Later, we took a shower, got dressed again, and I ordered Thai food while Rachel went back to studying, I checked my phone. Cunningham had called back with a quick, curt acknowledgment of my tip, saying he’d pass it on. And my client had called.
“They were next door,” Maureen said. “The police. Talking to Larry Haldane.”
At least they’d listened to us. “What happened?”
“I saw them talking outside. One of the cops went inside, just for a minute. Then they left. I was going to go over and talk to him, but he was inside and I didn’t want to seem too nosy, you know? And then Adria had a meltdown.”
“Is she okay?”
“I don’t know. She just started shaking and moaning, and then screeching. It was right after the police left. I couldn’t do anything, but eventually she calmed down. She’s asleep now.”
“And it was right after the police talked to Haldane?”
“Yes. She saw him out on his porch. Then she went to her room, and a few minutes later I heard her moaning. Do you think—I don’t know what’s going on.” She sounded exhausted herself.
I looked at Rachel. But I wasn’t going to ask her to drive up to Evanston again. “How much do you know about Haldane?”
“Not—not very much. He moved in about three years ago. I’ve been here—well, 20 years or so. Since I was married. A lot of people have moved in and out there. But I don’t really talk to them. He takes very good care of his wife.”
“Elizabeth, right?” I grabbed a pen and started writing in my notebook.
“Liz. She’s . . . quiet. I don’t think I’ve spoken to her more than half a dozen times since they moved in. I brought them a cake—”
“All right. Let me see if there’s anything about Haldane that I—” The door buzzed. Thai food. “I’ll be in touch.”
I paid for the food. Rachel wanted to keep studying, so I brought out my laptop to work while we ate, the cartons spread across the table in front of the TV. I opened beers for us, balanced a plate on one knee for my pad thai, and attacked the internet.
In a few minutes I had the start of a profile for him. He was 52, founder of FriskyLife, a fertility clinic that also conducted clinical trials for experimental drugs and dabbled in sexual dysfunction too. He had degrees from Stanford, former posts at Henry Ford Clinic and Mayo. Married 12 years. I found some pictures of his wife, but nothing in detail, not even her original name.
There was nothing to suggest he might be a serial kidnapper. I knew the cops could dig deeper if they wanted to, but from what Maureen had told me, they didn’t seem to be looking at Haldane very hard. And Rachel was deep into her books. I took another bite of pad thai and started to drill down some more.
FriskyLife’s headquarters was in Northbrook, a suburb. Founded eight years ago, it had 170 employees now. Haldane was president and CEO, with a lot of Chief-Something-Something officers backing him up. The company was private, so there were no financials I could check. I found several lawsuits, but every company gets sued from time to time, and most were settled and sealed.
Haldane had been married before, and I made a note of his ex-wife’s name in case I needed to contact her. I eventually found some info on Elizabeth Haldane. Maiden name Bearson, she was in her early 30s, graduated from University of Illinois in Urbana with a degree in literature, loved dogs and wildflowers, and had gotten married to Haldane 12 years ago. Also, she’d been treated for cancer—the social media post didn’t specify what kind—and had apparently made a complete recovery, thanks to an experimental drug developed by, yes, FriskyLife.
I checked the news for anything new about Caroline Tillens. Nothing. So I forced myself to put the laptop away and picked up a book I was reading about the battle of Stalingrad. Eventually Rachel yawned, closed her book and laptop and picked up the remote to relax with a reality show. “Ooh! Real Housewives of the Post-Apocalypse! I haven’t seen this in weeks! Stupid school.” She snuggled next to me.
I put the book away to watch with her. Reality TV is more Rachel’s thing than mine, but I was willing to tolerate it for a chance at—
My phone buzzed. Maureen Alcott. Damn it. I tried to stand up, but Rachel grabbed my arm, keeping me close, so I answered. “Hello, Ms. Alcott, what’s going on?”
“They just took Liz Haldane away in an ambulance.” She was whispering.
Odd. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. He went after them in his own car. I don’t know where they took her. I don’t—I mean, I don’t spy on my neighbors, but I saw the flashing lights, and after what happened with Adria, I just—couldn’t help watching.” She sounded embarrassed.
“How is Adria?”
“She woke up when the lights were going all over the place. I’m making her some soup now.”
I wasn’t sure what she expected me to do with the information, but she didn’t push it. I told her I’d try looking into it, and asked her to call me if she heard anything we hung up.
“You don’t have to rush out to save someone?” Rachel asked, her eyes still on the TV. “That’s nice.”
“No, just a news flash about the neighbor’s wife going to the hospital.” I started to pick up my book.
But Rachel knocked it out of my hand and turned the TV off. “Big test tomorrow, remember? I need to relax.” She leaned over to kiss me.
“I serve at your pleasure,” I told her.
The next morning I dropped Rachel off at campus for her test. I tried to kiss her for good luck, but she pushed me away. “Don’t distract me now, jerk,” she said, punching my shoulder. “Later. Maybe.”
I watched her walk into the classroom building, and then I drove up to Evanston. Maureen Alcott opened the door, surprised. “Is there any news?”
“No. Sorry.” I felt bad raising her hopes. “I wanted to talk to some people, and I thought I’d check in. Is Adria all right?”
She sighed. “Better this morning.” She led me back to the kitchen and poured me some coffee. “Adria!” she called. “It’s Mr. Jurgen!”
Adria appeared a moment later, and smiled at me. “Hi. Where’s your friend?”
“She’s taking a test for class.” I crossed my fingers for her. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” She sat down, and Maureen handed her a mug of coffee. “I didn’t feel good last night.”
“What happened?”
Adria rubbed her eyes. “There were these flashing lights, and then I saw that man, and then I just—I don’t know.” She looked at her mother. “I fell over, right? I think I threw up. And then mom put me to bed.”
“After you saw the ambulance.”
She sipped her coffee and nodded.
“Flashing lights can trigger a seizure,” I said.
“She’s never had seizures before,” Maureen told me.
I nodded. “Did you call a doctor?”
“We have an appointment for a scan. Tomorrow.” Maureen shook her head in frustration. “I mean, I almost called 911 last night, but then she calmed down, and today she’s—you feel better, don’t you, honey?”
“Just tired.” She rubbed her eyes. “But I’ve got to go to work later. I’ll be okay.”
It was probably nothing. Haldane’s wife had stumbled and fallen yesterday. I just couldn’t help wondering if he was somehow connected to what had happened to Adria. And Caroline Tillens.
“Is Haldane back?” I asked.
Maureen shook her head. “His car’s not there.”
If I was a real private detective—meaning, if I was on TV—I would have gone over and broken into the house. But a guy like him would have a security system, and I was pretty sure Rachel wouldn’t visit me in jail.
If I knew what hospital they’d taken her to—”Did you notice what ambulance company took her?”
Maureen blinked. “It might be on the security camera.”
“You have a system?”
“There’ve been some break-ins. Just a second.” She stood up, and came back two minutes later with a laptop.
I stood behind her to watch the video. Adria stayed seated on the other side of the table, nervous. After a moment she stood up and left without a word.
The camera was set up on the front porch with a wide view. The picture was gray and shadowy, but I could see headlights passing on the street.
Maureen forwarded it, looking for the right section. “It was around 10:30, I think,” she said, tapping a key. “That’s it—no, not yet—wait—damn it—okay, there.”
Silver light flared and faded, then stopped. I could make out the hood of a van, with glare across the windshield. Doors opened and closed silently. Dark figures glided forward and disappeared. Then one person came back to get inside and move the car again, further up the driveway.
I squinted, peering at the side of the ambulance. FL Medical Services. Its logo was an oval shape that looked like an egg, with a small white circle inside, like an eye. Then the two figures came back, blocking it, rolling a stretcher. A third figure followed, pointing.
The stretcher went into the back of the ambulance. The two figures climbed in, and the ambulance backed down the driveway and turned.
Maureen tapped the forward command a few times. “There he is, driving away.” I saw a dark car pull down the driveway to follow the ambulance.
We backed it up for another look at the side of the ambulance. “FL Medical Services.” I thought for a moment.
“Florida?” Maureen shook her head. “That’s a long way away—”
“No. May I?” I pulled my chair around to use her laptop. In a few seconds I was on the FriskyLife website. “Haldane is CEO here,” I told her, clicking keys. “And—huh.”
One of their of their business units was called FL Medical Services, for transporting supplies, including organs for transplant, specimens for testing, and occasionally patients.
“He called his own company for her?” Maureen looked at me. “Where did they take her? Is this—does it have anything to do with Adria?”
I wished I knew. “Maybe not. But he knows your daughter and the other girl. How was he when Adria disappeared?”
“He asked about her a lot. Told me he was sure she’d come home. Not more than that, I guess. I didn’t really notice, I was so out of my mind worrying.”
Adria returned to the kitchen. “I’m going to work, mom.” She glanced at me. “Say hi to Rachel.”
“I will.” I smiled. She was in jeans and a T-shirt, with the bracelet on her wrist. I remembered Rachel commenting on it.
Then I remembered something else. ”Adria? Could you hang on a minute?”
She turned from the door, hesitant. “I don’t want to be late.”
“Could I just take a look at your bracelet?”
She sighed like an irritated teenager. “Sure.” She held out her arm.
I peered at the stone. Black. Egg shaped, with a small white oval in the center. Like an eye.
I turned back to the computer and leaned down, looking at the logo on the ambulance. An oval with an eye.
“What is it?” Maureen peered at the frozen image.
“That logo looks like Adria’s bracelet.” I pointed from the screen to her daughter.
Adria clapped a hand over the bracelet. “What are you talking about?”
Maureen blinked. “Oh my God—it does. Sort of.”
Adria stared at us. “Mom?
“You got that from Rick, right?” I asked. “Rick Dunley.”
“Y-yeah. I guess.” She looked at Maureen. “That’s what you said.”
“I talked to him,” I said, thinking back to our conversation. “He mentioned Adria being paranoid about her neighbor, but he said that was nothing.” I looked at Adria. She’d seemed nervous seeing him yesterday—when his wife tripped and fell. And the ambulance last night had triggered her seizure.
I looked at Maureen. “Do you have Haldane’s cell phone number? Or email?”
She nodded hesitantly. “Y-yeah. His number. We exchanged numbers when he moved in. For emergencies.”
“How weird would it be for you to call him right now and just ask about his wife?”
Maureen thought it over. “I could do that.”
A minute later we listened to his phone buzz. “Hi, this is Larry Haldane, please leave a message—” Beep. Maureen looked at me, then spoke:
“Hi, Larry, it’s Maureen from next door. I just wanted to make sure everything’s all right. I saw them taking Liz in an ambulance last night. Is she okay? Just checking.” Then she looked at me again. “Uh, I wanted to mention, you might get a call from Tom Jurgen. He’s a man I hired to check out what happened to Adria. Here’s his number . . .” She read it from my phone. “He’s just looking for information. I hope you’ll help him. Well, thanks. Hope Liz is okay. ‘Bye!” She hung up.
“Perfect,” I told her. “Let me know if he calls. Try to find out where she’s at. Or let me know if she comes home.” I stood up. “I’ll get out of your way.”
“Thank you.” Maureen picked up my coffee. “I hope—I just hope we find something out.”
“Me too,” I said.
I spent an hour or so checking out the rest of Adria’s friends, in person when I could find them or on the phone when I couldn’t. I got nothing, which I’d pretty much expected, but the job is about being thorough, and you never know when something will pop up by surprise.
But I struck out. Back home, I found Rachel at her computer, frantically designing some marketing content for a client with a deadline. “How’d the test go?”
“Horrible. Fine. Great. I can’t think right now. Shut up.”
I grinned, sat down, and started working on some of the other cases I was handling, employee background checks and one possible embezzlement case.
I stopped for lunch and brought Rachel a sandwich. “Thanks,” she muttered, snatching the plate from me. “Anything on your case?”
“I’m looking into the neighbor, Haldane. I don’t know. Oh, Adria says hi.” I went back to my desk and the embezzlement job.
My phone buzzed. Haldane. “Hello, Tom Jurgen speaking.”
“Mr. Jurgen? This is Larry Haldane. My neighbor, Maureen Alcott, said I should give you a call.”
“Yes, thanks for calling me back.” I wouldn’t have bet a lot of money that he’d do it, but it was a nice break. “First of all, if I can ask, how is your wife? I understand she went to the, uh, hospital last night?”
“She’s—fine. It’s an autoimmune condition. Serious, but treatable. Not COVID, thank God.”
“That’s good, Where is she being treated?”
“It’s a, uh, a private facility. We’re taking good care of her.”
We? That was interesting, but I didn’t want to push it right now. “Well, the reason I wanted to talk to you was to ask something.”
“Yes?” He was suspicious. Waiting for a trap.
“It seems like you’re a regular customer at the coffee shop where Adria was working when she disappeared, and also at the restaurant where Caroline Tillens worked. She’s also disappeared—”
“Yes, I know. What are you asking?” He was on guard. Suspicious.
“I was wondering if you’d seen anyone suspicious at either place. Maybe the same person at both places?” I waited.
“Well, that’s—no. No, I don’t think so.” He paused. “I’m not sure I would have noticed that anyway.”
“What about your wife?”
“What? I can’t ask her that right now. Maybe when she’s feeling better, but—frankly, I’ve got a lot to handle here—”
“I understand. I’m sorry to bother you. If you happen to think of anything—”
“I’ll let you know. Good-bye.” He hung up on me.
“What was that about?” Rachel had turned in her chair to listen to my end of the conversation.
“Haldane. Adria’s next-door neighbor? I was just trying to see his reaction.”
She cocked her head. “And?”
“He was pretty quick to get off the phone.” I picked up my water bottle. “I didn’t want to accuse him of anything straight, because he can afford expensive lawyers. Best-case scenario, he thinks I’m too stupid to consider him a suspect.”
“You can do stupid pretty convincingly,” Rachel said.
“Thanks.” I sipped some water. “Or he just hung up fast because he knew what I was really asking. Either way, I just hope he doesn’t sue me before I can figure out whether he’s really involved in this or I’m just delusional.”
Rachel frowned. “Can’t you figure out a way for me to meet him? Maybe I could pick something up.”
I hesitated. “I didn’t want to ask. I know how busy you are—”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, don’t you think I miss this?” Rachel stomped a foot. “I’m stuck here studying and working and you’re out there having fun solving mysteries—”
“I haven’t solved anything yet.”
She glared at me. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah.” I walked over to her chair, leaned down, and kissed her. “I miss you too.”
She kissed me back, then pushed me away. “Don’t get any ideas, mister. I’m either working for you or going back to work here. Which one is it?”
I sighed regretfully. “Let me make a phone call. Maybe we can get you back into the game.” I patted her shoulder and headed back to my desk.
I tapped the number, waited, then asked for Rick Dunley. A moment later he answered. “Yeah, Mr. Jurgen, what can I do for you? I’m rather busy—”
“Have you or your firm ever done any work for a company called FriskyLife? It’s a fertility clinic in Northbrook.”
“I don’t—uh, I think so. I’d have to look it up, but I can’t give you any details about our clients.”
“Did you know that FriskyLife’s CEO is Adria Alcott’s next-door neighbor?”
Long pause. “Where are you going with this?”
“That bracelet you gave to Adria has the FriskyLife logo on it. It’s identical to the one on their website. Did you get it from there?”
He paused for a long time, as if trying to think of an innocent explanation. Finally he sighed. “All right, fine. You got me.” He sounded angry. But also nervous. “Yeah, it’s a promotional thing I picked up from them, not something I bought in a jewelry store. But she liked it when I gave it to her. How is this any of your business?”
“Do you know Haldane? Have you met him?”
“Yeah, yeah, I was in a couple of meetings with him. So what?”
“Larry Haldane is connected, at least somewhat, to Adria and to Caroline Tillens. And you’re connected to Adria. I’m just trying to find out if the connections go any deeper.” I waited.
Rachel was watching. She gave me a thumbs up.
Dunley hesitated. Finally he said, “Look, I don’t know anything about Caroline Tillens. I don’t know what happened to Adria. But . . . Larry knew I was dating her. Somehow. I never told him, but he asked about it once. Maybe twice. It was kind of creepy. But I never had that much contact with him. Just a couple of meetings. It wasn’t even a lawsuit, just some patent documentation. But I can tell you . . .” His voice trailed off.
“What is it?” I tried to sound as patient as I could.
“There’s something weird going on out at that place.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “There’s a building in the back with its own guard at the door, and cameras watching everything. I asked what was in there, and everyone clammed up.”
“What do you think it is?” I asked.
“I don’t know. But it’s something secret.”
Secrets always make a detective curious. I thanked him and hung up.
“What do you think?” Rachel looked at me, ignoring her work.
Maybe it was nothing. I’d have to get an okay from my client. But there was only one way I could think of to get into FriskyLife’s headquarters and get close to the secret building without tipping Haldane off.
“So.” I leaned forward. “Do you want to have a baby?”
No comments:
Post a Comment