“You were a lot calmer than I was back there.” A small smile threatened to take over her somber expression.
“I was, wasn’t I?” I grinned at her, and started the motor. It wasn’t so bad having her along, I thought as I steered us toward the freeway. She was right, I was more relaxed.
*
Chandra called me back in an hour. “So far, I only had time to do a query on Nathan Stein.”
“Oh yeah? What did you find?” I found a pen and notepad and sat down on one of the chairs in Riley’s small kitchen. I heard her shuffling papers.
“Arrested four years ago for child endangerment and abuse. It was dismissed, though. His sheet dates way back…Well, shit, he probably had juvenile records, too.”
“Four years, huh? Nothing after that?”
“Nope. Nothing.”
“Hey, wait. You got an address on this guy?”
Chandra read off the last known address for Stein, as well as the phone number. “I’m getting busy over here. Oh, and by the way, you forgot to sign off on the arrest report.”
“Wait. What?”
“Says here that Smitty was the arresting officer, but neither of you signed off on the documentation.”
“Nah, it wasn’t me. I wasn’t Smitty’s partner back then.”
“Well, Smitty checked it out a few days before he died. Damn it, who spilled coffee on this? I got to go.”
“That was Chandra.” I filled Riley in on Stein’s crimes and the fact that we now had an address and phone number, at least the one from four years ago. “It’s weird. She said the case belonged to Smitty, but our division didn’t even open until about three years ago. I guess it’s possible he could have been assigned something like this before we partnered up.”
I frowned. It was sort of odd that as close as I considered myself to be to Smitty, I didn’t know much about his previous partner or the cases they’d worked.
“It seems kind of strange,” Riley agreed. “But maybe he got some new information and didn’t get around to telling you.”
“Well, Smitty checked the file out a few days before his death. The only reason he would do that is if he thought it was related to something in our existing caseload, maybe a similar MO. But he never mentioned it to me, and this guy’s name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Didn’t you say you were bad with names?”
“Yeah,” I had to concede. “But I usually remember the assholes that hurt children. I have nightmares…” I shook my head, trying to fathom why Smitty had decided to chase up a file for a go-nowhere case like Stein’s. “Whoever was Smitty’s partner at the time would probably know what significance this guy held, but I can’t just walk up to him and ask. He would probably haul my ass in.”
“Then what can we do?”
“Let’s see if Mr. Nathan Stein is still at his old address.”
*
“Is this the right address?” Riley ducked her head to get a better look.
The home’s mud-colored exterior was nothing like the other older homes in the area, and its impeccably manicured landscape, easing around the house, no doubt led to a swimming pool. Probably shaped like a dollar sign, I thought dryly. Nathan Stein lived in an enclave of verdant estates and palatial homes.
“Not where you would expect to find a child abuser living, huh?” My generalization was based on the simple fact that poor people were arrested more often for physical assaults. And they got convicted. Rich people were better at avoiding consequences.
“His place sort of looks like the tract homes we passed to get here,” Riley said.
“Yeah, it does.” Although the place was much larger than the homes we’d passed on our way to Stein’s suburb, it had some design similarities, as if whoever had built the tract homes had been given carte blanche to build this place. The residences on either side of Stein’s looked at least ten years older than his.
I opened the door to the truck and got out. “You sure you want to come with me?” Before she finished nodding insistently, I added, “Let me do the talking.” I joked to put her at ease. I always did the talking.
The imposing wood door was opened while I still held the large, rustic knocker in my hand. A woman of about thirty with brown hair and eyes stood there, her expression unreadable. First impression? Cold-hearted bitch. Long lashes closed slightly as she looked Riley and me up and down. A well-manicured hand went to a nonexistent hip that was encased in a bright orange, one-piece workout suit. She looked like all the women I hated rolled into one person, the type that walks around the grocery store in workout gear. You gotta figure that either they didn’t really work out, or are walking around with dewy crotches and an odor waiting to happen.
“That’s for decoration,” she said tightly.
“Huh?” Yup, I’m the talker all right.
“The knocker. It’s antique. It came off a monks’ monastery in…Never mind.” She shook her head as if she was wondering why she was explaining art to a couple of Philistines. “May I help you with something?”
“I sure hope so, ma’am.” I gave her a polite smile and flashed her the fake badge and credentials that Sherm had gotten for us. She looked at the badge, and I slapped the cover shut before she could notice that not only was the picture not me, but the badge was for the Boulder Colorado Police and not LAPD. “May I ask your name, ma’am?”
“Caroline Stein,” she bit out. Her thin lips stubbornly refused to move over the o in Caroline, so it came out Care-line.
“Would it be possible for us to come in and talk to you?”
She seemed to mull that over, but obviously couldn’t think of any reason not to allow us into her home. She led us into a nicely decorated living room. Leather couch, neutral walls, and a distressed wood armoire. She sat down in a large chair across from us. A large wood ledge protruded from the adobe wall directly behind her, adorning an impressive fireplace. Several pictures lined the ledge. Most of them were of Caroline, but two caught my eye.
One was of a man with painfully short hair, almost military in nature. His stern brow was creased as if he was frowning into the sun, and his chin was dimpled almost as if to contradict the harshness of his expression. The other was a family portrait. The same man held a newborn at an angle so that a picture could be taken. His expression was no different from that in the other picture. Caroline Stein stood next to him. The smile on her face was strained, and there was just enough space between their bodies to verify what I had already guessed. Drama queen though she was, Caroline Stein did not look like a happy new mother in that picture. Her expression reminded me of so many other battered women I had seen that I was tempted to reach into my pocket for the card that I used to carry with me when I wore a uniform—the card with the names of the closest battered women’s shelters.
I was almost relieved when I didn’t recognize Nathan Stein at all. Up until that moment, I had half wondered if I had arrested him for something and forgotten his name.
I glanced around the home, taking in the curved walls and Berber carpet, all very expensive and very new. Through a patio door, a swimming pool glistened in the afternoon sun. Though not shaped like a dollar sign, it was large enough to be Olympic size.
“What can I do for you, Officer?” I could tell I would have to tell her my name, or she would get suspicious if she wasn’t already.
“Jones,” I said easily, as I reached out to shake her hand. She nodded and reached over to shake Riley’s hand as well, so I quickly jumped right in. I didn’t want her to ask Riley’s name. One false officer named Jones was a lot easier to hide than two.
“Ma’am, we were wondering if we could talk to Nathan Stein.” There it was again, that tight mouth. I wondered if she was going to ask for a warrant.
“Don’t you people keep track of these things?” She blinked furiously. “My husband was reported missing last month. I would think the LAPD would know that, since I filed a missing persons report with them.”
I could almost see the wh
eels turning in her head. If she called and checked our credentials, we were screwed, so I needed to move fast. I pulled the tiny recorder out of my pocket and said, “Ma’am, would you mind if we record this conversation?”
“What for?” she asked, her eyes shifting from me to Riley and back again. “If you’re not here about Nathan’s disappearance, then why are you here?”
“The recording is just a formality. I use it so that I don’t have to worry about whether or not I misinterpreted something you say,” I explained in a voice that probably sounded mechanical. As if the tape recorder could somehow interpret whether or not a person was lying better than my ear. I don’t know why I even bothered. For all intents and purposes, I was no longer a cop. I had already broken so many laws, it seemed ridiculous to let a little thing like privacy become an issue.
“Fine, can we please get this over with? Frankly, I don’t know any more than I’ve already told the other officers.”
“Well, we have reason to believe that your husband may have information relevant to another case. So if you would answer a few routine questions—”
“Well, I would doubt that!” She said it as if she thought it would be highly unlikely that her husband would have anything to do with the likes of us. I finally figured out exactly why Mrs. Caroline Stein talked the way she did. A woman her age with braces? Not unheard of,, but interesting. I decided to get to the point of the visit before she needed to go floss or something.
“Mrs. Stein, how long have you and your husband been married?”
“Five years. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Are you aware that Mr. Stein was arrested for child abuse?”
She inhaled sharply, and any sign that she was distressed disappeared as if she had two personalities. “Officer Jones, my husband is a man of faith. He went out of his way to teach children right from wrong. The Bible says, ‘spare the rod and spoil the child.’”
Now my mouth tightened. “Ma’am, your husband was arrested for child abuse, not a spanking.”
“I understand that.” Her lips drew back in a snarl that displayed the plastic stoppers on her teeth. “That girl lied because she was punished after not doing her chores. You know how children are. They get in trouble, and they tell lies about their parents because they are spiteful.” She shrugged as if that explanation settled everything. “She admitted that she’d lied, and the charges were dropped. It’s just too bad that so many were hurt as a direct result of that child’s deceit.”
“So your husband makes his living as a minister?”
I could almost hear her nails digging into the palm of her hand. “He has many small business investments.”
“Small, huh? So then, his main source of income would have to be ministering to his flock?” I raised my eyebrows innocently.
“My husband has yet to rebuild his congregation after the fallout from that incident,” Caroline Stein said bitterly.
I looked around the house. “Really? Seems like you’re doing okay.”
Suddenly she was back in her grieving-widow mode. “Why are you bringing this up? My husband is missing, for God’s sake. And as far as I know, you people haven’t done anything but ask me questions about that damn abuse charge.” Her sobbing grew almost hysterical, and I felt Riley shift next to me. “Why can’t you just go find him? Why do you need to bring up this old charge?”
“Care? Are you crying, sweetheart?” A bare-chested man of about twenty-two hurried into the room, tucking a towel around his middle.
Instantly, the crying fit stopped and the stranger slid to a halt when he noticed Riley and me. His towel hung just low enough to leave no doubt that he was either wearing a very revealing swimsuit, or nothing at all. With his shock of curling blond hair, he reminded me of some child star, maybe it was Shirley Temple. Anyway, it was not an attractive characteristic on a young man.
“I’m Officer Jones. And you are?” I said quickly.
He received the evil eye from Care but good manners won out and he shook hands with both Riley and me. “Terry…Terry Powell.”
I tried not to wince. His grip was soft, limp, and vaguely moist; exactly what I would think it would feel like to shake hands with a cadaver. His eyes flitted from mine to Caroline’s, perhaps on a quest to figure out which was the lesser of two evils. He settled on me.
“I’m sorry, did we interrupt you?” I asked Caroline.
“No.” The tears had dried up. She had no doubt guessed that they were wasted on me. “Terry is my personal trainer. He was just cleaning up before he headed out.”
Terry’s discomfort was tangible. I had my doubts that he was her personal trainer, and I also wondered if that was the extent of his duties for Caroline Stein. As there was no way for me to find that out, I decided to let her off the hook. I couldn’t care less what she did; I was interested in her husband. I allowed her to lead us to the door.
“Your daughter must be taking your husband’s disappearance pretty hard?”
“I don’t have a daughter, Officer Jones.” Something in Caroline’s voice told me I had gotten a rise out of her.
“I’m sorry, I saw the picture on the mantel. I just assumed…” She opened the door, and Riley walked out of it. “Oh, one more thing. Do you happen to remember the names of the officers who arrested your husband?”
I didn’t expect her to know the answer to the question; I really just wanted to fuck with her.
“Now why would I remember that? Can’t you go look it up or something? This is ridiculous. You should be looking for him instead of harassing me.” And with that, she slammed the door in my face.
“That guy Terry? I don’t know if he is her personal trainer,” Riley said as we strolled back to the Blazer.
“He looked pretty fit to me.”
“Well, it’s not that. It was his hands.”
His hands. I shuddered as I remembered how his handshake had given me a chill. “Yeah, kind of grossed me out, too. Limp.”
I absently rubbed her palm with my thumb as I tried to understand where she was going with this. I loved the feel of Riley’s hands. They were large and strong; the calluses that she had built up from working out drove me crazy when she touched my skin. The contrast between her gentleness and the obvious strength in her hands…“Oh, you mean he didn’t have calluses.”
“Right.” She grinned happily.
“But do all personal trainers weight train?”
“No, not necessarily. But do you remember shaking hands with her?”
I nodded. “Shit. She did have calluses.”
“Yeah, she did. Just like mine.”
“Nah, nothing like yours.” I gave her hand a squeeze. “So you think if she weight trains, as her personal trainer he would too.”
“It could mean nothing. He could be her aerobics instructor or something. He could also wear gloves. But I wear gloves, and I still get them. I just thought it was worth mentioning.”
“Yeah, but usually when people say personal trainer, they mean just that. I didn’t pick up on it. If I was working her hubby’s disappearance, I would certainly be interested in why Powell is in the house, naked as the day he was born, only a month after Stein’s disappearance. I’ll talk to Chandra.”
Riley seemed happy. “I knew it wasn’t nothing.”
“You’re good at this,” I tried not to sound surprised. I had expected her to cramp my style. But the opposite was true. She was an asset.
*
Big Ol’ Burger was known for…well, its big ol’ burgers. Though they were known to have the best burgers in town, cops avoided the place because it was frequented by a lot of locals. There was nothing worse than trying to enjoy a burger and having someone ask you what you’re going to do about that crack house next door.
I scanned the crowded restaurant, but I didn’t see Chandra. It was already well after seven and I was beginning to get worried. I hoped she’d gotten the voicemail message I had Riley leave after my encounter with Caroli
ne Stein. Riley had sounded very convincing pretending to be another one of Chandra’s relationship-obsessed girlfriends.
At Big Ol’ Burger, they give you a hamburger patty with a large bun, and you’re allowed to pile all the condiments you want on top of your burger. It was one of the things that I loved about the place. I watched Riley add lettuce, tomato, and a pickle to her plate. Soon she would try curly fries. I was slowly but surely winning her over to my way of thinking. We sat down in a booth far away from the other patrons and with a clear view of the door, so we could keep an eye out for Chandra. I had never seen her in anything but her work clothes, so I almost didn’t recognize her when she approached wearing jeans.
“Sorry I’m late.” She set a file on the table and sat down next to me in the booth. “Fools sent me two people that don’t do half the work in a day that you did in one hour.”
I felt strangely pleased at the backhanded compliment. “Find anything?”
“No, nothing. Weird, though. I ran a cross-reference with the socials on the other three names.”
“You can do that?” I perked up. “What did it bring up?”
“Nothing.”
Riley placed a glass of water in front of me, which I drank without thought. “Hang on. You should have gotten something?”
“Exactly right, Einstein.”
“Aliases? Those are all aliases?” I asked.
“Yeah, they would have to be. I guess it’s possible that one of them wouldn’t have a social security number, but all of them?”
“Hot damn, nice work,” I crowed until I realized that the info left me absolutely nowhere. If the aliases hadn’t come up when Chandra ran the check in the first place, then they weren’t in the system. Where did Marcus get the names, then?
I wiped my hands on my napkin and opened the file. Chandra had used her initiative. His original arrest report was attached to a dark photocopy of a mug shot. The picture on the mantel was indeed that of Nathan Stein, and the mug shot also confirmed for me that I had never seen Nathan Stein before in my life. He’d been arrested four years ago for child abuse and was released because the girl in question recanted her statement. Smitty was listed as the arresting officer. He had signed the document, but whoever had been his partner hadn’t. The signature on the file could have been a forgery, but it looked like my partner’s handwriting. I was usually pretty careful about signing paperwork and Smitty had been, too.
Wall of Silence Page 23
