“What about you?”
“Oh, I’m going, believe me. I’ve been hiding in a hotel for days. The only thing that’s been holding me here was that I couldn’t disappear until I’d talked to you.” She paused. “Robert, as your attorney, I can tell you that if nobody told you that you can’t leave, then you can. And as your friend, I would tell you not to pay attention if they had. It’s time to leave. And don’t take a plane. If somebody who’s getting information from the police is involved, they might be able to get your destination. Get in your car and drive somewhere. Just tell me where you’re going, so I can meet you. We’ll go to authorities we know can’t be involved, because they’re out of state.”
“All I’ve got is a rental car. Two men shot up my car last night, trying to kill me.”
She took a breath, and he could hear a tremor in her throat as she let it out. “You can’t use a rental car. It’s even easier to trace than a plane ticket. We’ll go together. I’ll drive you. I bought a new car.”
“New car?”
“After those men followed me, I asked myself whether it was worth the money to trade my old one in and buy a new one. Believe me, it feels as though it is. I went to a lot of trouble to get a car that nobody will recognize. I don’t want to go where you are. I’m afraid if somebody followed you there, they’ll see it. We’ll meet somewhere. I’ll drive past. If somebody is following me, you’ll see them, and know enough to get out fast. If I come past again and you’re gone, I’ll know I have a problem.”
“Where do we meet?”
“I don’t know… yes, I do. Do you remember about a year ago, I told you about a place where I was thinking about investing in some real estate?”
“Well, yes, I do,” said Mallon. “I think I can get there. When?”
“After dark. Say, ten o’clock. Is that all right?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” she said, “we haven’t said aloud where it was, and we haven’t said what my car looks like or where I’ll be coming from. We haven’t said where we’ll be going after that. I guess it’s the best we can do.”
“I guess so,” said Mallon. “Good luck to us.” He heard her hang up, so he did too. He sat for a time, going over the conversation in his mind. She had said something that would explain each of the suspicious facts: she had disappeared abruptly because she too had seen the woman with the camera, and then gotten stalked. She had claimed she had not known about the attempt to take the money from the private banking account at Wells Fargo. Of course, it could have been a lie, but suddenly he had realized that this was extremely unlikely. If she had wanted to get his money, or just deny him the use of it so he would be easier to kill, she should have been able to think of a better way than signing her own name to a withdrawal order. In a way, it seemed to him a sign of his emotional distress that he could have suspected her at all.
The most persuasive indication to him that she was innocent was her plan to drive him out of the area. She was the one who had been most cautious about setting up procedures that he could use to protect himself from ambush. He tried to think of a way to know for certain, but there was only one: he would have to show up to meet her.
CHAPTER 28
Mallon sat in the bushes on the edge of somebody’s front lawn. He felt a faint movement of air, and it gave him hope. It was a hot night, but something was going on far out at sea, and the breath of it was just reaching shore. He had chosen this spot because the interior of the house behind him was dark, and it had the look of a place that was locked up except on weekends. The alarm company signs that said ARMED PATROL and ARMED RESPONSE seemed to be placed more aggressively than usual, and the sturdy doors and shuttered windows were permanently lit by small outdoor floods.
He stared through the shrubbery at the house three lots to the north. He remembered the day only about a year ago when he had allowed Diane to drive him here to look at it. He had been reluctant at first: the reason for the trip had been that she wanted Mallon, a former contractor, to appraise the building. He had protested that he had never built anything within two hundred miles of Malibu. He had no knowledge of the current codes and regulations in Los Angeles County, he had not worked in almost ten years, and he had not kept up with any of the technological changes that were common in high-end houses, and so could not tell her whether the fixtures he found wired into the place were godsends or crap. But she had sighed. “Robert. You made millions building houses. I know you’ve kept your license current because I just called the state and they told me.”
“For nostalgia.”
“So take a brief stroll down memory lane with me to look at my wiring and plumbing.” She had smiled. “I’ll buy you a spectacular dinner in L.A. for your trouble.”
“Why do you want me to do it? You’ll have to hire an L.A. contractor to check it just to satisfy the bank anyway.”
“I know. Come on, Robert. If you get a dog, I’ll housebreak it for you.”
“I don’t want a dog.”
“I’ll bring you your next financial statement wearing high heels and a pearl necklace.”
“Really?”
“Well, yes. Other things too, of course. But I really want you to do this for me.” She had frowned. “I need a good investment that includes a tax write-off. This would be a beauty, but only if there aren’t any nasty surprises. You’ve invested in coastal property lots of times since you retired. Won’t you please do me this favor? You’re the only one I know who’s qualified and can’t possibly be interested in making money from it. I need somebody I can trust.”
That had done it. He had come down here with her, and spent three hours on that house. He had climbed onto the roof, checked the crawl space just below it. He had checked the plumbing, and randomly tested a few circuits for her. Finally, he had gone under the house. What he had found was a foundation that had begun shifting because it had not been anchored properly to the rock beneath the sand. A sewer pipe was already stressed, and might break within the next year. She could have paid the million and a half the realtors were asking and come here one day to see that the huge windows on the beach side had popped, and that she couldn’t open the front door anymore.
They had driven home to Santa Barbara speaking in quiet, thoughtful tones. When he had gotten out of the car, she had thanked him warmly, but sadly. “Your friendship was all that saved me. I’ll never forget it.” Then she had brightened. “I’ll never forget the realtor who tried to sell me that place, either. Can you imagine pulling that on a lawyer?”
He had grinned. “Actually, I can.” He had added, “Not you, of course.”
As Mallon remembered that night, he felt reassured. It was the ordinariness of it, the mundane, comfortable history of his relationship with Diane that made him feel his confidence growing. He had known her for eight years. Could she have been planning to do him harm all this time, and never done it? That made no sense. Diane would show up, and she would do exactly as she had promised. They could trust each other.
He heard the sound of an unseen car off to his left. He had been here for an hour, and this was only the second one to come along this narrow lane. In a moment he would see the shine of the headlights while the car was still far off, throwing faint light on the pavement where it curved. Next the light would brighten, throwing shadows and making the trees in front of the house across the street stand out from the undifferentiated grayness. Then the car would come around the bend, and for a second, illuminate this part of the street before it moved past. He lay flat in the brush and waited. If it was Diane, he would have to let her go by the first time without signaling her-just spot her in her unfamiliar new car, watch to be sure she was not followed, and await her second appearance.
Mallon kept his eyes to the left on the house at the bend. The car noise grew louder, closer. In the still air he could hear the tires tossing up bits of gravel, but the house across the street did not light up. Diane’s car must be moving up the street without its headlights. He detected a change in the engine’s pitch. It was stopped, idling. Why would she do that? Was she being followed? Could she be stopping to deceive some pursuer into making a premature move to reveal himself? He considered the possibility that the driver could be somebody other than Diane, and decided it was best to stay where he was and wait.