"And I know one of them,” Lucas said. “You take fifty thousand dollars off Frances Austin.”
When they were gone, Lucas said, “Let’s get these back and get some prints. Need them quick.”
“You can have them in two minutes, if you want,” Jackson said. “Yeah?” Jackson pulled open the bottom drawer of the chiffonier, took out a Canon photo printer about the size of a carton of milk, and plugged in his memory card. Lucas picked out four photos on the small LCD screen, and Jackson printed them as 5x7 glossies.
“Christ, this place is like a photographer’s dream,” Lucas said, as the photos pooped out of the tiny printer.
“And when some asshole tries to take it away from me, I’m counting on you to back me up,” Jackson said.
“Absolutely,” Lucas said.
The run across town was delayed by construction, and Lucas, pissing on his own shoes for choosing the wrong route, took an hour to get to the Riverside State Bank in Maplewood. As he was pulling into the parking lot, he took a call from Caroclass="underline"
“Not only does our man have a history, there’s an outstanding warrant from San Francisco,” she said. “He never showed up for a court date on a sale- sized pot bust, so he is fair game. We can bag his tight little ass anytime we want.”
“How much did he have?” Lucas asked. “How do you know he has a tight ass?”
“Six ounces. And Dan got back and showed me some of his shots."
"Well, shit, that’s not much of a sale."
"The information out there claims he was providing it to meditation clients to smooth them out,” she said. “He was teaching in a program called Action Zen, where you’d jump out of an airplane or climb a cliff, and then smooth out on dope.”
“Sounds weird,” Lucas said. “Sounds fun,” Carol said. “But the important thing, like I said, is that he’s fair game.”
Emily wau, the banker, looked at the photographs for three minutes, shuffled them around on her desk in different configurations, then said, “No.”
“No?"
"I think I would have remembered this one, for sure,” she said. “Is he married?"
"Jeez, Emily, give me a break. I’m not a dating service,” Lucas said. “Maybe you should be- you’re not doing that well as a cop,” she said, but she smiled when she said it.
Lucas thought about it for a few minutes, as he drove away from the bank, then put in a call to Alyssa Austin. “I need to talk to you about Frank Willett.”
There was a moment of silence, then, “ Uh- oh."
"Where are you at?"
"In St. Paul. I can be home in fifteen minutes. If we have to talk about him, I’d rather do it at home, than here.” Somebody was sitting across her desk, Lucas thought. “Half hour,” he said. On the way down, he called the number he had for McGuire and Robinson, the couple who were setting up the website. Robinson answered, and he identified himself and said, “Did you ever meet a friend of Frances named Frank Willett?”
“Uh… maybe."
"Maybe?"
"Yeah. We went out to a place in Stillwater, last summer, a restaurant down on the water."
"The Dock,” Lucas said. “Yes, that’s it,” Robinson said. “Anyway, she was there with a guy, and she might have said his name was Frank. I don’t know what their relationship was-they seemed kind of standoffy, but you know, funny like. Like maybe they were unhappy about us seeing them together.”
“Denise, you didn’t mention this when we talked."
"I didn’t even remember it until you asked me about Frank,” she said. “And I’m not sure the guy was named Frank-we didn’t eat with them; they were at a table for two, we just said hi, and we moved along.”
“You remember what the guy looked like?” Lucas asked. “Pretty good- looking. Like a ballet dancer, or something. Thin, big hands."
"Hair color?” Lucas asked. “Black; with a ponytail. Two- day stubble. And he had a diamond earring."
"Of course he did,” Lucas said. “Yes; of course he did,” she said. “What’s this all about?"
"We’re taking a look at him,” Lucas said. “Now, I’m very serious about this. And you tell McGuire, too. If you see this guy again, you get away from him. Especially if you see him on the street, and he comes over to you.”
“You think?"
"We can’t take the chance,” Lucas said. “So if you see him…” He could hear the shiver in her voice: “Get away.”
Austin was wearing a black velour sweat suit and pink dance shoes. She held the door open, closed it behind him, and said, “So somewhere along the line, you ran into Frank. I’ve been thinking about it, who you could have talked to, and I’m worried that one of my employees tipped you off.”
“Why should that worry you?” Lucas asked. “Because I wouldn’t take that kind of disloyalty,” she snapped. “If you heard it from one of my people, I’m going to have to root her out.” Lucas was shaking his head. “Relax. It’s not one of your employees.”She nodded: “Then it was Martina, that bitch. I thought Hunter might have figured something out. We were at an event at the Walker, and who should come wandering by, but Frank. I told him to get away from me, but I saw Hunter notice, you know, looking at me and then at Frank, and I was afraid he’d figured it out. And he told her.”
“You should have told me,” Lucas said. “For Christ’s sakes, your daughter was murdered.”
“The relationship was over for six months before Frances was killed,” she said, and she started to tear up. “There was no connection. Frank is not a bad guy.”
“California wants him on a dope warrant,” Lucas said. “What?"
"Not that big a deal, really-but he does have a warrant out,” Lucas said. “If he gets stopped on a traffic ticket, and they run him, that could pop up.”
“Oh, shit,” she said. They had trailed into the living room, and she plopped on a couch. And she shouted, “Helen!”
The housekeeper scurried out of the kitchen. “Squeeze a couple of oranges for me, will you? Maybe an orange smoothie. Lucas? You want a smoothie?"
"That sounds fine,” Lucas said. When the housekeeper was gone, he said, “I gotta tell you about something, and the way you’re talking, I’m not sure you knew about it.”
“About what?"
"About Frank and Frances."
"What about Frank and Frances?” Her hand went to her throat, and she half- laughed, but with shock in her eyes, denying it, and said, “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“We think there was something going on there. The Dakota County cops came up with her purse-a guy found it and turned it in. There was a letter…” He took the folded print out of his pocket and handed it to her.
She looked at it for a long time, more than a minute, then shook her head and said, “Well. Not much here.”
“But it looks to me-"
"Me, too. It’s her handwriting, no doubt about it,” Austin said. “Do you have any idea when the relationship might have started?"
"It would have to be after he and I broke it off."
"Why? Why afterwards.” She looked at him, blankly, for a moment, then half-smiled: “Because he would not have had the energy to be sleeping with her, too. I, uh, needed a lot of attention.”
“Okay. So when did you break off?"
"April, the middle of April, right around tax time,” Austin said. “I had a lot to do, he started getting a little testy when I put him off… and finally I told him that we should end it. And I did. We did. Agreed to.”
“Sounds like you did,” Lucas said. “Maybe,” she conceded. “And he would have gotten to know Frances through you?” Lucas asked. “Well, through the spa in Minneapolis, Riverwood. It’s right over in St. Anthony Main."
"By the A1,” Lucas suggested. “Oh, God! I never thought of that. I mean, it’s several blocks, but it’s an easy walk.” She turned her face away from him for a moment, thinking, and then back: “But so what? I mean, what would that mean?”
“I don’t know. But tell me about how they probably met,” Lucas said.