“I had help from some photographs.”
Duncan’s mystification deepened.
“I’ve been doing research,” Coltrane said.
Duncan stepped nearer, anxious for an explanation.
“I figured a house designed by Lloyd Wright would have attracted attention when it was built. Yesterday I went to the library to see what I could learn about it. The reference librarian showed me a yearly subject index for every article that was published in every major magazine. So I started in 1931, when this house was built. I looked under Lloyd Wright’s name in the index, and I got a reference to him right away, an article about him in an architectural magazine that isn’t published anymore but was fairly trendy back in the thirties – Architectural Views. Excellent library that we have in L.A., the periodical department has every issue of that magazine on microfilm. So I had a look. Turns out this house received a lot of attention when it was built. The article had an analysis of Lloyd Wright’s design. It also had photographs: interiors as well as exteriors. Each room. Including the furniture.” Coltrane gestured toward the living room. “All I did was imitate the arrangement of the furniture as it was shown in the photographs.”
“You don’t suppose Randolph took the photographs?”
“That’s what I wondered,” Coltrane said. “But I didn’t have to look at each photograph for more than a second to decide that the images were so uncomposed and poorly lit that they couldn’t possibly be his work. I strained my eyes a little trying to read the fine print on the microfilm. The photo credit went to someone whose name I didn’t recognize.”
Duncan calmed himself. “For a moment, I thought you might have discovered some Randolph Packard photographs that no one knew about.”
“Wouldn’t that have been something if I had.”
“Coming through.” The overweight supervisor led the way for his two young assistants, who were carrying more black metal tubes. “I don’t know what this is, but I’m guessing it’s a bed frame.”
“King-size or regular?”
“When we get all these pieces assembled, I’m betting it’s a king.”
“Master bedroom. Top floor.”
“You heard the man,” the foreman said to his helpers.
The troop disappeared, trudging upward.
Duncan watched in a daze.
“Duncan?”
“Uh, what?” Duncan turned, blinking.
“The other day, you mentioned that Randolph owned an estate in Mexico.”
Duncan’s face didn’t change expression, but something in his eyes did, becoming wary.
“You said that Randolph used various shell corporations when he was buying property, so that no one would know the true buyer. You said Randolph bought this house that way – and a place in Mexico.”
“Now that I think about it, I suppose I did mention something about that.”
“I was wondering where the estate was.”
Duncan’s gaze remained guarded. “What makes you ask?”
“Just curious. Randolph had such a unique way of viewing things, I thought the hacienda might be as dramatic as this house. It might be worth going down to Mexico to have a look.”
Duncan answered too quickly: “I wouldn’t know.”
From upstairs, Coltrane heard the faint clang of metal tubes being bolted together.
“Careful,” he heard the foreman say.
“You wouldn’t know if I’d find it interesting to visit the estate?” Coltrane asked.
“I wouldn’t know where it is. I was never there.” Duncan looked up the stairs toward the metallic sounds. “Randolph never told me. Some place in Baja California, I think he might have mentioned.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Sorry I can’t be more helpful.”
“It probably doesn’t matter. For all I know, it isn’t as unique as this house, or it hasn’t been preserved the way this place has. Did Randolph still own it when he died?”
Duncan looked away. “Years ago, he mentioned something about selling a property in Mexico.”
“Well,” Coltrane said, “it was just a thought.”
“Careful,” the foreman repeated.
3
“I’D LIKE TO SPEAK TO MR. BLAINE,” Coltrane said into the telephone.
“May I tell him who’s calling?” the receptionist replied.
Coltrane gave his name. “I’ve been having some discussions with him about the estate of a deceased client of his. Randolph Packard.”
The receptionist’s voice came to attention. “Randolph Packard?”
“I’m buying a house he owned, and I need some further information. I know it’s New Year’s Eve afternoon.” Coltrane tried to sound self-deprecating. He chuckled. “Or whatever today is called.”
The receptionist sounded amused. “Yes, I’ve been having the same problem.”
“Anyway, Mr. Blaine probably has a ton of work he still needs to finish, but I was hoping he could spare a few minutes for me.”
In death as in life, Packard’s name got results. Twenty seconds later, an unctuous baritone was on the line. “Mr. Coltrane, I trust that your arrangements are proceeding satisfactorily.”
“Totally. In fact, I’m so pleased that I was wondering if another property Mr. Packard owned might be available for sale.”
“If you’re referring to the house in Newport Beach, it was given to his assistant. You’d have to speak with him about that.”
“No, I was thinking of a property in Mexico.”
“Mexico?”
“I believe it’s in Baja California.”
The baritone sounded confused. “No, I’m not familiar with it.”
Coltrane glanced down in disappointment, his suspicions having proven groundless. “I guess it must have been sold years ago.”
“The only property I’m familiar with that Randolph Packard owned in Mexico isn’t in Baja.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s on the western main coast of Mexico, much farther south than Baja. Below Acapulco, in fact. Near a town called… I can’t remember it in Spanish, but in English it’s very distinctive. The spine of the cat.”
“What?”
“That’s the name of the town.”
“Espalda del Gato?” Coltrane asked.
“I’m impressed. Your Spanish is very good.”
“I spent a lot of time in Spanish-speaking countries. If there’s a way for me to see the place, if it’s still in Mr. Packard’s name, maybe I’d be interested in buying it also,” Coltrane said.
“I can’t help you with that. It’s out of my hands. The hacienda was a bequest in Mr. Packard’s will. The title was transferred a week ago.”
Coltrane couldn’t hide his frustration. “To whom? Can you tell me?”
“Against my advice, Mr. Packard didn’t transfer all of his assets to a trust. The hacienda in Mexico was one of the items that he neglected to include. If he had included it, the bequest could have been handled privately, without involving a California court. But because the hacienda was included in a will, it has to go through probate. It’ll be a matter of public record. I could put you through the inconvenience of going to the court house. I don’t see why that’s necessary, however. Mr. Packard gave the Mexican property to someone named Natasha Adler.”
“Natasha Adler?”
“I have no association with the woman. I can’t tell you a thing about her.”
“Do you have her address and phone number?”
“That information was not included in the will. I had to hire a private investigator to find her. I’m afraid I’d be violating her privacy if I told you where she lived.”
Damn it, Coltrane thought.
“Now if there’s nothing else I can help you with,” Blaine said.