Finder's Fee (30 page)

The phone on her desk chimed. She picked up.

“Ms. Penn, there are some people here to see you.” The voice belonged to Darla Allison, first-floor receptionist and keeper of the executive elevator.

“Who?”

“Call me if you need me,” Gaines said and started to leave.

“A Ms. Karen Rose and Mr. Dwayne Hastings of KTOT. There's a camerawoman with them. Also — ”

“No interviews today, Darla. I just can't fit them in.”

“Detective Ben Wilson is with them. He says it's urgent.”

Terri blinked hard.

“Ms. Penn?”

“Hang on.” Terri lowered the phone. “Mr. Gaines — Jim — you had better stay.” She raised the handpiece back up to her ear. “Send them up — everyone but the cameraman.”

“Camerawoman.”

“Whatever. No cameras. Understood?”

“Yes, ma'am.

Even though she had ensconced herself in the meeting area of Judith's office, Terri could clearly hear the elevator doors open. She forced herself to breathe in measured breaths, taking long slow inhalations and releasing them a moment later. She didn't know why the odd mix of people wanted to see her, but she felt sure her brain would need all the oxygen it could get.

Waiting in the seating area of Judith's office was Gaines's idea. The room had been swept and pronounced clean of listening devices. At the moment, it was the only room in the building that could properly make such a boast. Gaines waited by the elevator. His voice carried through Terri's office and into Judith's.

“I'm Jim Gaines, senior legal counsel to Find, Inc. I understand that you've all already met the company's senior vice president, Mr. Marlin Find.”

Pleasantries were exchanged and then they appeared, led by Marlin as if he were conducting a military march. Since Terri assumed the detective had news about Judith, she thought it right to include Marlin. She also hoped keeping him informed would take a few barbs off the ragged edge that had been created between them. She doubted it would, but
at least he couldn't complain about being kept out of the loop on matters concerning his mother's welfare.

All the faces were familiar, but one. Just behind and to the right of Karen came a tall man with gray hair, a mustache, and a tiny patch of hair below his lower lip. He introduced himself as Dwayne Hastings, news director at KTOT television. Terri shook their hands, trying to offer a dry and firm palm.

“Please, sit down,” Terri said.

They did. Terri took the leather seat Judith used when conducting meetings here. She felt like she trespassed on private ground.

Gaines spoke first. “Just so there's no confusion, Ms. Penn is acting CEO until Ms. Find returns.”

“Really?” Karen said. She glanced at Marlin then back to Terri. “I hadn't expected that.”

“It's complicated and temporary. Things will return to normal soon.” Terri pushed a smile.

“And if they don't?” Dwayne asked.

“Then the board and senior execs will make a decision about permanent leadership of Find, Inc.” She let the smile fade. “Did you come here to ask about who's piloting the ship? I'm guessing you didn't.”

“No, ma'am,” Karen answered. She hesitated and looked around. “I've brought my laptop; is there a way to connect it to the flat screen television? I brought an S-video cable. It should just plug in.”

Terri nodded, stood, and made room for Karen to hook up. Within minutes, the connection was made and people had repositioned themselves to get a clear view of the screen.

“Now can you tell me what all this is about?” Terri said. Gaines and Detective Wilson moved Terri's chair to the best spot for viewing.

“Okay, first my confession.” Karen spoke as she booted her computer. “A good reporter has a personality fault — she can't let go of things until she feels she has all the answers, and if presented with a mystery … well, things just get worse. I knew you weren't being forthcoming with me, Ms. Penn.”

“I didn't know I was obliged to be.”

“You're not, but reporters like me live in a world where we think we are entitled to whatever information we want. We're not, but we act like we are. It's the only way to do our job. Once you put me off, I began to think that something was going on behind these walls. I interviewed Mr. Find and learned a few things, but the mystery continued to grow.”

Terri looked at Marlin, who shrugged. “Go on.”

“Dwayne and I spoke to one of our counterparts in Fresno. He tipped us off that Ms. Find had been seen at a house that exploded and burned. Well, that's not everyday activity for a wealthy business leader. Then came word about her possible involvement in a murder in San Diego. Murder! Conspiracies, bombings, murder: it's a gold mine for someone like me. But things weren't adding up.”

“Like what?” Detective Wilson asked.

“I'll bet this week's salary that you've been wondering the same things.” Karen worked the keyboard and mouse and the image of her computer's desktop appeared on the flat screen television.

“Bodies?” Wilson suggested.

“Yeah, bodies. That's a good place to start. In Fresno, a woman's house blows up and burns to the ground. Arson investigators discover enough evidence to know that someone planted an incendiary bomb of some sort. I imagine they're looking the scene over real hard. It's easy to get distracted
by something as remarkable as a bomb. We ask, ‘Who put it there?' Important question, but just as important is, where are the bodies? No one died in the attack. That's good. But where is the owner? Why hasn't he or she come forward?”

Karen took a breath. “Finding the owner's name was easy. I got it through public tax records then verified it with Fresno police: Ida Palek. I used LexisNexis and other tools to search newspaper articles mentioning her. I only found one, an obituary for her husband. He died less than two weeks ago.”

“Her husband dies then someone blows up her home.” The thought unsettled Terri.

“Ed Palek, coronary, died in his sleep.” She returned her attention to the computer. The obit said he was survived by his wife Ida and their son, Abel, age eight. Where there is a child there is a school record. I contacted the elementary schools in the area and got lucky. He attended Grant Elementary School — for less than one year.”

“What?” Dwayne leaned forward. “If he's eight he should be in second or third grade. Right?”

“Something like that,” Karen replied. “At first, I thought maybe his parents put him in a private school. Lots of parents do that. I asked who taught his class and then made contact with the teacher. She remembered him. She told me that he was exceptionally bright but a little quirky. He didn't fit in and the other kids were merciless. You know how kids can be.”

“So Ida Palek pulled him from the school?” Wilson asked.

“Exactly. But she didn't put him in a private school; she decided to homeschool the boy. That's also big these days.”

“What do you mean he was quirky?” Dwayne asked the question.

“First, he showed unusual memory skills. Second, he seemed far more … spiritual than a child his age should be; third — ”

“What does that mean?” Marlin interrupted.

“It means that he seemed sensitive to spiritual things. I can't explain it. I'm not a very spiritual person. The teacher did tell me that Abel would often point at people and say things like, ‘He has a lot of truth on him,' and ‘He's got lots of evil on him.' She never figured out what that meant and thought he was pretending to have superpowers like kids that age do.”

“Some superpower,” Marlin said.

Terri wanted to get back on track. “You were going to list a third quirky thing about the boy.”

“You know how schools have photography companies come in to take pictures of the kids? The parents buy packets of photos and teachers inevitably get copies from the students as gifts. She had one of Abel, scanned it, and emailed it to me.” Karen punched a key on her computer. “This is Abel.”

A photo of a dark-haired boy appeared on the screen.

“Look at those eyes.” The sight stunned Terri.

“Yeah,” Karen said. “No wonder the kids at school gave him a bad time. Anyone who looks different gets picked on. At least that's the way it happened in my school days.”

“No wonder his mom decided to homeschool,” Dwayne said. “Placing him in another environment would make no difference. Kids would tease him there too.”

Marlin shifted in his seat, making no effort to hide his impatience. “What does this have to do with my stepmother? I don't see the point.”

“You will, Mr. Find. You will.” Karen turned to her news director. “Dwayne, what is it you keep driving home to the young reporters?”

“Dig deeper, then dig some more.”

“That's what I did. The police in San Diego want to question Ms. Find about a murder in La Jolla. Now, why would she leave Ontario, fly to Fresno, then to San Diego to kill a man or aid in his killing? Detective, did you do a wants and warrants on Judith Find?”

“I did.”

“And you found no criminal record, did you?”

“None. Clean as a whistle.”

“I know that anyone can slip a cog and kill someone, but Judith Find seems the least likely person to do so. She has the kind of money to pay someone else to do her dirty business. If she is involved in the man's murder it must be self-defense or her mind snapped.”

“I wouldn't dismiss the last option too quickly,” Marlin quipped.

“Shut up, Marlin,” Terri said.

Karen seized on it. “Has she been acting strange lately, Mr. Find?”

He shook his head no. “I question her judgment all the time, but I can't say she's crazy.”

Karen turned to Terri. “What about you, Ms. Penn? Did you see anything in her words or behavior to indicate that something might be psychologically wrong?”

“Not a thing. She seemed as normal as ever.”

“Okay, then. That's just one more reason to believe she did not kill the man. I made some calls and I bet Detective Wilson did too. How did Dr. Zarefsky die?”

Wilson took his clue. “I can't go into great detail but I can tell you he took a knife in the back. The homicide detectives found Ms. Find's name scratched into the floor.”

“Sounds like a scene from a 1950s mystery movie,” Dwayne said.

“That's what the detectives thought,” Wilson said. “I spoke with the lead detective on the case and he doesn't think Zarefsky scratched the name in the wood floor.”

“Why?” Terri asked.

“Two things. First, Zarefsky bled out pretty bad. He lay in his own blood. If he wrote the name there should have been blood smears around the arm and where his body moved while scratching the name in the floor. They found none of that. The second reason is more basic. They interviewed some of Zarefsky's employees. Typical research. They learned he was a lefty. Ms. Find's name was by his right hand.”

“That means she didn't do it,” Terri said. For a moment she had a reason to smile but Wilson squashed it.

“Not necessarily. It's not proof. Not yet. It does, however, raise a lot of questions.”

Karen took over again. “I did research on the guy. He owns a corporation called Coast Fertility Care Center. It has a number of clinics in Southern California. He's a fertility doctor. He's also part of something called Cal-Genotics, a company that does research in fertility problems.”

“What connection would he have with my mother?” Marlin asked.

Karen looked at him. “She's your stepmother, right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know if she ever had children of her own?”

Terri answered. “No. I know she didn't. We've talked about it a couple of times but not in detail. She's a private
woman. She, however, did admit to being infertile.” Terri remembered the conversation. She also remembered the look on Judith's face.

“Are you saying this Zarefsky guy may have treated my mother?”

Karen shrugged. “I couldn't find evidence of that, but they were connected — connected in a way you won't believe.”

H
ow are you feeling?” Luke slowed the Humvee as he entered the next hairpin turn.

Judith opened her eyes. They felt as gritty as she felt exhausted. “My head hurts, my face is swollen, my body aches, I'm scared to death, and I'm hungry.”

“Hungry.”

“I think so. It might just be another version of fear. I can't tell.” She gazed through the windshield. “You're driving pretty slow.”

“This thing isn't a sports car; it doesn't handle all that well around these mountain corners. Besides …” He trailed off.

“Besides what?”

“We have a little time. Pennington's in a school bus. A speeding school bus would draw a lot of attention and calls to the police. He has to keep it slow. He's going to have more trouble with mountain roads than we are. The question is what to do next.”

“We can't let him get away with the kids. Once they're out of the U.S. we'll never get them back. Who knows what they plan to do with them — or to them.”

“It can't be good. This whole operation must have cost a fortune. Pennington has broken more laws than I can count. What puzzles me is why a boat? Why not load them on a charter plane?”

“Security concerns perhaps,” Judith said. “Flying internationally may require a security check of some kind. Not to mention walking a bunch of kids with purple eyes through an airport terminal might draw unwanted attention.”

“They could use a private airport,” Luke said. “Maybe you're right. Who knows what their logic is?”

“So, what do we do if we catch up to them?”

“I don't plan to catch them. There's no way we can sneak up on Pennington in this thing. He'd see us a mile off and we don't have time to try and rent another car. San Pedro is a couple of hours away, depending on traffic. Once we hit the freeways, we can make better time than Pennington. Maybe we can get to the dock before him.”