In Plain Sight (14 page)

I hoped for his sake he was right. He certainly needed some luck.

“She, Estrella, left a jacket here,” Traci volunteered. “You want it?”

I told her I did.

“What did you have to do that for?” Mike demanded when she handed it to me.

“Because I want it out of here,” Traci snapped. “It stinks of tobacco.”

Mike extended his neck and raised his chin. “What happens if she comes back to get it? What do we say then?”

I pointed to the card I'd just put in his hand. “Just tell her to come see me and I'll give it to her.”

They were still arguing when I left, and somehow I didn't think it was about what happened to Estrella's jacket.

As I walked down the steps I looked at the denim jacket Traci had handed me. It was indistinguishable from any of the others out there. The question was, why had she left it behind? This was April, not July. There were still plenty of cold nights ahead. By the time I got down the stairs and had climbed out the window I thought of two possible explanations.

One: she intended to come back and get it and something had stopped her. Or two: she didn't need it anymore because she had money to buy something else. For Garriques's sake I hoped the first possibility was the correct one. Of course, there was a third possibility—that she'd come in and hadn't come out. But as much as I tried I couldn't picture Mike and Traci killing someone: stealing from them, yes; murdering them, no.

Once I got outside I just stood for a minute and enjoyed the fresh air. It had stopped drizzling and the sun was trying to come out. I started walking to the cab. While I did I couldn't help thinking about Mike and Traci and wondering if they'd ever make it to Austin, and if they did how things would go for them down there. As I turned the corner I heard a shout and looked up. Traci was waving to me from a broken window. I waved back. Then she disappeared and I kept going.

Once I reached the cab I got in and lit a cigarette. Then I went through Estrella's jacket pockets. I found a stick of Chapstick in the first, a package of breath mints and a condom—ribbed—in the second, and in the third I found an appointment card for Don Eddison, the psychologist I'd sat next to at Marsha's funeral. I flipped the gray card over. Someone had written a date from last week and Estrella's name in green ink.

Maybe the afternoon hadn't been such a waste after all.

I
called up Eddison the moment I got back to the store. His receptionist picked up after the second ring. When I asked for an appointment she told me in a way too cheerful voice that I was in luck. Due to a last minute cancellation, there was a slot available at eight o'clock that evening. I said I'd be there, hung up, and went back to work.

I spent the first part of the afternoon removing another bat from a house and the second part of the afternoon helping a customer chose a bird for her boyfriend. Tim left at seven. At seven-thirty I closed up the shop, dropped Zsa Zsa back at the house, and took off for Eddison's. I got there with five minutes to spare. His office was located in a rectangular, three-story brick building located in Wide Water's Plaza. I'd been told the building had been constructed for an ad agency, but the agency head had been arrested for embezzling funds and was serving two-to-five somewhere out in the Midwest. The building was now home to a multitude of therapists and one- and two-man white collar operations. The turnover rate was high.

As I climbed the stairs to Eddison's office I wondered what Estrella was doing with him and how she'd gotten here. From the little I knew of the girl I would have expected her to be seeing the school psychologist or a probation officer instead of a New Age therapist who specialized in phobias, stress reduction, and finding your center—whatever that was. Eddison's operation, Improvement Associates, was the last door at the end of a long, narrow corridor. A series of chimes sounded when I walked in.

“I'll be right out,” Eddison called out from the back room.

I stood there for a moment and studied the room. The waiting area was small. The furnishings, a receptionist's desk, a small sofa, and a coffee table, left just enough room to walk around. The pieces were all wicker, the type of thing a college graduate might buy when decorating his first apartment. Well, one thing was for sure. Either Eddison's business was on the skimpy side or he didn't like to spend money. The sofa squeaked when I sat down on it. I looked around for an ashtray, but naturally there wasn't one so I occupied myself by scanning a brochure on building self-esteem. I had just turned it over and was reading the testimonials printed on the back, one from a Brandon F. and the other from Elise R., when Eddison appeared. When he saw me he got an I've-seen-this-person-before-but-I-can' t-place-them expression on his face.

I helped him out. “We met at Marsha Pennington's funeral,” I told him as I stood up.

His smile flashed and died. It was all teeth. “That's right, we did.” He came over and pumped my hand as if he was running for office. “Poor Marsha,” he murmured. “She must have felt she had nowhere to turn. And Merlin . . .” He sighed and shook his head.

“What about him?”

“Well, you know how they got along. I don't think that's any secret. But still . . . when someone kills themselves like that . . . sometimes the guilt is overwhelming . . .” Eddison's voice trailed off. “I just hope Merlin has a good support system.”

“I don't think you have to worry about that,” I said dryly, thinking of Shirley.

“Was Marsha a friend of yours?” Eddison asked. “Is that how you got my name?” Then he went on before I could answer. “She was very nice about that kind of thing. I got a lot of referrals from her.”

“She must have thought highly of you,” I observed.

“She did.” Eddison fiddled with the top button of his maroon shirt. He looked lost and ineffectual. I couldn't imagine him helping anyone. “We were making wonderful progress. That's why I don't understand . . . what she did.”

“Neither do I.”

“There was something I must have missed.” I wanted to say that there was a lot he'd probably missed, but I didn't have the heart. Eddison's shoulders sagged. For a moment he seemed to be conducting an internal dialogue with himself. Then he straightened up. “But enough of that,” he said briskly. “Let's talk about you. How can I help?”

“Actually I'm hoping you might be able to assist me in locating this girl.” I gave him the card I'd taken out of Estrella's jacket.

He stared at it for a moment and handed it back. “Estrella Torres.” His voice was flat. His face was hard. “I can't say I'm surprised.”

“You're assuming she's done something bad. Why?”

“She has, hasn't she?”

“Yes,” I allowed.

“I don't think it would be breaching confidentiality if I said that she is a very disturbed, hostile young woman.”

“Somehow she doesn't seem like your type of client.”

“She's not.” Eddison clasped his hands in front of him. “She's not at all. Usually my clients are more ... more . . .”

“Middle class,” I suggested. “More verbal.”

“Exactly.” The smile came and went again.

“Do you mind if I ask how she wound up here?”

“No. I don't mind at all. It's no secret. Actually the
Herald
wrote an article about this several months ago.” He assumed a lecturing stance. “I'm taking part in a pilot program with the city high schools. Several people, including myself, thought it would be nice to offer an alternative experience to troubled young men and women of different cultural backgrounds, to open them up to new, more growth enhancing experiences.”

“That was generous of you.”

“Oh, don't misunderstand. I am getting a small stipend. Nothing much. Really just enough to cover my expenses.” He paused and shook his head regretfully. “But I'm afraid it hasn't worked out as well as I hoped. The program is being discontinued at the end of June. It's really too bad. I was beginning to make progress with some of the young men. I'm afraid they'll be losing a wonderful opportunity for spiritual growth.”

Not to mention the money you'll be losing, I thought uncharitably.

“Of course,” he continued, “to be honest Estrella wasn't one of my successes. I kept trying to get her to visualize a more,” he hesitated, “positive lifestyle for herself. But I failed completely. I simply couldn't reach the girl.”

“How many times did you see her?”

“Five, and every one was a waste.”

“Did you and she ever talk about her friends or activities?”

“No.” Eddison smoothed over the collar of his shirt. “We didn't talk at all, at least not in any meaningful sense. Mostly she'd sit in the chair in my office and tell me how stupid everyone was. She didn't want to try meditation. She didn't want to try visualizations. She didn't want to talk. Usually after fifteen minutes she'd get up and leave. By then her boyfriend would be downstairs waiting for her. She'd hop in his truck and off they'd go.”

“Then why did she come?”

“She had to. It was part of the deal she and the principal in her school worked out. Otherwise she'd have been expelled.”

Another thing Garriques hadn't told me about, I thought. “Did you tell the school that she was leaving early?”

“No, I didn't.” Eddison started fiddling with his tie. “Maybe I should have, but I wanted to gain her trust. Unfortunately I never did.” His shoulders sagged again.

“Did her boyfriend ever come up to the office?”

“No, but I could see him from the window in my office. He was tall and skinny. He had spiked platinum hair. And the three times I saw him he was always dressed in black.”

“I don't suppose you know his name.”

Eddison pursed his lips. “Ray ... Ray Diamond. Estrella mentioned it in one of her rare conversational outbursts.”

“Thanks a lot,” I told him. “You've been very helpful.”

He reached over and put his hand on my shoulder. I hate when people do that. “Now that we've solved that problem, is there anything I can help you with?”

“I'm fine, thanks.”

“Visualization, smoking cessation, relaxation techniques?”

I held up my hands. “Maybe another time.”

“Because if you don't mind my saying so, you're looking a little tense. Maybe Marsha told you about my special?”

“No, she didn't,” I said, backing away.

“Basically you get three sessions for the price of two.”

“I'll think about it,” I promised and I turned and fled out the door.

He looked so woebegone when I left that I felt guilty.

Which was ridiculous.

But maybe that's how he got his business. He guilted people into becoming his clients.

The first thing I did when I got outside was light a cigarette. Then I got in the cab and drove over to a Chinese take-out place on Erie Boulevard called the Golden Coin and ordered an egg roll and a small orange beef, extra hot. While I was waiting for my order I looked up Ray Diamond in the telephone book. I was in luck. There were thirty-one Diamonds listed, but only one of them was a Ray.

Unfortunately when I rang him up no one answered. I retrieved my quarter, copied down Diamond's number and address and picked up my food. I was so hungry I ended up wolfing down everything in the car. Maybe it was because I'd eaten too much too fast, but I was just finishing my last spoonful of rice when a wave of exhaustion hit me. All I wanted to do was go home and lie down; but then I thought about Garriques and the fight he was going to have with Enid if I didn't get those jewels back and how she'd probably be mad enough to cancel her order for the fish tank, which meant I'd be out hundreds of dollars, and I decided to run by Diamond's house after all. Lotus Avenue wasn't that far away and who knew? Maybe Estrella was hiding out there. Maybe Ray wasn't answering the phone. At the very least he should be able to give me the names of some of Estrella's friends.

There weren't many cars on the road and I made the drive over in less than twenty minutes. Five-thirty-two was a small, tired-looking house in the middle of the block. I parked the cab, got out, and rang the bell. Somebody yelled out they'd be there in just a minute. It was good I'd taken the time to come after all. A few seconds later a man fitting the description Eddison had given me came to the door. As he stood there I realized I'd seen him before. And then I knew where. He was the guy who'd gotten out of the M & M Exterminators truck when I'd been talking to Manuel.

“If you're looking for Tony, he's cleared out,” he told me.

“Actually I'm looking for Estrella Torres.”

“Well, she ain't here either.”

He started to close the door, but I'd already put my foot in it. “I thought she was your girlfriend.”

Ray looked disgusted. “Whoever told you that don't know fuck-all.”

“They saw you picking her up.”

“We hang together once in a while—not that it's any of your business. You a cop or something . . .”

“Or something.”

“Well, if you ain't a cop, I don't have to talk to you.”

“Listen,” I told him. “I really don't want to get you in trouble and I don't want to get Estrella in trouble. All I want to do is recover the jewelry that she stole from someone's house.”

Ray snorted. “Good luck, lady. She probably sold it on the street by now. It's gone.”

“Do you know that for a fact?”

“No, but she's been talkin' about goin' to New Jersey, and I ain't seen her lately.”

“Any idea of who she was gonna stay with?”

“Frankly I don't know and I don't care. Estrella, she just dropped too much acid. She isn't all there no more if you get my meaning. Always carrying on about how everyone was out to get her. That kind of stuff gets old real fast.”

“I don't suppose you know the names of her other friends.”

“No,” he said, but somehow I didn't believe him.

I handed him my card. “If she turns up, give me a call.”

He grunted and slammed the door.

As I drove home I thought about the fact that I was not much closer to finding Estrella now than I was when I started this morning. Ordinarily that fact would have depressed me, but I was too tired to care. All I wanted to do was go home and go to bed. Which is what I did.

I was in a deep sleep when the phone rang. It took me a minute to wake up and another minute to find the damn thing among the pile of newspapers I keep meaning to throw out.

“Yes,” I mumbled.

“Robin? Robin Light?”

I groaned as Zsa Zsa walked across my stomach. “Who is this?”

“Traci.”

“Traci who?” My head felt as if it were filled with cotton wool.

“Traci from the Colony Plaza.”

“Okay. Right.” My mind was beginning to clear.

“You'd better come down here.” Her voice sounded far away.

“Where are calling from?”

“The Mobil station across the way. Please come now,” Traci pleaded.

“Why? What's the problem?”

“We've found Estrella.”