well, incidentally, in case you're concerned about that.”

“The only place I need credit is at Wells Fargo Bank.”

Cadberry shrugged like the holder of a pat hand who'd just been raised. “We might be of help on that end, too. We've been known to pay for professional assistance on occasion.”

“The feds always were partial to mercenaries.”

He made a fist, then released it unharmed. “Professionals assisting professionals. That's all it amounts to.”

“What it sounds to me like is you're cutting in line, Mr. Cadberry. And pushing and shoving as well. I'd think the FBI would know better.”

He recrossed his stubby legs. The crease in his trousers was as sharp as the edge on fine bond. I hated to think he'd dressed up just to meet me. “I can assure you we're all grown-ups, Tanner,” he announced rather grandly. “This isn't a game.”

“I haven't seen a grown-up since Eisenhower died,” I said, for some reason unwilling to match his gravity. “Here's my problem, Agent Cadberry. The last time I looked, murder wasn't a federal crime, not even the murder of retired FBI agents. I don't see much of a role for you in this.”

He glared at me with the accumulated steel of his years in the business, which was enough to get my attention. “This isn't the time or the place for a pissing contest, Tanner. If this turns out to have international implications, you'll wish you'd brought us on board.”

“I don't see how this could possibly be international.”

“Car bombs aren't common domestically, you know. Except for the Mafia, which you don't have much of out here.”

“Chandelier Wells is a terrorist target, is that what you're saying?”

“I'm saying if you tell me what you know, we can labor in this vineyard beside you.”

“And the tit for my tat would be what?”

“We keep you apprised. And take on anything you can't do yourself. We're already looking into the provenance of the explosive device, for example.”

“Have you pitched this to the Berkeley cops?”

“Not yet. Have you met with them yourself?”

“Only briefly at the scene. I'm sure they'll be dropping by.”