“Think he's dirty?”
“Unless his girlfriend's lying big-time about his alibi, he didn't have the time, but who knows? What's up?”
“I phoned Carpinteria Sheriff's again, asked if they could keep an eye on Ramsey's house. They said they'd upped patrols already, and today at six forty-five, I got a callback, tried to reach you at your office but they said you'd already left. Turns out Ramsey hasn't been spotted there for a while, but Greg Balch showed up this morning, left his Lexus, and drove back in a Jeep that belongs to Ramsey, license plate-”
“PLYR ZERO,” said Petra.
“So you know already.”
“I knew Ramsey owned the Jeep, didn't know Balch picked it up.”
“Didn't want to step on your toes- calling Carpinteria- but I'd already made contact with them, figured it would be efficient. A deputy stopped Balch driving off the property around noon. Balch showed him ID, a business card, snapshot of him and Ramsey, keys to the house. Said he was there to pick up the car, bring it down for service. Which seems odd- there are plenty of mechanics in Santa Barbara.”
“An extra-careful cleaning?” said Petra. Or Ramsey wanted a four-wheeler because he was planning to do some heavy-terrain driving? Those hills…
“Maybe Ramsey's spooked now that you've got a potential witness.”
“Maybe.” She told him about Larry Schick's call.
“There you go,” he said. “Anyway…”
“Thanks again, Ron. Your daughter has a cute voice.”
“Wha- Oh, that's Bee, she loves to perform. They're both asleep now. Finally.”
“Have your hands full?”
“It takes a while to get them tucked in. My mom says they run rings around me. Tomorrow, though, I get to sleep in. Day off. Mom's driving them to school.”
“Good for you,” said Petra. “I may just drive up to Montecito tomorrow. Care to join me?”
“Sure,” he said quickly. “It's a pretty drive.”
Lying in bed, in darkness so total she felt suspended, she thought about Lisa being abducted and butchered, Balch's picking up the Jeep.
Ramsey edgy because of a little boy who stole books… wherever he was.
The fact that no one on the street knew him intrigued her. He hadn't taken up with other runaways, hadn't sought help from any agency. A loner. Made sense. A kid who loved to read wouldn't fit in. He'd probably been an outcast back home, too. So why hadn't he been reported missing? Where were the parents?
Had to be abuse. An eleven-year-old intellectual… running from God knew what. A kid like that witnessing a murder. No reason for him to trust anyone.
A survivor. And now the police had turned him into quarry. She had.
She'd just fallen asleep when the phone rang. It was well after midnight, and her heart pounded as for one horrible, irrational moment she panicked about her father's condition, then realized he was beyond worry. One of her brothers in trouble- Kathy?
A nervous-sounding woman said, “Detective Connor? This is Adele again, from the station. I'm really sorry to bother you this late, but a call came in for Detective Bishop, long-distance, international, and no one answers at his house. You're his partner, and seeing as it's international, I-”
“International from where?”
“Vienna. A police inspector named Tauber. I guess he didn't figure out the time difference.”
“Thanks, put him on.”
A scratchy voice said, “Detective Bishop?”
“This is his partner, Detective Connor.”
“Ah. Yes, yes, this is Inspector Ottemar Tauber from Vienna.” Clear connection; the scratchiness was the Austrian's vocal quality. He coughed, cleared his throat a couple of times.
“Hello, Inspector. Is this about Karlheinz Lauch?”
“Two days ago Detective Bishop submitted an inquiry concerning Herr Lauch,” said Tauber. “We have located Herr Lauch for you. Unfortunately, he is unavailable to you for questioning as he is deceased.”
“When did he die?”
“It appears to have occurred fifteen months ago.”
“What was the cause of death, Inspector?”
“It appears to have been cirrhosis of the liver.”
“A young man like that,” said Petra.
Tauber clucked his tongue. “These things happen.”
Lauch eliminated as a suspect for Lisa. Meaning the similarities between Lisa and Ilse Eggermann weren't worth a damn.
Or were they?
Ramsey a multiple killer? No, too weird.
Tauber's call had burned away any drowsiness. She was wired. Going into the kitchen, she drank ice water, paced, sat down at the table, got up, and put on the stereo. Derek and the Dominos. There'd been no music in the apartment since Ron's visit.
Think, think… Lauch eliminated for Lisa meant concentrate on Ramsey. Stalking Lisa, following her. DV offenders were often obsessive; it made sense.
Did his dispatching Balch to get the Jeep mean the four-wheeler was the murder vehicle? The Mercedes a distraction, just as she'd wondered? She recalled the way Ramsey had flicked on the lights in the car museum. Showing her the gray sedan- probably hoping she'd ask for a look, because he knew she'd learn nothing.
Balch doing the dirty work.
All at once- maybe it was the dark room, her fried nerves- her mind took a hairpin turn.
What if Balch was an active part of it?
Or working for himself?
She sat there, tight as a fiddle string, viewing the case through a whole new prism.
Just a slight shift of angle and everything changed.
Balch as bad guy. Flashing back to all her hypotheses, she inserted Balch's name in Ramsey's slot.
Everything fit.
Lisa and Balch… yet another older man. Something romantic-and financial?
Because Balch wrote the checks, managed Ramsey's finances, probably understood them better than the boss. You heard about that all the time- business managers soaking celebrities.
Balch colluding with Lisa to soak Ramsey? Ex-wife and long-suffering lackey finding common ground in their resentment of the man with the dough.
Lisa had talked to Ghadoomian the broker about setting up investments, being financially independent, soon. But she'd never followed through.
Daddy reneging on the fifty thou? Or other plans laid to waste?
Had Lisa gotten greedy, leaned on Balch, caused their partnership to disintegrate?
Petra thought about it for a long time. Balch was no prize, but Lisa was no conventional girl. Balch's motivation was no big puzzle: Bedding the quarterback's ex- the woman Ramsey had failed to satisfy- would be the ultimate thrill for an underachiever like him.
All those years protecting Ramsey on the football field and in real life, watching his own screen dreams fade as Ramsey earned millions. For all of Balch's adoration of his buddy, the payback had been limited: Ramsey hadn't helped Balch progress past those first few grade-D flicks. Balch said he had no talent, but the same was true for plenty of small-time players. Surely Ramsey could have gotten him something in the industry. Instead, he'd stuck Balch in that dingy office, shuffling papers, while he himself lived a star's life. Why not a better office, at least?
Ramsey telling Balch: You don't deserve better.
What if Balch finally decided he did?
With Lisa's help. She liked taking risks. Had she stepped too far over the edge?
Then something else hit her: Balch lived in Rolling Hills Estates, near Palos Verdes. Ilse Eggermann's body had been dumped near Marina del Rey, but her date with Lauch had taken place in Redondo Beach, just a few freeway stops away from the peninsula.
She pictured Balch stopping off at the Redondo pier for dinner or drinks. Watching Ilse and Lauch quarrel, Ilse walking out on Lauch. Allowing Balch to move in.
Noticing Ilse because she reminded him of Lisa?