Dead Float (12 page)

Chapter Twenty-five

I stood at the kitchen window, the espresso maker churning at my elbow. Two dark, viscous streams slowly filled my chipped mug. I breathed in the aroma, rich, like black earth, and full of promise for the day. The sun had seared the thin haze, and the fields in the valley rippled with spring color. Goldfinches and black-capped chickadees nibbled at the feeder, crows cawed in the firs, and hawks drifted at a thousand feet. Life was good again, or at least a helluva lot better.

After a second cappuccino and a bowl of oatmeal, I turned on my cell and scrolled down to Philip Lone Deer. “Philip? It's Cal. Didn't wake you, did I?” I asked, knowing full well he'd been up for hours.

“Are you kidding? I've already made love to my wife, tied half a dozen flies, and washed my truck. What's up?”

“Claire's okay,” I blurted out. “She's on her way to Khartoum in a convoy, and then on to the States.”

Philip let out a war whoop. In the background I heard his wife Lanie shout, “Philip, what is it?” Philip called back to her, “Claire's okay! She's on her way home!” Then he added to me, “That's a load off. What a great piece of news!”

I went on to tell him about her broken leg, the need to arrange her transportation home, and my legal complication. Without hesitating, Philip said, “Look, Cal. Don't worry about L.A. If you can't go, I'm there. Just buy me the ticket.” I also wanted to tell him what had happened to me the night before but decided against doing that on the phone. Toward the end of our conversation he said, “Things are still slow for me. I'm going over to Hood River on Friday to look at a used drift boat. Why don't you meet me there, and we can get caught up? We could even get in a few casts. ”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I don't know. I hear there's a nice steelhead run in the Hood River right now. We could fish below the dam, then have lunch in town.”

A fishing break was just what I needed. “Let's do that.”

“Okay,” Philip responded. “And let's make it interesting. Whoever hooks the fewest fish buys lunch.”

“Gee, I don't know. That would require an honor system. Hardly seems fair.”

“You question my honor, paleface? You're the ones who break all the treaties.”

“Okay. Okay. It's a deal. Where should we meet?”

“There's a parking lot below the dam. We can walk in from there. Need to get there no later than six-thirty.”

I groaned.
“Six-thirty?
It's gotta be an hour and half drive for me.”

“Me, too. You want to beat the crowds or what?”

“Okay, sounds like a plan. Uh, better e-mail me directions. I'm not sure I can find the place.”

It was just after eight, so I dialed Well Spring next. An ebullient Chad Harrelson came on the line. He told me that Claire would be briefly hospitalized in Khartoum to make sure she was fit to travel. The trip home would be grueling with stops in Cairo, Amsterdam, and finally L.A., but she'd have someone from Well Spring with her all the way. I told him either I or a family friend would fly down to L.A. to accompany her up to Portland. She would be on her way back to the States by early next week.

After calling Hiram with the good news, I left for Alexis Bruckner's place. I parked at the same spot I had the night before. I ducked into the trees to see if I could pick up any clues about the prowler I'd seen the night before but didn't see anything. I was planning to ring the front bell, but when I reached Alexis' side gate I heard the rhythmical splash of someone swimming laps in the pool. I knew Alexis was fond of swimming, so I let myself in and closed the gate behind me. I watched her swim for a while, surprised at the strength and smoothness of her stroke. Finally I walked to the edge of the pool. She pulled up abruptly when she saw me.

“Oh. Cal. You scared me. What are you doing here?” Her eyes lingered on me as she removed her swim cap and shook her hair free. Rivulets of water streamed down the curves of her body.

“Hello, Alexis. Sorry to interrupt your morning swim, but I need to talk to you about a couple of things. It's important.”

Her one-piece looked like it had been sprayed on, and she came out of the pool languorously, inviting me to watch. I felt relieved when she put on a terry bathrobe. Before I could say another word the back door swung open, and a man backed out with a tray of steaming cups and covered dishes. He turned around and stopped dead when he saw me.

“Claxton? What in hell are you doing here?” It was Mitch Hannon.

“Maybe I should ask you the same thing,” I responded much too quickly. It wasn't really my place to say anything.

“I came by to have breakfast with, uh, Mrs. Bruckner. We've got business to discuss.”

“Fine. I won't keep her very long.”

“I'm stepping in as CEO at her request. We have a lot to go over.” Hannon continued in what was now an annoyingly self-righteous tone. He put the tray down on a wrought-iron table and stepped toward me.

Alexis moved between us. “Sit down, please. Both of you.” She turned to Hannon. “Cal said he has something important to tell me.” Then she turned to me. “Do you mind if Mitch sits in?”

“No. I suppose not,” I answered unenthusiastically. No way I was going to mention the affair in front of Hannon. “I came by last night to talk to you, Alexis.” It was about nine-thirty.” Alexis raised her eyebrows but let me continue. Hannon shifted in his seat. “I, uh, wanted to discuss a couple of things.”

“Oh, that's rich. Sounds to me like you were stalking her, Claxton,” Hannon said. “Did you bring your fishing knife?”

I ignored Hannon. He'd obviously heard about my knife being found at the scene. “I parked up behind your place, and as I was coming down the lane I saw someone in the trees there, watching your house. I spooked him, and he took off.”

Alexis' eyes registered surprise. “Watching the house?”

“Yeah.” I pointed in the direction of the grove of trees. “From back there. You need to be careful, Alexis. I think someone's watching you.”

She started to speak, but Hannon beat her to it. “You've got a lot of goddamn nerve coming here. And your bullshit story isn't going to wash. Not with me, not with anybody. You better stay away from Mrs. Bruckner.”

I forced a smile and shook my head. I didn't want any trouble with Hannon. “You're entitled to your opinion.”

“
Opinion?
Are you kidding me?” Hannon pointed a finger at me, his face filling with color. “The evidence points to you, Claxton. You killed my uncle, you bastard.” Alexis tried to speak again, but he waved her off. “I'm warning—”

“That's enough,” I broke in. “You want to talk evidence? Okay. You're obviously sleeping with your uncle's wife, you had full access to the murder weapon on the Deschutes, and now you're stepping in to take over the company. That's motive, opportunity, and means.”

“
You son of a bitch
.” Hannon jumped up, toppling his chair behind him. Seeing rage build in his face, and not liking the angle he had on me, I got up, too.

Alexis leaped up as well. “Mitch, stop it, plea—”

Before she could finish, Hannon pushed me hard in the chest with both hands. I almost fell over. When I righted myself, I took a step back to try to de-escalate the situation.

Alexis said, “Damn it, Mitch. Stop!” She grabbed his wrist, but he shook his hand free.

I took another step back, only to find myself at the edge of the pool. “You heard her, Hannon. Back off.”

Eyes narrowed to slits, he closed the distance between us. I saw the first punch coming and rocked back on my heels. His fist just missed my jaw, and I nearly fell into the pool. He swung again. I ducked the punch, grabbed his arm with both hands, and used his forward momentum to throw him into the pool. He came up sputtering and swearing but made no effort to climb out.

Alexis screamed, then turned her wrath on me, pointing toward the gate. “Get out of here, Cal. Just get out.”

I turned to face her. “What I just told you is true, Alexis. Be careful.”

“Well, that didn't go very well,” I said out loud as I got back into my car. On the way back to Dundee I kicked myself for letting the situation get out of hand. Should've shut up and left when it was clear where the thing was heading. The last thing I needed was a fistfight with the nephew of the man I was suspected of murdering. Suppose he accuses me of assault? If Alexis backed him, I would be in an awkward position, to say the least. But as I thought about it, I decided they were very unlikely to do anything that would call attention to their cozy arrangement.

I felt like my warning to Alexis had gotten through, but I was disappointed that I wasn't able to talk to her alone. I wanted to see her reaction to my revealing the affair. Would she back me up? And what about her demeanor? Would I see anything to lead me to believe she was mixed up in Bruckner's murder? The only thing I did observe was that old come-hither look that had gotten me into trouble in the first place.

As for Hannon, I wondered if his anger was genuine or just for show. I wasn't sure.

I took some solace in the fact that I'd tried to defuse the situation. I hadn't always shown that kind of forbearance. As I wound along the Willamette River toward Dundee, my mind drifted back to the events that unfolded after Nancy's suicide. My boss had told me to take some time off, but I was afraid to. Work had been my primary focus. The thought of time to myself was terrifying—what would I do?

Three weeks or so after Nancy's funeral I was interviewing a key witness to a double homicide I was about to take to trial. My witness had heard three shots and seen the shooter leave a liquor store with a gun in his hand. The elderly couple who ran the store lay bleeding to death inside. But as I was preparing my star witness to take the stand, he suddenly claimed he wasn't sure about anything. “What the hell,” I asked, “somebody get to you?”

He shrugged and smiled nervously. “Hey, man, I like breathin', you know what I'm sayin'?”

It had a lot to do with the casual way he tossed the comment off, or maybe it was the fact that I'd just finished a tear-soaked meeting with the victims' daughter, or that I'd spent better than a hundred hours in preparation for the trial. Whatever it was, it caused me to go off like an IED. The next thing I knew, I had the witness by the throat, pinned against the wall with both feet off the ground. “You can't do this. We'll lose the case,” I screamed in his face.

That got me a leave of absence. When I told my boss I was ready to come back to work, he advised me to seriously consider the early retirement package the city was offering at the time. I took the hint and the package. Three months later I sold my house and moved to Dundee, Oregon.

I popped out of my reverie when a big pickup ran a light in front of me in Newberg. When I arrived at my law office, I put the blinds down on the front window and slumped down in my chair. Despite the good news about Claire, I worried about the pressure I was under and what it would do to me. The truth was, I'd come very close to doing a lot more to Hannon than just tossing him in the pool. The realization chilled me. Pressure or no pressure I needed to control my temper, I reminded myself.

As I brooded over the issue, my cell chirped. It was Daina Zakaris checking in. I gave her the good news about Claire and invited her to lunch. No sooner had I put the phone down than it rang again.

“Cal? This is Nando. I've got some information for you.”

Chapter Twenty-six

I gave Nando a quick run-down on my “person of interest” status as well as Claire's situation before asking him what he had on the Ford F-150. “It was reported stolen last Wednesday night. It's registered to a student named Lawrence Cantwell. He's a freshman at Portland State. It was stolen in the Park Blocks and is still missing.”

Wednesday night, I said to myself. The timing fits perfectly. “Useful. Thanks, Nando. Uh, any luck on the Grand Cherokee from Madras?”

“Actually, I do have something on the Jeep. It was found abandoned at the northwest corner of Milwaukie and Knapp in southeast Portland. The PPB has it impounded until Jefferson County can pick it up.”

That would be Escalante and Dorn. “Nando, you never disappoint,”

“Thank you, my friend. This affair on the Deschutes is troubling. Do you need any additional help?”

“Nothing I can think of at the moment, but stay tuned.”

“Whatever you need, Calvin.”

I was anxious to check out the area in Portland where Barnes' Grand Cherokee had been abandoned. But that was going to have to wait. For the next hour I focused on getting some work done—the kind that actually pays the bills. At noon I headed off to meet Daina for lunch.

I got to the restaurant first, a great little Thai joint a block off the 99W in Newberg, took an outdoor table and ordered a Singha. Halfway into my beer, I saw the lime green VW flash by and park across the street. I watched Daina through a potted hydrangea as she approached. She wore clogs, black slacks, and a white cotton tunic cinched at her waist, set off with a squash blossom necklace of silver and jade. Her hair, thick and lustrous, bounced to the rhythm of her rapid gait. Her eyes were shielded by a large pair of dark glasses, but her face showed…what, a look of anticipation?

I stood up and waved, and when she joined me, got a big hug. “I'm glad your daughter's okay, Cal. You must feel so relieved.”

I nodded, holding her for a moment at arm's length. The bruise on her cheek had lightened some against her olive skin. “How's the shoulder?”

“Oh, still a bit stiff, but fine.” I must have held my gaze a beat too long because she smiled and wrinkled her brow. “
What?
I'm overdressed for Newberg?”

“No, no, you look great.” Then, trying to recover, I added, “The burglar must've missed that necklace.”

She tucked her chin and looked down. “Oh, this. Right. He took the cheap stuff and left this, not that it's any treasure.” After I answered her questions about Claire's situation, she grew serious. “I was horrified by that hatchet-job article in
The Oregonian
. How did that happen?”

I shrugged. “Most likely my buddy, Dorn, but I don't know for sure who leaked the story. Not exactly a confidence-builder for my clientele in Dundee.”

She shook her head. “Have there been any repercussions?”

“Not yet.”

After we ordered our food—a massaman curry for me, tom yum soup for her—Daina said, “So, anything new with your investigation?”

“Calling it an investigation might be overstating it.” I went on to describe surprising the prowler at Alexis' house, leaving out the part about the files I'd come across and what I'd learned from them. I also left out my return visit the next day and my altercation with Mitch Hannon. That was just plain embarrassing.

When I finished, she said, “Do you think it was the same person who broke into my house?”

I nodded. “Same M.O. He was watching Alexis' place before breaking in, just like with you.”

Her face lost some color. “Do you think he'll come back to my place?”

“Hard to say. He's bungled two break-ins so far. My gut says he won't risk another.”

The muscles in her face tightened, and her eyes narrowed. “Well, I'm staying put, that's for sure.” That bozo wouldn't dare risk another run-in with Dylan.” We both laughed at that. She continued, “I bought some Mace, just in case.”

Mace might make her feel better but would offer little protection. I pictured her rental house, isolated on all sides with a big hedge obscuring the view from the road. I didn't like it, but her defiant look reminded me a lot of Claire. I knew it would be fruitless to advise her to move. “Keep your doors and windows locked.”

The food arrived, and after tasting her soup Daina said, “The best test of a Thai restaurant is the tom yum. This is first rate.”

I had tears in my eyes from the curry, which I'd ordered extra hot. “The massaman's good, too. Serious heat.” I took a sip of Singha. “So, what's new that you can tell me about at NanoTech?”

She took a sip of tom yum and sat back. “We had our first staff meeting without Hal Bruckner. It was tense. The emotions are still pretty raw. I gave a status report on the management systems and the security of their technical information. I told them if they wanted the IPO to go well they needed to up their game, that the investment banks would be all over them demanding to see their game plan.”

“How'd they take it?”

“Oh, I think I got Hannon's attention, for sure. But the meeting pretty quickly devolved into another bitch session between Hannon and Streeter on one side and Pitman on the other. But now, there's no Hal Bruckner to referee.”

I had to chuckle. “Did they say something nice first, like you taught them on the river?”

She shook her head and gave me a pained look. “I'm afraid it's crossed over to outright incivility. And Hannon's ambivalent. He knows he needs Pitman, but he doesn't know how much. Streeter's coming on more aggressively, too. At one point he made this pronouncement, you know, wrapped in that sugary Southern drawl of his, that the Diamond Wire scale-up would pose no problems, inferring that they didn't need Pitman.

“How did Pitman take that?”

“Not well. He got right in Streeter's face. The man was shaking with anger, said something like, ‘This is above your intellectual pay grade, Andy. You aren't intelligent enough to even ask the right questions.'”

“Whoa. What happened next?”

“Streeter's neck turned the color of a fire hydrant, and I thought he was going to pop a blood vessel. He stood up, shook a finger at Pitman, and said, ‘Bring it on, Duane.'”

I had to laugh this time. “Took a page right out of W's playbook, huh?”

Daina laughed, despite herself. “I'm not making this up, Cal. Honest.”

“So, still one big, happy family.”

“Right. I'm afraid any hope I had that Hal's death would pull them together is sadly misplaced. Hannon did finally get between them, but Hal was more of a peacemaker than I gave him credit for. Anyway, now Pitman's twisting in the wind even more, and he's not taking it well. He's the kind of personality who needs order and predictability, and I'm afraid he's not going to get that from Hannon. Pitman's scary, Cal—you know, the kind of guy who might show up at work one day with an assault rifle under his raincoat.”

“Did you check his bottled water supply?”

“Yeah, I peeked in the staff kitchen fridge where he keeps his stash. No designer brands, just what's on sale, apparently—Poland Springs, Arrowhead. Three of each. No Crystal Geyser. But there could have been earlier. No way of telling.”

I nodded. “Has Rusty Musik turned up anything new on him?”

She gave me her best impression of a blank look. “Nothing more than I told you last time.”

“No trysts with TM-E or Guangzhou?”

She held her blank expression, but her eyes registered surprise. “Trysts? What do you mean?”

I smiled. “Come on, Daina. Your secret's safe with me,” I said, echoing what she'd said about my affair with Alexis. “I have a feeling you might have access to information that could help break this case, but you've got to trust me. I have no interest in NanoTech's proprietary secrets or their IPO.”

She broke eye contact, took a sip of soup, then looked back at me. “Jesus, Cal, where did you get that information?”

I returned her blank look. “I'm just interested in finding a lead. Being a person of interest in a murder investigation is not my favorite thing. ”

She laid her spoon down absently and let out a long breath. “I want to help, Cal, believe me. My confidentiality agreement is with Hal Bruckner, since he was the sole owner of NanoTech. He's gone, so I suppose that, technically, I have some leeway.” She took another sip of soup, giving herself a moment. “I, uh, did agree to have Rusty take a look at Pitman at Hal's request. See, Rusty's not just a good physicist. He's also a damn good hacker. He can crack just about anyone's system. Hal wanted to scan Pitman's e-mail. He owns the computers, so I wasn't breaking any laws. Okay, it was borderline ethical, for sure, but I thought Hal had some justification, so I went along with it.”

“Why didn't Bruckner have his own IT people do the snooping?”

“Oh, word would have gotten back to Pitman in a heartbeat. You know how the rumor mill works.”

I nodded. “Why would Pitman be so cavalier about his e-mail?”

“Oh, he had a layer of protection, but not enough. You'd be surprised how careless people are, even techies like Pitman. Or maybe he just doesn't give a damn?”

“Did Musik find any hanky-panky?”

“She glanced around the room before speaking. “Yes. Pitman was going to attend a big tech conference in San Francisco and had made arrangements with TM-E and Guangzhou—the meetings you alluded to.”

I laughed. “Lucky guess on my part.”

She gave me a look. “Yeah, right. Anyway, he had to cancel because of Hal's death. But, get this—a representative from TM-E, the French firm, is coming to Portland to meet with him. A guy named Clivas. A cozy dinner is planned.”

“What about the Chinese company?”

“They pulled back when Pitman cancelled the San Francisco trip.”

“When's the dinner?” She gave me the details, and I jotted them down. “What about the run-up to the fishing trip? Would you know if he communicated with anyone about that outside the company?”

“I read all the e-mails carefully, Cal. There was nothing about the fishing trip at all.”

“My name. Any mention of my name?”

“Nope.”

I decided to show my final hold card. “Uh, was there any mention of railroad schedules, the Kaskela switching station, the Barlow Northern Railroad, anything like that in conjunction with the trip?”

The blank look, again. Genuine this time. “No, not that I recall. Nothing about railroads. Why do you ask
that
?”

I waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, just one of my wild-ass theories. Not worth your time.” She wrinkled her brow and studied me for a moment but to my relief didn't press it.

I felt let down. All I'd learned was that Pitman planned a brazen meeting with one of NanoTech's direct competitors, but that didn't make him a killer. I said, “I gather you know that Hannon's the new CEO of NanoTech?”

“Right. It'll be announced to the company tomorrow.” She shook her head. “I'm not even going to ask how you heard about that.”

I shrugged. “Looks like sleeping with the boss' wife paid off for Hannon.”

She laughed. “Actually, I think Alexis made the right business move. Hannon may be an arrogant SOB, but he's pretty damn competent. The IPO could go well north of a half billion.”

I almost choked on a bite of my curry. “
Wow
. Big stakes make for strong motives.” I shook my head, thinking about how Bruckner's death hadn't benefitted Pitman, at least in any way I could see at the moment. And with Hannon in charge, he would almost certainly be cut out of a major block of shares when the company goes public. “What about Streeter?” I asked. “Will he be cut in as an officer of the company?”

Daina gave me a knowing smile. “I'm not privy to that, but my guess is, yeah, he'll come out smelling like a rose.”

“Never hurts to kiss a little ass, right?

“Oh, he's a master.”

I decided to press my luck. I leaned forward and met her eyes again. “I've got too many suspects here, Daina. Uh, your inside man, Rusty, could he take a look at Hannon's and Streeter's e-mail, too? You know, anything related to the fishing trip or railroad schedules. I know it's a long shot, and the cops will probably get around to it eventually, but I'd sure like to stay a step ahead of them.”

She rolled her eyes. “I'll see what I can do. Obviously, I expect you to protect me as a source at all costs.”

“I'm a lawyer. That's what I do.”

“There's one glitch—some of Streeter's e-mail's encrypted.”

“Rusty can't beat it?”

“Afraid not. Streeter uses a sophisticated system that scrambles messages he wants protected. He can reassemble them using special software only he has access to. We'd have to know his pass code to get in, and it would take Rusty the next millennium to break it.”

I wrinkled my brow. “Is this unusual?”

“Not at all. Lots of NanoTech employees use encryption. They know how easily their mail can be hacked. Pitman's system was no problem for Rusty. Mitch doesn't bother.”

I nodded. “What about Streeter—anything else you know about him?”

“Not that much. “He's from South Carolina. Played soldier at the Citadel, then took a masters at Georgia Tech, where he met Hal. His daddy's some kind of player in state politics, I think. Andrew's a very private guy. Bachelor. Hard worker. Fancies himself a bit of a ladies' man, but the women at NanoTech would dispute that. That's about all I know.”

A smiling young waitress topped up our nearly full water glasses, causing a lull in the conversation. After a couple of silent bites, Daina said, “So, when exactly is Claire coming home?”

“I'm waiting to hear the details of her itinerary, but she's stopping in L.A. I'm hoping to fly down there to meet her so I can travel back with her.”