“Nowhere good. Especially since Gimuldin is the new judge on our Silent Conflict case. But listen, yesterday, I spoke with Todd Valentine at the Times. He discovered Gimuldin has an address in Santa Barbara County, 12 Oaken Drive in Montecito.”
“Pretty high-end address, for a public servant.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. Maybe it’s family money?”
“Would Lake beam WebBird at 12 Oaken Drive? What would we lose? How in hell could it hurt?”
“For starters, we can’t keep going back to the well. It’s like shooting silver bullets. Only get a few. Flip side, we don’t have any other new leads worth a damn. And we need a break. Let’s call and see.”
When they got Dave on the phone, as expected, he hemmed and hawed. Quite a bit. But finally, he agreed. He had a WebBird flight scheduled the next day. “But tomorrow’s gig has to be the last for a while,” said Dave. “We can’t push a good thing. Check Fed X on Thursday for the UTD.”
“UTD?” said Ridge.
“Unmarked thumb drive.”
“Roger that.”
After Ridge thanked Dave and hung up, Terry asked if he had time to discuss a personal item. Hearing “sure,” Terry described his conversation with Ava the previous evening.
“So, she was using you,” Ridge said, his voice tight. The idea of Ava pulling such a stunt did not sit well, to say the least. Of course, Terry was a grown man, but Ridge and Jayne had seen him with Ava enough times that they’d long ago decided he’d be better off moving on. “If you hadn’t found that text, she wouldn’t have said a word. But then again, maybe, she’s learned a lesson this time. Maybe now you can trust her? You’ve gotta decide, Kapow. But I’d say let things cool off plenty, before you make any big decisions.”
Terry nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I think too. Meanwhile, I’m going to check out this Censkey character. My gut tells me he’s somehow involved in everything that’s gone on lately, and the SOB might even lead us to pay dirt.”
CHAPTER 49
On Wednesday, Ridge got up early to spend more time with the hummingbirds. Then he had court in the morning and a deposition in the afternoon. Jayne returned from her computer presentation in Palm Desert around 6 p.m., and they had dinner at the Boiling Pot near the Manhattan Beach Pier. Sitting on wooden chairs at a rustic plank table outside, overlooking the famous pier and its red-roofed roundhouse, Ridge glanced up from his large plastic menu.
“I forgot to ask. Can you meet the glass guy tomorrow morning? He needs to measure our Swiss-cheese sliding doors for new glass.”
“As long as Pistol and Mister are with me.”
Ridge nodded. “Always. Especially after what happened Monday night.”
“Yeah. I’m getting pretty tired of strange men in our apartment.”
“Well, there’s always me,” said Ridge.
“Mister and Pistol are enough protection during the day.”
“No, I was referring to ‘strange men’.”
Jayne laughed. “No doubt about that.” She reached out and tapped the back of his hand. “But strange in a lotta good ways.”
Ridge smiled, then went back to studying the wine and beer section of the menu.
Lake’s thumb drive arrived at 10 a.m. on Thursday. Ridge booted up his computer and called Terry into his office. When Terry arrived, Ridge clicked away on the drive. It had a video file. Ridge opened it and they both watched.
“Wow.” Terry let out a low whistle. “That’s quite a spread for a government employee. Especially since he reportedly only uses it on long weekends and holidays.”
“Gotta be family money?”
“You certainly don’t afford that on a government salary,” Terry said. “Even in a down-market, that property has to be worth 10 million, maybe more. It’s a full-blown estate. The main building looks like the White House. If the White House were gray.”
“One thing’s for sure, we need to know more about this guy. His background, his cases. If this isn’t family money…”
“On it.”
Ridge turned to Terry. “Before I forget, Jayne and I are taking a short getaway to Oyster Bay Resort in San Diego. Tomorrow through Tuesday. My better half says we need a break. Who can argue?”
“Best not.”
“Roger that. But while we’re gone, can you check in on Pistol and Mister at the apartment—once in the morning, once at night?”
“Will do.”
Ridge smiled. “You’re my man.”
“Bet on it, amigo.”
CHAPTER 50
“Shit. Goddamnit to hell.” Hess kicked a rotting bale of hay, then stared at Two. “Never fuckin’ rains. Only pours—it’s a shitstorm. I put in the time, lots of time, training those little twits we captured near USC the other night. Then His Eminence worked on ’em yesterday, and now he tells me to get rid of ’em. All except the golden boy. That’s three girls and one guy—definitely not ready for the world stage.”
“Let me work with ’em,” begged Two.
“One twit teaching other twits? I don’t think so.”
