Lorraine looked at Caley, unconvinced, and he continued evenly, still meeting her eyes, ‘And sometimes I prefer to conduct my business away from a domestic setting.’
Lorraine looked back to her note-pad. ‘So you arrived at the Cavagnal . . .’
Yes. The maid, she’s called Alphonsine, unpacked my wife’s clothes first, then mine, and then she went to Anna Louise’s suite. We have various functions and parties we always go to, so she checks that everything is pressed or that nothing requires laundering.’
Lorraine nodded, and waited. ‘Alphonsine lives in New Orleans?’
‘Yes, we have staff at one of our homes there. They help us at the hotel, see if we want anything taken to the house and get everything ready there, as we generally go to one or other residence when Carnival ends.’
Lorraine flipped through her notes. She had the addresses of the Caley households and lists of their staff. ‘So what time—’
He interrupted her. ‘As soon as we arrived, Elizabeth arranged for a massage; I remained in the suite making some business calls. Anna Louise joined us for tea and we decided we would dine at the Cavagnal, early, as we had a number of invitations and er . . . She has a wicked sense of humour, and began to mimic some of the more elderly ladies who had asked us for cocktails. At one point Elizabeth ticked her off, said that after that evening she would be free to see her friends, but for now she had to behave. Elizabeth is quite a celebrity and enjoys being the centre of attraction on these occasions, probably reminds her of the old days when she really was a star.’
‘Did Anna Louise argue with your wife?’
‘No, in fact they began to discuss what they would wear, girls’ talk. I went for a swim, came back around seven. I showered and changed, Elizabeth was already dressing, her hair had been done. She always used the same hairdresser, again someone she has known for many years.’
‘Oscar Cloutier?’
‘Yes. He left at about seven-fifteen. We both went down to the dining room for seven-thirty. We had some champagne ordered. At seven forty-five Elizabeth asked me to call Anna Louise’s room, so I did. There was no reply, so I returned to the table, presuming she was on her way down.’
Lorraine looked over her notes. Robert Caley had repeated his original statement almost word for word, even down to the dates of the Mardi Gras. He went on to say that he and his wife began to order, and he even ordered barbecued shrimp, her favourite New Orleans dish, for Anna Louise.
‘When it got to about eight and Anna Louise had still not come down, I asked the waiter to call her room again. He said there was no reply, so I went up to her room and as it was locked I used the connecting door between our suite and Anna Louise’s. Nothing that I could see was out of place and the gown she was going to wear was laid out for her on the bed. I went into the bathroom and the sitting room, and saw her purse, or at least the one she had been carrying on the flight, so I simply thought she had gone out to visit someone and had been delayed. I returned to the dining room.’
‘But you had asked her to join you for dinner. Did she usually disobey?’
‘Well, sometimes she would say she would do something, but like any teenager she could not always be relied on.’
‘But your wife had specifically asked her to join you both on this particular evening.’
‘Yes, yes.’
‘Did she seem not to want to? You said your wife reprimanded her for mimicking some of the people who had invited you for cocktails later in the evening, correct?’
He sighed, irritated. ‘I wouldn’t call it reprimanding, in fact I said “ticked her off”, so it was not a very serious exchange.’
At any other time when you were in New Orleans had Anna Louise agreed to dine with you and not turned up?’
‘I suppose so, but I can’t recall any single time it was of importance. She knew the city and was very aware of the obvious dangers about being out alone in certain neighbourhoods. We had both been very firm about her not wandering out alone at night. And she never did, or not to my knowledge.’
‘She knows the city well, knows the old French Quarter?’
‘Yes, of course. Elizabeth is from New Orleans so Anna Louise had been there off and on since she was a child. She even made her debut at one of the Carnival balls.’
‘So Anna Louise also has many friends there?’
‘Yes, well, not that many because she was educated here, but one, Tilda Brown, is a close, if not her closest, friend. She was also studying at UCLA but came from New Orleans, so they have much in common.’
‘So you presumed that she might have gone to see Tilda?’
Yes, I did.’
‘Did Mrs Caley also think she had gone to see Tilda Brown? Only I believe Tilda had been staying here in LA with you shortly before you left.’
He nodded, then shrugged. ‘They’d had some tiff and Tilda left the day before we did. Stupid really, as we were going to give her a ride with us, but . . .’
‘Did you know what the girls argued about?’
‘No, I did not.’ He seemed irritated, his foot tapping. These were obviously questions he had been asked before.
‘According to previous statements you did not call Miss Brown’s home until very much later that evening.’
‘Yes, that is correct.’
‘Why did you not call Tilda Brown immediately?’
‘Because we finished dinner and, as I said, we had engagements, commitments, if you like.’
‘So even though you saw your daughter’s purse left in her room . . .’
Caley turned to face Lorraine. ‘I did not call Miss Brown’s family or anyone else because I did not think anything untoward had happened and nor did my wife.’
‘How did your wife react to your daughter not coming down to join you for dinner?’
He sighed. ‘Elizabeth is a little more volatile than myself. She was very angry with Anna. We left the hotel at about ten to go to our first engagement. When we returned to the hotel at about fifteen minutes after midnight, we became concerned. We called Miss Brown’s family. Tilda was in bed so we spoke to her parents and they told us that Anna had not been by or phoned. They had not seen her.’
‘May I ask if you are wearing prescription lenses?’
‘What?’
Lorraine stared at him and he slowly removed his sunglasses. ‘Thank you.’
He moved closer so she could see his eyes. He leaned on the table. ‘You think I’m hiding something?’
‘No, but I like to see—’
‘What, the whites of my eyes? Or do you and your type get a kick out of the pain? Because, Mrs Page, every time I have gone through this, every statement I give, you don’t think I feel somehow to blame? That if I had acted faster my daughter might have been traced? Well, I do blame myself, every minute of every day. My daughter has been missing for eleven months, Mrs Page, and every phone call, every letter is a hope, and every hope makes my heart thud in my chest. What did you expect from me, tears?’
‘I’m sorry, but I have to ask.’
‘You ask whatever you want and I will try to answer, just as I have done with every single agency we have hired. I know the police here have given up, but I also know the case is still open in New Orleans. How do you expect me to behave? I want my daughter back, I pray she is alive, whether she has run off with some unsavoury character or whatever she has done, I will forgive her because this is hell. All I want is to see her again, I love her, I was proud of her, and I miss her.’
He was bitterly angry and yet his eyes brimmed with tears. It was unexpected and it threw Lorraine. His open emotion and obvious declaration of love for his daughter were distressing. This sophisticated, handsome man was suddenly more vulnerable than any man she had ever met because he was unable to control himself. Half-turning from her, he started to cry, awful low sobs.
‘I miss my lovely daughter, Mrs Page. If I pass the tennis courts I hear her laughing, shouting out to me. Just sitting here in this stupid fucking
gazebo hurts because I hear her laughing about it, sending it up, like the ridiculous Japanese garden we both hated. And then I have to listen to my wife crying every night, watch her face when the telephone rings. This house is dead without our little girl.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘I don’t need your sympathy, Mrs Page, I need my daughter found. Or worse, I need to know she is never coming home, then I can get on with my life.’ The tears spilled down his face and he wiped them away with the back of his hand, replacing his glasses. ‘Excuse me, if you need to ask any more questions go ahead.’
Lorraine closed her note-book. Everything he had told her was on record, he had given no further insight into what had actually happened to Anna Louise. She picked up her purse and replaced her note-book, then hesitated.
‘There is just one more thing, Mr Caley. You said you made calls from the hotel, to business associates, I presume, and I have no record of who you actually called.’
‘You’ll have a list delivered by morning.’
‘Your business is real estate. Could I ask you to give me a more precise account of your business transactions in New Orleans and here in Los Angeles?’
He turned away. ‘What in God’s name has my business got to do with my daughter’s disappearance?’
‘Maybe nothing, but then again it might, so I really would like to have as much background on you . . .’
‘You’ll have it. Now if you would excuse me.’
‘Yes, of course. Er, just one more thing, I know your wife is indisposed, but would I be able to speak for a moment with Phyllis?’
He nodded and walked to an intercom phone she had not noticed at the side of the gazebo. He picked it up. ‘Phyllis, would you come into the yard, please? Mrs Page would like to speak to you.’
Robert Caley collected the open bottle of wine and walked out towards the tennis courts as Lorraine remained seated, looking after him.
Rosie was trying to decipher Bill Rooney’s appalling handwritten scrawl.
‘I can’t make this out, what is this?’ she asked.
Rooney yawned. ‘The psychic the Caleys used. She wasn’t at home and I been back twice. I left two messages.’
‘Juda?’ Rosie enquired.
Yeah, that’s her name. I reckon she’s a waste of time, all flakes if you ask me. I’m gonna go for a few more drinks with Nick Bartello, he’s on to something, so if her ladyship calls in, tell her she can catch me at home later. A lot later, if I know Nick.’
Rosie nodded and jotted down Juda’s name, phone number and address. ‘I gotta go to a meeting tonight but I’ll leave a message for her here and at home.’
‘Good, you do that. See ya!’ Rooney thudded out as the phone began to ring.
‘Mr Rooney there?’ said a thick, drawling voice with a real down-home Louisiana accent.
‘No, I am so sorry, he’s not available. Who’s calling: Can I take a message?’
‘I’m just returnin’ the man’s calls. It’s Juda Salina. You know what it’s about?’
Rosie perked up, becoming the partner in the investigation agency. ‘Yes, we are investigating the case of Anna Louise Caley and . . .’
The phone went dead. Rosie looked at the receiver, wondering if it was something she had done her end. She wrote a memo for Rooney and Lorraine, saying the psychic made contact. Rosie also noted the time and date the call had come in. She was being very professional.
Phyllis toyed with her glass of mineral water. ‘She needs pills to make her sleep and sometimes she can’t get up. Today is one of them, we had the doctor out but he prescribed a different sedative. It’s all very sad, poor woman, but I’ll make sure she can see you tomorrow.’
‘Thank you.’
Lorraine sipped the melting ice, the deftly placed slice of lemon now floating on top of the residue of tepid water. ‘So you didn’t see or hear anything untoward the day the family departed for New Orleans?’
‘No, I did not.’
‘And Anna Louise was happy and carefree, excited by the forthcoming trip?’
‘Yes, they were often more like friends than mother and daughter. I mean, they had the odd little argument, only natural, she was quite wilful but she never sulked.’
‘The day they left, February fifteenth, you received a call from the Caleys’ private jet?’
‘Yes, I did. Anna Louise had seen something in Vogue she wanted me to purchase for her.’
‘Did you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did she often just call you to get what she wanted? According to the files a three thousand, five hundred dollar black chiffon Valentino dress. I would say that stinks of a spoilt kid.’
Phyllis pursed her lips. ‘The Caleys happen to be extremely wealthy, Mrs Page, and I assure you that was not unusual. You may say she was spoilt, but at the same time she was also one of the sweetest, most natural young girls I’ve ever known.’
‘But she was spoilt.’
‘No more than any other child of rich parents.’
Lorraine hesitated, and then said quietly, ‘Or parent . . .’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t quite follow?’
‘Yes, you do. Surely it is obvious that the main money in the Caley family is Elizabeth Caley’s.’
Phyllis pursed her lips. ‘Mr Caley is also a very successful businessman.’
‘But he was not that successful when they first married. An old press cutting hinted that he was not a wealthy man and they met when he was showing Mrs Caley a property.’
Phyllis froze. ‘I am afraid this is not something I can answer. I have only worked for the Caleys for ten years so whatever happened previously I have no knowledge of. All I do know is Mr Caley works exceptionally hard.’
‘What work is he involved in specifically in New Orleans?’
‘Mrs Page, I am not privy to Mr Caley’s business. I am Elizabeth Caley’s companion and secretary.’
‘But you settle the bills. You did, I believe, pay my fees and will continue to pay them, is that correct?’
‘Yes, Mrs Caley instructed me to pay your retainer.’
‘You didn’t discuss it with Mr Caley?’
‘I made a note for him to be aware of exactly what I had done, as I always do.’
Lorraine made no mention of the one million bonus Mrs Caley had promised to pay. She was beginning to feel tired; it had been a long day and she had to drive back to Pasadena.
‘Thank you. Oh, just one more thing – Tilda Brown, Anna Louise’s girlfriend, was staying here and she was supposed to return to New Orleans with the Caleys but instead left the day before. Do you know why?’
Phyllis rose to her feet. ‘No, but probably over a tennis match, they were always playing tennis. I think Tilda used to make up her own rules and it infuriated Anna Louise.’
‘Did you hear them arguing at all?’
‘No. Tilda just asked me to arrange a ticket for her and she was driven to the airport by Mario.’
‘Thank you, Miss Collins. I’ll walk out via the gardens.’
Phyllis nodded and said she would warn the security guard to open the gate.
‘Is there a full-time guard on duty?’
‘Yes, since Anna Louise’s disappearance we’ve had a lot of press hanging around outside, and Mr Caley didn’t want his wife disturbed, so we now have full-time security guards patrolling the estate. To begin with it was feared that perhaps Anna Louise had been kidnapped, so the guards were employed for everyone’s peace of mind.’
Lorraine prepared to leave. Just as she walking away from Phyllis she stopped. ‘Is this house Mrs Caley’s?’
‘Yes, I believe so.’
‘And the property in New Orleans?’
‘Yes, I think a lot of it belonged to her family.’
Lorraine hesitated, wondering whether or not she should ask Phyllis the next question, or leave it until she spoke to Elizabeth Caley personally.
‘Was there something else?’
‘Er, yes, it ma
y be nothing, but who is the main beneficiary of Elizabeth Caley’s will?’
Phyllis glared, and Lorraine knew she had made a mistake.
‘It’s probably inconsequential to the investigation but at the same time you must understand that I—’
She was interrupted. ‘I really can’t help you, I’m sorry.’
‘That’s okay. What time shall I call in the morning?’
‘About eleven.’
‘Thank you, I’ll see you tomorrow no doubt.’
‘Yes, you will.’ Her sharp features were even more pinched as she stared at Lorraine. ‘You certainly do a lot of research.’ She did not say it as a compliment but Lorraine smiled as if it had been one.
‘I believe that is the point, is it not? And you must understand, Phyllis – I hope I can call you Phyllis – that everything you say to me is in total confidence. If there is anything that you feel would help my investigation, anything at all, I hope you will feel free to call me at any time.’
She caught it, just a flicker of hesitancy, but then Phyllis covered with a tight, brittle smile. ‘You keep to the left walkway and it will lead you round to the front of the house. Good afternoon, Mrs Page.’
Lorraine walked from the courtyard along the immaculate paved path. She passed the tennis courts and stopped. Robert Caley was sitting on a white painted bench, the bottle of wine held loosely in his hand, seemingly staring at the empty tennis court. She continued on past the vast swimming pool with its carefully laid out sunbeds, and could see a maid folding up the unused towels.
Lorraine would have gone on but Robert Caley called her and she turned to face him. He still wore the dark glasses but removed them slowly as he looked at her.
‘I’ll be going to New Orleans. If you need to go there within the week, please call me. You can . . .’ He gave a boyish smile. ‘I’m offering you a ride.’
She returned his smile. ‘Thank you, I’ll call you.’
He nodded and stood watching her as she walked round to the front of the house.
Lorraine had found Robert Caley very attractive, she’d known it when he had leaned towards her across the table in the gazebo, but any sexual desires had to be dismissed because if she discovered that he could benefit from his daughter’s disappearance or death, he would be under suspicion. And by now Lorraine intuitively felt that Anna Louise Caley was dead.
Cold Blood Page 8
