“I wonder what could have made him suspicious,” Somerset was saying. “I can’t understand his sudden change of mind about the exam.”
“Yeah, me too,” said Huddy. “Maybe he just doesn’t like tests but was too macho to admit it. This way he doesn’t have to tell me he’s afraid in person. But I don’t think that’s it. I don’t like this development one bit, sweetness.”
“Are you sure you didn’t say anything the last time, Benjy, to make him suspicious, to give him an idea why you really wanted him to take your exam?”
“I can’t imagine what I might’ve said,” Huddy told her honestly. “I didn’t allude to his magic tricks at all. I don’t know why he’d suspect my motives.”
“Then,” said Somerset from the other end, “maybe he really has gone fishing.”
“Maybe,” said Huddy reluctantly.
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll track him down anyway. It’ll be simpler if he has gone fishing.”
“What if he has?”
“Then we wait for him to finish his vacation, catch his limit or whatever, and come back home. I know you’re impatient to have Doctor Navis start in on him, Benjy, but maybe it would be better to wait.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” Huddy insisted. “If he’s sitting on the shore of some half-empty lake up in the mountains I’d just as soon send the boys up there to pick him up.” His spirits rose slightly. “Come to think of it, that’d be even easier than what we were going to try today. Yeah, maybe the old boy’s done us a favor, even if he’s inconvenienced us some in the short run.”
“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.
