“This is she.”
“That’s an unusual name. I didn’t know if it was male or female.”
“It’s really Cynthia-Cynthia Wu. Who’s calling?”
No trace of an accent. She imagined Cyn Wu as a tiny, black-haired girl, the sort of progeny Olan might have had if she’d come to America. “You don’t know me, but my name is DeeDee Byerly.”
The voice laughed. “We’re both into unusual names, aren’t we?”
“So it would seem.” She laughed, too. Olan would have been proud of her. “I should have said Doreen Byerly. I’m calling from Santa Barbara, California, in answer to your e-mail message to Harry Gould.”
“Thank God! I’ve been so worried. Is Sophia there? Can I speak to her?”
“How do you know Sophia?”
“I’m her roomie. Why are you calling? Do you know Sophia?”
“I’m sorry, I should have explained. I’m a friend of Harry’s. Your message came and I decided to reply. You don’t know Harry?”
“Only the name. I gather you don’t know Sophia.”
“I don’t think so. What’s her last name?
“Linden, Sophia Linden.”
“Was she a friend of Harry’s?”
A wary silence filled the line. “I’m not sure what I should say. Is Harry there? May I speak to him?”
DeeDee hesitated. “I’m sorry, Cynthia, Harry Gould is dead.”
“Dead! He can’t be. Sophia said he was young, her age.”
“I’m afraid he was shot.”
“But how, why?”
“The police think it was suicide, but those of us close to him believe he was murdered.” She heard Cyn Wu gasp. “I’ve phoned in hopes you might shed some light on his last hours.”
“Are you with the police?”
“His mother asked me to look into his death. She’s very upset, especially with the police calling it a suicide. She’s Catholic and-”
“How awful for her!”
“That’s why I’m trying to help her. Can you tell me what Sophia’s connection to Harry was?”
“I’m not sure. She was surprised to hear from him, I know.”
“If she flew all the way from Boston to Santa Barbara to see him, there must have been something between them.” DeeDee laughed. “Or am I being hopelessly romantic?”
“She didn’t say so, but my guess is Sophia hoped to get some money from him.”
“I don’t think Harry had much money.”
“But he sent airline tickets. Sophia couldn’t have gone otherwise.”
“Harry was a lawyer. Perhaps he represented someone who provided the air fare.”
“Oh God, this is so awful! I’m so worried about Sophia. I warned her not to go, but she insisted.” An anguished sound came. “Have you seen her? Do you know where she is?”
DeeDee tried to keep her voice calm. “As I said, I don’t know Sophia. I’m sure-”
“She stayed at some place called the Upham Hotel.”
“It’s very nice.” And far from cheap!
”She phoned me from there when she arrived. Now they say she’s checked out. DeeDee, I–I’m so worried about her. If this Harry Gould was killed, maybe-”
“I’m sure not, Cynthia. Try not to think about it.” Easily said. “Why would anyone want to harm Sophia?”
“I don’t know, but she was always…well, careful, sort of looking over her shoulder all the time. Sophia didn’t trust very many people. That’s why I was surprised she went to California.”
“Do you have any idea why she was so scared?”
Cyn Wu hesitated. “I think it had something to do with her son. She’d never say who the father was. She didn’t want people to know.”
“Sophia has a son!”
“Yes, a three-year-old, great kid. I kept telling her to get financial support for him and make her life easier. Maybe that’s why she went to California. I hope so.”
“Where’s the boy now?”
“Sophia took him with her. No way would she let him out of her sight. I always thought she was too protective of him.”
DeeDee felt she couldn’t breath. “What’s he look like?”
“He’s a real towhead, just a sweetheart. His name is Jamie.”
10: A Charming Speculation
“You’re cute in an apron. What’s cooking?”
Byerly turned, saw Lupe Hernandez at the kitchen door, and motioned her inside. “I’m deep into poor man’s stroganoff, better known as SOS. That stands for-”
“I know what it stands for.”
“Then you won’t be staying for dinner.”
She laughed. “Thanks for the invitation. I’ll take some of that wine, too.”
He poured, added to his own glass, then busied himself at the stove, adding seasonings to the onions, mushrooms and hamburger he was sauteing. “What brings you to Monarch Lane?”
“I offered Buster Brogan your information about the Gould case.”
“And you are no longer a member of the police force.”
“Almost. I should decide where my loyalties lie and not listen to you and DeeDee. By the way, you are now known as the Bye-Byes, at least to Buster Brogan.”
“We’ve been called worse.” He heard a car door slam. “That’ll be Doreen. Hold up, she’ll want to hear this.”
Her voice entered the kitchen first. “Darling, wait till you hear what I’ve just learned.” Then she saw Lupe and hugged her. “How wonderful to see you.”
“What’s your news?” he asked.
“It’ll keep, I want to fuss over this creature. I love your hair this way, pulled back into a chignon. You look like Nefertiti on one of her better days. With your deep-set eyes, you’re so-o…dramatic, that’s the word.” She turned to him. “She’s too lovely, Walter. I don’t think I should leave you alone with her.”
“Good work, but enough, already. Detective Hernandez is here on official business. She reported our info on the Gould murder to Sgt. Brogan and was warned not to associate with the Bye-Byes, as we are now known. I sorta like it, don’t you?”
Doreen dismissed that with a flip of her hand. “The erased files didn’t impress him?”
“It only proves the suicide.”
“That’s ridiculous! Is the man a Neanderthal?”
“Buster believes conclusions are to be reached, not leapt to.” Lupe sighed. “That would be easier for me to believe, if he’d run a paraffin test on Gould.”
“He didn’t?” Byerly almost dropped his spoon. ”What’s wrong with him?”
“It looks to me like he has another agenda.”
She shrugged. “Maybe, I can only hope you’re wrong.”
Byerly poured wine for Doreen, then tended to his stroganoff, dumping a bag of noodles into boiling water. “I wasn’t serious about dinner, Lupe, you’re more than welcome. Be about ten minutes.”
“You may not want me after I tell you the real reason I came." She sipped her wine. "Sgt. Brogan gave me an assignment. I’m to find a missing boy, blond, blue-eyed, about three years old. Sounds like the missing child you asked me about, doesn’t it?”
“And what did Brogan tell you about this child?”
“Not one syllable more than you did. Walter, what’s going on?”
He glanced at Doreen, saw wariness in her eyes. “We have to tell her. We’re on the same deserted island.” He saw her reluctant nod. “The child is safe, in good hands, being cared for, just where his mother left him. We didn’t tell you-”
“We were afraid you’d feel duty bound to contact Children’s Services and we don’t want that, at least not yet.”
“Who is this child?”
“He answers to the name Jamie. Other than that, we don’t know and at age three he can hardly tell us.”
“I think I know,” Doreen said. “I talked to-” She glanced at Lupe. “Maybe we should start at the beginning.”
“I think you’d better, I’m lost.”
Doreen told of Jamie’s abandonment, but did not reveal where he was, nor did Lupe ask. Smart girl, Lupe. Better she not know. “There’s a definite link between Harry Gould’s murder and Jamie’s abandonment.”
He looked at her sharply. “There is?”
“It’s what I’m dying to tell you. Jamie’s last name is Linden, Jamie Linden. His mother’s name is not JoAnn-she made that up-but Sophia Linden.”
“Doreen, my clever one, where did you learn this?”
“From Cyn Wu, the girl in Boston, Sophia’s roommate. Harry Gould contacted Sophia. I don’t know how they knew each other or why she trusted him, but she accepted the air fare he sent for her and Jamie, flew out here and stayed at the Upham Hotel.”