“My usual rate is two hundred dollars a day plus expenses. One hundred is good enough for a retainer.”
“All right.” He picked up a pen and opened the checkbook.
“But there’s one thing we have to settle before I take your money.”
He looked up in surprise. “What’s that?”
“If I find Wheeler, I turn him over to Sheriff Cartwright. That’s the only way I’ll take the job.”
He put the pen down. “I don’t know, Markham. There’s a few things I’d like to say to Wheeler before he’s turned over to the law.”
“I’m sure Cartwright would let you visit at the county jail.”
“You just don’t understand, do you, Markham?” Barrett pushed his chair back and stood up. “It wasn’t your office he broke into. It wasn’t your grandchildren he stole. And it wasn’t your daughter that he married in the first place. He ruined Elaine’s life.”
“I imagine she was old enough to make up her own mind. Maybe that’s why you don’t like Wheeler. He’s a symbol of Elaine’s rebellion against you.”
Anger began to turn his face red. He snapped, “I don’t need any amateur psychiatry from a private eye. Do you want to find Wheeler for me or not? If you do, I get him first. Those are my terms.”
“I want to find him. On my terms.”
“Then you won’t get any of my money to help you. Get out of here.”
Barrett was more of an enemy now than ever, but I didn’t care. I stood up and said, “So long, Barrett. I hope I won’t be seeing you again.”
He started around the desk, fists clenched, and then stopped. I guess he saw that my fists were clenched, too, and that I was two inches taller, ten pounds lighter, and twenty years younger. He grated, “Get off my property.”
“I’m going.”
I went. As I left, I saw Barrett talking rapidly to several burly characters who were probably truck drivers or mechanics. Given Barrett’s penchant for violence and his need for revenge on anyone he thought had wronged him, it could be that I had made a bad enemy. I wasn’t going to hunt Wheeler down just so that Barrett and Elaine could have their vengeance, though.
I would have to do it for Cindy’s sake, and for my own.
Joyce McCormick, the other woman in Wheeler’s life, might be a place to start. I found a telephone booth with a directory in it and got the first good break in this mess. Joyce McCormick was listed. There was no address, so I dropped coins into the phone and dialed the number that the book gave.
It rang three times before a woman answered, “Hello?” It was a pleasant enough voice, not sounding annoyed at the intrusion of the telephone.
“Is this Joyce McCormick?” I asked.
“Yes, it is. Who’s this?”
I told her my name and then said, “I’m looking for John Wheeler. Do you know where I might find him?”
Her voice changed. “Are you a policeman? If you are, you’re wasting your time. I’ve already told the sheriff everything I know.”
“I’m a private detective. I’m not working for the sheriff.”
“Then why are you looking for John?”
“It’s a personal matter.”
“Sure. Well, I’ll tell you just what I told the sheriff. I haven’t seen John for four days, I don’t know anything about what he did last night, and I don’t have any idea where he is now. All right?”
“Could I come and talk to you?”
“What for?”
“I want to know more about John and his kids and his wife. And I’d like to meet you.”
There was a moment of silence from the other end. Then, sounding puzzled, Joyce said, “What’s your interest in this? Who are you working for?”
“Myself. And a little girl named Cindy.”
There was another moment of silence, then she asked, “Where are you calling from?”
“I’m at the phone booth in Dunes.”
“I live a mile west of town. It’s a green frame house.”
“I’ll be right out.”
I hung up and stepped out of the booth as a blue pickup cruised by. I seemed to remember passing a green frame house outside of town. I got in the car and headed in that direction.
Finding the house was no trouble. It sat right beside the highway, behind a neat little yard that was surrounded by a chain-link fence. I pulled in the driveway.
Joyce McCormick met me at the front door. When I stepped up onto the front porch, I could tell that she was a tall woman, her eyes nearly on a level with mine. She was about thirty-five and wore her hair cut short. It was a pretty shade of brown. I got the feeling that her mouth was capable of a very nice smile, but right now it was set in a tight, stem line.
“You’re Mr. Markham?” she asked.
“That’s right.”
“Come in.”
I followed her into the house. She was wearing blue jeans and a man’s shirt and making them look good on her.
“Sit down.” She gestured at an overstuffed armchair. I took it while she sat on a small sofa. She went on, “Just what is it you’d like to know?”
“I guess you heard what John Wheeler did last night?”
“I know what he’s supposed to have done.”
“You don’t think he’s, capable of robbing his father-in-law and kidnapping his children?”
Her mouth became even more stern. “I suppose he’s capable of it. The evidence pretty well says that he did it. But I don’t think it’s his fault.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that whatever John did, he was driven to it.”
I sat forward as best I could in the soft chair and clasped my hands together in front of me. “Do you want to explain that?”
She sighed. “People never let John alone. They were always trying to force him into a mold of their own making. Some people just can’t stand that kind of treatment. Ralph Barrett did his absolute best to kill John’s spirit.”
“Right now I think he wouldn’t mind killing John.”
“That’s exactly what I mean. They infected John with their own violence.”
I wasn’t sure that I bought her theory, but at the moment that wasn’t important. I asked, “How did the two of you meet?”
“Before I answer any more of your questions, Mr. Markham, I want to know exactly what your involvement in this is.”
“I’m the one who found those two kids wandering around out on the highway.”
“And now you feel responsible, is that it? You want to straighten everything out?”
“You’re making me sound like a meddler.”
“Aren’t you?”
She had a point there. I considered for a moment, then said, “I just want to find Wheeler and bring him back here so that things can be cleared up. And Cindy wants me to find him.”
“What about Jackie? How does he feel about it?”
“He doesn’t seem to care one way or the other.”
Joyce stood up and stalked over to the window. “I’m not surprised. Elaine’s ruined him with her constant abuse. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to go over there and strangle that woman.”
“I heard that John was rough on them himself.”
“He wasn’t always that way... not at first. He adored those children. But Elaine and her father kept so much pressure on him, trying to make him into something he wasn’t, that he couldn’t stand it. He lashed out at whoever was near.” Her voice choked a little bit. “Sometimes that meant me, too. But I didn’t care.”
“You still haven’t told me how the two of you met.”
“I came here from San Francisco about a year ago. My husband had been killed in a car wreck, and I just didn’t want to stay there anymore. I sold our house and moved here. I wanted to get as far away from everything as I could.”
“You picked a good place for it.”