She glanced at the door. It was as definite a dismissal as if she had pointed at it and ordered him to leave.
Aragon said, “Let’s review briefly, Mrs. Holbrook. In your opinion, it was unusual for Cleo to take a direct action like running away, and even more unusual for her to stay away this long.”
“Yes.”
“Yet there is some evidence, according to counselor Roger Lennard, that she was becoming more self-sufficient.”
“That’s right.”
“Are you quite sure that Mr. Lennard and Cleo—”
“Quite, quite sure. Roger was the one who brought her name up at the staff meeting. If there was any relationship between them, he certainly wouldn’t have advertised it.”
“How do you feel about Cleo, Mrs. Holbrook?”
“I can’t afford to get personally involved with any one student. It diminishes my ability to deal with the others.” The telephone on her desk rang and she went to answer it. “Yes?... Lund and Johnston, that’s a first, isn’t it?... Are the horses all right?... Send the boys in. After they’ve showered.” She hung up and turned back to Aragon. “I hope Cleo’s little caper hasn’t started a trend.”
“I thought the students hadn’t found out about it.”
“They found out,” she said with a sigh. “Somehow they always do. One way or another, they always do.”
Under the oak tree where Aragon had left his car a young man was sitting eating out of a giant bag of corn chips. He was about eighteen, very fat and red-faced, and there was an asthmatic wheeze in his voice when he spoke:
“Hey, man.”
“Yes?”
“Want a chip?”
“No, thanks.”
“Hear anything from Cleo?”
“Cleo who?”
“Cleo who, that’s a hot one. Who you trying to kid? Cleo who. That chicken pox story is a riot. They must think we’re a bunch of kooks. Want to hear my opinion?”
“I do, yes.”
“She’s been kidnapped. The reason the kidnappers haven’t asked for ransom yet is they’re giving old man Jasper time to get all shook up. The more shook up he gets the more he’ll be ready to kick in with a bunch of bucks to get her back. Think about it.”
Aragon thought. “Is your name Donny Whitfield?”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“Cleo mentioned you.”
“Yeah? What’d she say? She kinda likes me, wants to share my space?”
“We didn’t discuss that. She talked about the school cruise to Catalina on your father’s yacht.”
“Oh, that. Big deal. The old boy likes to dress up and play captain.” The corn chips were all gone. Donny began on a package of M&M’s. “What a clown.”
“Were you on that cruise, Donny?”
“Sure. Me and the first mate, we used to do business together.”
“What kind of business?”
“What makes you think I’d tell you? You’re probably a narc.”
“No.”
“I’m not telling anyway. It might spoil future deals.”
“Where did you go on that Easter cruise, Donny?”
“Just Catalina. Dragon Lady Holbrook didn’t trust us any further. In fact, she wouldn’t have trusted us that far except my old man told her we couldn’t get into any trouble because there was no trouble to get into. Not that Cleo would anyway. She’s more goody-goody than the rest of us. Most of us aren’t. What a square. She’s afraid to breathe unless her old man tells her to. Pitiful.”
“He’s not her old man, Donny. He’s her brother.”
“Same diff. He’s the boss, he calls the shots.”
The boy coughed, aiming some chocolate spit at the oak tree. It dribbled down the bark like tobacco juice. “You headed for town?” he said, wiping his mouth with his forearm.
“Yes.”
“I know where they sell some pretty good grass. You buying?”
“No.”
“Aw come on, man. Let’s go. I can ride in the trunk as far as the gate, then I’ll sit up front with you.”
“I don’t think so,” Aragon said. “The trunk’s locked and I lost the key.”
“Man oh man, that’s another chicken pox story. What do you think I am, some nut like the rest of them? You just don’t want to give me a ride, right?”
“Right.”
“Screw you.” The boy stared morosely into the now empty bag of M&M’s. “I bet if I was kidnapped my old man wouldn’t pay a dime to get me back.”
“I bet he would.”
“Naw. He keeps me shut up in this dump so I won’t interfere with his chicks. Got any gum?”
“Sorry, no.”
“Screw you.”
5
Aragon spent the rest of the day at the public library and in the microfilm department of the local newspaper. Hilton Wilmington Jasper was listed as an oil executive and a bank director, born in Los Angeles to Elliot and Lavinia Jasper, a graduate of Cal Tech in Pasadena, married to Frieda Grant, one son, Edward.
The same reference volume listed Peter Norman Whitfield, philanthropist, graduate of Princeton, married five times, one son, Donald Norman Whitfield, and a daughter, deceased.
Ted Jasper was found among the seniors of an old Santa Felicia high school yearbook. The picture showed a smiling blond youth whose sports were listed as tennis and soccer, hobby as girls, and ambition, to attend Cal Poly and become a veterinarian. A current Cal Poly student directory gave his address as 207 Almond Street. When Aragon called the number listed he was told Ted had gone home on the semester break.
An educational journal rated Holbrook Hall as a superior facility for exceptional students. Both boarding and day arrangements. Fees high. Well endowed, established 1951.
No information was available on Roger Lennard.
After a TV dinner and a bottle of beer Aragon phoned his wife. She was a doctor specializing in pediatrics and completing her residency requirements at a hospital in San Francisco. It wasn’t an ideal arrangement for a marriage, but it was working and it wouldn’t last forever. They planned on living together in Santa Felicia within a year.
Laurie sounded tired but cheerful. “I’m so glad you called, Tom. I get sick of kids. I want to talk to a nice sensible adult.”
“What’s this, my dedicated wife sick of kids?”
“I’m entitled to a moment of undedication now and then. How about you?”
“Smedler is working in mysterious ways again. I’m expected to track down a runaway retarded girl who maybe isn’t so retarded and maybe didn’t run away. I have a hunch she might have been coaxed, possibly promised something. She’s not a girl, either. She’s twenty-two.”
“That’s a bit old for a runaway.”
“She doesn’t look her age.”
“You know her?”
“I met her once.”
“Pretty?”
“Very.”
“That complicates matters.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“A lot of runaways are picked up while trying to hitchhike. We get quite a few in here. They don’t always come out. How are her parents taking it?”
“Coolly. They’re both dead. She was raised by a brother at least twenty years older. He’s the one who commissioned me to look for her.”
“Commissioned? That sounds lucrative.”
“Two weeks’ pay in advance. More later, perhaps. Very perhaps.”
“You don’t have a contract?”
“No.”
“Really, Tom, who’s the lawyer in this family? You should have a contract.”
“I don’t think Mr. Jasper expects much from me. And he’s not the type to pay for what he doesn’t get. No little sister, no big bucks.”
“How come you bought a deal like that?”
“I didn’t buy it. I was sold... Laurie, why do we have to spend all our time talking about other people when we have so much to say about just the two of us?”