“Mr. Sebastian thinks his wife and Dr. Bermeister might have had an affair, that she may have left to be with him.”
She shrugged again. I handed her one of my cards, asked her to get in touch with me if she heard from Miriam Sebastian, and said that she should tell her friend that her husband simply wanted to know what happened and if he could talk to her.
She took the card and I stood up.
“I hope you find her,” she said. “Miriam has had problems recently, depression. One of her relatives, her only close relative, a cousin I think, recently died. That’s hardly a reason for what she’s done, but… I frankly don’t know what to make of it.”
At the moment, that made two of us.
“Are you permitted to let me know if you find out anything about where Miriam is and why she’s…”
I must have been shaking my head “no” because she stopped. “I’m sorry,” I said. “You’ll have to get that from her or from Mr. Sebastian. Whatever I find is between me and my client.”
“I understand,” she said with a sad smile showing perfect white teeth. “That’s what I would expect if you were working for me.” When I got to the coffee house door, I looked back at Caroline Wilkerson. Her half glasses were back on and her notebook was open.
One of the criminal attorneys I did some work for had access to computer networks, very sophisticated access. An individual in his office did the computer work and was well paid. Since some of what he did on the network was on the borderline of illegal, the attorney never acknowledged his access to information the police, credit agencies, banks and almost every major corporation had. I had some time before I saw Bermeister so I dropped by the attorney’s office. He was with a client but he gave me permission through his secretary to talk to Harvey, the computer whiz. I found Harvey in his small windowless office in front of his computer. Harvey looked more like an ex-movie star than a computer hacker. He was tall, dark, wearing a suit and sporting shot hair of gold. Harvey was MIT. Harvey was also a convicted cocaine user and former alcoholic.
It took Harvey ten minutes to determine that Miriam Sebastian had not used any of her credit cards during the past four days. Nor had she, at least under her own name, rented a car or taken a plane out of Sarasota, Clearwater, St. Petersburg, Tampa or Fort Meyers.
“You want me to keep checking every day to see if I can find her?” he said.
“I’ll bill my client,” I said.
“Suit yourself,” said Harvey showing capped teeth. “I like a challenge like this, pay or no pay. Me against her. She hides. I find her.”
“You want her Social Security number?” I asked.
Harvey smiled.
“That I can get and access to bank accounts and credit cards. You want that?”
“Sure. I’ll call you later.”
I made it to Dr. Bermeister’s office with ten minutes to spare. The matronly receptionist took my name and asked me to have a seat. The only other person in the waiting area was a nervous young woman, about twenty, who hadn’t done much to look her best. Her hair was short and dark. Her brown skirt didn’t really go with her gray blouse. She ruffled through a magazine.
I was reading an article about Clint Eastwood in People magazine when Bermeister’s door opened. He was in his thirties, dark suit, dark hair and ruggedly good looking.
“I’ll be with you in a few minutes, Audrey,” he said to the nervous Audrey who nodded frowning.
“Mr. Fonesca?” he said looking at me. “Please come in.”
I followed him into his office. He opened his drapes and let in the sun and a view of Ringling Boulevard. The office wasn’t overly large, room for a desk and chair, a small sofa and two armchairs. The colors were all subdued blues. A painting on the wall showed a woman standing on a hill looking into a valley beyond at the ruins of a castle. Her face wasn’t visible.
“Like it?” Bermeister said sitting behind his desk and offering me the couch or one of the chairs. I took a chair so I could face him. “The painting? Yes,” I said.
“One of my patients did it,” he said. “An artist. A man. We spent a lot of time talking about that painting.”
“Haunting,” I said.
“Gothic,” he said. “I’m sorry, Mr. Fonesca, but I’m going to have to get right to your questions.”
“I understand. Miriam Latham Sebastian,” I said.
“I can’t give you any information about why she was seeing me, what was said.”
“I know,” I said feeling comfortable in the chair. “Do you know where Mrs. Sebastian is?”
“No,” he said.
The answer had come slowly.
“Any ideas?”
“Maybe,” he said.
“Want to share them?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“This one will probably get me kicked out, but you’re in a hurry. Mr. Sebastian, and he’s not the only one, thinks you and Miriam Sebastian were having an affair.”
Bermeister cocked his head and looked interested.
“And if we were?”
“Or are,” I amended. “Well, it might suggest that she would come to you. Her husband just wants to talk to her.”
“And you just want to find her for him?” he asked.
“That’s it,” I said.
“First,” he said getting up from his desk chair. “I am not and have not been having an affair with Miriam Sebastian. In fact, Mr. Fonesca, I can offer more than ample proof that I am gay. It is a relatively open secret which, in fact, hasn’t hurt my practice at all. I get the gay clients, men and women, and I get women who feel more comfortable talking to me. What I don’t get are many straight men.”
“Mrs. Sebastian,” I said.
“She doesn’t want to see her husband,” he said sitting on the sofa and crossing his legs. “She doesn’t want him to know where she is.”
“I told Sebastian that I planned to talk to her if I found her and that I wouldn’t tell her husband where she was if she told me she wouldn’t talk to him under any circumstances.”
“Which,” said Bermeister, “is what she would say.”
“I want to hear it from her,” I said. “Until I do, she can’t use a credit card, can’t cash a check in her own name, can’t use her Social Security number without my finding her. My job is finding people, doctor. I do a good job. If you want references…”
His right hand was up indicating that I should stop. He looked up at the painting of the woman looking down at the ruins.
“I made some calls about you after I scheduled this appointment,” he said. “Actually, Doreen, my secretary, made the calls. You haven’t been here long, but your reputation is very good.”
“Small city,” I said.
“Big enough,” he said taking a pad out of his pocket and writing something. He tore the page out and looked at it.
“I have your word,” he said.
“I talk to her. Try to talk her into at least a phone call and then I drop it if she wants to be left alone.”
He handed me the sheet of paper. It had two words on it: Harrington House. I folded the sheet and put it in my jacket pocket.
“I don’t want people hounding Miriam,” he said. “She… she can tell you why if she wants to. By the way, I plan to call her the instant you leave. She may choose to pack and leave before you get there.”
“I think it would be a good idea if she just talked to me.”
“I think you may be right,” he said. “I’ll suggest that she do so.” He ushered me to the door and shook my hand.
“I’m trusting you,” he said.
I nodded and he turned to the nervous young woman.
“I have to make one quick call, Audrey,” he said smiling at her. She had no response and he disappeared back into his office.