Code 15 (26 page)

“I’m sorry, Doctor, but I still don’t understand what I can do to help you.”

Fearing Ben had been right and that she had made the trip in vain, Morgan said, “Ms. Kaine, it took every drop of courage I have to come here today. I wouldn’t be here unless I was feeling a little desperate.”

After an uncomfortable few seconds of silence, Adele reached down, opened the bottom drawer of her desk, and pulled out her purse. “Why don’t you call me Adele?” she said, sliding the drawer shut and coming to her feet. “There’s a coffee shop a few stores down. We can talk there.”

Encouraged, but with guarded optimism, Morgan followed Adele out of the travel agency and toward the coffee shop.

There was no line and they each ordered a coffee. Adele reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet.

“My treat,” Morgan said, placing a ten-dollar bill down on the counter.

“Thanks. Do you want to sit inside or out?” Adele asked.

Morgan looked around the coffee shop and said, “Out.”

It was a dreary spring morning, but with the promise of the sun burning off the ash-colored clouds that filled the western sky. Morgan followed Adele past several empty tables, eventually sitting down toward the end of the sidewalk.

Adele wasted no time with pleasantries. “Was there something specific you wanted to ask me?”

“I guess the first thing I’d like to know is if you have any idea if your ex-husband’s still living in South Florida?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve only seen Mason once in the last five years or so, and that was at the funeral. We didn’t speak. In fact, we made sure to stay on opposite sides of the church. But to answer your question, I think he probably still lives in the area. I ran into one of his old golf buddies a few months ago. His name’s Charlie Shaiman. He leases high-end cars. Mason’s name barely came up, but Charlie mentioned he had gotten him a car recently.” Adele took a hard look at Morgan. “How sure are you that Mason’s the one who’s been harassing you?”

Morgan took the first sip of her coffee. “I’m not sure. At the moment I’d call it an educated guess.”

“So you came here today hoping I could explain his atrocious behavior to you.” Morgan nodded. “The answer’s simple,” Adele said with a relaxed shrug. “It’s because he was born that way.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Mason was born with two giant chips on his shoulder.” Adele reached into her purse and took out a pack of cigarettes and a disposable lighter. She stopped for a moment, held up the pack, and asked, “Do you mind?” Morgan gestured to go ahead. “What you witnessed was Mason Kaine being Mason Kaine. It’s probably the main reason I divorced him, although the list of other reasons is endless.” Adele took two quick puffs of the cigarette and then promptly crushed it out in a plastic ashtray. “It’s the only way I can quit,” she explained before going on. “My ex-husband’s a selfish, insensitive, and hopelessly spiteful human being. His reaction to anything that went wrong in his life was to assume that somebody was to blame for it. Once he convinced himself of that, he would then go after that person like a pit bull.”

“Did you have any reason to think that your sons received poor care?”

“I come from a family of doctors. My father was an anesthesiologist in Broward County for over thirty years. He had just retired. He spoke to one of his colleagues at Dade Presbyterian. He took a look at the chart and assured him that nothing more could have been done to save Jason and Andy.” Adele picked up her cup but stopped before it reached her lips. “My father was right about Mason.”

“What do you mean?”

“He told me that Mason was the type of man who looked in the mirror every morning and saw a ten. The problem was, everybody else saw a two.”

An hour earlier Morgan hadn’t a clue if Adele Kaine would even speak to her. Now, questions were popping into her head faster than she could ask them. Even allowing for ex-spouse bashing with its usual embellishment, Morgan suspected that Adele was painting an accurate picture.

“Do you happen to know where he works?” Morgan inquired.

Adele laughed. “Mason work? I don’t think so. Mason was a trust-fund baby. He would never dirty his hands with anything as bourgeois as a real job. The problem was that he fancied himself as some high-powered entrepreneur and venture capitalist. Unfortunately, his track record putting deals together fell well short of his overinflated opinion of himself. In a way, it’s a shame.”

“Why?” Morgan asked.

“Because for all his faults, the guy’s brilliant. He would get interested in some obscure topic and then devour everything that had ever been written about it until he was an expert. I remember for about six months he did nothing except build antique trains. When he got bored with that he decided to get a PhD in music theory. The trouble was, nothing kept his interest.” Adele shook her head. “What a waste of God-given talent.” The sun finally showed itself and Adele reached into her purse for her sunglasses. “Why don’t you ask me what’s really on your mind? Why don’t you ask me if I think Mason’s capable of harassing you?”

“Do you?”

“Without a doubt. As soon as I filed for divorce, he put a team of private investigators on me around the clock. I hoped things would get better as time passed but they got worse. I would come out in the morning and find my tires slashed or my car keyed. My credit cards would get mysteriously canceled and all kinds of salespeople would call. It was obvious what was going on. Finally, my lawyer got a restraining order against him. Even with the judge’s order, I was scared to death.”

“It’s hard to believe you ever went through with the . . . the . . .”

“With the marriage?” she asked flatly. “Mason was born with the gift of gab. He could talk his way in or out of anything.” Her voice suddenly switched to a regretful monotone. “I guess I thought I was in love. It took me a while, but I eventually figured out I’d made the worst mistake of my life. Hopefully, I’ve gotten a little wiser with age.” Adele sat silently, watching as a young mother pushing a twin stroller walked by. “Do you have any children?” she asked Morgan.

“I’m pregnant with my first.”

“Congratulations,” she said with a painful smile.

“I’m sorry, Adele. I didn’t mean to . . .”

Adele pulled a tissue from her purse. “I was a mess after my boys died but I’m better now.” She forced a smile. “It’s amazing what a year of therapy can do for you.”

“Do you mind if I ask you one last thing?” Morgan asked.

Adele nodded.

“As I mentioned, I only spoke to your ex-husband briefly that night. I was a little preoccupied with his behavior, so I wasn’t exactly concentrating on his appearance. I have reason to believe the man who has been stalking me has a gap between his front teeth.”

“Mason’s teeth were fine,” she said shaking her head slowly. “But a couple of years ago, I remember hearing he was hurt pretty badly playing rugby. They took him straight from the field to the hospital and into surgery. He broke a couple of facial bones and knocked out several teeth.”

“But from what you’ve told me, your ex-husband’s a man of means. I’m sure he would have undergone reconstructive dental work.”

“You would think, but very little of what Mason did was either predictable or made sense.”

“Did he ever mention the name Gideon?” Morgan asked.

Adele shook her head. “Not that I remember.”

Morgan extended her hand across the table. “I should let you get back to work. You’ve been very helpful. I can’t thank you enough.”

They stood up together and headed back to the travel agency. Adele reached into her purse and handed Morgan her business card.

“I know we hardly know each other, so you’ll forgive me if I say that you seem a little frightened. My cell phone number’s on the card. Call me anytime if you want to talk. We probably have more in common than either of us knows.”

Morgan reached for the card and smiled. “I may take you up on that. Thanks again.”

“I hope things work out for you.”

Morgan waited for Adele to go back inside before heading back to her car. She slid in behind the wheel and started the engine. Before backing out of her parking place, she thought about Mason Kaine’s rugby accident. She suspected Ben would call it a long shot, but it was certainly possible that Mason Kaine could have been left with a gap between his teeth that he chose not to repair. There was another possibility that was even more far-fetched, but the thought of it made her shudder.

Perhaps it was nothing more than her intuition, but something kept telling her she was one step closer to proving who had murdered her father.

After attending Jenny Silverman’s girls’ night out, Morgan headed south on the Florida Turnpike.

If she hadn’t promised Jenny she would go, she probably would have found an excuse and stayed home. To her surprise, however, she had thoroughly enjoyed the evening and had no regrets about attending. She didn’t know how, but for three hours she managed to tuck the shambles of her life away in some remote crevice of her mind.

Absentmindedly, she drifted toward the left, but the sudden blast of an eighteen-wheeler sent her swerving back into her own lane. After a labored breath, she threw the peeved trucker an apologetic wave.

Her cell phone rang.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t call earlier,” Ben said. “My meeting just broke up. I’m on my way back to the airport. How was girls’ night out?”

“I had a good time. I’m glad I went.”

“Good. Did you speak with Adele Kaine this afternoon?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“It was a very enlightening conversation, to say the least. And contrary to your gut feeling, she was a fountain of information.”

“I’m a little surprised.”

“I was too, at first. But once I found out how much she detests her ex-husband, I understood. I think she actually welcomed this or any other opportunity to bash him.”

“Is she still in touch with him?”

“She’s only seen him once in the last few years.”

“Does she share his opinion regarding the care her sons received?”

“Not at all.”

“What did she tell you about him?”

“Kaine fits the profile to a T of somebody who might be capable of psychotic behavior if stressed enough.”

“What are you basing that on?”

“Everything I’ve read about abnormal stress reactions.”

“Did you ask her about his teeth?”

“While she was married to him, his teeth were normal. But she told me he was an avid rugby player. A couple of years ago, he got kicked in the face. Evidently, the trauma to his mouth and facial bones was pretty significant. She didn’t know a lot of the details but she had heard he needed emergency surgery. I assume that would have included extensive dental reconstruction that might require some kind of bonding process to close any spaces.”

“Not to state the obvious,” Ben said, “but that would leave him without a gap, not with one.”

“Assuming he went through all that dental work.”

“Does he have any money?”

“He’s loaded,” she said.

“So why wouldn’t he have had his teeth reconstructed?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he decided it was too much of a hassle and there are worse things than going through life with a gap between your teeth. Or maybe he did have them repaired and then had the bonding removed.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

“According to the police, the man who killed my father went to extreme means to disguise himself. If Kaine was the one responsible and he had already decided there would be other victims . . . well, maybe he had the bonding removed.”

Ben cleared his throat. “That’s pretty far out there, Morgan.”

“Maybe,” she said. “I guess what I need is a recent picture of the guy. I’ve been on the Internet trying to track down anything I can about him. There’s no property in his name that I can find. He obviously has an unlisted phone number. I’m not even sure he still lives in the area.”

“You could get a private eye involved,” Ben suggested. “They might even be able to get a photograph.”

“I thought about that, but I didn’t know where to begin to find someone.”

“I can take care of it,” he said. “One of my longtime students owns her own agency. E-mail me everything you know about Kaine and I’ll give her a call. If she can’t figure out where he is and get a picture of him, nobody can.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Are you going to call Detective Wolfe about all this?” he asked.

“If I do, I suspect he’ll listen politely and then tell me he’ll get back to me. And since I’m still waiting for him to get back to me on a number of other things, why bother?”

“I thought you might say that,” he told her. “Look, I’m just pulling into the airport. It’s only about a thirty-minute flight back down to Hollywood. I want to talk to you more about this. I’ll call you as soon as I land.”

“Just come over. I’d rather talk in person.”

“Fine,” Ben said. “Listen, we worked right through dinner. Do you have anything to eat?”

“I have three-day-old baked ziti and a half-eaten apple crumb cake. Take your choice.”

“As tempting as that sounds, I’ll just pick something up on my way over.”

“Call me when you get here.”

Morgan set her phone down and within a few seconds was again deep in thought. If she assumed it was Kaine who had orchestrated both her father’s murder and the Code 15s, the assumption begged a key question, which she had no answer for. What was the common link between these individuals? What could her father, Faith Russo, and possibly even Tony Wallace all have in common that infuriated Kaine enough to take their lives?

Morgan had no rosy illusions about her situation. More than anything, if there were a way out of this predicament . . . if there was any hope of vindicating herself, she needed to know more about Mason Kaine—much more.