"Yes, exactly," Daniel said. "She'd been doing great for quite a while-years. That's what I'm trying to tell you. She loved her work at the foundation. She got to travel and hang with celebrities."
Max decided not to mention that celebrities were notorious for going in and out of rehab because of drug issues.
"Anything else I should know?" he said instead.
"She volunteered several hours a week at a local women's shelter-because of her past, you see. She credited a shelter with saving her from the streets years ago. She felt very strongly about paying it forward. And she had good friends. Another sign of a stable person, right? She and a few of her pals formed an investment club. She was planning for her future. She wouldn't have put it all at risk by going back to drugs."
"Did she date? Was there a man in her life?"
For the first time, Daniel seemed uncertain. "I don't think so. I mean, Louise dated from time to time, but usually just when she needed an escort for one of her charity functions. To tell you the truth, I don't think she liked men. I know she didn't trust them-except for me. Please say you'll take this case, Mr. Cutler."
Max took another look around the condo, absorbing the gloom. Then he looked at the earnest young man who was waiting for a response.
"There are definitely some questions here," Max said. "I'm willing to see if I can find the answers."
Daniel looked as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
"Thank you," he said. "I really appreciate this."
"One thing you should know before I start turning over rocks."
"What?"
"Sometimes, in situations like this, clients don't always like the answers I come up with. Are you sure you're okay with that?"
Some of Daniel's relief faded. "You mean you might find out that Louise really had gone back to hooking and drugs?"
"All I'm saying is that sometimes people don't like the answers that I give them. Sometimes the dead take their secrets to the grave for a reason. I want you to be sure you can live with whatever I discover."
"Yes." Daniel shoved his hands into the pockets of his windbreaker. "What I can't live with is not knowing the truth."
"All right, I'll look into your cousin's death."
Daniel nodded once. "Thanks. About your bill. Louise left this condo and her car to me. I'm going to sell the condo. I'll pay you out of the proceeds."
Max decided not to point out that condos in which the former owners had been found deceased were sometimes very hard to market.
"All right," he said. "I need to be alone here in your cousin's place for a while. I want to take a look around. Make some notes. Take a few photos."
"No problem. I'll give you the keys to this place and the ones to her storage locker downstairs and the mailbox in the lobby. Stay as long as you want. I'll let the door staff know that you have my permission to come and go whenever you want."
"Probably best not to let them know I'm investigating Louise's death. That will make everyone in the building nervous and that, in turn, will make them uncooperative. Just tell the people at the front desk that I'm helping you settle Louise's estate."
"Right." Daniel nodded. "I can do that. And it's even true in a way."
"Whenever you're telling a lie it's good to go with as much of the truth as possible. Less chance of making a mistake that way."
"Makes sense."
"One more thing before you go," Max said. "I want to take a look at Louise's car."
"Sure. It's in the garage. I found the keys in her bag."
"Let's go take a look at the vehicle together."
"Okay." Daniel shot him a curious glance. "Mind telling me why you want me with you when you look at her car?"
"Condo owners and managers get very uneasy when they see strangers wandering around inside a garage. I'm not looking to get picked up for car prowling."
"Oh, yeah, I see what you mean," Daniel said.
He went toward the door, clearly energized now that someone was going to do something about his cousin's death. Max followed him out into the hall, pausing to lock the door.
A few minutes later they exited the elevator deep in the bowels of the garage. Daniel led the way to a dark blue sedan. Max used the remote to unlock the vehicle.
There was nothing of interest in the trunk. The glove compartment contained the usual assortment of vehicle paperwork, a small box of wipes and a spare pair of sunglasses. If you lived in Seattle, you could never own too many pairs of sunglasses, Max had discovered. When the sun did decide to emerge, it invariably caught you by surprise.
He sat quietly in the front seat for a moment, studying the odometer. "How long did Louise own this car?"
"It's fairly new," Daniel said. "She bought it earlier this year."
"Not a lot of mileage on it."
"One of the reasons she liked living downtown was that she didn't have to drive to work. The headquarters of the foundation isn't far from here."
Max cranked up the GPS and reviewed the last destination that had been programmed into the device.
"Who did Louise know in Loring, Washington?" he asked.
Daniel frowned at the readout. "I have no idea. But she was a professional fund-raiser. I suppose she might have gone to Loring to talk to a potential donor."
"Whatever the reason, it looks like that was the last long drive she made in this car."
"Do you think it's important?"
"It's just a question. At this point that's all I've got. Questions."
CHAPTER 4
Charlotte unlocked the door of Jocelyn's condo and went through the ritual of deactivating the alarm system. Jocelyn was more than a little obsessed when it came to security. Not only had she installed a state-of-the-art system complete with discreetly concealed cameras in her own home, she had attempted to set up a similar arrangement in Charlotte's apartment.
Charlotte had agreed to the fancy locks and the alarm, but she had flatly refused to allow cameras to be installed. The thought of walking around her own apartment in her underwear knowing that there was a camera aimed in her direction was flat-out creepy. But, then, she was the one who had covered the built-in camera lens in her laptop with a Band-Aid.
We all have our little eccentricities, she thought.
She set the day's mail on the glass-topped console and went through it quickly. As usual, there wasn't much that looked important-Jocelyn handled all of her bills and the majority of her other personal business online. The only item that didn't look like it was junk mail was a small padded envelope. It was postmarked Seattle, but there was no return address. Jocelyn had asked her to open any mail that looked like it might be important, so she put it on the hall table and reminded herself to check it before she left.
She dumped everything else into a paper sack and left it in front of the door to grab and drop into the recycle bin on her way out.
Next, she set about watering Jocelyn's plants. She was pleased to see that the large bamboo palm was thriving. The stately dracaena was also coming along nicely.
The plants were her idea. Shortly after moving to Seattle she had given the palm to Jocelyn, who had been distinctly ambivalent about accepting the gift. But Charlotte had insisted because it was clear to her that something was needed to soften the sleek, modern interiors of the condo.
Jocelyn's home was a sharp reflection of Jocelyn herself-cool and glamorous in the way of a classic black-and-white film. The only touches of real color were the cobalt blue throw pillows and the dramatic cobalt blue wall behind the white leather sofa.
Jocelyn's decision to book a monthlong stay at the Caribbean island convent had been startling, to say the least. For one thing, the closest she had ever come to the concept of a retreat was the occasional long weekend at an exclusive spa. But she had been resolute about leaving most of her expensive vacation wardrobe as well as her tech behind. She had departed Seattle with only a backpack. True, the backpack carried a designer label; but, still, it was just a backpack. Jocelyn never traveled light.
Finished tending to the greenery, Charlotte ran some water in the sinks and flushed the toilets to keep things fresh and then she headed for the door, pausing in the hall to pick up the padded envelope.
She ripped it open. There was a smaller envelope inside. She could feel the hard shapes of a set of keys-three of them.
There was also a handwritten note on the back of the little envelope that contained the keys.
I'm probably just being paranoid here, but you know what they say-even paranoids have enemies-so I'm taking some precautions. In case it turns out that I've got a reason to be worried, I wanted to let you know that my copy of the file is in my condo storage locker. As we agreed, I didn't put any of the information online. Looking forward to buying you a drink to celebrate your return from the tech-free wilderness. Louise.
There was only one Louise in Jocelyn's small circle of female acquaintances. Louise Flint worked in the fund-raising office at the foundation where Jocelyn was employed. Louise was well aware that Jocelyn was out of town for an extended period of time. Why would she send Jocelyn a set of keys and a very odd note? It made no sense.
Charlotte glanced at the time. It was after five thirty, but there was a chance Louise might still be at her desk.