“Suit yourself, Benjy. This is your party. I’ll find out where he is. If we’re lucky I’ll be able to tell you by the time you’ve changed your clothes and checked out your office.”

“Good.” He didn’t inquire further how she was going to manage all that. He’d learned to trust Somerset. When she said she was going to do something, she usually did.

Ruth Somerset put down the phone and adjusted the bra strap that had been giving her trouble all morning. Her mind was trying furiously to adjust to this new set of circumstances.

The old man had gone fishing. The old man hadn’t gone fishing. Only one thing was certain. He was gone, and he’d evidently left in something of a hurry. According to Benjamin he’d said nothing about any incipient fishing trip during Benjy’s previous pair of visits to Riverside. That might have been an oversight on Pickett’s part, but she didn’t think so. According to Benjamin the old man had a bad heart but all his other faculties were operative, including the mental ones. Despite her better judgment she was starting to wonder if there might not be a bird at the end of her lover’s wild goose chase, and if, just maybe, it might lay golden eggs after all.

“Ms. Somerset, can you check these figures, please?”

“What?” She turned from her contemplation to see an eager young man standing before her desk. Neatly dressed, good worker. A name registered: Olson. Been with her section for nearly a year. His teeth gleamed and he wore just the right amount of cologne. Nice scent, too.

Her mind was only partly on the work he handed her, but it was enough to run the necessary check.

“Everything here looks fine, John.” She returned the papers along with a scintillating smile.

“Thanks, Ms. Somerset.” He smiled back at her, unsure how personal to take it, then beat a nervous retreat.

Cute little puppy, she mused. Sadly, she had to put him out of her thoughts.

There were only two explanations that made any sense. The first was that Pickett still suspected nothing, that he was nothing more than a forgetful old man who really had gone fishing for a few days.

The second was that he was suspicious of Benjamin’s motives in spite of Benjy’s assurance that nothing had been done to provoke such suspicions, or else something as yet unknown had made him nervous about the exam and he’d fled for reasons as yet unfathomable.

Understanding would have to come later, she told herself. The first thing to do was to find him.

She made the preliminary, obvious checks herself. No, neither the Trailways nor Greyhound offices in Riverside or San Bernadino had recently sold a ticket to a Jake Pickett. It added up, what with his car missing. She inserted a non-company diskette into a minidrive, activated a blank screen, and found a name and matching phone number which the machine autodialed.

“Hello? Lieutenant Puteney?”

“Yeah. Who’s this?” The voice at the other end of the line sounded puzzled.

“This is Ruth Somerset. Of Consolidated Chemical and Mining? Surely you haven’t forgotten me already, Lieutenant?”

The tone changed quickly. “Ruth Somerset! You’re damn right I remember you! How the hell are you?”

“Reasonably content,” she informed him. “How about yourself, Don?”

“Aw, same old routine. The usual ax murders, drownings, arsons and assaults-with-intent. Hey, when are we going to get together again?” The eagerness in his voice made her want to laugh, but she controlled herself.

“Now Don, you know that’s not easy. Besides, what would the little woman think?”

“Hey, cool it. This is only a semi-private departmental line. Somebody else could cut in on us.”

“Nobody has,” she assured him, after a quick glance at the empty LED readout set atop the phone.

“How can you be so sure?”

“My little bug killer tells me so.”

“Oh, secure phone, huh?”

“That’s right, Donny. This is my office. We don’t tolerate industrial espionage at CCM.”

“You’ve probably got more worth stealing than the LAPD,” he replied with a chuckle. “C’mon, Ruth, we can get together. I can manage things from this end.”

“Well, in that case, maybe within the next couple of months. I’m pretty busy.”

“A couple of months?” His disappointment was palpable. She was enjoying her little telephonic tease. She’d first met Lieutenant Donald Puteney when he was running security for a corporate get-together at the Century Plaza. It was an easy way for the men in blue to supplement their income. All they were likely to catch was a spilled drink. Better than a bullet out on the street.

Puteney had done even better. He’d managed to catch Ruth Somerset, though she’d done most of the netting. She’d found him mildly attractive. Her primary interest, of course, had been in acquiring a potentially valuable contact. Now she’d put that contact to use.

“Sooner, if I can manage it, Don. But first I need a little favor.”

“Uh-oh, here it comes.”

“Take it easy,” she said, pouting over the phone. “You haven’t even heard what it is, yet. And no favor, no date.”

“You haven’t given me a date yet.”

“That’s right, I haven’t, have I?” She paused, letting him stew in his own smart remark.

“Okay, I’ll try, Ruth. It depends on the favor.”

“Jake Pickett.” She spelled both names. “Two ‘T’s. Seventy-one years old, lives at”—she punched a key on one of the several terminals that lined her desk—“three thousand Hermosa Lane. That’s just outside the city of Riverside’s east limits.”

“What about him?” Puteney wanted to know.

“I need a description of his car and I need to know where it is right now. He’ll be with it.”

“You want me to put out an APB on this guy?” Puteney asked her curiously. “What’s your interest in him?”

“Private. Company business.”

“I sure as hell didn’t think it was personal. Seventy-one.”

“We have to locate him,” she continued, adding thoughtfully, “it’s for his own good. We have reason to believe he may be in some danger from exposure to dangerous chemicals. Company wants it kept quiet. You understand.”

“Sure I do. Exposure to dangerous chemicals, yeah, that’ll cover me if there’s any trouble. I shouldn’t have any problems with this. You want me to have him picked up?”

“No,” she said quickly, “that won’t be necessary. He’s no danger to anyone else.” She gave him her office number. “As soon as you run him down let me know where he’s gone to, will you? I can handle the rest from here.”

“What makes you so sure this old guy will be with his car?” Puteney asked her.

“He will be. He seems like a fairly conservative type, not the sort to go around abandoning cars.”

“If you could give me a better description of him we could look for him as well as the car.”

“That’s alright. Just find the car for me and he’ll be around. Can you get right on it?”