Gumshoe Gorilla (39 page)

Unless... Vince was going to arrange a nasty accident for Montague, then let Daniel inherit. But that didn't make sense either. If that was Vince's game, why introduce Montague to Daniel at all? There would be no reason. And besides, I can't imagine that a lawyer like Montague would forget to leave a will, clearly stating where he wanted his money to end up. And I also can't imagine that he wrote Daniel into it.

My head hurt from trying to force the pieces to fit together. But there had to be an explanation. I went back to the records.

They didn't tell a happy story. I could trace baby Preston until he was about 3 years old. Kids that young don't normally have much of a paper trail, but Montague was a high profile guy, and liked to use his wife and kid as photo props. At three and a half years old, however, the trail stopped cold. There was no further mention of a Preston Montague in any documents. No death certificate. No drivers license. No high school graduation. No nothing. He just evaporated into thin air. That was the same year that Jackson Montague's first wife died, in a boating accident.

I could make an educated guess about the chain of events. The blood test for homosexuality came out the year after Preston was born. But the wife, either she wouldn't let the kid be tested, or she wouldn't give him up after the results came back positive. Montague had gone along with it until she died. And then afterwards, he decided to start over. And little Preston went into the camps.

At three and a half years old. I wondered how much he remembered. It's hard enough on the kids who were shipped off as infants. But to actually remember your parents. Your father's face. Your mother's voice...

I put the palm display down. This was bringing up a lot of bad thoughts. Stuff that I thought I'd put to rest. Memories that shouldn't have any power over me anymore. There was a sudden smell of summer grass, and from somewhere close by, I heard my mother's voice, calling me in from...

No. I fought back the hallucination. Sleep deprived or not, I refuse to let my brain go there. I refuse to be one of those loser guests on the Cherry Chang show, complaining about how my parents ruined my life. I can't choose my past, but I can forge my own present.

I picked up the palmtop. I'd had enough of Jackson Montague for one sitting, so I turned to other matters. I went back to the Spytech website, and checked on the tracker that I'd placed on Linda's car. It was up in Buckhead now. I hit the playback feature, and watched it jump around, moving from nightclub to nightclub, with occasional jaunts out to apartment buildings. My guess was that she'd put it on a taxi. The pattern looked about right for a cab driver trying to catch some late night fares. Seems like Linda and I were working off the same play book. Which meant that I knew what her next move would be.

I had Sherwin pull up the log for the bug that I'd left in my office. It had switched on a couple of times so far in response to random noises: a car honking out in the street, and someone walking by the door in hard soled shoes. But there was no evidence that anyone had broken into the office since I left. Which was good. It meant that Linda hadn't made her return visit yet.

I heard some laughter and tucked away my palmtop. Peering out from the edge of the stairwell, I saw Daniel walking back to his car, with Vince's arm around his shoulder.

With the rest of Vince still attached to it, unfortunately.

I shimmied down the drain pipe, and stepped onto the window ledge. Luckily, Parker's office building is only two stories tall --I'm really not into that whole high-altitude cat burglar thing. I'd brought a glass cutter with me, but I was surprised to find that the window was open. Parker must have gotten careless since we worked together. I stepped in silently, and turned to take a look at his filing cabinet.

Just as I was getting out my pen light, a lamp came on behind me. I spun around, reaching for my pistol, and saw Parker sitting at his desk. He must have been there the whole time, waiting for me in the dark. He seemed to be busy nursing a rat that he had wrapped up in a towel. He didn't have any weapons in sight.

"Tsk. Tsk. Linda," he said. "Breaking and entering is bad enough. But do you know they add five years to the sentence if you're carrying a gun?"

"I wasn't planning on getting caught."

"Glad to hear it," he said. "The last time they cordoned off this place for a crime scene I couldn't get back in for a week. Threw my schedule all to hell."

He went back to feeding the rat.

"How'd you know I'd be here?" I asked.

"It wasn't exactly rocket science. I interrupted you the first time, so I figured you'd come back sooner or later to finish the job. It's what I would do."

He leaned back in his chair.

"Anyway, you're welcome to help yourself to coffee while you search the place. If you take cream, there's some in the fridge-- oh, but stay away from the carton with the whiskers on the label."

I took him up on the offer, and poured myself a cup, being careful to keep him in sight the whole time.

"You're being awfully civilized about this," I said.

"Yeah. I guess I could try to tackle you or something, but I try not to get my butt kicked more than once a day. Besides, even if I did manage to run you off, we both know that you'd just break in again later. Frankly, I don't need the wear and tear on my locks."

I sniffed the coffee. Parker didn't seem like the type to resort to drugs, but... He saw the look on my face.

"Yeah, I know. Pour me a cup while you're at it."

I did so, and set it on his desk. After he'd taken a couple of swallows, I joined him.

"I should probably mention that we don't keep hard copies of anything in the office," he said. "All the case files are stored online, and they're all encrypted. And no, the encryption key is not my mother's maiden name, thank you very much."

"Really? No paperwork at all?"

I cocked my thumb back at the filing cabinet.

"Then what's that for?"

Parker shrugged.

"Office decor. People come into a PI's office, they expect him to have a filing cabinet. I think they get it from the movies or something. Take a look if you don't believe me."

"I'll do that."

I moved over to the filing cabinet and opened it up. It turned out to be full of books. Old hardcopy paperback novels. I thumbed through a few, just to make sure there weren't any notes hidden in them, but nothing.

Well, even if Parker didn't intentionally keep any records around here, there might still be some trace evidence pointing to his employer. A name scrawled on a notepad. Something. I started a sweep of the office, while Drew sipped his coffee and played with his rat. It was slow going. Parker's office was a pig sty, and it was going to take forever to find anything. He took a call while I was going through the waste baskets. I noted his end of the conversation.

"Hello . . . Yes . . . Yeah, I know, she's here now. . . . Searching the place of course. . . . No, probably not. . . . Yeah, I thought so too. That's why I waited up for her. . . . You're what? . . . . You are kidding, right? . . . That'll work? . . . If you say so. . . . Jeez, I hope you're never this mad at me. . . . OK, but we are not billing the client for breakfast foods. . . . Yeah, I'll call you when we're done here."

I finished with the waste baskets and moved onto the pile of stuff in the corner, which was also a bust. Finally, I tackled the stack of clothing and books and whatnot that was on top of his partner's desk. Parker looked up from his rat and kicked an empty box over towards me.

"If you don't mind, could you straighten up a little as you search? Just fold each item as you examine it and put it in the box when you're done."

OK. That was it. I'd come here to toss the place, not provide maid service.

"This is ridiculous."

I put down a set of clown shoes and went to pour myself another cup of coffee. I will say this for Parker, he makes a decent cup of java.

"Yeah, I've been thinking the same thing," Parker said. "You want to try to work something out?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well it seems to me that we've both hit a brick wall. You can't do your job, because Jen and I are poking around your business. And we can't do ours, because you're running so much interference. Sound like a fair assessment of the situation?"

"Not totally. I can still get a lot done, even with you two on my back."

"Maybe. But we're making progress as well. We know who your employer is, and we have a pretty good idea what he hired you to do. You, on the other hand, have no idea who hired us or what we're trying to accomplish. I'd say that gives us the edge in this situation."

I sat down on the corner of his desk.

"Not that I'm conceding your assessment of our relative bargaining positions," I said, "but what are you driving at?"

"Just this: I'm not convinced that our interests are in conflict here. I have a feeling that if we sat your client down with my client, they might be able to come to some reasonable meeting of the minds, so that we can get out of each other's hair."

"And why would my client agree to a face to face meeting?"

"Because he doesn't have much to lose. Like I said, we already know that Charles is paying your bills, and that you're trying to bail him and Eddie out of some pretty deep shit. With a meeting, he gets to find out who is poking around his business and why. The offer is more than fair."

I thought about it. It was a good deal. Drew was trading some information that Charles desperately needed for the mere formality of a face to face meeting.

"I'll talk to my client," I said. "But we'll do the meet at a place and time of my choosing."

Trust only goes so far, and I had no intention of leading Charlie and Eddie into an ambush.

"We'll do it tomorrow, at 10 am, in Charles' hotel room," Parker responded. "Your client is safer there than anywhere else, and I know he won't try anything in the middle of his own people. He's also gonna provide breakfast."

"Getting cocky, aren't we?"

"No, but an empty stomach makes me grumpy. Do we have a deal?"

I looked him over. I didn't like the feel of this, but Parker and I had some history together.

"And your client will agree to this?" I asked.

"Well, he's not gonna be happy about it. In fact, he might pop a blood vessel or two. But I think I can persuade him that its the best way to get the information that he wants."

Parker paused.

"The real problem," he said, "is gonna be Jen."

"What? Your partner? Why would she be a problem?"

"Well, she's a little upset about the mess you made when you tossed her apartment."

"That? Tell her to grow up. Shit comes with the job."

Parker smiled.

"I'm glad you feel that way. I'll see you at ten tomorrow."

"We'll need to meet up outside the building," I said. "Hotel security is..."