'If she got scared, then she ran. If she ran, she might've bought tickets and they might show up on her credit cards. Also, she might've called a guy named Walter Lawrence.'
Pike said, 'I'll take the bedroom. You start in the kitchen.'
We went through her house quickly and without speaking. She had two phones, one in her kitchen and one in her bedroom. The kitchen phone was an older dial-operated wall mount with a little corkboard next to it filled with notes and clippings and Prayers-for-the-Day and messages that she'd written to herself and probably not needed for years. I looked through them all, then checked the Post-its on her refrigerator door, and then I went through the papers that Kerris's people had left on the floor. I was looking for a personal phone book or notes or anything that might help me find Walter Lawrence or point to where she might've gone, but if there had been anything like that Kerris and his people had taken it. When I finished in the kitchen I went back through into the bedroom. Pike was working in the closet. He said, 'Credit card bills by the phone.'
I sat on the edge of the bed by the phone and looked at what he'd found. There were five past Visa and MasterCard bills, three Visas and two MasterCards. Charges were minimal, and nothing on the bills gave any indication of where Louise Earle might've gone, but then I didn't expect them to. Tickets purchased within the past few days would not yet have been billed to her, but I didn't expect that, either. I picked up her phone, called the toll free number on back of the Visa bill, and said, 'Hi. I'm calling for my mom, Mrs Louise Earle.' I gave them the credit card number that showed on the bill and the billing address. 'She charged a plane ticket yesterday, and we need to cancel, please.'
The Visa woman said, 'Let me punch up her account.' She was very pleasant when she said it.
'Thanks. That'd be great.'
Maybe three seconds later, she said, 'I'm sorry, sir, but we're not showing an airline charge.'
'Gosh, she told me she'd bought the tickets. She always flies United.'
'I'm sorry, sir.'
I said, 'You know, maybe it wasn't an airline. Are you showing a bus or a train?'
'No, sir. I'm not.'
I made a big deal out of sighing. 'I'm terribly sorry. She told me about this trip and I got concerned. She's a bit older, now.' I let it trail off.
The Visa woman said, 'I know how that is.' Understanding.
I thanked her for her time, and then I called MasterCard and went through it again, and again I learned that Louise Earle had bought no tickets. Of course, she might've paid cash, but since I couldn't know that, it wasn't worth worrying about. Like most other things in life.
When I hung up from MasterCard, Pike was waiting. 'Looks to be some missing clothes. No toothbrush.'
'Great.'
'She has to be somewhere.'
I picked up the phone again, called my friend at Pacific Bell, gave her Louise Earle's phone number, and asked for every call that Louise Earle had made in the past five days. Her records would show only toll calls, so if she'd phoned someone the next street over I'd never know it. But, like paying cash for airline tickets, it wasn't worth worrying about.
My friend read off twelve numbers that I dutifully copied, nine of which were in local area codes (310, 213, or 818), and three of which were long distance. The long distance calls were all to the same number, the first two of which were collect calls that she'd accepted the charges on. The third time she'd dialed the number direct. I thanked her for the help, then hung up and started dialing. Minimum-wage detective work.
I called each number and got two answers out of the first five calls, one from a pharmacy and one from an elderly woman. I hung up on the pharmacy and asked the elderly woman if she knew where I could find Mrs Earle.
She didn't. The sixth number was long distance. The phone rang twice, and a male voice said, 'Federal Correctional Facility, Terminal Island.'
I didn't speak.
The voice said, 'Hello?'
I told him I was sorry, then hung up and looked at Pike. 'LeCedrick.'
Pike said, 'She probably didn't go to stay with him.' Everyone's a comedian.
'She didn't call LeCedrick. LeCedrick called her. LeCedrick calls, and she changes her story. She wouldn't do it six years ago, but she does it now. What do you think he told her?'
Pike shrugged.
I tapped the phone, thinking about it, and then I called Angela Rossi at her home. Her machine answered, but again she picked up when she heard that it was me. I said, 'At six this morning, Kerris and two other guys broke into Louise Earle's house, looking for her. They searched the place, and I don't know if they got a line on her or not.'
'Why are you telling me this?'
'Because LeCedrick Earle might know where she's gone. When I spoke with Louise she told me that she hadn't spoken to LeCedrick since he was sent up. She said he wouldn't speak to her. But four days ago he called her twice. Three days ago she changed her story. She called him the day before yesterday. That's the day she disappeared. He might know where she's gone. Do you see?'
Angela Rossi didn't say anything.
'I saw him before, but the last time he agreed to see me. I'm pretty sure he won't this time, and I need a badge to get in without his permission. Maybe you could talk to Tomsic. Maybe he could get me in.'
Angela Rossi said, 'Pick me up.'
'You're suspended, Rossi. You don't have a badge.'
'I'll get one, goddammit. Pick me up and we'll go see him. I'll get it set up before you get here.' She hung up before I could say anything else.
CHAPTER 32
Angela Rossi was waiting at the mouth of her cul-de-sac, looking professional in a dark blue business suit that'd she'd probably worn to work every other week for the past three years. She swayed back and forth the way cops do when they're anxious. It's an unconscious habit they pick up in their uniform days when they have to stand in a place for long hours with nothing to occupy themselves except their baton. It's called the nightstick rock.
We stopped at the curb, and she climbed into the back seat. She said, 'It's set up. The guards think we're coming to interview him about a past association. That's what he thinks, too.'
Pike said, 'Did you get a badge?'
'Don't worry about it.' Protecting someone, saying if you don't know you can't tell.
Pike pulled back in traffic without waiting for her to buckle in. I said, 'You could give us the badge, then you wouldn't have to come in. Less chance of anyone finding out that you're violating your suspension.'
She neither answered nor looked at me. Her mouth was set and her eyes empty. Cop eyes. Just another day on the job walking the razor's edge.
We picked up the San Diego Freeway and headed south, and once more I was passing Inglewood and Hawthorne and Gardena and Torrance. Angela Rossi sat behind me in silence, hands in her lap, gazing out the window without seeing, dressed in her cop clothes, carrying a cop's badge, going on a cop's mission. She had given her all to it for a great long while, and I wondered if she was thinking that it might now be at an end. I wondered if she was thinking that the dream of being the first female chief of detectives had been a silly one. I wondered if she had regrets.
Forty minutes later we crossed the land bridge onto Terminal Island and passed through the gate, and then we were at the administration building. We parked, took off our guns, and then Angela Rossi and I went in. I said, 'You okay?'
Rossi said, 'Keep your mouth shut and try to look like an officer. I'll do the talking.'
Yes, ma'am.
We went through the front door and up to the reception desk. I was worried that the reception guard would be the same guy, but he wasn't. This guy was paging through Saltwater Fisherman magazine, but looked up when we approached. He said, 'May I help you?' He was a young guy, tall and athletic and looking as if he'd just mustered out of the military. He was wearing the blue blazer and tie.