The Escape Artist (10 page)

“I think it’s Sebastian they should be going after,” Jim said. “They need to rake him over the coals. I’m sure he knows more than he’s saying.”

“Rausch talked to him today. He made Linc go into the station for the interview, thinking it would be better if he wasn’t on his home turf, but he said he didn’t get anywhere with him.”

“I would guess that Linc’s an old pro at being interviewed by the police,” Jim scoffed. “What about tapping his phone?”

“Rausch said it’s too expensive and the taps have to be manned twenty-four hours a day. But they’re getting a search warrant so they can look at his phone records to see who he’s called and who he’s received calls from. That’ll cover his faxes, too. And they can check his bank records to see if he took out a lot of money to help her get away or if he’s taking out money to send to her. Also, the police have checked Susanna’s bank records.”

Jim raised his eyebrows. “And?”

“And she withdrew eight thousand dollars over the last few weeks, bit by bit.”

“Phew. Still, that won’t get her too far for too long.”

Peggy laughed. “Susanna’s more frugal than you are,” she said. Actually, Susanna could probably last a lot longer on eight thousand dollars than either she or Jim could.

She’d reached the end of her stack of information. With a sigh, she leaned her head against Jim’s shoulder and rested her hand on his chest. “Does it surprise you that she did this?” she asked. “I mean, you always said Susanna lacked ambition. Get up and go. This took quite a bit of get up and go, I’d say.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Jim said. “If you ask me, this fiasco is simply the work of an unstable mind, and that she definitely has. I have to admit, though, that I never thought of her as much of a fighter. Mostly, I am surprised that she hasn’t screwed up and gotten caught yet.” He let out a long sigh. “I should have listened to my father.”

Peggy understood what he was talking about. Long ago, Jim’s father had tried to dissuade him from marrying Susanna. “She’ll hold you back,” he’d warned him. Jim’s family may have had little money, but they had plenty of pride, and ambition to spare. They didn’t want someone like Susanna to pull them down.

Jim moved forward on the sofa, turning to look at her, and she saw love in his eyes. “I’m sorry this happened, Peg,” he said. “It seemed for a while as though everything was going to work out just the way we wanted.”

“I know.”

He touched her cheek. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. “I hate seeing that sad look on your face.”

“I’m okay.” She smiled at him.

Jim leaned away from her and stretched. “Why don’t we have some dinner?” he suggested. “We can talk more about this later. Maybe in bed?” He looked hopeful, and she felt torn between guilt and annoyance. Her libido had disappeared. Nothing like losing your baby to kill desire. Jim had wanted to make love this past weekend, too, and she’d put him off. She didn’t know how he could even think about sex with everything else going on.

She looked down at the pile of information on her lap. “Jim, I feel like I’m doing this all on my own.”

“Doing what?” he asked. “You mean, getting the information on finding Tyler?”

She nodded.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Peg.” He put his arm around her and pulled her against him again. “It’s just that you’ve got this time off, and I’m working like a dog. I do appreciate all you’re doing, though. You let me know how I can help, okay?”

Now that he’d offered, she wasn’t sure what she could suggest. He was right. She had the time to do this. He didn’t. She simply didn’t like the sense of being alone in the battle. She’d talked to Nancy Curry about the situation the other night.

“Men just have different ways of handling disappointment,” Nancy had reassured her. “They can’t deal with it directly, so they have to block it out with work or sex or whatever they can find to keep their minds off it.” That fit Jim, all right.

“What I would really like,” Peggy said, “is your permission to hire the PI.”

Jim sighed. “If you honestly think it would help, go ahead.”

She smiled. “Thank you.” She leaned forward to kiss him, and he didn’t let her go. She tried to let her lips linger on his, but all she could think about was making the call to Bill Anderson.

Jim shook his head, pulling away from her with a smile. “You’ve got one thing on your mind, don’t you, and it’s not going to bed with your husband.”

He was right. She kissed him again, told him she loved him, then went into the kitchen to make the call.

BILL ANDERSON LEANED FORWARD
on the sofa, notepad on his knee, and Linc noticed that the private investigator was keeping one wary eye on Sam. The dog, who was now lying at Linc’s feet, had let out a wise and knowing growl when Anderson walked in the door, and Linc had had a hard time keeping a straight face.

“So,” Anderson said, “when was the last time you saw her?”

Everyone’s favorite question. “I’ve already answered—”

“I know. For the police. But not for me. So bear with me, all right?”

Linc sighed and gave in. Bill Anderson was small and a little too slick in his three-piece suit, and he was suffering from an upper respiratory infection, sniffing grotesquely every few seconds or so.

“I last saw her in my car after the judge’s decision,” he said. “We picked up Tyler from day care and I drove them home.”

“And what did you talk about?”

“I don’t remember,” he answered honestly. “We were both pretty depressed.”

“Did you go into the house with her?”

“No. I went home. We spoke again on the phone that night. She sounded all right. She certainly didn’t say anything about leaving.” He didn’t mention how odd it was that she hadn’t wanted him around that evening.

“Had she ever mentioned to you places she might like to visit?” Bill asked.

Linc hardly heard the question. His mind was on his knapsack where a fresh pack of Marlboros was waiting for him. Grace and Valerie were in the house, though. He didn’t dare light up with the two of them there. He tried to bring his focus back to the investigator’s question.

“Sorry,” he said. “What did you say?”

Anderson repeated his question.

“Contrary to what her ex-husband might have told you,” Linc answered, “Susanna is not stupid. She wouldn’t try to hide out someplace she’d told people she wanted to go.”

“Well, tell me anyway.” Bill Anderson wore a patronizing smirk.

“She hadn’t traveled much,” Linc said. “I think the only place she’d ever been outside of Colorado was California. She said she’d like to go to Hawaii one day. And Europe. She was intrigued by Italy, because she wanted to see all the old artwork.” He hoped that would be enough to keep the little guy happy.

From behind the closed kitchen doors, he could smell the aroma of the chicken soup Grace and Valerie were making. He’d found the women waiting on his doorstep when he got home from teaching his class at the university that afternoon. They were going to nurse him “back to mental health,” they insisted. As soon as Bill Anderson’s car pulled up, though, Linc had shoved his friends into the kitchen and told them to stay there. He didn’t want Anderson badgering them, too.

“Any family you know of in other parts of the country? Hers, or possibly yours?” Bill Anderson sniffed again, and Linc considered getting the box of tissues from the bathroom and shoving it in his lap.

“I have a few cousins in Colorado Springs,” he said, “but Susanna really doesn’t know them, and she has no family herself. Besides, she wouldn’t go someplace where people knew her.”

Bill jotted something down on his notepad. Sam rose to a seated position, resting his big black head on Linc’s knee and riveting his dark eyes on the PI, who recoiled slightly under his gaze.

“What about her mother?” Bill asked. “Do you know where she is?”

“She hasn’t seen her mother since she was a teenager.” Linc scratched the dog behind his ears. “And I’m certain Susanna has no idea where she lives. Even if she knew, she would never turn to her for help.” His own mother would have been a more likely choice, but she had died two years ago.

“Any other name she might go by?”

He shook his head. He had thought about that himself. What name would she use if she decided to change hers?

“How about her maiden name?”

“No. She hated the name Miller, but she hated Wood even worse.”

“What was her understanding of Tyler’s medical condition?” Bill asked.

“She understood it completely.”

“Do you think Tyler’s in danger?”

“Not in the least.” Maybe he could sneak a cigarette after the PI left and before Grace and Valerie realized he was alone. He needed to check the faxes in his studio. He could lock the door, and—

“What special skills did she have?”

“Special skills?” Linc was unable to stop his quick smile, and he could have kicked himself when Bill Anderson gave him a knowing grin in return. He was disgusted with himself for allowing this man a personal glimpse into his relationship with Susanna.

“Besides
those
skills,” Anderson said.

Linc ignored him. “She’s great with children,” he said. “She’s a terrific mother.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bill waved a bored hand through the air. “Tell it to the judge.”

“She’s nurturing and compassionate and very sensitive to other people.”

“Uh huh.”

“She’s artistic.”

Bill’s dark eyes narrowed to slits. “Artistic? Her husband didn’t say anything about that.”

“That’s because her husband didn’t care. He wanted her to waste her talent working in a bank so he could go to law school and find himself a lawyer to marry.”

“Well, aren’t we bitter?” Bill smirked again. “What else can you tell me that I haven’t already heard from her husband?”

“She’s smart. I’m sure you didn’t hear that.”

“Do you think her taking off like this was smart?”

“Do you want me to help locate her, or do you want me to get into a philosophical and moral discussion about the wisdom of her leaving?” he asked. “Because I have plenty to say on that topic.”

“Forget I asked.”

“She can type like a bat outta hell. She’s good with numbers. With money.”

“Yeah. I spoke to her supervisor at the bank,” Bill said.

Sam stood up and walked over to the PI, tail wagging slowly, waiting for a pat. Bill raised his hands into the air. “You wanna call your dog off?” he asked.

Linc had to laugh. “Come here, Sam.” He reached out his hand, and Sam returned to lay at his feet once again, while Bill slowly lowered his hands to his lap.

“Besides you and her coworkers at the bank, did she have any other good friends around here?”

“Just Grace Talbot and Valerie Diehl.”

“Oh, yeah. The lesbos.”

Linc rolled his eyes.

Bill flipped through his notes. “Let’s see. Talbot works in the library at the university and Diehl teaches psychology. She’s a shrink, right?”

“That’s right.”
And they’re also in my kitchen right this minute, but I’ll be damned if I’m letting you talk to them
.

“Any chance Miller could have taken off with another woman?” Bill asked.

That did it. “I think you’ve worn out your welcome, friend,” Linc said, standing up. “I don’t know what more I can tell you.”

Bill Anderson stood up himself. “If you honestly don’t know where she is and whether she’s safe or whatever, I would think you’d want her found,” he said.

“Look,” Linc said, “I’m not hiding anything from you. Susanna was smart enough to leave me in the dark too.” And he had not yet forgiven her for it.

He and Sam walked Bill Anderson to the door and watched as the investigator negotiated the long, winding driveway in his aging Mercedes. Back in the living room, Linc looked down the hall toward his studio. Not enough time for a cigarette. He walked instead into the kitchen, where Grace was stirring the soup and Valerie was pulling dinner rolls from the oven.

“God, what a jerk,” Linc said.

Grace shoved a shock of short, prematurely white-gray hair behind her ear as she looked up from the stove. “Put him out of your mind,” she said. “Just sit down and let us lesbos take care of you.”

He groaned. “You could hear him?”

“He sounds like an asshole.” Valerie set a basket of the rolls on the table along with a plastic tub of margarine. She took Linc’s arm and sat him down at the head of the big oak table.

“You guys are going to join me, I hope,” Linc asked.

“Absolutely.” Grace carried two bowls of soup to the table and sat down next to him. Valerie joined them a moment later with her own steaming bowl.

“Smells great,” Linc said, dipping his spoon into the soup. It was very thick, more of a stew, and he suddenly realized he was hungry. “He might want to talk with you two,” he said after he’d eaten a bit. “I told him you were friends of hers.”

“Let him,” Grace said. “I doubt we’d be able to help him much.” Grace was the head of the American Studies section of the university library. Linc had met her when he’d donated part of his American music collection to the library, and their friendship had been quick to develop. She was outspoken, loud-voiced. It was hard to believe she was a librarian.

Valerie, on the other hand, was quiet and analytical. The two women were the same height and build, and they wore the same hairstyle, but Valerie’s hair was as black as Grace’s was white. Linc thought they looked terrific together. Salt and pepper.

Grace leaned over and sniffed the shoulder of his shirt. “You’re smoking again!” she accused.

He sniffed his shirt himself, taking a deep breath of stale tobacco smell. “I was in a smoky restaurant for lunch,” he lied.

“Oh, Linc,” Grace said. “You’re going down the tubes.”

“Give him a break,” Valerie said. “He’s endured a terrible blow. Let him regress a little.”

“Yeah, let me regress.” He offered Grace a smile, but she turned away in what he hoped was mock disgust.

“I think you should go out with Val and me tonight,” she said. “We can do a movie. Okay?”

He shook his head. “No, I have to tape the show tomorrow morning, and I haven’t put it together yet. I haven’t even checked my faxes yet.” Most of the musical requests for his show came in by fax these days.