Even Rivertown cops know to scrutinize whoever shows up when a body is discovered, in case one might be an offender, so I pushed away any thought of going right down to the dam. I dropped Leo at his bungalow and headed into the city, to the building where I’d met Rosamund Reynolds. My footsteps echoed alone in the empty, glossy halls. Like before, it was a slow day for temporary rentals.
The lock on the office she’d used popped easily with a credit card. A good lock wasn’t necessary; no one left anything in a day rental.
Except for the desk chair being returned to its rightful place behind the desk, the office was the same – spartan and anonymous, empty and ready for anyone who needed a space for a day to impress. Or to fool.
The management office was at the rear of the first floor. A pert young woman in her mid-twenties sat behind a glossy white desk.
‘I had an appointment with a woman in Two-Ten but no one’s answering my knock,’ I said.
She frowned, and then keyed something into the small computer on her desk. ‘No one is using that space today,’ she said after a moment.
‘I met Rosamund Reynolds there just a few days ago.’
She smiled. ‘The offices on the second floor are for short-term rental. Miss Reynolds is not currently renting.’
‘It’s about insurance,’ I said. ‘She’s owed some money.’ I looked around as though I were afraid someone else was listening. ‘Actually, she’s owed a great deal of money.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ the young thing said. ‘It was obvious that she’d recently lost a loved one.’
‘Pardon me?’
‘Her voice was rough, from crying.’
I nodded, remembering the hoarse voice. It could have been affected, a contrivance.
‘The black clothes and hat, the veil …’
‘She wore a veil?’
‘Black lace. Old fashioned, huh?’
Rosamund had taken no chances in disguising herself when renting the office, though for me all she’d needed was bright backlighting from the sun.
‘I don’t suppose anyone accompanied her to help with the wheelchair?’ I asked.
‘She managed by herself, poor dear.’
‘Even in the elevator? It seems too small for a wheelchair.’
She stood up. ‘It meets all building codes.’
I supposed it did, and was especially suitable if one was able to fold the chair and stand to ride up. I wondered if the woman calling herself Rosamund Reynolds had needed her wheelchair only as part of her disguise. I thanked the young woman and left.
As I was about to drive away, I got a call from Lieutenant Beech in Laguna Beach.
‘I’d like you to stop by,’ he said.
‘I’m no longer in California.’
‘Back in Rivertown, Elstrom?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why did you come to Laguna Beach?’
‘As I said, one of my carriers learned of the explosion. I was already in California. They asked me to look into the matter.’
‘How long ago was the policy opened?’
Something had gone wrong with his investigation. He was no longer simply interested in the beneficiary. ‘What’s your interest in that, Lieutenant?’
‘How long ago was the policy opened?’
‘I’d have to check.’
‘What’s the name of the insurance company? I’ll call them myself.’
‘I’ve got to get their permission to tell—’
‘Cut the crap, Elstrom. What’s the name?’
‘Why?’
He took a breath and spoke more calmly. ‘We’ve become more interested in Mr Arlin’s past.’
‘Because …?’
‘Because he doesn’t have one, damn it. It appears Mr Arlin, one of our most respected citizens, re-invented himself with a new name when he arrived here twenty years ago. I need to know what your insurance company knows about him and I’ll subpoena you to find that out.’
‘Surely his ex-wife would know quite a bit.’
‘She knew him as David Arlin said she had no reason to question what he’d told her of his past.’
‘I’ll pass this along to the insurance company,’ I lied.
‘Also, find out who I can talk to about the physical they gave him.’
‘Any specific medical concerns?’
‘Have that insurance company call me immediately,’ he said.
‘I’ll see,’ I said.
‘Here’s what I’m beginning to see, Elstrom: a guy who might not represent an insurance company at all, a guy who came nosing around not so coincidentally, a guy who knows one hell of a lot more than he’s saying.’
‘As I said, I’ll see what I can do.’
I hung up. I couldn’t very well tell him that my client had given me a phony name and that I had no idea as to her real identity.
Or that she was trying to frame me for killing whoever was just found bobbing in a plastic bag, down by the dam.