Treasure Hunt

“I know you can. Get ’em in here so you can see them in person, make sure they’re not stoned or drunk, get an idea of what they’re capable of, tell them what we’ll pay, and parcel out the individual gigs. Good?”

“Good.”

“All right. Now. We got three new calls this morning, but the first two sound like crazies to me. We all agree?”

Nods all around. And no wonder, with one call being from Belinda the psychic again-apparently she was hot on the scent now-and the other from a guy who used to know Dominic at one of the projects and had seen him walking around near Japantown yesterday-he was sure of it.

“But the Len Turner call,” Hunt went on, “I’m going to have to talk to him again. He’ll be at the memorial service today. As you heard on his phone message, he’s pretty pissed off. He thinks we had something to do with the leak to CityTalk, if that’s what it was.”

Mickey raised a finger. “What do you think it was, Wyatt?”

“I think these reports were due to come out anyway and both Turner and Dominic knew about them in advance somehow. Beyond that, I think he’s a dangerous guy who thinks that since he’s paying us, we’ll do whatever he wants. Now, I don’t know what they did about these reports, if anything, but obviously somebody’s playing fast and loose with this community money. And meanwhile, I want to protect our position vis-à-vis the reward, and Turner’s clearly the guy to see about that. But first I’ve got to waste a couple of hours this morning talking to Juhle and Russo about finding Neshek’s body. So, Mick, we’re going to want to change our strategy.”

“Okay. Sure. Whatever.”

“This isn’t clearinghouse stuff anymore. Which is why we’ve got to be careful with Mr. Turner, since it’s not what he thinks he’s paying us to do. We don’t want to give him a reason to pull the plug, agreed?”

“Of course.”

He looked over at Tamara. “See why I love this guy?” Then, back to Mickey. “Okay. Even if we haven’t had any reward calls, you and I are both going to get in a quick look at this Neshek thing, if only because then we can eliminate suspects on Como.”

“How’s that?” Mickey asked.

“If somebody’s got an alibi for Monday night, two nights ago, when Neshek got killed, then odds are they didn’t kill Como. Assuming, of course, which I am, that the same person killed both of them.”

“Do Juhle and Russo think that?” Tamara asked.

“They won’t say so, at least not to me, but they’d be dumb if they didn’t.”

Mickey sat, his arm resting on the back of his chair, apparently relaxed. But he couldn’t stop tapping his foot. “So what’s the plan?”

“The plan is that I go to the memorial service this morning and concentrate on the Como people and see if there’s any I can eliminate. If, say, Mrs. Como had a bridge group over or went to Napa or something on Monday night, then she’s clear. Same with Al Carter. Or even your friend Alicia.”

Mickey shot a quick-angry? defensive?-glance at his sister, then said to Hunt, “What about Alicia? You’re not telling me she’s really still a suspect in this.”

“Well, she’s a person without an alibi for the time Como was killed. If she’s got one for Neshek… what’s that look?”

Tamara answered. “We had her and her brother over for di

“Her and her brother?” His jaw suddenly clamped down, Hunt looked from Tamara to Mickey, and back again. “Why did you do that?”

“Because they’re good people,” Mickey said. “I wanted to have them over. We’re starting to be friends.”

“I’m happy for you,” Wyatt said evenly. “But they’re also-or at least she is-a suspect in a murder investigation, unless she’s got an alibi on Monday night.”

Mickey and Tamara shared another furtive look.

“What now?” Hunt said.

Tamara let out a breath. “She slept out in her car by the beach Monday night. Got up early to surf Tuesday morning.”

After a pause, Hunt asked, “What beach?”

Mickey took it. “Ocean. Out by Seal Rock.”

Hunt hesitated again. “Did I tell you where Nancy Neshek lived?”

“No.” The defensive pose sitting heavy on Mickey now. “Where?”

“Just above Phelan Beach, well out that way.”

Mickey was shaking his head. “There is no way Alicia killed anybody, Wyatt. If you talked to her, you’d know that in five minutes.”

“How would I know that?”

“Because you could tell. You could just see the person she is.”

Hunt just barely did not snort. “I don’t think I’ve got to remind either of you how unreliable personal reactions can be. People can hide things, really for truly. They can fool you even with who they are.” He pointed a finger at each of them. “All of us know this firsthand, so excuse me if I’m not overly enthusiastic about Alicia’s overtures to become your friend.”

“She hasn’t made any moves, Wyatt. I asked her over to di

“That’s true,” Tamara added.

“I’m sure it is.”

Mickey, getting a little hot now, “What do you mean by that?”

Hunt held up a restraining palm. “Nothing. I’m just cautioning you to go slow and be a little wary. And neither of you should be socializing with these people. Really.”

But Mickey couldn’t let it go. “She didn’t do anything, Wyatt. I know she didn’t.”

“All right,” Wyatt said, “but let me ask you this: Did she tell you that Dominic Como had fired her on the last day of his life?”

The siblings exchanged another glance. “Who told you that?” Mickey asked.

“Mrs. Como. Who heard it point blank from her husband.”

“Maybe she was lying to you. Maybe he was lying to her.”

“Maybe both,” Hunt admitted. “But maybe I’m going to ask Alicia about it today, if she’s at the service. Not at a nice friendly di

“Why would that matter?”

“Because we know the weapon that killed Dominic Como was a tire iron. And we know that the tire iron from his limo isn’t there anymore.”

“We do?” Mickey asked. “When did we find that out?”

“Yesterday afternoon. Juhle and Russo went out to Sunset and looked. And they’re probably looking for more in it now even as we speak.”

After a minute, Tamara brought up the usual objection. “That doesn’t mean the tire iron that killed him came from that car.”

“Good, Tam. No, it doesn’t. Not automatically. But on the other hand, there’s nothing says it isn’t either. It certainly could be. And, Mick, just consider this: Your friend Alicia, who might have just been jilted by him, and fired at the same time on the last day we know he was alive, had easy access to it. And then certainly had access back to him.”

Mickey was sitting back, his mouth set, his hands clenched in his lap. “This is bullshit.”

“No, Mick. These are facts we have to deal with.” Hunt slowed himself down with a breath. “Look, I’m not saying she’s guilty of anything. She might be the nicest person in the world. But she’s in this until conflicting evidence or an alibi gets her out, okay? You can’t become friends with her, and probably not with her brother either. I’m sorry, but you just can’t.” He looked from one of them to the other. “Neither of you.”

A heavy silence settled in the tiny reception area. Mickey and Tamara shared a few more looks, until at last Mickey came back to Hunt, his voice again under control. “So. What do you want me to do?”

“Look around up at Sanctuary House. Nancy Neshek’s place. That would be a start. Juhle and Russo are going to be futzing with the limo and crime scene stuff from last night all morning. This gives us a small opening before anybody in Sanctuary has a chance to get their guards up.”

“So you’re going to talk to Al Carter?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah. If he’s at the service, which he should be. What about him?”

A shrug. “One of my lunatics yesterday, Damien Jones? Maybe he wasn’t actually off on everything. He said we should look for somebody, probably with the Battalion but maybe not, up at Sunset. Which, by the way, my grandfather agrees with. Meanwhile, just so you’re clear that Al Carter’s another guy with access to the tire iron. Also the last known human to see Como alive. I don’t know about his alibi, if any. And he hasn’t told us very much about Como’s mysterious last appointment either.”