Under Cover of Darkness (15 page)

If it had been anyone else but Marcus, Gus might not have interrupted a husband-wife lunch date. But it was likely a business lunch. Mrs. Mueller called the shots in that family. It was her father who had started the company that her husband now ran. And he ran it well. That was the reason Gus wasn't terribly worried about the firm's appointment of Martha Goldstein as "interim" managing partner. As long as he had Mueller--whose company accounted for nearly twenty percent of the firm's billings--Gus could wrestle back his control. It was just a matter of forging new alliances with all those partners he kept busy.

Gus reached him on his cell phone. His timing was good. Leslie was in the restroom, so he had Marcus all to himself.

"Marcus, I need a favor."

. "Oh?"

It was a cautious "oh," a little surprising from a man who had promised never to forget the lawyer who had saved his corporate ass from a criminal antitrust indictment. Gus said, "It's a safety matter. I'm a little concerned about my daughter, Morgan."

"What happened?"

"It's just ... ." Gus hesitated on the details. It wasn't good for business to let a major client know how screwed up your personal life was. "You heard about Beth, I imagine?"

"Yes. I, uh, saw the newscast."

Gus wondered which one he'd seen--with or without the abuse allegations. He didn't probe. "With all that's going on, I think it might be smart to have someone looking after Morgan. A bodyguard, I mean."

"I understand. I'm very concerned for Beth."

"We all are. If anything were to happen to Morgan--well, I don't even want to think about it."

"If you're that scared, can't you send her out of town to stay with relatives?"

"I don't think sending her away, is the best thing. It's good for her to be around her friends at school. I'd like to keep things as normal as possible."

"Putting a bodyguard on her is hardly going to make her feel normal."

"We don't have to tell her he's a bodyguard. We can call him a driver or male nanny, whatever."

He chuckled. "Most of the guys I'd recommend are built more like the rock of Gibraltar than Fran Drescher."

"I'm not looking for the bouncer type. I'm thinking more along the lines of a private investigator."

"You're a wealthy man, but I hate to see anyone spend more than he has to. A good P
. I
. will cost more than just a bodyguard, and he probably won't give Morgan any better protection."

"I need more than just protection."

"What kind of skills you looking for?"

"I want to take some initiative here. I need someone who can help me find Beth."

"Hold on a second, Gus."

Gus had shared enough meals with the Muellers to know what was going on. Leslie was returning to the table, an event as auspicious as the Queen of Heart's return to that garden in Wonderland: "Off with your head" if you didn't drop everything, bow, and pay homage.

"Who's that on the phone?" Gus heard Leslie ask. "Gus."

"Gus Wheatley?" she asked pointedly.

The shushing came as crackling over the line. Marcus was clearly sensitive to his wife's tone. "He wants help."

"You are not going to do that wife beater any favors. Tell him what we've decided."

"I can't tell him now. He sounds terrible."

"Tell him."

Gus could hear the embarrassment in Marcus's voice. "Gus, can I call you back?"

"I heard what Leslie said. What is it you need to tell me?"

"It's purely business."

"What kind of business?"

"I really don't want to do this on the phone."

"What," Gus scoffed, "are you firing me?"

His voice dropped, deadly serious. "For the time being, I think it's best if we severed our relationship."

Gus gripped the phone. "Over a stupid newscast? Come on."

"It's more than that."

"Then you must know something I don't know." "Apparently I must."

"What are you saying?"

The hesitation in his voice was palpable. Leslie was undoubtedly tightening the screws with one of her deadly glares. "Gus, I really can't discuss it."

"Does this have to do with the management change at the firm?"

"Let's not get into law firm politics."

"It's just an interim appointment. Until this passes. It's not permanent."

"Yes. And that's exactly the way you should view our separation. A temporary thing."

Gus went cold. His client's hollow tone made it painfully clear that neither change was temporary.

"Gus, I truly wish you the best of luck."

"Yeah. Thanks for nothing."

He switched off his cell phone. A flash of anger made him want to call Martha Goldstein, yell at her, ask her what the hell was going on. He caught himself fidgeting with his wedding ring, however, and the impulse instantly evaporated. It was a nervous habit of his. Whenever he got stressed, he would pull the platinum band on and off. It was off now. He checked the inscription inside, though he had it memorized.

It made him smile. Beth's sense of humor used to make him smile all the time. Back then. Now, however, it was a sad smile. Sadder than ever.

PUT ME BACK ON, it read.

He slid the ring back on, grabbed his briefcase full of flyers, and headed for his car.

Chapter
Seventeen.

Waterfront Park was on the eastern edge of downtown, hugging Elliott Bay. It was Seattle's version of a soothing boardwalk, with elevated walkways that offered grand vistas of Puget Sound. On sunny summer weekends it was a prime spot for watching the water show put on by the city's fireboats, as geysers of sea water shot into the air at the rate of 22,000 gallons a minute. Grassy areas attracted picnickers and shirtless Frisbee fanatics. On a cloudy winter day, however, it was just another shade of gray, its concrete walkways blending with the fog that shrouded land and sea.

Andie arrived a few minutes early, walking briskly in the cold mist. The moisture gathered on her trench coat, not quite enough to warrant an umbrella. A group of hardy tourists tried their luck with the twenty-five-cent telescopes at the pier's edge. Occasionally the fog would break, perhaps offering them a glimpse of a tugboat or timber-laden barge cutting across the sound. Altogether, Andie saw no more than a half dozen pedestrians in the area, with no way of knowing which if any was the woman who had called her. She had mentioned the entrance to Pier 57, but Andie wasn't sure of the exact meeting spot. She stopped at the plaque commemorating the beginning of the Alaska Gold Rush in 1897. It seemed appropriate enough, as she herself was hoping to hit pay dirt.

"Agent Henning?"

She turned at the sound of the woman's voice. It was like looking in a smoky mirror. An attractive young woman wearing a drizzle-soaked trench coat. Perhaps she was a little older than Andie.

She stepped forward and extended her hand. "I'm Martha Goldstein."

"Nice to meet you." Her tone conveyed no recognition. "I'm a partner at Preston and Coolidge. Gus Wheatley's law firm."

"I see. I presume that's why you don't want to use your name?"

"Exactly."

"You could have told me that on the phone. You were so cagey about your identity, it made me a little suspicious."

"Sorry. When you asked for my name, I freaked a little. Believe me, I'm having second thoughts even as I stand here."

"You shouldn't. Not if you're going to tell me the truth." "Oh, everything I have to say is gospel truth."

"Tell me. You think you know something about Beth Wheatley's disappearance?"

Martha looked away, as if struggling. "Let me say this. I don't know Beth very well, but I've known Gus for a very long time. Over six years."

"How well do you know him?"

"Well enough to know he isn't a serial killer, like the one described in Tuesday's newspaper."

"So it wasn't the P-I story that prompted you to call me."

"No." Her eyes met Andie's. "It was the allegation that Gus abused his wife."

"What about it?"

"I saw the television newscast implying there might be a connection between the abuse and Beth's disappearance." "Do you think there's a connection?"

"All I know is that Gus was acting strange the day Beth disappeared."

"How so?"

"He and I were in the office together. He had to cancel dinner with me because Beth didn't pick up their daughter from some place. He got really mad. He said something like, 'She deserves a good smack across the back of the legs."'

"Kind of an odd expression."

"Yes. That's why I distinctly remember him saying it." "Are you suggesting he's still abusing her?"

"I just want to be up-front and cooperative. If the police suspect that the abuse might somehow have led to Beth's disappearance, I want my name totally in the clear."

"I don't understand. Why wouldn't it be in the clear?"

She sighed nervously. "Gus and I have a . . . how should I put it? A history."

"Oh?"

"To be perfectly frank, he pursued me for years. I kept our relationship professional, but he always wanted more. He was so obvious at times that rumors started. They were just rumors. Nothing physical was going on between us. I liked Gus, but I always made it clear that so long as he was married, nothing could happen. Now that his wife has suspiciously disappeared, I don't want the fact that he was so hopelessly in love with me to implicate me in any way."

"Hopelessly in love?" Andie sounded more doubtful than intended.

"Yes," she said defensively. "Gus Wheatley was in love with me."

"I see. And why would that implicate you in his wife's disappearance?"

"I didn't say it would. I was just afraid it might give someone the wrong idea."

"Who?"

"I'm not stupid. I know how these homicide investigations work. The police make their list of suspects and go through them one by one, process of elimination. As a woman who was rumored to be Gus's mistress, I was bound to end up on somebody's list. So I figured I might as well come forward. Even though I knew it would be a double-edged sword."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I would be clearing myself. But I might be implicating Gus. That's not easy for me to do. Gus is someone I'm very fond of."

"Implicate him how?"

She sighed yet again, ever the reluctant witness. "For a long time Gus felt trapped in his marriage. A few years ago he tried to leave Beth. For me. That's when she accused him of abuse. He had no choice but to go back to her. She wasn't going to let him go. Not without ruining his good name and reputation."

"How do you know that?"

"I know."

"Did he tell you?"

"It was obvious."

"So, you're saying what? Beth refused to let him go, so he finally got rid of her?"

"That's for you to decide. I would never say that."

Andie gave her a hard look. Martha didn't flinch, her expression deadly serious. The mist was turning to rain, falling harder. Andie popped her umbrella. "Do you want to go inside, talk more?"

Martha checked her watch. "I have to get back to work. I've told you pretty much everything I can think of."

"Yeah, I've probably heard enough anyway. Let me give you my card, though. If something else comes to mind, call me anytime."

She took it and tucked it in her coat pocket. "You're going to look into this, then?"

She sounded more eager than curious. Andie offered
a p
at answer. "We take all credible leads seriously."

They shook hands. Martha took one step away, then stopped. "You understand why I came here, I hope. I just want to air out the facts. I'm not trying to hurt Gus."

"I understand."

"Gus is a friend of mine."

Andie looked her in the eye but said nothing.

"A good friend." She smiled awkwardly, waiting for a reply. Andie was silent. Martha turned and walked away, her heels clicking on the wet sidewalk.

Some friend, thought Andie as she watched her fade into the fog.

Chapter
Eighteen.

Gus spent the balance of Wednesday afternoon posting more flyers. He made a special point of hitting restaurants Beth used to visit, her workout gym, her grocery store, her favorite shops. All those details came from Carla. She had called him on his cell phone, just to make it clear that she would be picking up Morgan from school. Morgan wanted it that way.

Gus didn't argue. He knew he had to talk with his daughter, and staying busy all day was perhaps a way of postponing further rejection. He wasn't sure what to tell her yet. He would deny ever abusing her mother, of course. But that wouldn't go far enough. He needed answers to the questions she would naturally ask. Was Mommy coming back? When? Where had she been all week? Was she safe? By nature, Gus hated any meeting or conversation in which he didn't have all the answers figured out beforehand. He knew he was going to have to get past that if he was going to be a single parent, whether it be for the short term or the long run.