I ate the Peep scrapings from the microwave, vowing to set down a paper towel next time, and called Lieutenant Beech in Laguna Beach. ‘What did you learn from Tucson?’
‘I just got off the phone with Sergeant Bohler. You’ve got a big cheek, Elstrom, asking her to check on an old case without telling her why.’
‘Did you tell her she should help me out?’
‘I told her you asked me to help you out without telling me why and that she should go along so I wouldn’t be the only fool.’
‘So, what did you learn from Tucson?’
‘Tucson cops have no record of a Gary Halvorson at the address you gave me. As a favor, they drove by the place, called the number on the For Sale sign and spent some quality minutes with the property owner. He said Halvorson was a nut job, a recluse, but as far as the landlord was concerned, an ideal renter. He traveled a lot and didn’t cause any wear and tear on the house, paid the rent early, demanded nothing in the way of maintenance or upkeep and didn’t bother the neighbors.’
‘So why is the landlord selling the place now?’
‘A break-in spooked him and the house had tripled in value in the last twenty years. The landlord is approaching retirement. He got to thinking that a tenant who was always gone wasn’t good protection for his investment. So, for all kinds of reasons, he decided to cash in.’
‘Did he say anything about having to scrub the place?’
‘He said Halvorson left a mess but that it was a small price for twenty years of prompt rent. He also said he was getting freaked about the attention he was receiving. Some newswoman from San Francisco paid him a visit, asking the same sorts of things an insurance guy was inquiring about. I’m thinking the woman from San Francisco was the same one that pestered me and I’m thinking the insurance guy was you, Elstrom. I’m also thinking you two know each other, and both of you know a lot more about Halvorson than the Tucson cops or I do. Also, I just got a call from a security guy working for the Democrat party in Chicago. He asked whether we were sure of the identity of the man that got killed in a house explosion out here. I said we were working on it and then I asked him if he knew you. He hung up. Everything stinks of you, Elstrom. What do you know?’
‘Arlin’s real name is John Shea. I think Halvorson was involved with him in something.’
‘Involved in what?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Dainsto Runney was involved, too?’
‘Probably. His real name is Willard Piser.’
‘Where would they be now? Not Runney, we know he’s here; in fact, he’s all over Arlin’s neighborhood – the street, the yards, everywhere.’ He chuckled but there was no mirth behind it. ‘We matched DNA from the car to the corpse, by the way, so we know he drove here. So, this Halvorson fellow, what’s he been up to all these years when Shea was here and Runney up in Oregon? And how does all of this fit with the explosion in my town?’
‘Halvorson is red-headed.’
‘That’s all you can offer me?’
‘It’s significant that a red-headed man asked that neighbor to make sure of Arlin’s residence the night before the house exploded.’
‘He didn’t want to blow the wrong house?’
‘Or, as I’ve suggested, it was Arlin himself, wanting to be noticed as someone else.’
‘As Halvorson?’ he asked.
‘As Halvorson,’ I said, as though I understood what that might mean.
I called Jenny’s cell phone and got routed to voicemail. I asked what she’d learned in Reeder and Tucson without sounding petulant at not having been kept informed. I then called her extension in her newsroom, got sent to voicemail and left the same carefully controlled words.
Last, I called the newsroom’s general number and asked to speak to Jennifer Gale’s producer.
‘Miss Gale is not in at the moment,’ he said. ‘You can leave information on our tip line and we’ll get back to you.’
‘My name’s Elstrom. Jenny and I are friends. I need to talk to her.’
‘You say you’re a friend?’
‘From Chicago.’
‘Hold.’ He came back on the line a moment later. ‘She still uses a Rolodex, believe it or not, and you’re in it: Elstrom, Dek, of Rivertown, Illinois, wherever the hell that is.’
‘It’s a beach town along the sun-drenched banks of Illinois’ most pristine river.’
‘She’s doing a little traveling,’ he said.
‘Oregon and Arizona I know about. Now where?’
‘She called from Chicago, three days ago, saying she needed personal time and nothing more. I assumed it has something to do with her mother, but as far as Oregon and Arizona go you probably know more than I do. Jenny’s like so many reporters – secretive, paranoid even, about getting scooped within her own newsroom. I don’t know what she’s up to. And we’re worried because she’s not answering her phone. It’s not like her to not check in. Can you help?’
‘I didn’t know that she’s here,’ I said, but I should have.
I’d mentioned Timothy Wade’s name.