“No problem.” Eddie turned onto Forest Avenue.
“Strange day,” Harvey said. At noon he’d almost destroyed his embryonic relationship with Jennifer, but somehow they’d gotten past his blunder and moved to firmer ground. The roses had helped. Maybe he hadn’t forgotten everything about women after all.
“Not every day your car blows up.”
Harvey jerked back to reality. He’d almost forgotten about the car. “Right.”
“Je le regrette.”
“Forget it, Eddie. It wasn’t your fault.”
Eddie shrugged, and Harvey knew it would be a long time before he would forget it.
“If you see my folks, don’t say anything, okay?”
Harvey smiled. “You think your parents don’t read the paper?”
“Did you see any reporters?” Eddie asked anxiously.
“That hotshot from the Press Herald was there before the fire was out, and the Channel 13 truck came in while the bomb squad was working.”
“Guess I’ll have to explain things to Maman, then.” Eddie sighed. “You sure you’re not mad at me, Harv?”
“No, Eddie, I’m not mad.” How many times had Eddie asked him that in five years? He guessed he ought to expect it; there were plenty of times when he’d yelled at Eddie or dressed him down for carelessness.
Eddie had come into the unit green and awkward. It had taken Harvey a while to accept the reality of working with a new and inexperienced man, but it hadn’t taken him long to like Eddie. He was rather pleased with the way his protégé was turning out.
“So, do you like her?” Eddie asked.
“Who?”
“The girl you ate lunch with. It was that computer girl from Coastal, wasn’t it?”
“I taught you well, didn’t I?”
“I didn’t have to shadow you or anything. It wasn’t that hard to figure out.”
Harvey smiled, but wasn’t sure how much to tell him. “Yes, I like her.”
“Elle est belle.”
“If you said what I think you did, then oui.”
“How old is she?”
Harvey pretended not to hear.
“Oh, come on, Harv—’’
“Twenty-five, all right?”
“Man, you are robbing the cradle!”
Harvey refrained from comment.
“You going to see her again?”
“Mind your own business.” Harvey looked out the window, feeling guilty. “Okay, okay,” he relented as Eddie pulled up in front of Henderson’s house. “We’re going out tomorrow night.”
“Wow! You didn’t waste any time.”
Harvey inspected his fingernails. “Can’t at my age.”
They were sitting in front of a well-kept, two-story house in an upper-middle class neighborhood. They got out and walked up onto the porch. Harvey punched the bell, and a woman opened the front door to him, full of curiosity and expectation.
“I’m Detective Larson, with the Portland P.D. I’d like to speak to Thomas Henderson.”
Harvey always regretted the way their eyes clouded when they realized the police were on their doorstep. She stepped back uncertainly.
“Sure…I guess. Wait here.”
She turned away, but didn’t close the door. Sometimes they did, and his danger radar would scream. But it was a warm evening, and Mrs. Henderson apparently had no immediate reason to want to shut the police out.
Her husband came from the kitchen, with his wife hanging back a few steps. Harvey did a quick appraisal as he approached. Late thirties, well dressed, tired but wary.
“Mr. Henderson?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to ask you a few questions about Nick Dunham.”
Henderson’s eyes flickered. “Nick’s been missing for two months.”
“I know. I’m heading the investigation. May I come in?”
There was a little confusion, a touch of uneasiness, but Harvey expected that.
Henderson stepped back, and Harvey followed him into the living room, glancing quickly back toward the truck. Where had Eddie wandered off to? Harvey hoped he wouldn’t get into trouble for snooping around.
Henderson sat down on the sofa, and Harvey took a chair opposite him. Mrs. Henderson hovered in the kitchen doorway.
Harvey opened the interview with a smile. “When did you last see Nick Dunham, Mr. Henderson?”
He shrugged. “The day he disappeared, I suppose. I told the detectives when they were at the office. They questioned all of us.”
Harvey nodded. “Have you heard from Nick since then?”
Henderson’s eyes widened. “Of course not. I mean … nobody has, have they?”
He seemed genuinely baffled by the question, and Harvey moved along smoothly. “Have you heard anything about Nick since he’s been missing?”
“What do you mean?”
Harvey shrugged slightly. “Rumors, speculation…”
“Well, sure, maybe. I mean, there are stories going around the office.”
“What kind of stories?”
“I don’t know. Everybody has their theory on what happened to Nick.”
Harvey waited a moment, until Henderson met his eyes. “What’s your theory?”
Henderson held his hands up defensively. “I thought it was up to the cops to have theories. You’re asking me where he is?”
Harvey smiled. “Have you heard the one about Orlando?”
“Orlando? As in Florida? Yeah, I guess I’ve heard that. It’s stupid.”
Harvey nodded. “How did you hear that story?”
“I don’t know. Must have been from one of the women in the office. Some of them stand around and gab by the hour, you know? You go to get a file, and you hear snatches of conversation.”
“One of your coworkers told me they got that story from you.”
Henderson stood up. “Like I said, Nick’s disappearance is a topic that won’t go away at Coastal. When he was there, nobody noticed him. But now that he’s gone …”
“So, you’re certain you didn’t get that item from an outside source.”
Henderson’s eyes narrowed. “What did you say your name was?”
“Larson. Detective Larson.”
“So, you work at the police station on Middle Street.”
“That’s right.”
There was something in Henderson’s eyes now that Harvey didn’t like.
“Well, I don’t know if you understand the computer business, Detective. It’s very competitive.”
“Yes, I realize that.”
“Nick Dunham is very good at what he does.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Henderson nodded. “You want my theory? Nick’s gone to another company. Far away. He’s not singing in bars. He’s in Los Angeles, or Paris, or Tokyo, writing software.”
“And left his family behind?”
“Well, it happens sometimes, doesn’t it?”
Harvey stood up. “If you hear anything concrete, let us know.”
“Absolutely.” Henderson was almost jovial as he showed Harvey to the door.
Eddie was in the truck. As he buckled his seat belt, Harvey said, “Take me back to the station, quick.”
Eddie’s eyebrows arched. He threw the transmission into reverse and backed out of the driveway.
“You got something?”
“Nothing definite.”
“You think he knows something?”
“Maybe. I’m pretty sure he deliberately planted the rumor with the woman he knew was most likely to spread it around the office.”
“Not Jennifer.”
Harvey frowned. “No, not Jennifer. Her friend Jane.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember her. Brunette. Not bad looking. Talks a blue streak.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t taken her out by now.”
“Harvey, this is business.” His injured tone made Harvey feel guilty.
“I suppose you think I’m breaking the rules?”
“No. I didn’t mean that. The case was inactive ’til Wednesday, right?”
Harvey took a deep, slow breath. “That’s right.”
Eddie stared straight ahead as he drove. “That Henderson’s got a boat, two snowmobiles, and a pop-up camper. I wonder how much he makes?”
“His wife probably works, too,” Harvey said.
Eddie shrugged. “Probably. Hey, you want me to take you car shopping tomorrow?”
“Maybe. I haven’t had a chance to look at the ads yet.”
“You want a new car?”
Harvey scowled at him. “Never buy anything new, that’s my motto.”
“You ought to look in Uncle Henry’s.”
The weekly shopper booklet was a Maine institution.
“Yeah, maybe. But I don’t want to have to drive two hundred miles to look at something.”
“I can take you to a dealer.”
“I never buy from dealers.”
“You never buy from anybody. Harvey, you are out of the consumer loop.”
“You’re right.”
“You should get a sports car.”
“I don’t think so.”
“New girlfriend,” Eddie said, smiling significantly.
“She’s not my girlfriend. We ate lunch together once.”
“All right, a truck, then.”
“I don’t want a truck.”
Eddie drove into the parking garage. “So, what are we here for?”
“I need to check Tommy’s e-mail.”
“You’re going to crack into his private e-mail files? I don’t know, Harv. Don’t you need a warrant or something?”
“E-mail’s not secure. Everybody knows that.”
“Yeah, especially with you around.”
They climbed the stairs swiftly, and Harvey turned on his computer. It took him less than two minutes to get into Coastal’s files this time. He skimmed Henderson’s personnel record then tried to access the company’s e-mail system. That took a little longer.
“Want me to make some coffee?” Eddie asked.
Harvey barely heard him. “Sure.” When Eddie placed a steaming cup at his elbow five minutes later, he sat back and sighed.
“What?”
“He’s cleaned it out recently. No way to tell if he heard the Nick Dunham rumor from outside, like he told Jane.”
“Did you talk to her?” Eddie asked.
“No, I was hoping to skip that step, but I guess I’ve got to.” He sipped the coffee and made a face. “Where’s Paula when you need her? This is awful.”
“Sorry.”
“I think your punishment is to interview Jane Morrow. Make sure Jennifer got this straight.”
“Oh, come on, Harv.”
Harvey pulled out his pocket notebook and thumbed through it. “Here’s her phone number. Remember, she’s not bad looking.”
Chapter 7
Jennifer spent much of Saturday reviewing her limited wardrobe and trying to classify her feelings for Harvey Larson. A strong attraction, for sure, and she was certain he reciprocated. He was funny, he was intelligent, but there was a trace of insecurity, too. And he’d been divorced before his wife died. She wasn’t sure she could get past that.
A dinner date was rare for her, and nothing in her closet seemed suitable. She had the afternoon free and decided to go shopping. She drifted in and out of a few stores, and gave up. Her four-year-old print dress would have to do.
Harvey arrived punctually, wearing a three-piece suit and glasses. He could pass himself off as a professor or a stock broker, she thought. Maybe he did, on undercover cases. The sun was getting low, and his blue eyes gleamed behind the glasses as he smiled at her on the doorstep.
Immediately, Jennifer wished she’d bought a new dress. Her floral print seemed fussy and out of date.
Donna-jean, as usual, was gone for the evening. Jennifer was glad she hadn’t been on hand when Harvey arrived, as a wave of shyness swept over her.
She stopped in surprise on the steps. A red Subaru was parked in the driveway. “This is your car?”
He hesitated. “No, it’s a loaner.”
Part of her was satisfied. The little red car didn’t go with his personality. She had sensed that he would have a nondescript sedan that would blend in and keep him from being noticed. But another part of her was alarmed. Loaners meant trouble.
“Your car’s in the shop?”
“No, it blew up yesterday.”
He opened the car door for her. She stared at him. She could tell he was serious, and it frightened her.
Harvey smiled. “It’s okay. You can get in.”
She climbed in and arranged her skirt while he went around to the driver’s side.
“You weren’t kidding, were you?” she asked.
“It’s one of the hazards of the job.” He started to buckle his seat belt. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He pulled a piece of paper from his inside breast pocket. When he did it, she glimpsed the badge pinned inside his jacket and the butt of his gun. A shiver went through her, and she took a deep breath.
“What’s this?” She took the paper gingerly.
“It’s my make-up test. I didn’t answer all your questions yesterday.”
She unfolded it, glancing at him, trying to read his mood. It said:
1. Because I always wanted to be one.
2. Yes.
3. Very much.
4. Not really.
5. Yes, pepperoni.
6. If I’m not working, I read, go to the shooting range, read, check my stocks, read, play basketball with my partner, and read.
She smiled and folded it up again. “Now I just have to remember what the questions were.” She put it in her purse, and he started the car.
“Don’t I get a report card?” He seemed relaxed, contented almost, and Jennifer felt the tension dissipating.
“A-plus.”
“Really?”
“Sure. You love your job, and you like pizza. What more could I ask?”
“Do you want pizza tonight? I mean, I was thinking something classier, but if you really crave pizza…”
“No, take me wherever you were thinking of.”
“Do you like Chinese?”
“Sure.”
He headed into town. It struck her suddenly that he had done a very good job of distracting her from the fact that his car had been sabotaged. She watched him furtively as he drove, until he turned a dazzling smile on her. She didn’t care then, about the car. She was just glad to be with him, and if he didn’t want to talk about it, that was all right.
He was witty and charming that evening. They ate sweet and sour chicken with chopsticks and talked for hours. He told her about his older sisters and how they looked out for him after their parents died, hoarding the money that was left to supplement his college scholarships. When both parents were killed in a car wreck, Harvey had been eighteen, about to enter pre-law at Harvard.
Ivy League, Jennifer thought with dismay. He must have had huge scholarships. Her parents had struggled with the bills to UMaine. Jeff had been a senior her freshman year, and they had both worked. Her junior year, Abby had entered nursing school. There was never enough money. Her job at Coastal Technology had allowed her to help out a little with Abby and Leeanne’s education.
“I was going to go to law school, but I decided I’d rather enforce the law than argue it.” He smiled a bit apologetically.
They were from different universes, she could see that now. She took a deep breath. “And where do your sisters live?”
“Near Concord, New Hampshire. It’s where I grew up. They’re both married and have children.”
He asked Jennifer about her childhood, and she described the farmhouse in Skowhegan and her sister Leeanne’s herd of goats. Harvey had a repertoire of funny cop stories that kept her in stitches. Then he bemoaned his partner Eddie, and how he’d had to baby-sit him through his first year on the job.
“You really like Eddie, don’t you?”
she asked.
“He’s immature in some ways, but he’s my best friend now. Not to mention he’s saved my life several times.”
“I guess you look out for him, too.”
He nodded deferentially.
They talked about music. Harvey liked jazz.
“I’m more into classical,” she said cautiously.
Harvey shrugged. “I can live with it. Would you like to go to the symphony sometime?”
“Well, sure, I guess.” Jennifer tried to keep her hands from shaking as she poured tea into the tiny cups.
“You minored in philosophy.”
She nodded. “Seems useless now.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t wasted.”
She shrugged.
“No, really,” Harvey said earnestly. “It tells me that you like to think about ideas. That’s important.”
“But not very practical.”
“And underneath the dreamy exterior, you’re a pragmatist.”
She smiled and sipped her tea.
“So, what are you reading now?” he asked.
She had to laugh. “A biography of Pascal.”
“Aha! See, you still like philosophy.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”
“So, he’s the guy who invented the computer, right?”
She sat back a little and tried to decide if he was teasing her. “Yes. It was a mechanical thing. But you knew that.”
“Sure. The computer language is named after him. All nerds know that.”
“Do you know about the wager?” she asked.
“Hmm, Pascal’s wager. It’s been a long time.” His brow furrowed. “Something like, if you take the bet you win, and if you don’t, you lose big?”
“Right. He told his friend the gambler he believed God was real, and the friend should bet on it. If he did and Pascal was right, he’d win, and if Pascal was wrong, he’d lose nothing. But if he didn’t take the wager and Pascal was right, he’d lose everything.”
“I don’t know about that metaphor,” said Harvey. “I think faith is more than just covering your bases.”
“Oh, me too. But it’s thought provoking. Can we ever know for sure that God is real, or is believing more important than the reality? That’s something I’d like to know.”
“You think a lot about God?” he asked.
“Some. Don’t you?”
“As a matter of fact, I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately.”
The Priority Unit (Maine Justice Book 1) Page 9
