Racing the Light, page 2
I nodded. She probably filed the report at her local division station, but division dicks don’t look for missing people. The division dick would have passed the case downtown to a detective at the Missing Persons Unit.
“Uh-huh. Have you received a ransom demand?”
“I have not and don’t expect to. I believe Josh was kidnapped to silence him.”
“Silence him?”
“Yes.”
She drew a 9x12 manila envelope from her purse and placed it on my desk.
“I have pictures of Josh here, and information you’ll need. Address and phone, a key to his home, and so forth. The second detective’s card is here, too. She was smug.”
I made another note. Smug.
“Why would someone want to silence him?”
“He’s an investigative journalist. He was going to expose them.”
“Expose who?”
“You may have heard of his show. In Your Face with Josh Shoe. It’s a very popular podcast.”
“Sorry. I’ll look it up.”
“He’s becoming quite famous.”
“I’ll give it a listen.”
I tapped the pad with the pen, encouraging her to continue.
“So who is it Josh was going to expose who kidnapped him but hasn’t demanded a ransom?”
She raked the hair behind her ear again, but it still didn’t stay.
“He’s likely being held at a secret facility. If so, your job will not be easy.”
“Secret facility?”
“In Nevada. They might be holding him at Site 4 or Area 6, but he definitely went to Area 51. He’s been there several times.”
Pinocchio’s eyes slid from side to side. Their unchanging precision was reassuring. I cleared my throat.
“Area 51. Where the government develops stealth aircraft.”
Her eyes grew bright, like bits of mica catching the sun.
“Stealth technology is the least of their projects.”
I jotted another note. Aliens.
I wondered if Wendy and Kurt were outside laughing.
“Uh-huh. And did you explain this to the police?”
Adele Schumacher sat a bit taller.
“They dismissed me just as you have. The difference between them and you is you work for hire. You are my last best hope, Mr. Cole. I need you.”
She fished a white envelope from her purse. The envelope was thick and held closed by pink rubber bands. She peeled off the bands and showed me the contents. The envelope was fat with hundred-dollar bills.
She said, “How much would you like?”
I wet my lips.
“You shouldn’t carry so much cash, Ms. Schumacher. You could lose it.”
“Electronic transactions are not secure. Cash is secure. How much?”
She pushed the envelope toward me.
“I don’t want your money. Please put it away.”
She didn’t.
“I don’t expect you to find him for free, Mr. Cole. How much?”
“Have Wendy and Kurt tried to find him?”
“They did what they could before we went to the police. Joshua has not been admitted to a hospital in Los Angeles County, nor has he been arrested.”
The envelope was heavy with cash, but she didn’t seem to be tiring.
“Have you asked his friends? His friends might know.”
She glanced at the manila envelope.
“I have. They don’t. But I’ve included a list of Joshua’s three dearest friends, so please follow up. Ryan has known Josh the longest, and even Ryan can’t reach him. I assume you’ll want to see Josh’s home? He rents a bungalow in Los Feliz.”
“Maybe.”
The big-time detective laid out his game plan: Maybe.
“Ryan is there now, waiting to help however he can.”
I wrote Ryan on the pad and drew a box around it.
“Have these people all tried to reach your son?”
“Yes, and he hasn’t responded. I’ve also left messages. I can’t know if the calls have been blocked or his phone was taken, but Josh would have responded. If he hasn’t, he can’t. Quod erat demonstrandum.”
“Q.E.D.?”
“Yes. It means the proof is—”
“I know what it means, Ms. Schumacher.”
She lowered the cash. Adele Schumacher seemed like a nice person. She was a delusional conspiracy theorist at worst or a gullible eccentric at best, but her fear was genuine. I chose my words carefully.
“Does Josh have a girlfriend or boyfriend?”
Her eyes grew vague and she didn’t respond. I hadn’t accepted her money. She was afraid I wouldn’t. I tried to sound reassuring.
“He’s twenty-six, Ms. Schumacher. He’s single and self-employed, which means he’s mobile. I go to the Sierras each year. There’s no cell service, my phone doesn’t work, and nobody can reach me. Josh probably left with a friend and didn’t think to tell you. It happens.”
“Josh hates the outdoors.”
“It was only an example.”
Her eyes focused, and she placed her palm on my desk.
“Josh and I meet for lunch every two weeks. If Josh can’t make it, he lets me know, and we meet the following day. Always. Joshua never misses our lunch.”
“But this week he did. Things like this happen.”
Ms. Schumacher leaned forward, and her mica eyes grew sharp.
“Mr. Cole, my son makes very little money. When he moved out to live on his own, we began meeting for lunch. At those lunches I give him cash. It’s what he lives on. So when I tell you Josh has never, not once, missed our lunch without calling, he hasn’t. But this past week, he did. He did not call, nor reschedule, and he has not responded. Therefore, he cannot.”
“Q.E.D.?”
“Q.E.D.”
We stared at each other.
“Is his father in the picture?”
“His father—my ex-husband—refuses to support him. They barely speak.”
She leaned so far forward she gripped my desk for support.
“Josh was working on an exposé. He had an inside source, he said, and proof, but he wouldn’t say more. Josh has done shows about classified programs before. I’m certain the two are connected.”
“An exposé about aliens.”
She sat back.
“Does it matter? My son is missing. I want you to find him.”
She counted out twenty one-hundred-dollar bills, hesitated, and counted another ten. She pushed the stack toward me.
“Three thousand dollars. If he’s with a friend as you say, finding him should be easy. Find him, and I’ll double this amount.”
I told myself it couldn’t hurt. I could swing by his bungalow and maybe have a line on her son by the end of the day. And even if I didn’t, Adele would feel better knowing I was looking.
I picked up the bills, kept ten, and pushed the rest back.
“Let’s start with this.”
“I’d like a receipt, please.”
“Of course.”
She tucked the receipt into her purse, stood, and offered her hand.
“Please find him.”
“Try not to worry. I’m sure he wasn’t abducted.”
She looked at me as if I were slow.
“Are you, Mr. Cole? I’m not. I’ve seen things you can’t imagine.”
Adele Schumacher went to the door and let herself out. Wendy stepped in a moment later, and came to my desk.
“You’ll do it?”
I nodded.
“This is me, twenty-four-seven.”
Wendy gave me a plain, cream-colored card bearing her name, phone number, and email. Gwendolyn Vann.
I raised my eyebrows.
“I went with a Sherlock Holmes motif, myself. The magnifying glass. The deerstalker cap. People seem to like it.”
Wendy tipped her head at the Mickey Mouse phone perched at the end of my desk.
“Sit tight. Mickey will ring in three minutes.”
“Who’s calling? Aliens?”
Wendy ignored me.
“When the mouse rings, answer.”
Wendy walked out and closed the door. I waited. Three minutes later, the phone rang.
I answered.
2
Elvis Cole Detective Agency. If we can’t find it, it can’t be found. To whom am I speaking?”
The man’s voice was cultured and reasonable. He did not introduce himself nor greet me. He began as if we were in the middle of a conversation.
“So you agreed to help. Good, I’m pleased, but I’m surprised a man with your credentials took the job.”
People who didn’t introduce themselves were usually top-tier corporate executives or self-absorbed celebrities. I went with corporate.
“Surprises are my business. To whom am I speaking?”
He went on as if I hadn’t spoken.
“So tell me, I’m curious why this nonsense about aliens and secret projects didn’t put you off.”
I carried the phone out to the balcony. The Mickey phone didn’t have a remote, so I’d bought a twenty-five-foot extension. The line was tight as a bowstring when I reached the rail, and tighter when I peered down at the street.
I said, “Pretend I just answered and let’s begin again. Elvis Cole Detective Agency, this is Elvis Cole. To whom am I speaking?”
He muttered so softly I barely heard him.
“Good Lord.”
“No, not the Lord. Elvis. Who is this?”
Four floors below, Wendy, Kurt, and Adele crossed the sidewalk to a cream-colored Mercedes sedan. A red-haired man by the Mercedes opened the rear passenger-side door for Adele, helped her inside, and climbed in behind the wheel. Wendy saddled up in the front passenger seat. Kurt slipped into a white Lincoln SUV waiting behind the Mercedes. The Mercedes pulled away. The Lincoln pulled out behind the Mercedes. Trail car. The shabby housedress and wispy hair didn’t go with a top-of-the-line Mercedes and personal security detail, but people were often surprising.
They drove away as the caller responded.
“This is Corbin Schumacher. Adele is my ex-wife.”
I watched the Mercedes disappear and returned to my desk.
“Making you Joshua Schumacher’s father?”
“As much as it pains me, yes. I’m also the person who suggested Adele contact you.”
“Do we know each other?”
“We do not, but I had you vetted. Your reputation for this kind of thing is excellent.”
“Uh-huh. This kind of thing being?”
“Finding people. When I hire someone, I hire the best.”
“Let me stop you, Mr. Schumacher. Adele hired me, not you, so everything she and I discussed is confidential.”
“Adele knows I’m calling. Please confirm this with her. I’m not snooping behind her back.”
“Then why the call?”
“First, to make sure you don’t take advantage of her.”
“I thought you had me vetted.”
“Let’s be frank. The woman came to you with an outlandish story and a bag of cash. Her claims would make most people doubt her sanity, yet you took the job. One type of man might refuse. Another might see an opportunity to take advantage.”
I made my hand into a gun and fired at Pinocchio’s nose. The puppet didn’t flinch. He was a helluva puppet.
“Luckily for Adele, I’m a third type. Is there a second reason you called?”
“Yes. To explain the true reason you were hired.”
“You don’t believe the Men in Black kidnapped your son?”
Corbin Schumacher hesitated. When he spoke again his voice was softer, but somehow more threatening.
“I’m speaking difficult truths, Mr. Cole, but let’s be clear. I will not allow you to take advantage of her. I also will not allow you to demean her.”
The pain in his voice left me embarrassed.
“I apologize. I was trying to lighten what’s clearly a painful subject, and I made a mess of it. I’m sorry.”
He sounded tired when he continued.
“Josh hasn’t been kidnapped. This is Josh being Josh, ignoring her.”
“Why would Josh ignore her?”
“Because he can. He’s self-absorbed, arrogant, irresponsible, and rotten with privilege.”
“Oh. The usual reasons.”
“He’s probably in his hobbit hole right now, playing video games or wasting his life with one of his degenerate friends. If he’s out of town, well, since he has no job and lives off his mother, he might be gone for days.”
“His mother told me he’s a journalist. With a successful podcast.”
Schumacher laughed.
“If you call pandering to fools on a homemade talk show no one has heard of journalism. I don’t. He isn’t. Period.”
Period.
“Regardless, Adele has spun herself into a frenzy with this kidnap business. The stress isn’t good for her.”
“Hence, me.”
“Correct. I expect you’ll find him in a day or two, and end this nightmare.”
“And if it takes longer?”
“If you need help, call Wendy. If Wendy can’t help, I have other resources.”
Resources was an interesting word.
“What do you do for a living, Mr. Schumacher?”
“As little as possible. I was a teacher once at the college level. I’m retired.”
“What if I find your son but he won’t contact his mother?”
“Your mission is complete when you locate my son.”
Mission was another interesting word.
“Then, if you would, call Wendy. Wendy will take over.”
“Do Wendy and Kurt work for you or Adele?”
“They work for Adele. Like you.”
“Why would Adele need bodyguards?”
“Is that what she called them?”
“She called them helpers.”
“So they are. They drive, run errands, whatever Adele wants.”
I didn’t respond, and after a while he sounded tired again.
“Mr. Cole. Adele and I were married a long time. We worked under strenuous conditions for almost as long, and these conditions took a toll. Especially on her. When our marriage ended, I didn’t stop caring for her.”
He paused, but only for a moment.
“Adele believes our son is being held by the government in Area 51. She actually believes this. She believes our phone calls are monitored by artificial intelligence, corporations manipulate our biometrics, and half a hundred other ludicrous notions. If Adele watches the news, she can’t sleep because murderers creep past her window. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Wendy and Kurt keep the monsters away.”
“Yes. A last point, and I’ll let you get on with it. As I said, I’m pleased you agreed to help.”
His voice firmed up again.
“But I don’t know you. Don’t be tempted to run up the bill. I’m not Adele.”
Corbin Schumacher stopped. He was waiting for a response, so I let him wait before I answered.
“A gentleman came to see me about ten years ago. Nice man. A retired physician. He was frantic. His grandchildren—a boy and a girl—had been abducted by their mother—his daughter-in-law was a foreign national—and taken out of the country. Mom refused to bring them back to the U.S., and wouldn’t let their father or grandparents see them or speak to them. I agreed to find them and arrange for their return.”
“What does this have to do with Adele?”
“The doctor gave me a check for eight thousand dollars. The check cleared and the money was in my account that afternoon. Four days later, I returned the full amount.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“His daughter-in-law and grandchildren died in an auto accident the year before. The poor guy couldn’t accept the loss, I guess, so he found a way to explain their absence.”
I waited for Corbin Schumacher to say something, but he didn’t.
“It’s the same with every client, Mr. Schumacher. A stranger comes to me with a problem. I can’t know what’s real until I see for myself.”
“Of course.”
“Whatever Adele believes, no matter why she believes it, has nothing to do with her problem. She can’t reach her child, and wants to know he’s safe. I’ll find him, and report what I find.”
Corbin Schumacher was silent for several more seconds.
“Looks like Adele hired the right man.”
“One more thing, Mr. Schumacher.”
“Yes?”
“In the future, any conversation I have about this case or Joshua will be with Adele, until or unless Adele tells me otherwise. Not Wendy. Not you. Are we clear?”
Corbin Schumacher went silent again. I thought Wendy and Kurt might crash through the door and grab the thousand dollars, but they didn’t.
I asked him again.
“Are we clear?”
The line went dead. The call was over. We were clear.
3
I tucked two of the hundreds into my wallet, filled out a deposit slip for the remaining eight, and opened the manila envelope.
Adele had seemed disheveled with her flyaway hair and frumpy dress, but the information she left was presented with PowerPoint precision.
The first page showed four photographs of a heavy, unsmiling young man with a round, clean-shaven face, a double chin, and dark red hair.
Detective-2 Veronica Largo’s LAPD business card was clipped to the second page. The card identified Largo as a Missing Persons Unit detective. The case number and date of filing were written on the back of the card. I put Largo’s card aside and flipped to the third page.
