“Oh, please, keep it all,” Mira gushed. “Five grand? Worth every penny. And if I can ever do anything for you...”
“Sure. Now...there’s someone that wants to talk to you.” I handed the phone to Talley.
“Mom?”
For the rest of the ride to Mill Valley I had to put up with excited girl babble, but after a moment I decided I didn’t mind. Talley seemed remarkably unaffected by her ordeal. Perhaps the kidnappers hadn’t scared her so much, or maybe she just recovered fast. And Mira...hysterically happy of course, and relieved, but still...something about the woman’s reactions bothered me still. I just couldn’t pin it down.
Maybe Mira was popping Valium with her morning cocktails. Certainly there was some other element here that I didn’t understand, but I didn’t really have to. People’s real lives were complicated. Talley was safe and sound and soon would be back with her mother. That was the important thing.
I dropped Talley off at the Sorkin curb and watched her dash up to the front door. Mira opened it before she got there and mother and daughter threw themselves at each other in a desperate hug. Molly was already in motion. The last thing I wanted was Mira running out to the sidewalk in awkward gratitude.
Five grand was thanks enough. I reached for my phone again.
“Mickey, it’s me. I’m coming back to the office. The girl is safe.”
“What girl? The child you talked about?”
I remembered I hadn’t actually briefed him on the case. “I’ll tell you all about it when I get there. Just don’t leave. Be back in half an hour.”
“Roger dodger, boss. Over and out.”
I sighed as I hung up. Seemed like I was surrounded by children. Maybe that was why I liked Cole. Craggy, with some mileage on him, but the world hadn’t beaten him down yet. He still cared. Like Dad. Tears welled up suddenly as I thought of my father.
I missed him so much.
I shook my head to clear my eyes, pushing sentimental thoughts out as I parked on a side street. First I unloaded the shotgun and then reloaded its magazine, leaving the chamber empty, and slid it carefully backward by the barrel over the seat into the rear cargo space.
Taking off the Security hat, I got out of Molly and opened the hatchback to put the shotgun and vest back in their places. Then I bent over and stretched, working the kinks out before I drove back into the City. This time I ignored the Sausalito route and stuck to the freeway. I was feeling too good about saving the kid and the five grand in my pocket to want to darken the day again with negativity.
Five grand. That’s what Mira had said. My cop sense prickled again, but refused to disgorge. My subconscious churned and bubbled. I let it be for the moment. Likely I would be processing this weird little situation for some time, but I had plenty of open cases on my mental books from back in the cop days. Not everything got solved, or when it did, lots of details never surfaced. I gave a deliberate mental shrug and tried to put it behind me.
Pulling out, I hung a U and accelerated, enjoying the press of the seat against my back and the nimble sensation of Molly’s tires on the road. I felt a bit let down now that I had no Audi to follow, no excuse to shatter traffic laws for a higher purpose.
The city skyline from this side was gorgeous as the overcast had lifted and broken in places, patches of sunlight pushing through and shining on the grimy bay and crowded landscape. Seabirds perched on the Golden Gate, watching the endless traffic. As I exited the bridge over Fort Point, a pelican dove and came up with a struggling fish, flipping it into his mouth, and my stomach growled. The bagel and cup of coffee had long since vanished.
On the other side of the bridge the restaurants of the Marina District called to me but I ignored them. Parking there was hell anyway, the prices high, and besides, Cole lived there, and I wanted to forget about him right now. A few minutes more would bring me back to Molly’s own space in the cozy Mission District. I speed-dialed Udupi Palace and put in a delivery order for curry, betting I would be at my office in time to meet the runner and pay in cash. Mickey wouldn’t have enough left from the twenty I’d fronted him.
I made it to Molly’s parking space just ahead of the scooter, paid and grabbed the bag, and then knocked on the walkout. When Mickey opened it I slapped his reaching hand, and then locked the door by habit behind me.
“Come upstairs and eat like a human being,” I said. “And afterward, you go home and shower. If I can smell you over the curry, you’re pretty rank.”
“Okay, boss. You gonna get paid for this job?”
“Of course,” I said lightly as I climbed two flights to the top floor, Mickey huffing behind. “I got a check.”
“Hope it’s good,” he grunted.
“Don’t I always take care of you?”
Mickey mumbled something under his breath.
“What? I didn’t catch that.”
“Didn’t mean for you to, boss.”
Probably something juvenile, sexual, or both. “Open the window and sit down.” I pointed at the back side of the house, then opened the opposite door to the balcony that overlooked the street. Between the two I got a nice airflow that kept Mickey’s B.O. away. Only then did I set the food on the kitchenette table and hand my helper the Vindaloo, his favorite. Containers of Basmati rice and Mulligatawny soup came out next, and two packets of naan. For me, the butter chicken.
It came with biodegradable bowls, plates and cutlery. San Francisco was serious about its environmentalism.
Over fantastic South Asian flavors, I swore Mickey to secrecy again and told him about the case, leaving out only my wayward and unrelated thoughts. When I was finished with my food and story, Mickey said, “Let me see the check.”
“You’ll get paid, Mickey. Don’t worry.”
He made an impatient motion. “I know that, boss. Just show me.”
I unfolded the precious piece of paper and set it carefully on the table where he could see, but kept a finger on it. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him. It was just that he had curry all over his hands and his sweatshirt front.
Mickey wiped his fingers and then fished the business card out of his pocket, setting it down next to the check. “Notice anything?”
I stared at it a moment, then rotated it to line up with the check. “The handwriting on the card...the number is Mira’s. They match the check. But the words...almost, but not quite.” I picked it up and brought it in close to my eyes. “And the pen and pressure is slightly different.
“So?” Mickey stared expectantly, triumph that he had gotten ahead of me written on his face.
“So if Mira passed it to Cole, why wouldn’t it all be in her handwriting? And the words are not written in Cole’s hand either. Did she lie? Who would write on the card except her or Cole?” I sat back.
“You know what?” Mickey pulled out a sheaf of papers and unfolded them. “Her home phone records...” He looked them over. I could see notes scribbled up and down the right margins. “Calls to the alarm center just like she said, but...” He tapped the marked entries.
I craned my neck to look. “Five seconds. Seven seconds.”
“Yeah. Too short to be asking for the info like she said.”
“But long enough to claim it was a wrong number, maybe chat for a few seconds, but most people don’t really have a good sense of time. She wanted to make the calls to support her story, but she didn’t plan well enough to make sure she stayed on the line an appropriate amount of time.”
Mickey nodded.
“Good work.”
“What do we do about it?”
I pressed my lips together. “Nothing.”
“Nothing? But...” he trailed off.
“But what? What have we got? A strong hunch? The cops will just laugh at us. I can pass this observation on to a friend in the department, but if I do that I’ll have to explain everything, such as why I didn’t turn the girl over to them at the warehouse. And how do we know the kidnappers weren’t threatening Mira the whole time? They could have given her a script to run through, and this might have been her trying to deviate from it, to gum up their plan? No, Mickey. We saved the girl,”—I was feeling charitable right now so I included him—“and we got paid. That’s it. Mira might have been dirty somehow, but three kidnappers are dead, and I never got the impression she wasn’t genuinely frightened for Talley.”