“They can’t recover anything?”
“They’re telling me no,” he said. “I checked credit cards for subscriptions. The thing about these tech people — I deal with them all the time — they hate paying for stuff. They think the world should be free, except for whatever it is they happen to be selling.”
I laughed. “No subscriptions.”
“Not a one,” Winterholz said. “Next I start contacting the companies themselves. For months they’re stalling, and the ones that answer are saying Linus never had an account. Plus there’s a zillion to choose from. They pop up like fungus.”
Same complaint from Alan Mendes.
I said, “I have a list of sites Denny Kudelka belonged to. There’s also the chatbot Linus’s sister told me about.”
“Mm. That computer map interests me more. When do I get to see it?”
“Fingers crossed, a few days.”
“Send it to me ASAP. And for the love of God, don’t tell Pettit I spoke to you.”
“No, sir.”
“John’s one of the good ones,” Winterholz said. “But this case has been hard on him. He’s been in a bad mood for about six months.”
“Fiber works wonders.”
“So does evidence,” he said.
The evening had bloomed sultry. To hide the gun bulge I was wearing my lightest jacket, roomy black cotton. Despite that, I felt itchy as I turned onto Olivia’s block.
Regina was parked a few houses away, perched on the hood of her car.
I got out, shaking my head. “Unreal.”
“It’s a free country. I want to visit scenic San Jose, that’s my God-given right.”
“Tell me you spoke to Roby, at least.”
“A frog’s ass,” she said, “is not watertight.”
“He wouldn’t talk.”
“Insta-block. Course that only makes me want to talk to him more.”
“Yeah... All right. I’m going in.”
“For the record, you look very macho in that Members Only.”
“It’s not Mem — never mind,” I said. “Don’t do shit. Stay in the car and wait.”
“How do I know when to kick down the door and save you?”
“I’ll shoot out the window. That’s your sign.”
“Very reassuring.”
“I’ll be fine, Elf.”
She nodded, then lunged forward and threw her arms around me. I barely had time to laugh before she let go.
“You’re getting sappy in your old age,” I said.
Flipping me off, she retreated to her car.
Olivia Parisi answered the door barefoot, hair damp and cheeks scrubbed to a warm pink shine. She was dressed in white, high-cut running shorts and a white tank top. Bra straps slanted into view.
“Come in.”
The remains of a take-out salad languished on the dining table. She gathered them up with an embarrassed smile. “Thirsty?”
“No thanks.”
While she bustled to the kitchen, I started my voice recorder and placed it on the coffee table. The sofa had been swept clean. “Where’s Owen?”
“I locked him in the bedroom.”
Returning, she drew up short at the recorder.
“Sorry,” she said. “Can we skip that for tonight?”
“If you prefer.”
She nodded.
I switched off the recorder, put it away, took a seat on the sofa. She took the opposite end, leaving a body-width gap between us and pulling herself cross-legged to expose another few inches of bare thigh. “Should we get started?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
“Okay, so. I told her that I didn’t ask Adam who he hooked up with. And I didn’t. I didn’t want to know.”
I nodded.
“One time, though, he said something about it to me. I didn’t want him to. He was just, I don’t know. In a mood.”
“Good mood or bad mood?”
“The worst mood. We were having dinner and he was being... sulky. I’m like, ‘Are you okay, is something wrong.’ He got really mad. It scared me. It wasn’t like him. So I dropped it. That night I woke up to pee and he was sitting up in bed. He apologized for losing his temper. I said, ‘I want you to know, you can tell me anything.’ He said he’d been with someone without clearing it with me first.”
“Against the rules.”
“Totally. He was afraid to tell me, ’cause it was someone he knew personally.”
“Who?”
“You’re not taping, right? You didn’t leave it running.”
I gave her the recorder. She kept it in her hand as she said, “His parents’ lawyer.”
“Shelby Fuller.”
She nodded again.
“Father or son?” I asked.
She smiled faintly, as if the question was ridiculous. “Son.”
“How did you respond?”
“I told him I loved him and it didn’t change anything.”
“Were you upset?”
“A little? Maybe? I didn’t really know Fuller, so in terms of our relationship, it wasn’t that different from a stranger. I kinda wish Adam hadn’t said anything. But he needed to get it off his chest, he felt guilty.”
“For hiding it from you.”
“And ’cause Fuller’s married. Adam said if anyone found out, it would be a disaster, for all of them, their families.”
“Was that the first time something had happened between them?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure. They knew each other growing up.”
“Was it an ongoing thing?”
“I mean... Adam made it sound like it didn’t happen that often. He said he was figuring out how to end it. Doesn’t that sound more like... sometimes often?”
“It does,” I said. “When did this conversation take place?”
“Two summers ago.”
“A year before Adam died.”
She nodded. Then looked away, fidgeting with her nails.
“Olivia?”
“I don’t want to make him out like a liar.”
“I won’t think that.”
“Well, we were hanging out at his place,” she said. “And I went to the kitchen for a snack. I’m looking through the cabinet and I find this watch, tucked at the back.”
“What watch?”
“I don’t know anything about stuff like that.”
“Can you describe it?”
“Gold. I mean, expensive. That much I could tell. I asked him: What is this, what’s it doing here? He said Fuller had given it to him for Christmas. So I know they were still in contact.”
“Which Christmas are we talking about?”
“Before he died.”
“Twenty twenty-five.”
She nodded. “I felt pretty hurt. Like, why are you hiding this thing from me? I don’t want it around. I don’t need to be reminded. He ended up selling it.”
The real story: giving it to Trevor Vogel.
I said, “Do you know where Adam and Fuller would meet?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Is it possible Adam was doing the same thing last June? Seeing someone, either Fuller or someone else, without telling you?”
“No.”
“You sound certain of that.”
“I am,” she said. “That was the whole point of talking to me to begin with, so we didn’t get into a similar situation. He promised me he wouldn’t.”
He’d promised before. “Have you shared this with anyone else?”
“No.”
“Not the police, not Rick and Liz.”
“God, no.”
“You haven’t talked to Fuller, either.”
“I mean, I’ve talked to him,” she said. “He was around all the time when Adam went missing, doing his lawyer thing. I was worried he might know that I knew, but he never did anything or said anything to me. He’s creepy for sure.”
“Creepy how?”
She shifted. Her shorts rode up further, and she tugged them down with little effect. Calling attention to bare flesh.