About Face

by James Calder

  Trucks rumbled down Third Street and rowers cut along the Central Basin inlet. I walked out on the Agua Vista pier, where a few fishermen were making their morning casts. The sky was a pale, endlessly receding blue now, the bay placid. I leaned over the railing and gazed at the water’s changing face.

  The next operation in solving the equation would be to nail down means and opportunities. Wendy was the one who’d set up Rod for the Cheshire Cat that night. That could mean everything or nothing. I’d seen her at the club, which gave her an alibi, but she might have sent Brendon to Rod’s house. He was strong enough to overpower Rod. Brendon had said Larsen and Terry were in Vegas. Gary had claimed that he, Rupert, and Trisha were at a hospital charity dinner. That could be checked out. The whereabouts of the rest were an open question.

  Detective Coharie might know the answers. It was unlikely he’d give them to me, though. Being COO of only my camera, I didn’t rate on his chart. I’d ask Mike what he’d said and what the lab discovered about the knife. That might help pin Trisha and Rupert. I still wondered how the killer got into Rod’s house. Knowing Rod, he’d just opened the door when the bell rang.

  I labored back up 20th Street. The sun had risen. My head swam with too many variables. I needed to solve them soon, before Algoplex was lost to Sylvain. If Rod was here and the victim had been otherwise, he’d probably be able to reduce the terms and hand me a clean answer. He had his own form of magic, one of switches and operations, repeated recursively until a revelation was reached. He’d told me once that he believed nothing occurred after death: It was blank, the ultimate null. This, he’d admitted, squinting and blinking, was only a conjecture. But that was what made life interesting: the unknown.

  Perhaps my answers could be found in more coffee. It was always worth a try. I went into Scoby’s. No sooner had I sat down with a roll and a tall new cup than my cell phone rang. I fumbled it open and made for the door. People did use their phones in Scoby’s, but we regulars looked down on them.

  “So what happened last night?” Wes demanded.

  I told him the Kim story in the order it had occurred. I had him and myself believing everything she’d said, right up to the moment the guy pinned me to the fence. Wes expressed a desire to run a scan on him.

  “I need to find out who he is first,” I said. “I’ll call you back when I know.”

  I’d been pacing on the sidewalk as I talked, dodging passersby. It was not much better than using your phone in the café. I’d just clicked off with Wes when the thing rang again.

  “Are you up?”

  It was Kim. I said I was. She launched into an apology for last night. I told her to save it. If she wanted to talk to me, she should be at my flat at three o’clock this afternoon. She promised she would. I didn’t add that it was a test to see whether she came alone.

  I went back to my table to discover my roll had disappeared from my plate. No one in the café appeared to have it. Then I saw the dog sitting on the stoop, licking his lips. Usually dogs stayed outside, but this one had snuck in. He gave me a mixed look of guilt and hope. Guilty as he was, he hoped I’d provide more. A few crumbs remained on the plate. I set it at his feet, and went home.

  » » » » »

  I showed up at Mike Riley’s office at ten o’clock. His shirt was untucked and his hair mussed as if he’d already put in a full day. “You should have called first,” he complained as he closed his door behind me. “I’m very busy.”

  “I wanted to hear what you’ve learned from the police.” I didn’t add that I also wanted to watch him face-to-face while he answered.

  He sat in his swivel chair and rattled if off to me. “They’re convinced now that the knife is the actual murder weapon. Whoever did it must have put the other knife in Rod’s hand to try to make it look like suicide. But here’s the really weird thing: The blood is not Rod’s. It came from a cow.”

  I sat down, trying to take the news in stride. “Both the blood on the knife and the drips on the floor?”

  “All of it.” He stopped his swiveling, opened his mouth, and made me wait for the next words. “Detective Coharie traced the anonymous tip to your cell phone. He’s asking questions about you.”

  I tried not to show my consternation. I should’ve used a pay phone. “Were there prints on the knife?”

  “Smeared and fragmentary. Nothing positive.”

  “Has he said anything to you about suspects? Has he asked people where they were last Wednesday night?”

  “He’s finally given up the suicide idea, thank God. He thinks it was a crankhead, maybe two, trying to burgle the place. The only other person he wonders about is you. I mention this to you as a favor.”

  “He needs to zero in on Trisha Evans,” I said. “She has two guys working for her, maybe from Vegas, named Larsen and Terry. They’re the ones who hit me in the mouth.”

  “Did you file a report on that?”

  “No. But I can. It’ll give me a good reason to see Coharie.”

  “I would proceed with caution if I were you, Bill,” Mike said. I noticed his wording: He was talking about me separately from the job. “It already looks bad enough with the call about the knife.”

  “I gave him the murder weapon. He could at least say thank you.”

  Mike leaned his elbows on the armrests and again made me wait for his words. “I’m sorry to have to do this, Bill. But I think it’s time for Algoplex to part ways with you. Give me an invoice and we’ll settle up.” His manner was brisk, his eyes averted. He wasn’t sorry at all.

  “I thought you were going to rename the company.” It was all I could think of to say.

  Mike turned his head slowly to scowl at me. “It’s no longer your concern, Bill. We appreciate your services, but we find they no longer benefit the company. We don’t feel you’re playing on the same team.”

  “Do you mean the Algoplex team or the Mike team?”

  “That’s a low blow, Bill. You’re not welcome here anymore.”

  I stood up. “I’ll leave. But I’m watching you, Mike. I’m watching what you do with this Sylvain offer. I’m watching the outcome of the key-man clause, which you put in the contract.”

  “That was for Rod’s protection!” Mike exploded from his chair. He stood, fists clenched, steam building inside like in a stout little teapot. I knew he wasn’t responsible for the key-man clause, but I wanted him to come at me. I wanted to find out how strong he was and how combustible: whether he could have killed Rod.

  But the steam ebbed. He shook his head and sat back down. “I warned you. And yet you keep pushing.”

  I opened the door and turned before I left. “You won’t get that invoice, Mike. I don’t want anything from you.”

  » » » » »

  I’ve been told that when one door closes in life, another opens. I’d closed the door on Mike, but found Connie’s open to me when I arrived at Plush Biologics. Kim must have spoken to her.

  I wouldn’t have known Connie had a warm side, but she greeted me as if I were her favorite nephew. This was a point in her favor, and also in Kim’s.

  We danced around the subject of Kim for a few minutes. I asked Connie if she’d heard anything more about Mike and the Sylvain offer. She said no, but she’d let me know if she did. I said I appreciated her help. She said she was glad to oblige. When finally I blurted Kim’s name and said her secret was safe, Connie replied with a conspiratorial shush. “Certain things are better not spoken aloud, Bill. We know what we know.”

  I hadn’t focused on it before, but Connie had a small over-bite. That and the look in her eyes yesterday when I’d first mentioned Kim made her seem more human. I pushed my luck a little farther and said I didn’t realize Plush’s melanin research was so far along. Connie didn’t seem to mind explaining it to me. Melanocytes were one of the easier skin cells to manipulate. They’d been working on genes expressing tyrosinase and endothelin-1, factors regulating the production of melanin, which determined skin pigmentation. The pro
gram had taken a back seat to Eternaderm in part because other companies were farther ahead. An Australian firm had plans to release an implant drug called melanotan that would induce a suntan and guard skin from UV damage. In high doses, the drug turned green frogs jet black.

  I told Connie I was impressed with the work. That pleased her. I felt ready to take the next leap and tell her about Wendy. I asked if I could get some help using Eternaderm as bait.

  Connie thought about it for a minute and then said, “It can be arranged. Temporarily, you understand. She’ll never receive the full course.”

  “Can you tell me what it was that Wendy did wrong?”

  “It’s not related to Rod. She did some modeling work for us, as you know, and then tried to take advantage of it. She’s the kind of person who’s constantly grasping for more. She always wants what someone else has.”

  Given our new diplomacy, I didn’t push Connie for details. “Should I bring her over to the clinic?”

  Connie folded her arms. “Wendy will not enter this building. You and Ellen can administer it together. I’ll leave the mechanics to her.”

  “Fine. I’ll go talk to Ellen in a minute, if that’s all right with you.”

  “Very good.” She hesitated, then played with the glasses on the end of her necklace. “I hope you understand, Bill, about our first few meetings. I was in a protective mode. Odd that it should be evoked now—Ronald and I never had children. The business, the employees, they were our offspring. But now I find myself . . .” She shook her head as her words trailed off.

  “I think I understand. Rod brought a protectiveness out in me. Some people just get to you. You’re not even sure why.”

  “Yes.” Again our eyes met as they had outside Mike’s office. I had a feeling she understood why I wanted to find Rod’s killer so badly.

  “One more thing before I go,” I said. “Are you going to this Wings of Silicon Charity Ball tomorrow night? Wendy says Trisha and Rupert will be there, along with the Sylvain honchos.”

  Connie raised her eyebrows. “Trisha’s getting uppity, isn’t she? It’s one of the most prestigious events of the year. The money’s used to put software in schools. She must be planning to raise her profile. Pretty soon she’ll be applying to the polo clubs and denying any connection with Silicon Glamour. Not bad for a woman who started as a Las Vegas escort.”

  “So it’s true what Wendy said. She started in Vegas and moved the business here.”

  “Actually, she was a little smarter than that. She saw an opportunity for a more legitimate venture in Silicon Valley. SG may do plenty that’s underhanded, but the associates always stay just this side of legal. She’s a viper, Bill, but I have to give her credit. She did it all on her own. Trisha and Rupert live very, very well, each in their own mansion in Morgan Hill.”

  “Did you know that SG associates gather inside information from their dates and pass it along to Rupert and Trisha, who then pass it along to Sylvain?” I said.

  Connie paused. “Our mutual friend did tell me something about it. I wish we could introduce her to investigative authorities. But that would be too dangerous for her. I’d be glad to help you nail them for that in other ways.”

  “What about Erika?”

  Connie looked away. “I felt very bad about that. It was hard to send her away, Bill, but I had no choice. Trisha was watching. I couldn’t do anything that might give away our other friend. I also knew that the damage was temporary; skin cells are a marvel of rebirth, you know, they turn over every month when you’re young. In the meantime, I think we better leave Erika out of it.”

  “All right. Are you pretty sure Trisha’s the one running the show at Sylvain?”

  “I have no proof, but I’d be shocked if she wasn’t. There’s nothing illegal about that, of course, unless we can get them on the spying and insider-information charges.”

  I got up to leave. “Or murder. Thanks for your help, Connie.” Connie put out her hand. “If I see Trisha at the Silicon Ball, I’ll have a little chat.”

  I checked my watch and went across the building to make arrangements with Ellen. I’d have to hurry. It was close to two, and Kim was coming to my flat at three. I wanted to be sure I was there well before her.

  » » » » »

  Kim gave me a jaunty greeting. I could have sworn she was genuinely happy to see me and in a more cheerful mood than she’d been since I met her. She looked that way even before she saw my face. I’d observed her approach from my Scout, down the block, to make sure she was alone, then had surprised her on my doorstep.

  We sat at my kitchen table. I cleared it of clutter and brewed her a cup of tea. Since she’d taken up smoking, she said, she’d given up coffee. She picked up her apology about last night where she’d left off. I wanted to know who the guy was.

  “Just someone I met. In a bar, okay? Two nights ago. His name’s Travis. I told him some people had been bothering me and I might need his help. I was planning for Mike to be there when I went to the apartment, but you messed that up. So I called Travis on my way over. He was just going to sit outside and make sure no one hurt me. When you left—so much had happened—I forgot to call him and tell him you were okay.”

  “He didn’t do a very good job. He should’ve caught me on the way in. What do you have going with this guy?”

  “Nothing, Bill. I don’t even know his last name. He’s just a harmless gentleman who was helping me out. He knows nothing about me.”

  I shook my head skeptically, and then she lit into me. “You don’t have people hunting for you, killing your lover, maybe wanting to kill you. So I met Travis in a bar, so what? I take help wherever I can get it. You have no right to judge me.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. It was vaguely possible she was telling the truth. Certainly she was adept at playing the diva in distress; Connie’s manner had inched me toward believing the distress was real. “Let’s drop it for now. I have some other things to show you.”

  I went down the hall and found the folder with the pictures of Rod and Alissa that Rupert had given me, along with Alissa’s letter to her mother. It was the letter I wanted to ask her about, but Kim picked up one of the pictures first.

  It was the telephoto shot of Rod and her kissing. Her eyes went shiny and she said, “Oh my God, I remember this so well. I found out how much passion Rod had in him.”

  “What made you go for Rod?” I asked. “I’m sure you had other options.”

  “Plenty of guys wanted me, Bill,” she replied with disdain, as if it had been too obvious to say. “But they didn’t know me. Rod, when he focused on me with that intense concentration . . .” She shivered. “Where’d you get this picture, anyway?”

  “Your friend Rupert was keeping an eye on you. I’m sure he’d say it was for your own protection.”

  She wrinkled her nose, then picked up the picture in which Rod was trying to keep her from getting out of the Cabriolet. “This was a little act I put on. I figured SG was watching me by then. I wanted it to look like I was having a fight with Rod so they wouldn’t think we eloped or something.”

  I tossed the copy of the letter she’d written about Rod to Wendy across the table. “What about this?”

  Kim actually laughed as she read it. “You must think I’m terrible! Talking about the Girlfriend Experience as if I was faking it with Rod. Mom was so jealous of him, I had to invent an excuse to tell her. I also had to make her not worry if I disappeared. That’s why I told her I had to go underground.”

  “So you allowed your mother to think Rod might hurt you.”

  “Well . . . yes. I don’t know, maybe that was wrong. I didn’t want to hurt her by saying I needed a break from her. So I let Rod take the blame.” She thought about it for a minute, picked up the car photo, and then said, “Oh no, you don’t think she told Trisha that Rod kidnapped me, do you? I never thought they’d think that because it—well, it was unthinkable.”

  It’s hard to manufacture panic: The look on Kim’s
face seemed real. The picture in my own mind was taking shape. I couldn’t bring myself to make her feel worse than she did, so I replied, “I’m sure they’d already made their plans, regardless of what Wendy said. I just have to ask you again about one other thing. How much information about Algoplex did you pass along to Rupert?”

  Kim wrung her hands. “I honestly don’t know. I only did it three or four times—I think that’s right—the last one because I absolutely had to, to get Trisha off my back. You can’t believe how she pressured me. I was terrified of her at the end: terrified of what she’d do if I kept seeing Rod, and what she’d do if I didn’t. I didn’t read what was in the files, I just copied them. I hoped the whole thing would go away.”

  “When was that last time?”

  “Four or five weeks ago. It’s hard to remember because so much has happened. Do you think his company can be saved?”

  I waited, held her eyes, and said, “Do you really want it to be?”

  “Of course I do, Bill! It was his life’s work. It was just starting to take off. When I think about how he’s not here to see it . . . Oh, I can’t stand it. It makes me so sad.”

  She was choking up again. Either she was very good or very innocent.

  Neither of us spoke for several minutes. She stared into her tea cup as if an answer would appear somewhere in the grounds. Finally I said, “Have you heard about this Wings of Silicon Charity Ball that’s happening tomorrow night?”

  Kim’s face slowly hardened. It was not for lack of emotion, but to control it. “Rod and I were supposed to go. It was going to be our first big social event—I mean, an event that’s not a conference or business dinner—together. It was going to be a sort of coming-out party.”

  “Your mother says she can get me into it. Trisha, Rupert, and Sylvain will be there. So will Connie.”

  “You should go. I’ll go, too, if you want. Or whatever you need me to do.”

  “No, it’s too risky for you to come. You’ll be found out.”