“I still have a good friend at that man’s law firm. She eats lunch with his secretary every day,” Sandy offered.
“Wouldn’t hurt to try to find out what Riesner was doing Thursday night,” Paul said. “Check him out, Sandy. But quietly.”
“Will do.”
“Which brings up a point,” Paul said to Nina. “Nicole Zack actually was in your driveway on Thursday night.” He angled toward Wish, explaining. “Bob’s girlfriend.”
“Bob has a girlfriend?”
“Bob does not have a girlfriend,” Nina said. “But you’re right, Paul. You need to speak with Nikki. She’s capable of a joyride.”
She handed over a copy of the written statement Nikki had given to Officer Scholl. “The police found no fingerprints, nothing, in the Bronco.”
“Impossible,” Paul said. “Unlikely, anyway. They must not be looking hard enough. I’ll also have a chat with Officer Scholl.”
“Oh,” Nina said. “I should tell you I told her about these three files.”
“Got it,” said Paul.
“So Bob has a girlfriend,” Wish said. “When I was thirteen, I fell in love for the first time, too. She was a year ahead of me in school, on the track team. Sita, that was her name. She broke my heart and I’ve never been the same.”
“He never could watch a track meet again,” Sandy said. “It does something to you.” She popped more of her doughnut into her mouth and chewed.
“Make fun of me if you want, Mom,” Wish said. “You always put on this big act about not being sentimental. But I heard you crying in the kitchen the night Dad called and said he was coming home-”
Sandy’s face began to turn purple and her eyes bulged. Wish watched the changes with an alarmed expression.
“What was that you said, Wish?” Paul put in hastily. Wish seemed unable to take his foot out of his mouth this morning. They all knew how much Sandy hated any mention of her private life. “I didn’t catch it. Nina didn’t either.”
Nina nodded vaguely. Sandy said nothing. She was grimacing and seemed to be building up to something. Paul thought, oh brother.
“Oh, but before you say anything more, Wish, I have a question for Nina,” Paul said, trying to deflect whatever was coming. “Um, so, returning to the issue of Bob’s girlfriend, didn’t you tell me once she doesn’t have her driver’s license yet?”
“Bob does not have a girlfriend,” Nina said. “And not having a license isn’t necessarily going to stop you from driving. I’d like you to talk to Nikki. Now can we move on? Wish? Sandy?”
Sandy’s eyes were still popping. She made a gargling sound. Her hands gripped the edge of the table. Paul thought, this is it. She’s gonna explode like Krakatoa. Wish finally did it this time.
“Sorry, Mom,” Wish said. “Mom?”
“He’s extremely sorry,” Paul repeated. “Sandy?”
Nina watched Sandy. They all watched Sandy, waiting for the forthcoming eruption, ready to take cover under the table if necessary.
Sandy coughed loudly into her napkin. She coughed again. Her highly bruised color faded slightly back toward normal.
“Why didn’t somebody clap me on the back?” she demanded. “Couldn’t you see I was choking? None of you did a darn thing to help!” She glared at them. “Now, what’s so funny?”
When order returned, Nina said, “People, File Number Three presents what I think are the most urgent problems. Let’s go through this. These two young women, sisters, were staying here in South Lake Tahoe at Campground by the Lake, right off Rufus Allen Boulevard-” She summarized the facts of the campground homicide.
Paul struggled to assimilate it all. He wasn’t used to having so much thrown at him at one time. Nina was going to run him ragged with all these people. But he had to agree, with the file gone and Nina’s notes on the events of that night gone along with it, Angel and Brandy needed to make their report to the D.A. and the South Lake Tahoe police even if he had to drag them there by their crimped and moussed hair. He and Wish would have to roust them from Angel’s beauty salon right after the meeting. Paul liked barbershops with their phallic striped poles and no-nonsense razor jobs where the tacit guy agreement called for lickety-split efficiency, and he couldn’t understand why women had such a different take on the same operation. What exactly did women do to their hair that could possibly require an entire afternoon?
“Angel’s salon is located in Harveys Casino, in the basement,” Nina said.
Paul said, “I think Angel and Brandy have to come first. If this fellow Cody is the one with the files, he’ll come after Brandy. It’s possible. Telling it all to one of the deputy D.A.’s over at the courthouse may or may not get them adequate protection. Brandy shouldn’t be at home alone.”
“She’s worried about her fiancé,” Nina said. “He seems to have disappeared. It’s another unsettling event of the weekend that may or may not be connected to the theft of the files.”
“It’s a lot, Nina. I don’t think we can bodyguard Brandy plus look for the boyfriend and get the other work rolling, too.”
Nina said, “I have an idea. I’ll see if Andrea can put Brandy and Angel up at the Tahoe Women’s Shelter. Brandy shouldn’t go back to Palo Alto, especially if her boyfriend isn’t there.”
“Excellent,” Paul said. “Give us a chance to try to untangle a few things. The sisters have to come first. There’s some major exposure there, and I think it goes beyond speculation.” He pushed his chair back.
“We’ll crack it,” Wish said. He got up and gave Nina a serious nod.
Paul and Wish went outside and slid into Paul’s Mustang. Wish drew on his sunglasses and smoothed back his hair.
“Let’s roll,” he told Paul.
12
D OWN BELOW HARVEYS CASINO, through caverns measureless to man, amid the video arcades and Mexican restaurants and the boutique bursting with burlwood bears, Paul and Wish found a curtain of orange crystalline beads framed by an archway. Beyond that, a door with a glass insert advertised the salon. On the glass, painted in flesh-pink and sea-green tones, Cupid shot an arrow toward filmy clouds shaped into the words Angel’s Heavenly Hair.
Wish shoved the beads out of the way and stepped through, followed by Paul, who took a battering as the beads, released by Wish, fell back into his face.
“Oops,” said Wish.
The stench of primitive chemistry greeted them as they pulled open the door. A chime rang, unnecessarily announcing their arrival into the small room.
Several female faces turned to look at them, looking both intrigued and astonished. They had entered the forbidden precincts.
A young woman with brown hair, dressed in a long soft skirt, stepped up to a kind of podium. “Um,” she said, flipping a notebook open and picking up a pen. “What can we do for you?”
“We’re here to see Angel Guillaume and Brandy Taylor,” Paul said, handing her his card. “Are they here?”
At the back of the room, a girl with white tips to her choppy hairstyle, a mouth full of pink tissue squares, and hands full of hair nodded so vigorously a few of the tissues flew. “Mmpf,” she said. She wore a pale blue apron with a white badge in the shape of Gabriel blowing his horn over her breast. Angel, it said.
The girl who had greeted them said, “I’m Brandy. Why don’t you sit down and wait here for a minute.” Pretty and young, she curved sweetly enough to guarantee Wish couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“My pleasure,” he said.
She dimpled at him. Wish sat down on a prissy brass-legged bench in front of a window. He picked up a magazine with pictures of women with long hair, short hair, tall hair, wide hair, but he was distracted, watching Brandy walk away. Paul continued to stand while Brandy took the spike-haired blond by the arm and steered her through a pastel curtained doorway in back.