W
hen they entered Barbara's office, she stopped by Shelley's open door and said, “Come on back.” Shelley looked from Barbara to Frank and nodded. Maria started to hand Barbara a note of messages, withdrew it and put it down. “Get Bailey, and hold any calls,” Barbara said to her, and continued on to her office.
“Order up some sandwiches,” Frank said to Maria. “For you, too. Hang around. We might need you.” He followed Barbara, and Shelley hurried in after him.
“Dad, will you fill her in?” Barbara said. “I have to think.” She sat behind her desk and Frank and Shelley took the comfortable chairs across the room. As Frank began to talk in a low voice, she swiveled to face the wall behind her. Frank's voice became no more than a distant rumble as she thought furiously about the turn the case had taken.
When the rumble ceased, she swiveled back and stood up to join them at the round table. “We have a whole new ball game on our hands. We have a client who doesn't know who she is, and we can't tell her. I don't think Carrie can put the pieces together. She might not even know the name of her aunt. She had just turned seven, and how many families use last names around children? So I don't think she can make the connection now even if she regains her memory. But she might have seen or heard something that made her a danger to whoever placed that bomb, and whoever hid her away knows who she is, and might be watching her and us.”
“It had to be the government,” Shelley said in a hushed voice. “A witness protection plan, something like that.”
Barbara nodded. “I think that's it. But it's still speculation. And I don't want her to vanish again. So we play it really close. What I want now is a complete rundown on Senator Atherton. What he was up to in the seventies, and especially where he is now, if he's alive. He had a ranch over by Pendleton in 1978, and he may still be there.”
“You can't go after him,” Frank said heavily. “That would be a giveaway.”
“I want information, and I'll think what to do with it later,” she said. She turned to Shelley again. “I hate to ask this, but you're the one for the job. You had a year of doing title searches down in California, and you know how to go about it. I can't ask for outside help. I want a list of the construction jobs the Wenzels did in California from 1970 to 1975. How much they paid out, how much they took in, and whose names are on permits and things like that. They arrived here in 1975 with at least two million, and I doubt they made that much building isolated motels and gas stations.”
Shelley nodded. “I can do that. It's on record.”
“We don't even know exactly where they did most of their work. Apparently through Southern California, down to the border, maybe all the way across to Arizona. I just don't know, and at this point I don't want to ask more questions of anyone down there. But I do want the locations of their projects, what they involved, how much they cost and so on. Maybe on a topo map. Do you have court cases coming up?”
“A few. I can work around them.” She thought a moment, then said, “You know my mother hasn't been feeling well recently. I might have to take off a few days a week and visit her. You know, fly down, stay a few days, fly back. I think she'll be much better in three or four weeks.”
“Give her my regards,” Barbara said. “Okay, Atherton first.”
After Shelley left, Frank regarded Barbara with a bleak expression. “You realize it's a stretch trying to connect early California to here and now.”
“I know. But it's connected. You know it as well as I do. It
is
connected.”
He didn't dispute her. “I know the Earth and moon are connected by gravity, but I sure can't get there from here.”
Bailey and Maria entered bearing sandwiches and coffee. “Shelley helped herself as we passed her door,” Bailey said.
“Anything else for me to do now?” Maria asked at the door.
“One thing,” Barbara said. “I need a topo map or several, whatever it takes to cover Southern California from around San Diego south, and over to Arizona. Want to go shopping after you eat?”
Maria nodded and left them. As they ate the sandwiches, Barbara told Bailey what they had learned from Louise Braniff, then said, “So forget Frederick. Dead issue.”
“Who?” Bailey said. “Now what?”
“I want a transcript of Joe Wenzel's college days at UCLA. He went for three years. That's for starters.”
He eyed her morosely and reached for another sandwich. “Here it comes,” he muttered.
“Right.” She told him what Shelley would be doing, then said, “Coordinate it with her. Concentrate on late spring and early summer of 1972. As she locates their jobs, scour surrounding towns for newspaper stories about anything out of the ordinary. Bombs. Arsons. Killings. Like that. I don't know what you'll be looking for, but something that might have sent Joe Wenzel out of there in a hurry. Something that might eventually have led to blackmail. Whatever it was might have sent H. L. Blount running, too. I suspect it made newspapers. You might have to widen the search as you go, but start there. And don't leave tracks.”
He regarded her with amazement and even awe. “You want me to find a grain of sand in the desert,” he said. “Jeez, Barbara, why not give me a hard one? How many of those burgs do you think still have copies from the seventies?”
“Most of them,” she said. “On microfiche, archived one way or another, and our event might have made a major newspaper. Give it a try, and come up with a good cover story. Not a hint of what you're looking for.”
“That part will be easy,” he said. “Since I don't have a clue myself what it is.”
“You'll know it when you see it,” she said.
“You don't think an affair between Joe and his brother's wife was the cause of the breakup?”
She shook her head. “It just doesn't add up. From what Inez told me, she and Joe were happy. I think she would have
known if he was playing around. She certainly knew it later in Los Angeles. Picture it. Larry and Nora went to collect the workers, stayed overnight and returned the next day with no workers. Joe was waiting at the job site, and up to that point everything was normal. Then they fought. Something happened to set them off. I want to know what it was, if anyone can find out at this late date.”
“Anyone,” Bailey muttered. “You mean me.” He pulled a folder from his duffel bag and put it on the table. “More reading material. The fire investigation report, insurance report, stuff like that. The company collected three hundred thousand. Joe was meeting the architect almost every day planning a new million-dollar shack. They might have needed that insurance money if Joe was splurging.”
Barbara frowned. “Aren't you putting the cart before the horse? Was he splurging more than usual before the fire?”
“Maybe brother Larry uses fortune cookies to see into the future.” He stood up. “Anything else? Want me to find a particular drop of water in the ocean? Something easy like that?”
She waved him away. “Beat it. Keep after Blount.”
He saluted and ambled out.
“Dad, there's something I want to bring up,” Barbara said then.
“That makes two of us. You first.”
“You know I'll have to talk to Atherton, and I'm worried about Carrie's safety. Robert Frye called Atherton on a Thursday night, and the bomb was probably placed during the night on Friday. I see two possibilities. Someone followed him all the way to the house and waited for a chance. But I don't like that one. How would anyone know the whole family would leave on Saturday morning? The other possibility is that there
was a leak from Atherton's office. One of his staff members got in touch with someone after Robert Frye called. They'd know he planned to drive over on Saturday morning. Or what if Atherton himself alerted someone? In either event, as soon as I show up, if that same staff member is still around, or if Atherton was responsible, Carrie could be at risk. They'll know we've made a connection to the bomb, Robert Frye, all of it. I think as Carol Frederick she was safe enough, but as Carolyn Frye?” She spread her hands. “I'm worried.”
He was worried, too. “Don't make a move toward Atherton until we decide how to handle it. We might have to bring in some security for her. And damned if I can see how to manage that without telling her about it and why.”
She nodded. “We might have to move her. It isn't fair to put Darren and Todd at risk. And they could be.”
He suspected she was thinking of John Mureau, her former lover who had walked out when he thought his children were endangered. “Back burner for now,” he said after a moment. “Let's think about it.”
“Right. Your turn.”
“Different aspect of the same subject,” he said. “This is going to get ticklish. You'll be going to court misrepresenting the identity of your client, and a judge could get pissed off if he found out.”
“How could he find out? I was hired to represent Carol Frederick. My client says her name is Carol Frederick, and she has a birth certificate and other documents to prove it.”
“And that means that no matter what you dig up about the bomb or any of that matter, it won't be relevant to your case. It may be a wiser course to leave Atherton alone, leave that whole issue alone.”
She shook her head. “I can't do that. The timetable won't let me. Something happened in 1972 that sent Joe out of there. He rejoined the company when it moved to Eugene. Then in 1978 he flew the coop again and never went back, but lived on company money until the end. And in 1978 Robert Frye investigated something in California and was killed. You know that Earth-moon connection? It wasn't easy, but we did get there.”
T
wo weeks later Barbara stood by the greenhouse door watching Frank, who was doing something mysterious with tiny green plants and pots.
“See, you get the seeds started in a little flat,” he said. “Then, after they begin to develop real leaves and roots, you move them to individual pots and let them grow on. These will keep growing most of the winter in the greenhouse here, and come spring out in the ground with them.”
“All of them? You must have dozens.”
“Some of them. I'll give away a lot.”
She looked at her watchâfifteen minutes before two. “Bailey's due any time. I'll go listen for him. He flew in last night, and he'll leave again Monday morning. He's grouchy. He says Hannah's starting to bitch about an absentee husband.”
“Darren's coming later,” Frank said, lifting another small
plant. “I told him to plan to stay for dinner. Todd's at his mother's this weekend. Ah, look at those roots. Good job.”
God, she thought, walking away, he was talking to them. She knew Darren would come by, they had to tell him they planned to move Carrie, and she had not wanted to go to his house to do it. Carrie would be sure to know they were there and wonder why they were talking to him and not her. But it couldn't be put off any longer. She had to go see Atherton.
When Bailey arrived, he marched past her to the kitchen, yanked a folder from his duffel bag and slammed it on the table. “More light reading,” he all but snarled.
“Anything different?”
“More of the same. Cattle rustling, a school fire, a mom-and-pop store holdup, a shoot-out at the OK corral. I'm putting my eyes out, and my skin's turning to leather.”
That last part looked right. He had burned to a dark brown and his nose was peeling, creating a strange pink-and-brown mosaic. He was posing as a writer correlating the violence in the cities and campuses swirling around anti-Vietnam War protesters with a spike in crime in more rural areas.
“Shelley came up with two more sites,” she said. “I think that's the end of them.”
“I haven't finished with the ones she already turned in. Those two better be the last. I'm thinking of retiring, taking up pearl diving.”
Frank came in, nodded to Bailey, went to the sink and washed his hands, then got out two glasses and put ice cubes in them. One he filled with water, the other he half filled with bourbon, then passed it briefly under the faucet. He crossed the kitchen and handed that one to Bailey. “Let's go to the study,” he said.
In the study he sat behind his desk and Bailey took the old brown chair that seriously needed attention. It was his favorite chair in the house, and Frank's too. That was where he sat to do real reading, and from the looks of the stack of books on the table by it, he had been doing a lot of reading lately.
“What do you hear from Alan?” Barbara asked.
“He and the architect are getting pretty chummy. The kid was doing doors and windows for more than a year, then he got the big job, Joe Wenzel's million-dollar house. When Joe kicked, he was back to doors and windows, and he's sore. He's looking for another job.”
Alan MacCagno was posing as a philosophy major looking for work, with a lot of free time on his hands and a little money in his pocket. A good pal for a disgruntled junior architect.
“About Carrie,” Frank said. “Any ideas?”
Bailey shook his head. “I don't see how you can guard her without telling her something. She might get suspicious if a strange dude started sleeping on her sofa. Or you could chain her to a water pipe in the basement.”
“That's about where I keep coming out,” Frank said. The doorbell chimed and he stood up. “I'll get it.”
Barbara and Bailey scowled at each other while they waited for him to return. Bailey swished ice cubes around and drank the water they left. He would never dream of mooching a second drink from Frank. Then Frank returned with Darren.
Darren paused at the door. “Oh, I'm interrupting something. I'll come back later.”
Frank waved him in. “Come on, have a seat. It concerns you.”
Darren nodded to Barbara and Bailey and took a chair near the window.
“We will probably have to find Carrie a different apart
ment,” Frank said. “Barbara and I agreed that we should bring it up with you before we make plans to do so.”
“Am I allowed to ask why?” Darren asked. “She's more relaxed than she was when I met her, and she's getting better day by day. Does she want to move?”
Frank looked at Barbara and leaned back as if to say, “Your show.”
Choosing her words with care, she said, “For reasons we can't reveal to you or to her, we think that Carrie may need more security than we can provide for that apartment.”
“Would she be any safer in a different apartment?”
“We also believe that the people who may want to harm her would not hesitate to hurt others in their way.”
Darren nodded, then stood up and faced the window. With the strong light behind him, he was an unmoving silhouette for what seemed a long time. He turned back and said lazily, “You know what I've been thinking? Todd needs a dog. A boy should have a dog, maybe one trained to guard, sort of a watchdog.”
“There'd have to be someone to back it up if there's an alarm,” Bailey said. “And she's alone most of the time over there.” He straightened in his chair. “Your house need painting, anything like that?”
“Herbert!” Barbara said.
“Yeah. Your wandering long-lost cousin. He's the best security man I know.” To Darren he said, “And he can paint, or do odd jobs, a little building. Whatever needs doing while he hangs out.”
Herbert, the Texas lone ranger, as Barbara thought of him, had provided security for Frank in the past. “Is he free?” she asked.
“I can find out. Use your phone?”
“I was thinking of putting in a rec room in the basement,” Darren said. “Ran out of time. It could take quite a while.”
Frank motioned toward the phone on his desk, but Bailey said he'd use the kitchen phone and ambled out.
“Why are you willing to go along with this?” Barbara asked. “You certainly don't have to.”
Darren sat down again. “I know what she's been through,” he said. “I've treated people who've been through the same kind of therapy. She needs friends who care. Besides,” he added with a grin, “she's giving Todd piano lessons, and he's teaching her to play chess. The best way to learn anything is by teaching it. I won't be able to hold my own with Todd much longer. And I may have to keep the piano after she leaves.”
Bailey came back and stood in the doorway. “I left him a message to call back at my house.”
“She goes out alone every day to the restaurant where she works,” Darren said then.
Almost cheerfully Bailey said, “She won't if her car's disabled. Old cars like hers, sometimes it takes months to find spare parts. I'll mention it to Herbert when he calls. He'll be on hand if he can take the job, and he'll give her a ride when she needs it. It might delay the remodel work, but Herbert's not one to rush things. Give me your address. If he can do it, he should go straight there, not make any contact with the rest of us.”
Darren pulled out a notebook and jotted down his address and phone number. He tore out the page and handed it to Bailey.
“I'm out of here,” Bailey said. “I'll call when I hear from Herbert.” He saluted and left.
Frank stood up and motioned to Barbara and Darren. “Come on out to the kitchen and I'll fill you in on Herbert.”
In the kitchen he rummaged in the freezer, saying, “He was in Special Forces, army for a time, had FBI training, studied meditation in India and he painted my house a while back. Good job, too.” He brought out a package and put it on the counter. “If he offers to cook for you, let him. He's a world-class gourmet cook.” Then in an offhand way, he added, “And according to Bailey, he can shoot the fleas off a dog at fifty yards.” His voice had been light and easy, but he turned to Darren and said in a very serious tone, “As Barbara said, you don't have to do this. You're under no obligation to take on a burden not of your choosing.”
Darren nodded, as serious as Frank, and said, “I figure I can take care of my son and myself, and I have chosen. Did you get that rain barrel in place?”
Frank regarded him for a moment, then said, “Yes. Go have a look, see what you think.”
As soon as Darren was out the door, Barbara said, “I'll call Atherton when I know Herbert is on the job, and make an appointment as early as Atherton's willing.”
“You can't fly out there,” Frank said. “That would be a dead giveaway if anyone's keeping an eye on you. Even if Atherton doesn't have a staff or anyone from the old days hanging around, others know he was behind Frye.”
“I know. I'll drive. Leave on Friday maybe, see him on Saturday, come back Sunday. A snap.”
“Not alone. Take Bailey.”
“Show up with a detective escort? Not on your life. Someone might think it strange. And Bailey has his own chores to attend to at the moment.”
“Then I'll go with you.”
She shook her head. “Dad, it's about three hundred
miles. But aside from that, if anyone's paying attention and we both take off for Pendleton, it's the same thing, a dead giveaway.”
“Three hundred miles of empty desert country,” he said. “We can hire someone to go with you. Bailey will send someone.”
She shook her head impatiently. “You're being childish. I won't mention where I'm heading, just take off for a weekend to relax, and I'll go alone.”
“You won't,” he said. “I'll follow on your tailgate every inch of the way. For all you know Atherton's the source of the leak, and he might not want questions popping up at this late date. You leave, and within two miles of Eugene you could have someone trailing after you just to see where you're off to.”
“I'm in and out all the time without anyone noticing.”
“After you make that call things could change,” he said sharply. “You can't go alone.”
From the doorway Darren said, “I'm on his side. You can't go alone.”
Barbara whirled to face him and snapped, “Didn't anyone ever teach you not to eavesdrop? It's considered bad manners.”
“I got a glimpse of a special truck,” he said, entering the kitchen. “I know the kind of people who used those trucks, and I know they have long memories. You have special security coming along for Carrie, and you have to see someone on the sly as soon as you know she's safe. You can't go alone.”
“For God's sake, stop it, both of you! Butt out, Darren. This is none of your business.”
“I'm making it my business,” he said. “What I suggest is that we take a little camping trip, just the two of us. My truck is outfitted for camping, and I can guarantee that no one will follow us.”
For a time no one moved or spoke, then Frank said, “Do you have a gun?”
“A rifle,” Darren said. “Some of the places Todd and I visit, a rifle might come in handy. Grizzlies, cougars, you never can tell. And I know which end shoots.” He kept his gaze on Barbara.
She turned away as Frank slowly nodded. He said, “It's that, Barbara, or else Bailey's man, or me riding on your bumper. I'm going out to pick some dinner.” He took a colander from the cabinet and walked out the back door to the garden.
He meant it, she knew. And he was perfectly capable of following her to Pendleton and back. She faced Darren again and said, “He's being childish and stubborn. I'm going to talk to a perfectly respectable old man, and absolutely nothing is going to happen.”
“Then I'll simply be the chauffeur and camp cook. I'll demonstrate a skill you'd never suspect I had. I'll yodel for you.”
“If you do, I'll turn your own rifle on you, and I know which end shoots, too.”
He drew his finger across his lips, zipping them. “Rematch of our chess game?”
“Sure.”
Frank came in with green beans and a few tomatoes. “Pickings are getting slim,” he said after glancing at the chessboard. “It will have to do.” He busied himself at the sink.
Soon he heard Darren say, “Check. I think your mind's on something else.”
“You're probably right,” she agreed.
Then Darren said, “Yipes! I walked right into it.”
“Maybe your mind's on something else.”
“I didn't think you'd sacrifice your queen,” he said. “I concede. Best two out of three?”
“Later. My brain's had all the exercise it can take for one day. What will you do about Todd, if next weekend works out?”
“He's negotiating with his mother this weekend. He wants to be home for Halloween, and he'll trade next weekend for that one. He has it all planned. I'll do the planning for a weekend camping trip, by the way.”