“If Mrs. Dowis didn’t let a maid come in to straighten out then he didn’t use the bathroom, Lee. It’s still setup for new guests.”
“Did you find any water glasses in the bathroom?”
Richard shook his head.
“We’ll double check with her. If the glasses should be here, that means our killer had a drink with Jake and removed the evidence. And the cover on the bed’s been straightened up but underneath the sheets are mussed,” I said. “It looks like he lay down either alone…or with someone.”
I clicked on my small flashlight. I gave the dark rug a once over, but didn’t catch anything the first time. Then I pulled out the Dust Buster from my bag and gave the rug a thorough going over. Spreading the contents out on top of the bureau, Richard helped me go through the mess. Nada but food crumbs.
“Wait a minute,” I said.
It was so small, at first glance I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. But no, there was a tiny glint of something blue adhered to some piece of food. I didn’t want to think about what that food was or how long it had been on the floor.
I separated the two with my fingernail, and pressed my forefinger against the blue glint. My eyes crossed as I brought up and focused on a single, blue bead.
“Eureka.”
“What have you got, Lee?” Richard’s eyes burned into mine when I turned to look at him.
“Another one; a bead from the shiny blue fringe on the redhead’s blouse. A knot must have loosened from one of her fringes and she didn’t notice. The beads seem to be steadily dropping off.”
“You sure?”
“As sure as I am of anything at this stage. But what are the odds there would be one at the storage unit and one in this room?” Richard opened his mouth to answer. “It was a rhetorical question. You needn’t compute it for me.”
I pulled the same plastic baggie out I’d store the first bead in. I stowed the second one inside, and slid my fingers along the locking system.
“Let’s grab Jake’s stuff, Richard, and head out. We’ll decide what to do with it later. We have a long drive ahead of us.”
Richard nodded, but didn’t say anything. I think he was feeling just as overwhelmed as I was.
Silicon Valley is like Tasmania or Madagascar.
It’s developed different life-forms than anywhere else.
Steven John
Chapter Eighteen
I don’t remember the trip back. Richard offered to drive and I crawled into the back seat and passed out. The next thing I knew, I awoke with a start when Richard reached back, grabbed an ankle, and shook it.
“Wake up, Lee. We’re here,” he said.
“Where is here? Stanford Hospital?”
“Yup.”
I sat up, looked around, yawned, and stretched. Reaching for the handle, I opened the door in an awkward motion, struggling to get out of the backseat of a two-door car and move into the passenger’s seat.
The cold damp hit me in the face. It had started raining again, a light rain, what I like to call California Spitting. An ominous fog had also descended, making the night nasty, nasty. I shivered and drew my coat tighter to me.
“Wow. I seem to have slept the whole ride back. Sorry about that.”
Richard removed his ear buds and looked at me with a half-smile. “You needed it. You’ve practically had no sleep for the past two nights.”
“What’s up? You look worried. It can’t be about me not getting my forty winks.”
“Before I go in to see Vicki and the baby I have to tell you something. Andy sent me his report on Devil’s Breath. I’ve been listening to it on the drive here. And by the way, we really need to wire your car’s system to accept your phone. This Bluetooth thing is so archaic.”
“Feel free to rewire my car anytime. What did you learn about Devil’s Breath?”
“It’s a derivative of Scopolamine, right?” I nodded. “But that’s where the similarity ends. It’s made by crushing the pods of the borrachero tree and then using certain chemicals to enhance their zombie-like properties. Here’s why you don’t find it anywhere on the black internet. It’s even more volatile than nitroglycerin.”
“You mean it can explode?”
“No, no, I was only using that as an example of something with unstable properties. Around three weeks, Devil’s Breath either loses all potency or becomes so deadly, it can kill whoever touches, inhales, or digests even a miniscule amount. At that point, the criminal has no idea what the effect will be on their victim. Or them.”
“Lifeless or deadly?” Richard nodded as the import of that fact sunk into my tired brain. “And that’s at about three weeks?”
“Correct. The watchword there is about three weeks. It’s different in every case. It could happen as early as seventeen days, or as late as twenty-five. After a certain time, Devil’s Breath is a completely unstable and potentially lethal drug, even for the ones using it on their victims. In certain areas of Colombia, like Bogotá, they have access to new pods all the time, so they make fresh batches at least every two weeks.“
“Could someone have a store of pods and make Devil’s Breath whenever and wherever they need it?”
“No. Once the pod drops off or is taken from the tree, it begins to die and lose its potency. There’s a window of only a few days to process it into the drug. After that, it’s dead. And you can’t freeze the pods, Lee, I checked. Freezing kills the pod instantly.”
“So you need to be near the source, a mother tree.”
“Somewhere that has a ‘tropical monsoon climate’, which is a rare and special environment. The closest one to the United States is a small region of Colombia where the conditions are right for the plant to grow. It’s within the vicinity of Bogotá.”
“That means we need to find out who travels back and forth to Colombia or has friends who do.”
Richard nodded imperceptibly, lost in his own thoughts. Finally he spoke.
“Not so easy. You could have a network of people bringing the drug into the states on a continual basis. A lot of Colombian nationals go back and forth to their country all the time.”
“Okay, okay. We’ve done enough for one day. Let’s put this on the back burner for now, Richard. Go see your wife and daughter.”
A smile lit up his face. I smiled back at him.
“We’ll start all this again tomorrow. Oh, before you go.” I reached in the back seat for my tote bag and pulled out the phone I took from the biker while he was up-chucking on the Dumbarton Bridge. “This came from one of the two kids that stole the chips and tester. His name is Jerome Hastings. He was told to erase the message from the man who set up the robbery a couple of days ago, but maybe you can resurrect it.”
Richard took the phone from my hand, all professional now. “An I-5. If the ghost isn’t on the phone itself, I’ll go to the cloud and get it. Jerome Hastings?” He looked at me for verification he’d gotten the name right.
“Yes, one of the part-timers at Read-Out. Think you can do it?”
“Piece of cake. I’ve got a sweet program that uncovers passwords. As long as I’ve got their phone and name, I’m good to go. Shouldn’t take me more than a couple of hours. I’ll start the program tonight while I play with Stephanie.”
He gave me that soft smile again; the one that happened when he mentioned his new daughter’s name.
“You do that. Now get out of my car and go see your family.” His smile turned into an all out grin as he leapt out of my car.
* * * *
I pulled out of the parking lot of the hospital and headed for home, maybe ten minutes away. I was exhausted, so I started singing You Were On My Mind to keep me awake. I may have many virtues but singing is not one of them. My loud, flat voice has been known to clear many a room. Nonetheless, as it was just me, I belted full out.
After the first stanza I stopped. The song was too close to the truth. I became silent, having depressed myself like nobody’s business. Thoughts raced through m
y mind.
I’m starring in my own wedding in less than a week. I should be happy. Why aren’t I happy? Maybe it’s because my groom is on a covert mission in a foreign country. That can cause grey hairs aplenty. At the rate I’m going, Clairol and I will soon be fast friends.
Fear washed over me.
I could become a widow before I become a bride. All I have is an emoticon to suggest Gurn is alive and well.
I mentally slapped myself across the face.
Then go there, stupid. He’s fine; he’ll be back, just like he has countless times before. It’s his job. Get over yourself.
I took a deep breath.
Okay, on to problem number two. Fifteen million dollars worth of property was stolen from a client on D. I.’s watch. Why didn’t I just bring the truck back to Rameen when he demanded I do so?
Looking back on it, I wish I had. However, no PI worth his or her salt would have done that; part of the job is to protect the client’s best interests. So pass the shaker and sprinkle me liberally.
I let out a noisy sigh.
If we get sued by Read-Out or word of this theft gets out, it could be the finish of D. I.
I swallowed hard.
It’s the family business, not only uniting us but my dad’s legacy. It’s something I thought would always be a constant in my life.
I felt tears fill my eyes.
But saddest of all, two men are dead and I have no idea why. One was a valued member of the business and will be missed by us on a personal level. The other man, one of Silicon Valley’s superstars, was just as valued to all the people who knew him.
Or was he?
It turns out D. H. Collier was a control freak who wanted everything his way, no matter what the cost. Aside from a daughter who loved him the way kids usually do, not many others seemed to have liked the man.
Does that include Katie Hall? Now that he’s dead, the nanny became his daughter’s legal guardian. She’ll have virtual control over millions if not billions of dollars, at least until Skye is of legal age. A crackerjack motive if ever there was one.
Why oh why, did I agree to look into his death? Oh, that’s right. I’m a schnook. Moving on.
This stupid IPO. Millions in the making; suspects in the making. I need to have a chat with the Read-Out people who stand to lose if it doesn’t go through. That is, if Rameen Patel will let me in the door. I’ll bet he’s royally pissed. And with good reason. Here I tell him D. I. is going to keep the chips and tester so they can’t get stolen again and whammo! Taken right from under our noses.
No matter how I look at it, I’m in such deep doo-doo. Could this day have been any worse? Oh, yeah. It could have been me in that motel in Redding. There is that. Time to go home, get the cats, go to bed, and pull the covers over my head. Unless there’s a Barbara Stanwyck movie on TCM; I’ll stay up for that.
I ran out of thoughts just as I hit the driveway of the old homestead. I rounded the drive heading toward the garage.
Even in the fog, I saw a flash of something small, orange and white caught in the headlights. It ran under the brush and disappeared. It only took a split second for me to connect the dots.
Tugger! Somehow my boy had gotten out, even under Tío’s watchful eye!
I panicked. I am not a believer in cats being outdoors, except possibly on a leash. Too many bad things can happen. Putting aside fleas, ticks, and such, there were raccoons that can slice them open with one swipe, other cats, vicious dogs, and predators that come down from the mountains at night looking for small prey. That’s not even mentioning fast traveling road vehicles. No animal is a match for a car, bus or a truck.
I slammed on the brakes, shut off the motor, and jumped out of the car into the drizzle, calling out Tugger’s name. I forgot about being cold. I forgot about being wet. I ran to the last place I’d seen the cat disappear and called again and again. Nothing. After a few moments of that, I decided I needed help in rounding him up.
I nearly ripped the backdoor off the hinges in my haste to get inside. I ran through the darkened kitchen and slammed open the swinging door. Racing into the family room, I saw both cats and my uncle in the Barcalounger watching CNN news, Tío’s favorite pastime.
Baba was sleeping in Tío’s lap and Tugger was in a meatloaf-like position on the armrest. I’d made such a racket entering the room, three heads swiveled and stared at me in astonishment. My uncle leaned forward in his chair.
“What is it, sobrina? What is wrong? ¿Que pasa?”
“Dios mio, Tío.” I took a moment to try and catch my breath. “I thought Tugger got out. But he’s here, he’s here!”
Shaking, I ran to the lounger and picked up Tugger, crushing him unto my soggy bosom. He struggled, obviously more comfortable where he’d been. Being crushed was not his thing.
Holding onto a sleepy Baba, Tío pushed himself out of his lounger and stood looking at me, not quite sure what to say. I felt like an idiot, and not for the first time that day.
Overload. I’m on overload.
I looked at my uncle. “I’m so sorry, Tío, for making such an entrance. I thought…I just saw…at least, I thought I saw…”
“Ah! Entiendo.”
“You understand?”
“Si. You see the neighbor’s new cat, Ralph. They have him for several days now. A rescue cat, so they do a good thing. Still, I wish they did not let him out in the night, especially on a night like this, but what can you do? I talk to him about the dangers, the new owner. He is very nice. But people do what they believe.” Tío shrugged, with the knowledge he couldn’t control how other people dealt with the perceived freedom of their animals.
Tugger let out a cry, and fought to be put down. I never heard more of an “unhand me, you cur” expressed in one yowl in my life. I set him back on the armrest and he immediately began cleaning himself where my hands had touched him. Thank you, oh, loyal companion.
“Wait a minute, Tío. Let me get this straight. You’re saying there is another cat that looks like my Tugger now living in the neighborhood?”
“Not really like your Tugger,” Tío said, trying to hide a smile. “Not as guapo.”
“Not as handsome? I should think not.” I heard the peevishness in my voice, but couldn’t help myself. “Now that I think about it, the other cat looked bulkier, not nearly as svelte, or regal-looking. It’s just that I only saw him for a moment and I was sure it was Tugger.”
“Si, upon inspection, there is a difference,” Tío agreed, grinning full out now. “As you say, Ralph is more the sturdy; but a very nice cat.”
I took off my wet coat, and hung it on the hat rack, while I digested all of this. Then I threw myself down on the sofa, burrowed the back of my head into a cushion, and sighed.
“Well, I’m glad we got that straightened out. Tío, the cat sighting was the last straw of one of the worst days of my life. I don’t even know if I have the strength to walk up the stairs to my apartment.”
I threw my left arm over my eyes in a dramatic gesture and groaned. I heard Tío’s laughter.
“Come, come. Put your coat back on. I will carry the cats and walk you to your home. You will be more comfortable in your own bed, sobrina.
“I guess you’re right,” I said in my best Sarah Bernhardt voice. I struggled to stand. “Where’s Mom?”
“She is asleep, as you should be. You both have very little the past few days.”
I came to attention, giving my uncle, no longer a young man, the once-over. “What about you, Tío? Have you been getting enough rest?”
“I have the catnaps with Baba and Tugger. Together, we sleep most of the evening. Ricardo, he calls a few minutes ago to tell me you are on your way. I only now watch the news. Soon I will go to bed. Now come.”
He took me by the arm and pushed me to the door. “Are you not hungry, Liana?”
I finally paid attention to my growling stomach. But before I could answer, he continued.
“I make the roast chicken with rice
for me and your mama. There is plenty left. I will give you some and you can heat it up in your cocina.”
He emphasized the word ‘your’ and moved toward his kitchen, leaving the swinging door open. I lumbered behind, snatching at my coat. By the time I entered his foodie fiefdom, he’d already opened the refrigerator and was rooting around inside. I watched for a moment.
“Well, I’ve been thrown out of better places than this, Tío. Give me the food and my cats, and I’ll be on my way.”
Tío turned away from the opened fridge, handed me a Tupperware container, and planted a kiss on my forehead. While I stood there in a stupor, my uncle picked up and unfurled an umbrella from the stand by the door, handed it to me, and called to the cats. They came running. One in each arm, Tío crossed to the backdoor, and looked at me. I hurried forward. Under the protection of the umbrella, we both went outside, and toward my apartment.
As we walked the short span to my garage apartment, I realized I’d had enough of the world and all its shenanigans. All I wanted was to eat something, snuggle with my cats, and go to sleep. Oh, yeah. And pull the covers over my head.
My friends are people who like building cool stuff.
We always have this joke about people who want to
just start companies without making something valuable.
There's a lot of that in Silicon Valley.
Mark Zuckerberg
Chapter Nineteen
It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep can do. I woke up early raring to go and feeling the glass was half-full instead of half-empty. I fed the cats after sharing a cuddle with them. I even managed to do a morning barre, and the ballet maven in me applauded. I hadn’t been able to do my usual 45-minute morning barre for two days, and was feeling stiff and off-center from the lack.
When Gurn and I decided to stay in the two bedroom garage apartment, we knew there was no way I was going to be able to share the second bedroom, turned into my office/dance studio, with others. Not that I was unwilling, but beside my lone desk tucked away in one corner and the full-length mirrors running along one wall, the twenty-foot square room is empty.
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