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  Stella’s voice dropped. “You are such a SHIT!”

  She turned and flung the folder at him. A passport wallet dropped at her feet and travel documents flew everywhere with a flapping sound like a flock of birds. A color brochure sailed along the marble floor and skittered under a Louis Quatorze chair. I caught a glimpse of a tropical island, bright blue waters, a palatial bedroom open to the view, sheer curtains wafting outward.

  She disappeared into the kitchen, slamming the door in her wake.

  Ari seemed to hesitate, probably wondering at the wisdom of following her. When he spotted me, he said, “Good. I want to talk to you. Don’t go away.” And to Maurie, “Put her in Teddy’s office. I’ll be right there.”

  I followed Maurie down the hall in the opposite direction, making lame small talk. She opened the door to the study and ushered me in, with the obligatory admonition to make myself at home. She returned to the hall and closed the door behind her, leaving me on my own.

  The room was paneled in a dark wood and the furniture looked comfortable. There was a row of floor-to-ceiling windows on the wall opposite the door. Bookshelves, a massive fireplace, a desk with a leather top, and an oversize leather-upholstered office chair. There were two gray metal file cabinets in one corner, and those looked out of place. Ari was taking over her office, moving in functional items she’d have frowned upon.

  I saw here what I’d noticed in the dining room: sections of empty wall space where paintings had once hung, doubtless the art Teddy had fought for and won in the settlement. I could have reconstructed her collection by working backward from the lavishly illustrated art books stacked on all the surfaces. Her taste ran toward the Impressionists and seemed to trace the shift from the late nineteenth century into the twentieth.

  The door opened and Ari came in. “The woman is driving me crazy. Have a seat.”

  There were cardboard boxes stacked on both of the guest chairs. “Here, let me move those,” he said. He picked up a carton filled with what looked like XLNT bumper stickers and placed them on the floor. “You want a couple?”

  “What are they, bumper stickers?”

  “Magnetic signage. The company logo. I buy ’em by the case. Slap a couple on your car, I’ll pay you two hundred bucks a month to drive around. It’s mobile advertising.”

  “I don’t want anyone looking at my car. I’m paid to be invisible. Slick idea, though. You can turn any vehicle you like into a company car.”

  As I sat down, I said, “Oh.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Hang on a minute. I think I just figured out what’s going on.” I stood up again and moved to the door. “As soon as I take a look at something, I can tell you if I’m right.”

  Ari followed me out of the office and down the hall. When I reached the elevator, I pressed the Down button and waited while he caught up.

  “I take it Stella’s pissed because you canceled the honeymoon?”

  “What’d she expect? I told her I wouldn’t go until I knew what Teddy was up to. I leave and she’s free to do anything she wants.”

  “Don’t be dense, Ari. You canceled because you don’t want to spend time with her. You and Stella are a bust. Get the marriage annulled.”

  “And then what?”

  “Ask Teddy’s forgiveness and beg her to take you back.”

  “She won’t do it. You think she’d do that?”

  The elevator door opened and we stepped in. I pressed “B” for the basement level and the doors eased shut. We both stood there, facing forward, while the elevator descended with scarcely a sound.

  “Have you ever apologized?”

  “For what?”

  “For screwing around, Ari. What do you think? Why don’t you just tell her you’re sorry?”

  “I am sorry. And I mean that. Dumbest and worst thing I ever did, and I have no excuse.”

  “Because what you did was inexcusable.”

  “Yeah, but she was a little quick off the mark with divorce papers.”

  “Quit trying to shift the blame. Teddy’s not the type to put up with any crap. Stella doesn’t seem remorseful in the least, and that only compounds the injury.”

  The elevator door opened onto the gloom of the basement and I gestured Ari ahead of me. “You lead. I’ll get lost. I want to take a look at those CCTV monitors.”

  We proceeded through the basement until we reached the room where all the CCTV monitors were set up. A man in uniform sat tilted back in his chair, one foot on the edge of the counter, while he scanned the views. When he realized Ari was there he removed his foot, sat up, and assumed a posture of professional attention. Most cameras were focused on empty rooms and long, empty corridors. The system rotated through a series of static shots, revealing nothing except the well-lighted interiors.

  Ari said, “This is Duke. Kinsey Millhone.”

  We nodded at each other. Duke was young and didn’t strike me as someone with much experience. The task he’d been given is tougher than it looks. Try to pay strict attention to a set of gauges or dials, or stare out at the empty horizon from the pilothouse of a ship, and you’ll find your mind wandering, making you less effective with every minute that goes by.

  As we watched, the cameras continued their silent surveillance.

  The chef was in the kitchen, and I could see a maid in uniform vacuuming the living room. No one in the dining room. Downstairs hall. Front door. Bedroom. Bedroom. Living room again; maid still vacuuming. Study. There was something hypnotic about the process.

  I said, “I’ll tell you what’s been bothering me. I could see what was right there in front of me, but I didn’t know what it meant. I spoke to Christian Wednesday night and he couldn’t have been more relaxed.”

  “You should have called and told me. Why’d you talk to that bum?”

  “Don’t interrupt while I’m trying to help.”

  There were two rolling chairs available. I pulled one over to the bank of screens and took a seat. Ari pulled the second chair into place next to mine.

  “I met Teddy yesterday and she behaved as though she had all the time in the world. Neither she nor Christian gave any indication they had pressing business to conduct, let alone a crime to commit. No sign of anxiety. No whiff of nerves. I expected both to be in high gear. Teddy did try some sleight of hand. She’d left a book on Tiffany jewelry on the arm of a chair. She acted like it was an oversight, but she was so casual about tucking it away, I knew it had to be bullshit. She wanted me to believe the necklace was the object of the exercise and Christian was hired for his safecracking skills. No such thing.”

  “So what are we doing here?” Ari asked.

  I turned to Duke. “Can you run some of these tape cassettes back a few days? Not all of them.”

  “Sure, no problem. Which?”

  “That one. And that. And these two.” I was pointing to the monitor that showed a shot of the front door and the monitor showing a reverse shot of the corridor just inside. I also indicated a third camera that had a wide-angle view of the hallway, looking toward the elevator. The fourth camera was fixed on the driveway a short distance from the front door.

  “How far?”

  “Tuesday, the twenty-first.”

  He tapped instructions into his keyboard and the tapes on the four cameras I’d designated began a speedy rewind. Time ran backward. The views were populated with a motley collection of worker bees, everybody walking backward, furniture picked up and zipped to the position it was in when it first came into view. The date and hour line sped backward as well.

  I watched Thursday rewind into Wednesday. Maurie. Stella. Ari. Movers, maids. Lifting, cleaning, polishing, covering and uncovering furniture. Paintings that had been stacked against the wall flipped back into the hands of those who’d set them in place. The elevator door opened and closed. Pieces were loaded and disa
ppeared. Gradually the hall was emptied of its freight.

  Late in the day on Tuesday, I caught sight of myself appearing in the corridor, backing out, then appearing at the front door, which was standing open to foot traffic. Another ten minutes disappeared, and I said, “There. Now let it play forward.”

  Ari said, “What is this?”

  “Just watch.”

  All four tapes now proceeded in something close to real time. There was a slight lapse from shot to shot, so the action had a certain staccato herky-jerky feel to it. I pointed to the camera directed at the drive. At 5:25 P.M., a white panel truck pulled up. A portion of the XLNT logo was visible.

  Automatically, Ari said, “That’s not mine.”

  “I know.”

  A man in dark blue coveralls got out of the truck on the passenger side. Mustache, glasses, medium height. He had a clipboard in hand and he walked through the open front door. Inside, Maurie spotted him and he moved in her direction. The two chatted. He offered her the clipboard and a pen. She read the paperwork and scratched her signature on the bottom line, after which she gestured.

  He crossed to the wall, where he flipped through a stack of paintings that had been left leaning there. He set five aside, picked up the painting he was looking for, and carried it to the front door.

  Reverse angle. He emerged from the front door, crossed to the panel truck, and loaded the painting in the rear. He returned to the passenger side door, got in, slammed the door, and the vehicle moved out of the frame.

  “What you just saw was a heist. You got robbed,” I said. “You’re looking at Christian Satterfield in phony glasses and a fake mustache. He didn’t need the disguise because nobody here had a clue who he was or what he looked like.”

  “No shit. He’s stealing that?”

  “Pretty much,” I said. “Did you see the clipboard? Maurie signed some kind of dummied-up invoice. Tuesday when I came to see you, there were half a dozen people milling around, walking in and out. As I was coming in the gate, I passed a white panel truck with the XLNT logo on the side.”

  “I don’t use white panel trucks.”

  “You know that and I know that, but your gate guard didn’t. He knows you own a freight and courier company called XLNT. An XLNT vehicle drives in and the same one drives out. Mission accomplished.”

  “Why that painting?”

  “Must be something fabulous. Why else would she have gone to so much trouble and expense? She was in Bel Air when the condominium sold, and by the time she got up here at close of escrow, you’d already moved all the furniture and accessories back into the basement. She hired Christian because she knew he’d have no scruples about what she needed to have done.”

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “Here’s the point, Ari. She has what she wants and she’s leaving town this afternoon.”

  “Teddy is? Where to?”

  I took out the sheet of paper I’d ripped out of Kim’s steno pad. “Well, if the airport code LHR is London Heathrow, I’d say she’s heading for London. Five forty-five from Santa Teresa to LAX. Her Pan Am flight’s at ten o’clock. You have time to catch her if you hustle.”

  “I can’t believe she ripped me off.”

  “Let’s not call it ripping you off, okay? That makes it sound like she’s taking something she’s not entitled to. You were married for seventeen years. That’s a lot of entitlement.”

  Glumly, he said, “I guess I’ll have to give you that one. So now what?”

  “Go out to the airport and intercept her.”

  “And say what?”

  “Tell her you love her.”

  “That won’t cut any ice. She’s tough.”

  “Then offer her a bribe.”

  “Now you’re getting sentimental on me. What am I supposed to hold out as bait?”

  “The painting. Tell her it’s a gift. That way she isn’t guilty of stealing it.”

  “What if it’s worth millions?”

  “I’m sure it is. That’s how she’ll know you’re sincere.”

  He sat and stared at the floor. “I don’t know about this.”

  “Well, I do. Go upstairs and change clothes. Pick up your passport from the floor in the hall where Stella tossed it. Take a taxi to the airport and buy a ticket to London so you can get on the plane with Teddy. Her flight leaves here at five forty-five, so you have plenty of time to pack.”

  “What about Stella?”

  “Do I have to tell you everything? Call your attorney and let him take care of it.”

  “She’ll hose me.”

  “Of course. That’s what money’s for.”

  Finally, he laughed and shook his head. “I hope I don’t regret this.”

  “You won’t. Now get on with it. And when you and Teddy get married the second time? I get to be the flower girl. I’ve always wanted to do that.”

  41

  I went home. I hadn’t seen Henry since our encounter with the charmers next door and I wanted to bring him up to date. We’d just picked up a bargaining chip, and if he hadn’t put in the call to the Adelsons, we could save them a trip. As I passed the Shallenbargers’ house, I spotted a pint-size U-Haul truck parked out in front. Six cardboard cartons had been stacked on the front porch. Maybe my reference to my friends at the STPD had been more motivating to Edna than I’d realized at the time.

  I pulled into Henry’s driveway, grabbed my shoulder bag, and crossed the backyard to his kitchen door. When I knocked, there was no response. I trotted down the driveway and across the Shallenbargers’ front lawn. The front door was ajar and a carton of canned goods was being used to prop open the screen. I peered in. There was no one in sight, so I tapped on the door frame. “Anybody home?”

  From the kitchen, Joseph called “Yo!” apparently not realizing it was me.

  I stepped into the living room. The metal folding chairs were stacked to one side and the legs on the card table had been tucked out of sight. The portions of the house that I could see were in a state of disarray. The rag rug had been rolled up, leaving an oval of dust.

  Joseph shuffled into view, wearing baggy pants with suspenders, the buttons undone at his waist.

  “What a miracle. You can walk,” I said drily.

  He’d abandoned all pretense of a disability, though he was still encumbered by his excess weight, which probably played hell on his knees. “Edna’s out.”

  “Well, I hope she won’t be long. Are you going someplace?”

  “I don’t know that it’s any of your concern.”

  He turned on his heel and I followed him into the kitchen, where he resumed his packing chores. Aside from the one carton of canned goods, nothing much had been accomplished in this room. He continued to empty the kitchen cabinets, a foolish waste of time in my opinion, since they could buy the same items elsewhere. Most of what they owned was crap anyway.

  I picked up a box of cornmeal muffin mix and checked the sell-by date, which was July of 1985. I opened the top. The cornmeal itself had a grainy look to it, and along the opening there were cobwebs shaped like tiny hammocks containing pupas snugly nestled in sleep. “Disgusting. You ought to dump this,” I said.

  I wandered into the living room and then into the hall, checking out the bedrooms. One remained untouched. In the other, the linens had been stripped from the bed and the mattress was propped against the wall. I returned to the living room and paused at the front door.

  “Hey, Joseph? You know what? You’re never going to fit all this stuff in the U-Haul.”

  No response.

  “If you like, I can pitch in. I’m good at toting boxes.”

  Again, silence from the kitchen, which I took as assent.

  I put my shoulder bag on the floor near the couch and went out on the porch, where I picked up one of the loaded cardboard boxes. I brought it into the house ag
ain and set it on the floor in the master bedroom. I went out for another box and then the third and fourth. When the porch was completely clear, I shoved aside the box holding open the screen door. I could have unpacked a few things, but I didn’t want to be that helpful.

  I perched on the arm of the couch. “Hope you don’t mind if I sit and wait.”

  “Edna’s the one who minds. She won’t appreciate it if she finds you here when she gets home.”

  “Too bad. I was hoping to talk to her.”

  “To say what?”

  I turned to find Edna standing in the doorway behind me. She stepped into the room and closed the screen door behind her. She wore her black coat and she had her pocketbook over one arm.

  “I can’t believe you’re leaving us,” I said. “How’d you manage to find a new place so fast? You must have checked the foreclosure filings.”

  “We can see when we aren’t wanted.”

  “Oh, but you are wanted,” I said. “Look what I found.”

  I reached into my bag, pulling out the handful of newspaper clippings I’d copied. I held up the first, headlines screaming, PERDIDO CC EMPLOYEE ARRESTED IN ALLEGED THEFT.

  She glanced at it, unaffected. “I don’t know anything about that.”

  I wagged a finger at her. “Yes, you do,” I said. “I have copies of your mug shots, which I must say are not flattering.”

  In her booking photograph Edna looked haunted, eyes large, hair limp. The harsh lighting played up every wrinkle in her face. In Joseph’s, his expression was startled and his skin looked wet. I’d have suggested powdering out the shine, but maybe the Perdido County Jail didn’t offer hair and makeup services.

  “We were never convicted of anything,” she said.

  “There’s still time,” I said. I checked my watch and pointed at the face. “Oops. Maybe not.”

  I was looking through the screen door behind her. She turned and caught sight of Mr. Ryvak coming up the walk. I’d spoken to him on the phone, but this was the first time I’d laid eyes on him. He was in his midforties, wearing slacks and a short-sleeved dress shirt. A halo of ginger hair and a nice freckled face.