Before leaving the machine, I pulled up my phone log, which only confirmed what Murray had said: DuPage sheriff Rick Salvi wanted me ASAP, in which he was joined by the Chicago police-which I couldn’t figure out-and Derek Hatfield from the FBI, who would appreciate my calling at my earliest convenience. Behind the bureaucratic formula, I could hear Derek’s baritone rumble with menace.
There were also two messages from Geraldine Graham. I hadn’t expected to hear from her again after Darraugh’s furious phone call, but I should have realized that his mother would want the inside story on what happened last night at her beloved Larchmont. She’d probably watched the helicopters and emergency vehicles from her living room. Darraugh had also called. I would get to the Grahams in due course, but I couldn’t feel excited by yelps from the rich and powerful right now. The only message I was really glad to get was one from Lotty, asking if I was all right and to please call.
As soon as the messenger service took my packet for Cheviot Labs, I got ten dollars in quarters from the cashier, and found a pay phone in a Laundromat up the street.
I didn’t think Benjamin Sadawi merited massive surveillance. I didn’t think I did. But we were living in paranoid times. Everyone in law enforcement was on edge, not just the hormone-crazed youngsters who’d fired at Catherine Bayard last night, but everyone.
My first call was to my lawyer. Just in case worst came to worst, I wanted Freeman Carter to know what was going on with me. To my amazement, I actually found him at home.
“Freeman! I’m glad you’re in-I thought you’d be in Paris or Cancun or whatever your usual weekend spot is these days.”
“Believe me, Vic, when I heard your name on the news, followed by the magic phrase `Arab terrorist,’ I tried to book a seat on the first flight out. Why can’t you get into trouble during normal business hours? And without pulling Homeland Security’s chains?”
“Like a real criminal, you mean? I’m at a pay phone, but even so, I think I should keep this simple. I’ve been out of circulation all day, catching up on my sleep, so I don’t know what DuPage or thefederales will have in store for me when I go home. Under this Patriot Act, if they think I have something they want-whether it’s a runaway kid or a library book-do I have a right to phone counsel before they hustle me away?”
“I’m not sure,” Freeman said, after a pause. “I’ll have to research that. But just in case, leave word with Lotty or your tiresome neighbor to call me if you don’t show up when you’re expected. And for once in your own tiresome, ornery life, Victoria, check in with someone once a day until this blows over. Otherwise, Contreras will be on the phone with me and I’ll be billing new hours to your outstanding balance. Which is not small as it is. Agreed?”
“Copy that, Houston.” Nothing would bring Mr. Contreras more pleasure than to baby-sit me. Few things would bring me less, but Freeman was right. There are days when it’s better to be pliant.
I tried Amy Blount next. When I got her voice mail, I phoned the client at the Drake. Harriet Whitby was in her room.
“When I saw the report on TV this morning, I wondered, well, were you out at Larchmont because of Marc or because of the terrorist?” she asked. Every time someone referred to Benjamin Sadawi as a terrorist, he changed from a scared kid hiding in an attic to a bearded monster in a Yasser Arafat scarf. But if I started saying, no, he’s not a terrorist, he’s just terrified, then I’d have to explain that I’d seen him, and I couldn’t do that. “Your brother’s affairs took me out to Larchmont; I was looking in the pond where he drowned to see if he might have dropped something. He did, in fact: his pocket organizer. I’ve sent it to a lab to dry it out and extract any documents.”
A woman was waiting to use the phone, looking ostentiously at the clock above the dryers. I held up my thumb and forefinger to say, only a little longer.
“While I was out at Larchmont, I found the kitchen door open, I went in to see whether anyone was inside, and the sheriff’s excitement kept me out there longer than I hoped. I think I know who your brother was visiting in New Solway, but it doesn’t bring me any closer to how he ended in that pond.”
“Dr. Vishnikov called this morning,” Harriet said. “Your funeral director delivered Marc’s body to his-his place. But he wanted to warn me before he started what it would cost, and that I might find out, I don’t know, things I wouldn’t want to know. He terrified me, but, then, what could be more terrible than Marc’s death?” Her voice was raggedy, the voice of someone who’d had to talk to too many people about too many difficult things lately.
“Dr. Vishnikov is just being cautious. I’ll call him, tell him if he feels like being responsible to the client, do it through me, not you. And to get started-we’ve already lost a week on this. I can think of a lot of things one wouldn’t want to know about a beloved family member, but, frankly, I can’t picture your brother doing any of them-you know, running a prostitution ring or dealing drugs, that kind of activity doesn’t fit with the man whose house I saw yesterday morning.”
Harriet gave a shaky laugh. “Thank you, I needed to hear someone say that. All day I’ve been thinking, my God, am I going to find out Marc was a drug addict?”
The woman waiting for the phone made a loud remark about how inconsiderate some people are. I smiled and nodded.
“Can you call Amy for me?” I said to Harriet. “I want to compare notes with her and I’ve got to surrender this phone. See if she can come to my office tomorrow morning.”
“She’s meeting me at the hotel tonight,” Harriet said. “Why don’t you join us?”
“If the police aren’t holding me.” I gave her Mr. Contreras’s number in
case she couldn’t reach me on my cell phone. “And just in case the law thinks I’m such a scintillating conversationalist that they want to listen in, keep your phone comments on the short and simple side.”
The waiting woman grabbed the phone from me when I’d hung up. She snapped, “Short and simple? That’s what you think is short and simple?” The woman dragged out her conversation as long as she could, but I waited, since I still needed to talk to Vishnikov and to my neighbor, and I didn’t want to scour the streets for another pay ph?. When she finished, the woman gave a triumphant nod with the comment that now I knew what it felt like.
I blew her a kiss and dialed Vishnikov’s home number. “Jeesh, Bryant, good thing you only deal with the dead: your bedside manner gets the living totally weirded out. You really think Whitby looks like a user?”
“I just don’t want the family refusing to pay the bill if I find out what they don’t want to know.”
“Well, talk to me about it next time. I will guarantee the bill,” I said grandly.
“In that case, we’ll use the new spectrometer, Warshawski. Time on it’s five hundred bucks an hour, but you’ll be happy with the results.”
He hung up, pleased with himself. I hoped he was joking. Or that the Whitbys could pay his bill.
I phoned Lotty next, but only got her answering machine. Where was everyone on Saturday afternoon? I needed a human voice right now. I left a message saying I was fine, just bruised a bit in body and mind, and I’d try her again over the weekend.