Cold Blood

by Lynda La Plante

  ‘Did Mrs Caley treat you with respect?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ He still held the door open but she got the feeling he wanted to get rid of her.

  ‘Did you drive Mrs Caley to and from her doctor’s at all?’

  ‘No, ma’am.’

  ‘Really? So you only drove Mrs Caley infrequently? Just shopping trips, a few social events?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am, that is correct.’

  ‘Did you ever take Mrs Caley to a Mrs Juda Salina’s apartment over on Doheny?’

  ‘I did sometimes take them.’

  ‘Them?’

  ‘Ah, well, yes, Miss Anna Louise went to see Mrs Salina a few times. Mrs Salina used to come by the house but Mr Caley didn’t like it, so then they used to go to her place.’

  ‘Did Anna Louise ever go by herself to Juda Salina?’

  ‘Er, maybe, once or twice.’

  ‘Immediately before she disappeared?’

  ‘I don’t want any trouble, please. Mr Caley doesn’t know I took them, he didn’t like her, and I don’t believe in all that stuff.’

  ‘So Anna Louise went to Mrs Salina’s just before they left for New Orleans, yes?’

  He nodded his head.

  ‘You’re from New Orleans, aren’t you, Mario?’

  He seemed to be very uneasy and the sweat stood out on his forehead. ‘Yes, ma’am, a number of the Caleys’ employees used to work for her family, and sometimes we go back there with them, when they’re gonna stay a while.’

  ‘If I need to talk with you, Mario . . .’

  ‘You can call me at the house or here, Mrs Page. I live in, I got an apartment over the garages.’

  Mario looked at the security section, then back at Lorraine. He took out his card and wrote on the back. ‘That’s my portable, you can always get me on my portable, but you got to know I got nothing to say about Mrs Caley, or Mr Caley. They’re fine people and I am real cut up about Miss Anna Louise, as is everyone that knows them.’

  Lorraine slipped the card into her pocket and smiled. ‘I’m sure it must be a very distressing time for everyone. Thank you, Mario.’

  She walked out of the building and headed towards the car park. She saw the white stretch limo parked by the security gate. Robert Caley was bending into the passenger side, with his back to her. Lorraine hurried along the neat pathway and took a short cut across the grass, ducking under the white barrier. She was within feet of Robert Caley, who seemed angry.

  ‘All I’m asking is for you to see if he’ll give me time. Jesus, you play games, you know that?’

  ‘Me? You play the games, Caley, you get what you deserve. What you want me to do? Tell my daddy that you’ll go down on him?’

  ‘I’ll tell your daddy what his fucking bitch of a daughter gets up to . . .’

  ‘Hi, I was just leaving,’ Lorraine said from directly behind him. He whipped round, the door of the limo ajar, and she could see the still naked Saffron lying on the back seat. He slammed the door shut, the car backed away from the barrier and did a U-turn.

  ‘That was some meeting,’ Lorraine said, smiling.

  He covered fast, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Yeah, but sometimes old partners can push their luck.’

  She could see a small muscle at the side of his jaw twitching and she continued to smile. ‘Thank you for letting me use your office.’

  ‘Any time.’ His hands were clenched at his sides and although she knew he was trying hard to be civil, his eyes gave him away. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment.’

  ‘Sure, if I need to speak to you again . . .’

  He was walking away. ‘You know where I am, Mrs Page.’

  As Lorraine turned around towards her car, the security guard tipped his hand to his hat and headed towards her.

  ‘Evening, Mrs Page.’ He walked with her to her car. He even took her keys to unlock the car for her, holding the door wide. Everyone in the place seemed over-polite.

  ‘Must have been up in the seventies today,’ he remarked, making conversation, waiting for his tip. She passed him five bucks.

  ‘That was a nice limo.’

  ‘The big white one?’

  ‘Yeah, with the Louisiana plates. Whose is it?’

  ‘Used to come by a lot but not lately, business associate of Mr Caley’s.’ He shut the car door, tapping the roof with his hand. She wondered if she gave him another five bucks whether he would recall whose limo it was, and she lowered the window, keeping a fixed smile in place.

  He lifted the security pole for her to drive through. As she came alongside him, she let the smile drop.

  ‘Who owns the limo, pal? Save me time checking it out at the station. Yeah, that’s right, I’m a cop, we come in all shapes and sizes now.’

  He hesitated. ‘Miss Saffron Dulay, she’s Lloyd Dulay’s daughter, he uses her limo when he’s here in LA.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Lorraine said crisply, driving out through the barrier. So that was the business meeting. Well, maybe it was; Lloyd Dulay, Robert Caley had told her, was one of the casino partners, the brewery magnate.

  Lorraine was heading back towards Hollywood when Nick called her on the mobile.

  ‘Hi, honey. If we wanna talk to Caley’s doc, we got to make it quick. I got a tip-off he’s gonna get busted, so meet me there as soon as you can make it.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll head straight over there, I’ve just got to make one call on the way.’ She punched out the office number.

  ‘Hi, Bill, anythin’.?’

  ‘Nope,’ he answered. ‘How you doin’?’

  ‘I had a couple of hours at Caley’s office, I got some names to check out. He gave me access to the casino deal file, which makes interesting reading. Will you dig up what you can about Lloyd Dulay’s daughter? She’s in Hollywood, name’s Saffron Dulay. I think Robert Caley’s got a scene going with her, so can you check her out?’

  ‘Sure, but Lorraine—’

  She knew he was about to hassle her about wasting time in LA. ‘I got to go now, I’m on my way to meet Nick.’

  The line went dead. Rosie leaned over Rooney’s shoulder, reading his notes. ‘Who’s Saffron . . . what’s the name?’

  ‘Dulay, daughter of one of the guys on the casino deal, rich, rich family. Lorraine seems to think Robert Caley’s screwing her, so I’ll check her out, start ringing round the social columns and society diaries.’

  Rosie nodded. ‘I’ll do that, if you like.’

  ‘Okay, thanks. You smell nice, you wearin’ perfume?’

  Rosie beamed. ‘It’s gardenia.’

  ‘Smells nice, fresh.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘S’okay.’

  Nick watched Lorraine drive into the car park adjacent to the doctor’s surgery on Santa Monica and Bedford, get out and head towards the building. He liked the way she walked, with long, easy strides. A raunchy woman, he thought to himself, all woman. Even with her blonde hair all ruffled and her suit crumpled, she looked good to him. He’d always liked leggy, tough blondes and Lorraine was a natural, kind of coordinated. He couldn’t help but smile, intuitively guessing she was also raunchy in bed.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ she snapped.

  ‘Nothin’, but you look like you want to sock somebody. You in a raw mood, are you?’

  ‘Yeah,’ but she was smiling when she answered. Nick Bartello had that ability to put you at your ease immediately.

  He gave her that great smile of his. ‘Okay, this is what’s going down. You wanna sit in my jeep? I’m in the Doc’s parking bay. He’s inside by the way, but he’s also gonna be inside inside sooner than he knows.’

  They crossed to a beat-up Cherokee jeep; even the seats were torn and shredded.

  ‘Holy shit, Nick, where’dyou get this?’

  ‘Engine’s good an’ it was cheap. My dog screwed up the seats.’ He whistled, and a weird, long-haired head shot up from the back seat.

  ‘This is Tiger. Tiger, meet Lorraine Page, of Page Investigations.’ />
  The dog, part German Shepherd and part sheepdog or maybe wolfhound, was as unkempt-looking as its owner, its freaky pale blue eyes like Nick’s.

  ‘Found him in a trash can two years ago, he’s a great guard dog but he craps everywhere, so he kinda lives in the jeep.’

  ‘Yeah, I can see that.’ Lorraine looked over the disgusting jeep’s seats; a food bowl, a water bowl, and an old blanket, along with Tiger, occupied the entire back seat. As Lorraine sat inside and shut the door, Tiger gave a low, rumbling growl.

  ‘Hey, back off, this is my partner.’

  Tiger settled down, his head resting on Nick’s shoulder as he tapped out a cigarette from a squashed pack of Kools.

  ‘Remember the Fisher guy I told you about? My now deceased informant?’

  Lorraine nodded.

  ‘Well, I made some more enquiries, autopsy report revealed it wasn’t a heroin OD but a blood clot, caused by injecting temazepam, that caused death. Kind of makes sense because he’d said the last time I met him he wasn’t using, but I just presumed he’d got back on the smack. His type usually do. This doctor is sellin’ prescriptions like it’s going out of fashion and he is still supplying temazepam to Elizabeth Caley. But if we want to go in there, let me do the talking. We won’t have long because Fisher’s girlfriend has been rapping to the cops, they picked her up a couple of nights ago. Don’t ever accuse me of not movin’ my ass, I been at this since early morning. Anyway, my tip-off is they’re gonna bust him any second, so if we need a bit of a lever to make him talk we can use Fisher.’

  ‘Okay, let’s go talk to the guy.’

  The surgery was like a luxurious lounge, deep sofas, drapes and coffee tables, while Dr Hayleden, with his rimless glasses, pristine suit, coiffured hair and facework, resembled something from a waxworks.

  ‘I cannot discuss any patient. Unless, of course, he or she is privy to the discussion or you have a legal, written consent form.’

  Lorraine said nothing. Nick remained silent.

  ‘So I think that concludes our interview.’

  ‘Not quite,’ Nick said softly.

  ‘Oh, I think so. You walk in off the street, you say you are a private investigation company, you ask questions about one of my patients, and obviously one that the media know only too well, and expect me—’

  ‘To cut the bullshit,’ said Nick quietly, ‘I know you have been prescribing Elizabeth Caley not just pain-killing drugs, but sleeping tablets, mild tranquillizers, right? And over a long period of time . . . only she’s got enough to tranquillize a fucking elephant.’

  ‘I don’t like your insinuations, Mr Bartello.’

  ‘Quite honestly, Doc, I don’t give a fuck. I know nobody, no matter how much of an insomniac they may be, who requires per week the bulk load of temazepam you have been prescribing for Elizabeth Caley. Enough to melt down the tabs and inject six or seven times daily. Now, we’re not talking the usual prescription-sized orders here, I mean two hundred a time. The reason I know this is a friend of mine was also dealing for you, a Mr Fisher. He and his pals were breaking into warehouses at chemical plants and delivering to your door. I know and you know, Doc, anybody doing that amount of gear is heading for thrombosis, like our pal Mr Fisher. He is dead, you know that?’

  Dr Hayleden stared hard at Nick, trying not to show that he knew exactly what he was talking about. But they’d got to him, they could feel it. The sweat was breaking out on his forehead and his eyes widened in panic. Lorraine kicked Nick’s ankle lightly – no way did they want to frighten him too much.

  Lorraine leaned forward. ‘We’re not from the drug squad, this is a private investigation. All we need to know is if Robert Caley is aware of what his wife is hooked on.’

  ‘I don’t know of any patient on my books called Fisher.’ Dr Hayleden was sweating profusely, his perfect hair-weave now damp round the edges, his lips dried out as he constantly flicked his tongue from corner to corner of his mouth. ‘You must understand, if a patient insists on misusing prescribed drugs there is little I can do about it.’

  Nick got up. ‘If a doc continues to prescribe drugs knowing the dangers, I’d say he was in shit up to his armpits. Why don’t you answer the question? Better still, tell us if Robert Caley has ever picked up one of your little sweetie bags for his wife in person.’

  Fifteen minutes later Nick and Lorraine knew that Elizabeth Caley was sometimes ordering over a thousand tabs a week and that Hayleden, never having met Robert Caley, had no reason to believe he was in any way aware of his wife’s drug abuse. Mrs Caley’s personal assistant had on occasion collected the tablets. Anna Louise Caley had never at any time been to his surgery.

  By the time Nick and Lorraine had driven back to Pasadena, the LA drug squad had arrested Hayleden. He was to be charged with the selling of prescriptions and illegal drugs, would probably get off with just a fine, and be struck off the medical board. But his type just moved on and started up again in another state. Elizabeth Caley, using an assumed name, was only one of his many clients. Her real name would probably never even be linked to the case.

  Over dinner back at the apartment, Nick remained adamant that Robert Caley was still their main suspect. Rooney listened as Nick and Lorraine filled him and Rosie in on their session with the doctor. The consensus was that they should now begin work in New Orleans. Only Lorraine held back, not satisfied that Robert Caley was their number one suspect. The others felt she was becoming obsessive with the Juda Salina scenario, and she insisted she still needed to talk with Phyllis again and have yet another session with both Elizabeth and Robert Caley.

  Nick threw his hands up in agitation. ‘Why the fuck are you wasting time, sweetheart? It’s Caley, he’s got the motive.’

  Rooney nodded in agreement. ‘Yeah, we got to prove it though, Nick.’

  Nick wound some spaghetti round his fork and looked at Lorraine. ‘You give us reasons why we don’t go for him, push him hard.’

  ‘I honestly don’t have one, just a gut feeling.’

  ‘You mean you want to get into his pants,’ Nick said, laughing.

  Lorraine sprang up. ‘Fuck you, that isn’t true. All I’m saying is, if he was involved in his own daughter’s disappearance, why give me access to his private files, why give me reasons or a fucking big motive? He’s not hiding anything, on the contrary.’

  Nick poured a beer which he had brought himself because he knew neither Lorraine nor Rosie drank. ‘Hey! Let’s just hold it there. A guilty man is bound to want you to know before you find out, rules of the game, Lorraine, you know that. And you caught him out with Saffron what’s her name. We have got to move fast so that Elizabeth Caley doesn’t kill herself before we get him or we’ll lose out on that one million pay-off.’

  Lorraine felt tired out. ‘You got anything on Saffron Dulay, Rosie?’

  Rosie, more official then ever, opened her note-book. ‘For starters, she’s had more husbands than I’ve had hot dinners. She’s the only daughter and heir to a fortune and she puts it about, a lot. I contacted Melissa Dewhurst from the Hollywood grub mag and she filled me in without much preamble because Saffron sued her magazine for a lotta bucks ’cos Melissa wrote some article implying she was a nympho. By the way, she sued another mag because it hinted that she’d had breast implants. Judging from the pics I got sent over, I’d say she’s had a lot more than her tits lifted, she looks fantastic. And take a look at the apartment she lives in.’ Rosie spread out the magazine pictures.

  Nick leaned forward and whistled. ‘Now, she’s a motive. What a body, and rich with it, nice one. Lorraine, have a look at her with clothes on. You saw her in the back of a limo at Robert Caley’s place bareass naked, right?’

  Rooney stared. ‘You’re kiddin’ me!’

  Lorraine sat back, pushing her half-finished plate away. She opened her briefcase and passed out her notes from Caley’s office files, putting them on to the table. ‘Don’t get food over them, but you two, and you, Rosie, should get clued up.’ She
got up from the table.

  ‘What about Robert Caley?’ Nick asked, uptight.

  ‘That is about him, Nick, just read it, all of it.’

  Nick yawned, winking at Rooney. ‘How about a drink? We can go through these in a bar.’

  Rooney snapped the book shut. ‘Okay by me. See you tomorrow, Rosie, thanks for the spaghetti.’ He leaned over and kissed her cheek. It took her by surprise, and she blushed.

  Nick gave her a wink as he held open the door for Rooney to pass. ‘Goodnight, see ya tomorrow.’

  Rosie started clearing the table. It was nice having men around the place, it was a good feeling, and as she passed a mirror carrying the dirty plates to the sink, she gave herself a quick glance. Maybe tomorrow she should have her hair trimmed, start wearing a bit of make-up. Rooney’s peck on the cheek had meant a lot; she hadn’t been kissed by a man for a very long time. Not that Rooney had kissed her properly, but it was a show of affection and she hadn’t had much of that either.

  Lorraine remained sitting at the table as Rosie began clearing up. She could hear Rooney and Nick laughing in the street below. She got up and stood by the window, looking out, then turned to Rosie.

  ‘Goodnight, Rosie, go to bed now, it’s late, and I’m tired out.’

  ‘Goodnight. Turn off the air conditioner or you won’t sleep.’

  Lorraine turned off the air conditioning, then the lights, and stood in the semi-darkness by the window, arms folded, deep in thought. Nick Bartello had virtually taken over the case, she knew it, and she knew she would have to top him, to prove not only to Rosie but to Rooney that she was still running the show. He was ahead of her and he was good, she knew that. He might be laid back but he had come up with motives, and good ones. Was she losing her touch? Had her physical attraction to Caley made her fail to see through him? She sighed as she lay down on her sofa bed.

  Was Robert Caley capable of covering up why his own daughter had been abducted, possibly murdered? Or was it Elizabeth Caley covering up not only her drug addiction but something more sinister? If so, why the hiring of private investigators? Unless it was a role she was acting out from one of her old movies?