“The cookies are here!” A cheery voice from the foyer broke into our high-level meeting, just in time. An energetic fifty-something woman, in a red-and-black power suit and pumps, despite the heat, burst into the kitchen. “Sorry I’m a little late, but Brokers’ Open House is now officially under way.”
The woman tore plastic wrap from a plate of chocolate chip cookies; they smelled warm and homemade.
We dug in, ready for something sweet and simple.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It didn’t help that there was a stack of wedding presents waiting for us on Elaine’s doorstep. A UPS truck seemed to have dumped half its load of cartons, large and small, meant to cheer and honor the bride and groom. But the pile of boxes was simply one more reminder that, instead of happily anticipating and celebrating a joyous event, we were accumulating one mystery after another.
Rose’s gift had already arrived, even before Matt and I did. On our first evening in California, Elaine had shown me the beautiful hand-fashioned wine set—eight glasses, a decanter, and a tray, all in bold stained glass colors.
Matt and I had yet to decide on a present. I’d tried to get a hint from Elaine, but she refused to give one, claiming our trip was present enough.
“Anyway, if I ask for something, it’ll be too much like registering at some mall store, which I hate,” she’d said. “A gift should be a gift. Whatever moves you.”
Matt arrived soon after Dana, Elaine, and I reached home. His step seemed lighter now that he’d communicated with Russell, his fellow law enforcer.
“Phil is still among the missing,” Elaine said, by way of a greeting to Matt. From her tone she might have been a hostess checking off guests invited to a party. Or a wedding. I wondered if she felt an obligation to appear strong for Dana.
It had been more than forty-eight hours since I’d watched Phil walk out of the bagel shop, the last of this immediate circle to see him.
In a movie, I’d be the prime suspect.
Dana briefed Matt on the situation with the phony Valley Med invoices. She’d noticed that Julia Strega’s fictitious driving duties rotated among two dozen or so EMTs.
“Probably to avoid tax problems,” Matt said. “This way no one individual EMT’s tax returns are going to be flagged as not matching the company’s statements.”
“Also, there are some fake EMTs here,” Dana said. “I don’t know absolutely everyone in the company personally, but I’m pretty sure I know all the names, from seeing the schedule in the lounge, and from talking. You know, who’s a good partner, who’s an a—” She flushed. For whose benefit had she cleaned up her vocabulary? I wondered.
“A what?” A tease from Elaine, one of few light moments lately.
“A jerk,” Dana said with a smile. She ran her fingers down the list. “Gary Langland, Marcia Streich, Jose Williams. Who are these people?”
“Julia would sprinkle phony names among the real ones, again, just for cover,” Matt said.
“This could be why Phil is missing,” Elaine said. “What if someone is holding him … hostage”—her voice cracked; she glanced at Dana and continued—“because he uncovered Julia’s scam?”
I mentally amended her statement, pending some explanation Julia might give, to alleged scam. Hanging around Matt will do that to you.
Inspector Dennis Russell had not been impressed, according to Matt. Not by Robin’s taking over the printing of Dana’s incident report, and certainly not by her new wardrobe. Russell took custody of the Dorman Industries ID Dana had found in Robin’s closet, but without comment. He had listened to a description of Phil’s connection to Lokesh Patel through Dorman Industries, but again without interest.
“Unless we’re ready to report Phil missing,” Matt said, with a look around the table.
Elaine gave me a helpless look. “Not yet,” she said. “It’s still sort of within the window …”
I gathered Phil had done this before—that is, be even less considerate than Elaine had made him out to be. Not my problem, I told myself.
“Russell did say he wanted the briefcase immediately,” Matt said, “and that we were not to fiddle with it.”
“Fiddle?” I asked.
“His word.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t detain you until he took custody of it.”
“I told him it was at Phil’s house, so they’re headed over there.” Matt was not about to encourage a joke at the expense of a fellow officer.
Elaine looked at Dana, and they both looked at me. “The briefcase is here,” we all said, out of synch.