He transferred the phone from hand to hand several times. “Maybe you’re right and he’s just blowing off steam because Meagin made an ass out of him.”
“That and what he told us: facing Mater and Pater who warned him against her in the first place. I can see his childhood filled with ‘Oh, Douglass, you’re such a genius but you just don’t understand people.’ Now the truth of that has smacked him across the face.”
“Big-time cognitive dissonance.” He grinned. “See, I’ve been paying attention. Still, he really came across vicious. Told us he’s erased her, never mentioned her name once. So psychology or not, no way he’s off my list.”
He tried the maids’ numbers, got rings but no voicemail. “Given Dougie’s level of anger, maybe they’re in there but afraid to talk.”
He redialed Doug March. “Like he’s gonna answer.”
March said, “You again? What?”
“Irma and Adelita still aren’t answering their—”
“What do you expect me to do about it?”
“Would there be some way for me to get inside and check on their welfare?”
“Are you nuts?” said March. “You’re thinking there’s some lunatic running around town wiping out anyone with connections to me? That’s idiotic.”
“I’m sure it is but—”
“But nothing. Even if I wanted to let you in, which I don’t, I’ve got no way to effect that.”
“No one at your office has a key?”
Long silence.
“Sir?”
“Didn’t think about that,” said March, suddenly subdued. As if missing something was painful.
Douglass, you’re so smart, but...
“Sir?”
“I heard you the first time. Yes, there happens to be a spare key in the office. A girl who works for me knows where I keep it. You are not to bother her, I’ll arrange it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Mind you, I think the whole idea is asinine but if you feel compelled to root around, do it. But only up to a point. She can’t stick around long. I need her in the office.”
“We’ll be quick, sir.”
“And,” said March, “this is the last time I’m going to get involved in your entire mess. Randi will bring a key and the codes. Now it’s your turn to do something for me.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“If there is something... unpleasant inside,” said Doug March, “clean it up thoroughly before I get back. Which is in two days. A, I don’t want to see it, and B, more important, I’m going to be selling the place and need it to be shipshape.”
Click.
Milo said, “Mean and crazy. No way he’s off the list.”
Chapter 23
Cool, pleasant day so we waited outside the gates, occasionally peering through the pickets at the mansion. Milo tried the call button several more times but with no zeal. The two of us shifted yards apart and got on our phones.
One message I wanted to return: Judge Julie Beck. This time I got her bailiff and waited a few minutes before she came on.
“Hi, again, Alex. Two additional facts re: Ruffalo. It’s going to be a while before Derek makes it to your office. The prep school’s doing some sort of nature thing, hiking, survival, building strong character, whatever.”
“Strengthening the resolve of future leaders.”
She laughed. “I’m sure that’s the rationale but if it was my kid, no way, I don’t like outhouses and bears. The main reason I called, and this is incredibly sad, is I just got more paperwork and found out the poor kid was adopted. One of those Russian orphanage deals. So we’re talking rejection redux.”
I said, “Are either of the parents claiming problems due to the adoption?”
“Product recall?” she said. “Not so far, the egotistical idiots haven’t bothered to offer a reason, they just list it as a ‘historical factor.’ As if it’s the court’s problem. Sad, no?”
“Beyond sad.”
“Alex,” she said, “I don’t even want to think about how this poor boy will cope. I’ve got you for that, thank God. You figure something out, it’ll be worth whatever you bill. Which I don’t need to tell you should be up front and generous. This is going to get ugly.”
I hung up, trying not to think about a boy I hadn’t met. Approached Milo and heard him say, “Okay, at least the Waldorf worked out, not sure we’d learn anything more from that angle, anyway. Thanks, kiddo.”
Pocketing the phone, he checked his Timex, tapped his foot, said, “That was Moses. Whatever time Gio or Meagin spent at other hotels, they weren’t noticed.”
I said, “Just another romantic couple.”
He said, “I’m sure that’s how they were feeling when someone visited them on Sunday.”
Rising vehicle noise from down the road made him turn sharply. Gardener’s truck with a malfunctioning muffler, the bed laden with mowers, blowers, sacks of soil, plastic trash cans. Brief glance from the baseball-capped driver before it bucked and snorted and continued north.
Milo gave his watch another look. Approached the gate and appeared poised for his twentieth button-jab. Shook his head as if wrestling to control a bad habit and kept walking.
A few minutes later, more automotive noise drew his eyes south. This time more contented feline than rasp.
A shiny, silver Audi Quattro with polished rims drove up, stopped just past the gate, and parked parallel to the stone walls. The purr silenced and a woman got out from the driver’s side.
Thirty or so, tall, trim, and Black with tight cornrows, she wore a peach-colored silk pantsuit, blue pumps with moderate heels, and a hesitant smile. After pausing to look at us, she came forward. Jingles from her right hand. Keys and a small gray remote module.
Milo said, “Hi. Lieutenant Sturgis.”
“Randi Levine,” she said. “Doug asked me to give you these.” Nervous glance at the gate. “Do I have to go in?”
“Actually, we’d prefer if you stay right here.”
“Great.” She handed him the tools of entry. “I will need to wait so I can get everything back. How long do you see it taking?”
“We’ll be as quick as possible,” said Milo. “What’s the alarm code?”
“Oh. Sure.” She pulled a yellow Post-it from a pocket and handed it over. “You don’t really think something’s... wrong?”
“Hope not, but it pays to be careful. In light of what happened.”
Randi Levine winced.
Milo said, “Doug’s told you about it?”
“Just that it happened,” she said. “I was concerned. Of course.”
“About?”
“How he’d cope with something so horrible. Post-traumatic response, you know?”
Milo nodded. “Has he had any of that before?”
“No, why would he? I’m sure he won’t, he’s got a way.”
“Of?”
“Handling things. He’s a very successful man.”
“What’s his way?”
She worked her lips. “He tends to keep things to himself and works out his own issues. I know people think you always need to express yourself but I disagree. I used to work at Sony, then at Bad Robot, then at Bruckheimer. Everything in the industry is personal. Including things you don’t want to be personal.”
I said, “Working for Doug is different.”
“Totally different,” she said. “Good different. Show up on time, get the job done, no egos, no extraneous nonsense, and once he trusts you, he gives you independence. He’s gone all the time, needs people he can rely on. After what I went through in the industry, it’s a dream job.”
She looked at the mansion.
I said, “You’ve been here before.”