Tahoe Heat Page 27

  “It was about the same thing. I asked him if what Stefan said was true. He said no, but I could tell he was lying. We argued, and I got out at a stoplight in Incline Village and walked down the highway. But he drove back and pulled me into the car. When we got to his house, I told him that I was done being his piece of meat. I said that he could never get a woman if he didn’t have a giant bank account to dangle in front of her. I knew that wasn’t really true, but I was so angry... Of course, he was outraged. He hit me and shoved me down onto the slate floor in the kitchen. My knee is a giant scab. After that, he had that bolt put on my door and locked me inside. He said I would have to earn my freedom by learning respect.”

  I took the new freeway south through Carson City, and headed up Highway 50 toward Spooner Summit.

  “What do you know about how Preston got started?” I asked.

  “In business? I don’t know much. He’s good at writing software. Started a company and then sold it. Made a bunch of money. Whatever his talents as a software engineer, I think he’s much more of a businessman. I’ve never heard him talk about programming. He’s got a lot of pans on the stovetop.”

  We crested Spooner summit and dropped down the mountain, getting a V-shaped glimpse of the big dark lake with the lights on the far shore. In the far distance across the water were the lights of the High Camp complex at the top of the Squaw Valley cable car.

  At the bottom of the slope, we curved past the gated community of Glenbrook and went through the Cave Rock tunnel a short time later. The turnoff to the neighborhood where Ryan lived was only a mile later.

  His drive was empty, the house dark. Spot ran around, triggering the new motion lights. I introduced Carol to Smithy, then used the key Ryan had given me to let her into the house. I told her to help herself to food or anything else. She got a glass of water. I fetched a beer.

  Ryan showed up fifteen minutes later. He carried Lily, who was asleep. It was 3:30 a.m. While Carol used the bathroom, I quickly explained what had happened, and why Carol had the bruise on her face.

  “Preston hit Champagne? I’m... I’m astonished!”

  “I think she’s left him for good. I think she’s also decided to put that part of her life behind her. She said she doesn’t want to go by Champagne anymore. She’s back to Carol.”

  “I can understand why,” Ryan said. He was still holding Lily. “Let me put Lil’ to bed.”

  He took Lily to her room.

  Despite the late hour, we went into the family room. Carol joined us. Even though there was no fire in the fireplace, Spot lay on the rug in front of it.

  “Look,” Carol pointed. “It’s like he knows that fireplaces make heat, but there’s no fire.”

  “Ever hopeful,” I said.

  “The night air is chilly,” Ryan said. He walked over to the wall and touched a thermostat. With an audible puff, large, blue-yellow flames curled up around faux logs.

  Spot lifted his head and looked. Then he lay his head back down and sighed.

  Carol sat cross-legged on the adjacent couch. Ryan fidgeted and flinched and air-washed. He perched on the fireplace hearth, then moved to a chair, then stood and asked if he could get us anything. Carol and I declined. Ryan got himself a beer and set it on the fireplace mantle. He paced back and forth, now and then peeked out the drapes, but mostly stared at Carol. If she felt like she was under a spotlight of attention, she didn’t show it. She’d been used to it for a good part of her life.

  Carol and I tried to make light chat, staying away from the subject that brought us together. She attempted to bring Ryan into the conversation, mentioning the high school that she and Ryan had attended, telling him about her ten-year reunion the previous spring, and asking him if he intended to go to his.

  Ryan didn’t even speak his answer. He just shook his head fast, and looked alarmed at the thought.

  “Hey,” Carol said, looking at Ryan. “Remember when I saw you about a year ago in LA? Right after I met Preston and he took me to that dinner for the governor?”

  “Yeah,” Ryan mumbled. “I hate doing that stuff.”

  “If you hate it, why did you go?”

  “Bob Mendoza, our CEO said I needed to go. He said that I put a human face on bio-tech. Which basically means that they parade me as the weirdo geek poster boy so that the legislators don’t see us as just another big-business trying to buy influence. Bob uses me for the pity factor. When the legislators meet me, they feel sorry for our company. The issue they were discussing then didn’t even have anything to do with bio-tech. It was all about some legislation that would favor infrastructure investments.”

  Carol nodded. “That’s when you told me about the whole construction thing in Venice.”

  I gave Ryan a questioning look.

  “One of those things my accountant told us we should invest in,” Ryan said. “A real estate investment trust. A REIT.”

  “Venice, California,” I said.

  Ryan nodded. “Preston put us onto it. The REIT bought a block of rundown housing on one of the Venice canals just south of Santa Monica and put up a new, green, cottage townhouse project. I don’t know what’s happened with it.”

  “I do,” Carol said. “After you told me about it at that governor’s dinner, I asked Preston about it. He said that the new development couldn’t break ground for eight months, and that they were renting the old units out real cheap. The only catch was that the renters had to be out in eight months. So I sort of became your best rental agent outside of Southern California. I’d moved back to my parents house in Reno. Whenever I was talking to my friends about landlord hassles and such, I’d tell them about this super cheap rental deal. I’d kind of make a joke out of it. I know a deal where you can rent a house for a fraction of market value. Of course, the catch is that it only lasts for eight months, and you had to move to Southern California, ha, ha. But, hey, I’ve been to Venice, and it’s a pretty hip place. Anyway, maybe you got some business out of my recommendations.”

  Ryan looked at Carol, his eyes flinching. “Um, I don’t know. But thanks.”

  “So then,” Carol continued, “I asked Preston about it a few weeks ago, and he said that the manager had problems getting all the renters to move out in time.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Ryan said. “But I appreciate your recommendation.”

  “No problem,” Carol said.

  We talked a while longer, then I said that I was turning in. Ryan hadn’t touched his beer. He showed Carol the guest bedrooms and told her to take her pick.

  We were all in the kitchen a few hours later, drinking coffee for breakfast, trying to wake up.

  I Googled the address where I’d borrowed the rowing shell. The name and phone number were listed. I dialed.

  “May I speak to George, please,” I said.

  “Speaking.”

  “I’m Detective Owen McKenna calling about your missing rowing shell. We have located it.”

  “You found it already! That’s fantastic. I only just discovered it missing. I was about to call it in.”

  “We’re working on an ongoing case, and we’d like to enlist your help. You’ll receive a fee, of course.”

  “Sure. What do I do?”

  I told him about the black Audi in front of his house with the key under the floor mat. I told him where to drive to retrieve his rowing shell and one thousand dollars.

  “Thanks, man. You cops do a great job.”

  Lily had hot chocolate, and she was entertaining us with a story she’d made up about a wild Mustang when Spot made a short woof.

  I listened and heard the soft sound of tires on the drive. I stood and looked out the window. A black Escalade came to a stop between my Jeep and Lily’s bicycle.

  “Stay here,” I said to them. “Spot, let’s go outside.”

  He jumped up, always excited for yet another run. I hung onto his collar.

  We walked outside as Preston got out of the back door, and Stefan got out of the front passeng
er door. They stood side-by-side like two gunslingers in a western.

  Smithy stood up from his chair in the shade. I held out my hand, palm out. He paused and watched from where he stood. Smithy wasn’t in uniform, and his gun wasn’t visible. If Preston and Stefan noticed him, they didn’t show it.

  Preston wore a black knit shirt that showed his muscles. He looked like a model. Stefan was skinny-hard and ugly, the opposite of a model. The Escalade was still running. I could see Raul through the windshield, his hands gripping the wheel.

  Stefan held his left hand in front of him as if to make a fast-draw of the gun that was bulging his shirt on the front of his belt.

  “I’m here for Champagne,” Preston said.

  I walked up to them, still holding Spot’s collar. I gave him the touch on his neck that means to be on guard. Spot looked up at me, then turned his laser eyes on Preston and Stefan.

  Preston looked at Spot. Stefan’s eyes stayed on me.

  “Carol doesn’t want to see you,” I said. “I told you not to come near her.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Go get her,” he said to Stefan.

  “You are trespassing. Time to leave,” I said.

  Stefan looked at me with dead eyes.

  “Go get her,” Preston said again.

  “Get in your car and drive away,” I said, “I won’t give you trouble. Take a step toward the house, my dog will stop you.”

  Except for a slight adjustment of his left hand, Stefan stood like he was carved of stone.

  “Pull your gun, my dog will take your hand off your arm.” I made the neck touch again. “Watch him,” I said to Spot, and pointed at Stefan.

  Spot made the deep rumble in his throat. He lifted his lips, exposing his out-sized fangs. The hair stood up on his back. His growl intensified, he held it for a long five-count, took a quick breath of air, resumed the growl, and took a half-step toward Stefan.

  Preston’s lip trembled with rage.

  Spot probably out-weighed Stefan, but Stefan showed no reaction. A bullet doesn’t care how big a dog is.

  Spot made another quick inhalation, and began his third long growl.

  “Get in the car,” Preston said.

  He and Stefan got in.

  The Escalade backed up in a fast, sweeping curve, went off the driveway and rolled over Lily’s bicycle. Then went forward. For a moment, the bicycle got caught under the vehicle. Raul gunned the engine, and the spinning tires shot the bent, broken bicycle out from underneath. The Escalade went out the drive fast, skidding a little as it turned onto the street, then raced up toward the highway.

  THIRTY-NINE

  “Good job, Spot,” I said, petting him. He wagged.

  Smithy ran over. “You want me to chase them?”

  “No. Best to stay here, please.”

  I walked over and picked up the bicycle. The frame was bent thirty degrees, one wheel was folded, spokes broken, tire flat, and the front brake cable was sprung out from the handlebars like an antenna. Ryan came running out, followed by Lily. Lily had her hands at the sides of her face. She stared at the bicycle carcass. Carol came out behind them, looking frightened.

  “Don’t worry, Lily,” Ryan said. “We’ll get you a new bike.”

  “I’m sorry, Lily,” Carol said. “It was my fault. That man was looking for me.”

  Lily walked toward the crushed bicycle like she was approaching a dead pet. She reached out, touched the bicycle frame where it was bent, then turned her hand to look at the shiny red paint chips on her fingertips. She turned to Carol. “It’s not your fault. You were inside the whole time.”

  Carol picked Lily up. “Thank you. You are kind to think that. Let’s go inside and make those waffles you were talking about.” She carried Lily back into the house.

  “Last night,” I said to Ryan. “Carol mentioned the real estate deal in Venice. Tell me about it.”

  Ryan looked startled. “Do you think that could have something to do with this situation?”

  “Possibly.”

  “I know very little about it. Preston was in charge. His lawyer set up a real estate investment trust and bought the old townhouses and single-family houses down in Venice. He had an architect design a green, eco-sensitive, multi-unit housing complex. Four-unit cottages arranged around courtyards. It was going to take up an entire block on both sides of one of the canals. Bridges, walkways, common areas and such. The idea was to quadruple the density, but make it more livable. That’s all I know about it.”

  “Carol mentioned renters not moving out when their leases were up?”

  “That’s the first I’ve heard of it,” Ryan said. “I’m really on the periphery on this.”

  “Could a disgruntled renter learn your name? Were the investors made public?”

  “Not really. I suppose that all of the ownership information is available in the county records, but you’d have to be good at research.” He stopped and frowned. “Wait. Someone printed up a prospectus. It was like a glossy magazine that showed the design and computer renderings of what the development would look like when it was done, and how it would be energy neutral, consuming less energy than the rooftop solar panels would produce. They distributed it throughout the neighborhood and to the Venice officials as a way to soothe any concerns.”

  “And that sales magazine listed the investors names,” I said.

  “Yeah. It was part of the sell-job. Like, if the Chairman of CalBioTechnica was on board, it must be an upstanding project. I think it had my name on there along with Preston’s and the other investors and their corporate connections.”

  “A disgruntled renter could see your name and decide you were to blame for his or her troubles.”

  “It sounds like a reach,” Ryan said.

  I ignored the comment. “Do you have a copy of that sales booklet?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure where to get one. Preston must know. But he’s not going to be forthcoming now that I’m sheltering Champagne. I mean, Carol.”

  “Do you know the property manager who was in charge of the project when the tenants were being evicted?”

  “Again, Preston handled that. Or one of Preston’s secretaries. I never knew any of the details.”

  “Any chance that Eli and Jeanie also invested in this trust?”

  Ryan paled. “Yes, they did.”

  FORTY

  I got on the computer and booked a flight and hotel. I looked up people in Venice who knew about, or were in, the property business. Real estate agents, and property managers. I even called the Chamber of Commerce.

  I had an hour before I had to leave. I found Carol.

  “It would be smart to document how Preston hit you. I would ask some questions, you give the answers, and I record it with my cell phone.”

  She thought about it. “Okay.”

  We kept it very brief, but it was heartfelt.

  “Good job,” I said when we were done.

  “I’m finally in the movies,” she said.

  Before I left, I went over a few rules with Ryan, Lily and Carol. The doors were to be kept locked, the window drapes shut. Carol and Lily were to stay inside and out of sight of the big un-draped windows of the great room. No one would go into the great room at night.

  Despite the deputies on guard, Ryan would only go outside to let Spot run, and Ryan wouldn’t stray far from the door. Not even Ryan and Spot would go out after dark. The restrictions were only for one day as I would be back the next night.

  I told Spot to be good, then drove out of Ryan’s and went south on 50 to stop by Street’s lab. She was at the utility sink, washing out some vials. She poured me some left-over coffee, nuked it until it boiled. We went outside to the little stone patio in back of her lab, and sat on her wobbly, spindly-legged metal chairs that were 98% delicate looks and 2% wimpy function.

  I went over what had happened and told her my plan to go to Venice and see if I could learn something of this real estate deal that was yet another connection betw
een Preston Laurence and Ryan Lear.

  “Will Ryan and Lily be okay with Carol there? Is she stable enough not to cause upset?”

  “I think so,” I said.

  “But she poses like a starlet. That wouldn’t be good for Lily.”

  “I think the starlet act is mostly an act. Carol seems aware that the attention she gets is for a shallow reason. During the ride to Ryan’s, she was candid about what she lacks.”

  Street frowned. “Please don’t tell me that she’s thinking physical deficits. There are few things more irritating to us normal people than having a gorgeous person lament that something about their person isn’t perfect.”

  “Not physical deficits. I meant she’s aware of how much she lacks in skills. That gives me hope that there is a solid foundation under there.”

  “She and Ryan are opposites,” Street said, “but maybe they could help each other a bit. If she takes a break from the makeup and fancy clothes, Ryan could see how one can project physical confidence by simply having good posture. And she could see the benefits of hard work and goals. Hanging around Ryan will emphasize that knowledge is power.”

  “No better example than him,” I said. “I know you’re busy, but if you were to pop in, that would help even more. It would help Lily, too.”

  “Maybe I will. Lily has gotten herself into my hourly consciousness. Do you know when she gets her next blood test?”

  “I think Ryan said it was in a few days.”

  “I can’t sleep,” Street said, “I worry about her so much.”

  “Me, too.”

  Street made a sudden grin, a forced change of mood. “You think Ryan has any more of those chocolate cookies left?”

  “Probably. If not, he could make some more.”

  I told Street I’d be in touch, and kissed her goodbye.

  From Reno, I took the shuttle flight to LAX, and caught the 13th cab in the line outside of the terminal. The driver was an old Chinese man who drove the 405 like he was Jeff Gordon in car number 24.