Sinister Sudoku (13 page)

“Yeah,” Michael said sarcastically. “Hurry back to your precious inn. Protect your job.” Liza put a hand on Buck’s shoulder, ready to propel him into the middle of things when Kevin swung at Michael. Instead, Kevin flinched. Then, without a good-bye to anybody, he left.

“Ah, man,” Michael said after the door closed. “I didn’t mean—”

You didn’t
think, Liza thought, frowning.
And I didn’t think Kevin was taking his situation so seriously.

“I’m afraid I won’t be going with you,” Mrs. Halvorsen spoke up. She put her hands to her face. Liza reached out a hand to Mrs. H.’s shoulder. The older woman had done her best to hold up under all this, but—

“Of course not.” Buck’s voice was unexpectedly gentle as he bent over her. “I wouldn’t expect you to do that. It’s just that after making sure your home was safe from eavesdropping, it seemed a good place to discuss our next moves.”

Mrs. H. looked up. “You’re very kind, young man— especially since I don’t believe this is the usual way you do business.”

Buck stared down at her, speechless, as she summoned up a weak smile. “Not that I don’t appreciate it. But if you need to be tough to find out who killed my brother, feel free to be as tough as you need to be.” She straightened up. “Chris was killed over that painting he stole. I’m sure of that. If you need to find the picture to force whoever killed Chris into the open, you do that, too.”

“We’ll do our best, Mrs. H.,” Liza promised.

“That’s right,” Michael added.

“Count on it,” Buck rumbled.

They went outside to Buck’s rental car. “So,” Buck asked, “you want to be navigator?”

“I want to use the bathroom,” she confessed. “But I hated the idea of ruining our dramatic exit by asking to use the one at Mrs. H.’s.”

“Okay, bathroom break,” Buck looked over at Michael.

“I’m good,” Michael assured him.

“Better to make sure before we go,” Buck said severely. “And if I hear one ‘Are we there yet?’” from the backseat, you’re walking home, young man.

“There speaks the father of the year,” Liza muttered, leading the way back to her house.

Soon enough they were on the road. The drive down to Otis went by pretty unremarkably. The 101 was the big artery through the area, the first to be cleared of snow and any fallen trees. Buck drove his unfamiliar vehicle with authority, but without maniac speed. In about forty-five minutes, they arrived in the town of Otis, trying to track down the address Buck had given to Liza. “There’s a map in the glove compartment,” he said.

The address they were looking for was on a street of good-sized, well-kept houses. “There,” Liza said, pointing. Buck pulled over, and they all got out.

“Do we need to come up with some sort of approach here?” Michael asked.

Buck shook his head. “I think we just go in straight, asking about Dalen.” He paused. “We could mention the sister— Mrs. H., was it?”

“Elise Halvorsen,” Liza said.

“Right.” Buck led the way up the short walk and knocked on the door. It opened to reveal a man probably a few years older than Mrs. H., tall, slightly stooped. His white hair was cut short and his face was attractive, lined and creased in a way that Liza associated with outdoorsmen.

This could be Kevin in about thirty-five years,
she thought, looking at the squint lines around the man’s eyes. She noticed there were also laugh lines around his mouth.

“Mister Partland?” Michael asked.

“That’s me,” the man replied.

Buck brought out his wallet. “I’m a private investigator—”

The open expression on Lewis Partland’s face abruptly shut down. “If you’re from that damned jackass on the phone, I already told him to go to hell.”

“Whoa!” Liza called out to the closing door. “What jackass?”

“The jackass that just called a few minutes ago,” Partland replied. “Tarleton, I think he said his name was.”

“We’re definitely
not
with him,” Liza assured the old lawyer.

“Oh, you’re some other bunch. Treasure hunters?” His brown eyes might be surrounded by wrinkles, but they were direct and clear as they took Liza in. “At least you’re more polite and better looking than the jackass.”

“I’m a neighbor of Elise Halvorsen’s,” Liza said. “She was Chris Dalen’s sister.”

“His sister Elise,” Partland said. “Yes, he used to talk about her.” He shook his head. “I read about Chris in the papers. That was a bad business.”

“Tell me about it,” Liza’s response was heartfelt. “I found the body.”

“You’re the sudoku lady!” Partland said suddenly. “I’ve seen your picture in the paper. And I love your column. I’m working on one of those idiot books right now where they give you a suggested time limit.”

He looked disgusted. “You should write a book and not waste time on wild-goose chases. Leave it to that Tarleton guy. He sounded like a prime variety of jackass— the rich kind. Told me there was money in it for me if I gave him what he wanted. When I told him I didn’t want his money, he turned nasty. Started explaining to me as if I were simpleminded that he was an important man, and that there would be serious consequences if I didn’t get in line.”

Partland’s broad, stooped shoulders rose and fell. “I own the house free and clear and have enough to live on—”

He broke off. “You don’t need to hear that, or bother with looking for something that’s lost and gone.”

“We’re just trying to help Mrs. Halvorsen get through a tough time,” Liza told him. “Chris was supposed to come and stay with her after he was released. This whole thing has been a shock for her.”

“She was the only one Chris worried over.” A reminiscent look came over Partland’s wrinkled features. “Said she was married to some big glom who wouldn’t even let her speak to him.”

He stepped aside from the door. “Well, come in, come in. As my dear wife used to say, no use letting all the heat out of the house.”

It wasn’t all that warm inside. Liza noticed that Partland wore a thick sweater. He brought them into the living room and indicated some seats, then settled into the big, battered armchair that was obviously his domain. “I don’t know that there’s much I can tell your neighbor.” He shot a sharp glance over at Buck. “And not a damned thing I can say about that Mondrian.”

Partland sighed. “I told him from the beginning there wasn’t much I could do for him. There was an inside man—a guy who worked for the museum and gave him alarm codes and stuff. They got on to him quickly, and he squealed. Instead of getting rid of everything the way he was supposed to, the idiot even kept some tools. Some of them even had Dalen’s fingerprints on them. The only way to get out from under this would have meant giving up the Mondrian, and Chris flat-out refused even to consider that.”

“He was a very stubborn guy,” Liza said.

The lawyer nodded vigorously. “I thought he was going to fire me for pressing the issue of returning the picture. Instead,he just went to insisting that he was innocent. Tried to concoct himself an alibi, but the heat was on. None of his associates wanted to be caught out in the spotlight with him.”

“Did you know any of his associates?” Buck asked offhandedly.

That earned him another sharp glance from Partland. “In my line of work, I got to know a lot of what they now call ‘career criminals.’ Dalen was one of the more benign examples. He might have to crack safes or locks, but he never cracked anyone’s head when he stole something.”

The lawyer sighed. “Chris just pleaded innocent and watched the ship go down. Like I said, the thing that worried him most was how his big sister would take it.”

He spread his hands. “Now, I’ve had an interesting stroll down memory line, but it’s like I told that knucklehead on the phone. I didn’t now what happened with the picture all those years ago, and I haven’t heard anything since.”

They thanked Partland, got in Buck’s car, and headed back to Maiden’s Bay.

“Oh, this is great,” Michael said sourly. “What did that guy call us? Treasure hunters?”

“That’s what this thing has turned into—a treasure hunt,” Liza disgustedly agreed. “And the other teams are snagging clues ahead of us.”

She turned to Buck, who had said nothing. But she saw he had his cop face working overtime. “I tried digging for Partland, but he pretty much dropped off the map after he retired.” Buck’s hands were tight on the steering wheel, as if he hoped to squeeze an answer out of it. “But it was Michelle who turned up an address for the guy. She really had to work her sources.”

“So?” Michael asked.

“I could imagine Carlowe getting to Partland first. I’m not on good terms with most of my old LAPD colleagues, while Rod always knew where to spread the graft. Even that insurance investigator—”

“Howard Frost,” Liza filled in the name.

Buck nodded. “I could see him tracking Partland down.” But Tarleton?”

“Well, we know he wasn’t bugging our meeting,” Michael said facetiously.

But Buck nodded again, grimly literal. “The information was leaked.”

“You can’t be saying—” Liza began.

Buck’s face remained stony. “Unless your pal Mrs. H. is on Tarleton’s payroll, the only other possible leak is your friend Kevin.”

They drove the next few miles in silence as she slowly digested the idea and got angrier and angrier. “The next exit is for Killamook,” she said. “Get off the highway there.”

Following Liza’s directions, they soon pulled up in front of the Killamook Inn. Stepping into the reception area, Liza found John the assistant manager behind the desk. “Is Kevin around?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice mild.

“He’s in his office,” John replied, reaching for the phone.

“Don’t call him,” Liza said. “Let’s make this a surprise.”

Kevin’s office held a lot of mementos from his days as a guide—fishing rods, hand-carved duck decoys, and of course his grandfather’s bear rug. It also held a good-sized desk, a couple of comfortable armchairs for visitors, and a big leather executive chair where Kevin sat, going over some paperwork.

He looked up in surprise as his uninvited guests walked in. “Liza! What—?”

“No,” she said, “the question is ‘Why?’ Why did you take the information about Lewis Partland straight from our meeting to Fritz Tarleton?”

Kevin dropped the papers and stared at his slightly messy desktop. “I—” he began, then stopped.

“Let’s see if I can fill in the blank,” Buck said quietly. “Lewis Partland gave a quick rundown on Tarleton’s methods. First he offered you money. Then he tried threats.”

Slowly, Kevin nodded. “Remember how he asked to see me when I brought you to dinner, Liza? That was the money offer. He told me he was meeting with Chris Dalen later that night and he wanted it kept private.”

Kevin let out a long breath. “From there, the veiled threats started.”

“I remember you talking about how important Tarleton could be to the inn during dinner,” Liza said.

“He’s been putting the screws to me for two days, talking about recommendations for the owners of the inn. I’ve put years into building up this place. My job is on the line.”

“That sucks.” Michael spoke from experience. He’d had scripting jobs scuttled by producers or backers throwing their weight around.

“Tarleton knew this was my first management job. His security guy—McShane—had a whole dossier on me.” Kevin glanced over at Liza. “He had one on you, too, and he was convinced that you would start poking around in this case. So he wanted the inside track.”

His hands knotted together on the desktop. “I was desperate, so I decided to throw him a bone. I told him about that retired lawyer.”

“So Tarleton made a phone call, and Partland nearly slammed the door in our faces,” Buck said.

Kevin looked over at the detective. “I figured if the old guy knew anything, he’d have said spoken up already.”

Buck glanced at Liza and Michael. “That is a point.”

“The real point of this is that you should have told us what Tarleton was doing,” Liza said.

“What good would that have done?” Kevin’s voice sounded tired.

“I’ll show you.” Liza reached for the phone. “Mind if I make a long-distance call?”

In moments she heard a voice announcing, “M-Markson Associates.”

Another temp,
Liza thought,
and one who won’t last very long.

“Liza Kelly for Michelle, please,” she said.

“I—I don’t—” the stammering voice replied.

“Just tell her who’s calling. Liza Kelly,” Liza repeated. “And if she fires you, well, look on the bright side. You’ll be out of there.”

“You’re right.” At least the voice stopped stammering. Liza found herself briefly on hold, then heard Michelle’s voice.

“What’s the news?” her partner wanted to know.

“We talked to Lewis Partland, and I’m afraid he wasn’t much help. But something else came up.” Liza gave a brief rundown on what had being going on between Tarleton and Kevin.

“I don’t like people who use crude blackmail,” Michelle said.

That’s because you use it so much more subtly—and effectively,
Liza silently commented.

“However—” Michelle drew out the word, something she usually did when coming to a decision. “Maybe we can show Mr. Tarleton the error of his ways. Can you put this on the speaker?”

Luckily, Kevin’s phone was equipped with this feature.

“Buck,” Michelle asked, “what was the name of that unsuitable boyfriend Ritz Tarleton picked up? Tinsel?”

“Tyndal,” Buck replied. “Small-time grifter and provider of recreational chemicals for the celebutante crowd.”

“More like celebri
tart
,” Michelle said. “Mr. Tyndal is also something of an amateur filmmaker. He and Ritz Tarleton made a rather boring sex video.”

“That would explain why Daddy had a whole can of whup-ass opened on him,” Michael muttered.