Damaged (44 page)

Mary followed Patricia through the warren of rowhomes, then turned onto wider streets and the area grew less residential. They reached Street Road, one of the busiest commercial stretches in the city, its four lanes lined with McDonald's, Dunkin' Donuts, Wendy's, big box stores, and long stretches of auto dealerships glutted with new cars, slick with residual rain.

They approached Gower Street and took a left turn, passing a strip mall of four businesses; a nail salon, a dry cleaner, a martial arts studio, and on the far end, a double-wide storefront that stood out because of its navy-blue awning and painted sign, discreetly lit,
LAW OFFICES OF JAMES R. GELTZ, ESQ.
All of the businesses were closed except for the martial arts studio, which was brightly lit and abuzz with activity. A class of about ten men and women in karate robes were finishing up, bowing to each other and the instructor, in a black belt.

Mary followed Patricia to the right behind the strip mall and pulled into a narrow parking lot, which was packed because of the karate class. The back of the strip mall was tan brick and windowless, with metal security doors for the back entrance to each business. They drove to the end of the lot, but there was only one empty space, which Patricia pulled into. Mary turned around in the lot, went back out, took a right, and found a space on the side street in front of a truck mechanic's shop, which was closed.

Mary got out hurriedly, grabbed her purse, and hustled to the parking lot. She made her way to the back entrance, becoming edgy about what she might find inside. She hoped Geltz hadn't fallen ill and she couldn't fight the feeling that something else was going on, since he had left for a long trip without telling Patricia. Mary reached the door, and Patricia was struggling with the lock.

“Sorry about that.” Patricia turned her key with a tiny grunt. “I didn't realize it was the last space.”

“That's okay.”

“This freaking lock needs to be replaced, I keep telling him. It takes forever to open this damn door.” Patricia grunted again, and finally the door opened. She reached inside and turned on a master switch, and fluorescent light spilled from the inside. “Come on in.”

“Thanks.” Mary stepped inside, finding herself in a hallway with tan tiles and fluorescent lighting, containing a coatrack, metal umbrella stand, and stacked cardboard boxes.

“Follow me.” Patricia closed the security door behind them and led the way down the hall, which ended in a white door. “He still hasn't called on the Batphone. I really hope he's okay. He's a good boss.”

“How long have you worked for him?”

“Two years. I like it. The hours aren't bad, and the pay is decent, and it's so close to home.” Patricia unlocked and opened the white door. “Come in.”

“Thanks.” Mary followed her through the door, which led to a hallway that was painted light blue and had deep navy carpeting.

“James, are you here?” Patricia called out as she walked ahead, but there was no response.

Mary followed her out of the hallway, which opened onto a wider hallway that had a glass-walled break room on the right, and directly opposite, a large conference room with a long walnut table. Mary oriented herself, realizing that the conference room was located at the office's storefront on the strip mall.

“James?” Patricia called again, but there was still no response.

Mary walked behind her toward a waiting room with a reception desk and cushy blue chairs arranged around two walnut coffee tables, topped with magazines. An American flag stood in a stand next to a display case with fake-gold golf trophies, and laminated newspaper articles blanketed the walls. Behind the reception area, in the far left corner of the building, was a door, presumably to Geltz's office.

“James?” Patricia opened the door, and Mary came up next to her.

James's office was empty. His glistening walnut desk set on an angle, and in front of the desk were two blue leather chairs. Bookshelves containing case reporters and an array of photographs lined the room.

“So what do you think?” Mary asked Patricia.

“I feel better. He isn't here, so he didn't have a heart attack. Funny, his desktop computer is missing. I guess he took it with him.” Patricia went over to the desk, stood behind it, and looked around, moving some correspondence aside.

Mary entered the office and came over, seeing what she meant. James's desk had stacks of papers and case files around its perimeter, but its center, where a desktop computer keyboard would be, was clear. The power cord was missing, and on the floor was an empty surge protector. “Is that unusual for him to take his desktop?”

“It's not
that
unusual. He did it once last winter when he went down to the Caymans for, like, two weeks. He has a laptop but he prefers the desktop. He says he can read the monitor better.”

“So that's consistent with what Ellen said, that he was leaving for a few weeks. I do need to talk to him. How do we reach him in the Caymans?”

“The Batphone or the cell. I don't even know the landline.”

Mary wondered if that was where he was and she wanted more information. “Ellen also said he was single. Does he date anybody? Could he be out on a date?”

“No, he was dating somebody off and on a few months ago, but she moved to Denver.”

“Does he have kids he could be with?”

“No, his daughter lives in London.”

“What about his friends? Does he have any good friends he might be with?”

“Hmm, maybe so.” Patricia brightened. “There are three guys he plays golf with. He could be with one of them. If it hadn't rained so hard earlier, I would've bet he was playing nine holes and had dinner at the club. Maybe they got caught on the course in the rain.”

“Maybe they did. Which club does he belong to?”

“Whitestone. He
lives
there in summer. Golfers are nuts.” Patricia took her phone out of her back pocket, checking the screen. “Still it worries me that he didn't return my call or text. The Batphone always works. Maybe he lost the Batphone on the course.”

“Could he be en route flying to the Caymans? Then he'd have no cell service.”

“That's also possible. You have to take two planes. It's a hike.” Patricia scrolled through her phone.

“Or could he be with clients? Taking them out, socializing?”

“Probably not. He networks with the Vietnam vets organizations. Most of them are older, like Edward. It's not like they party hearty.”

“Did he serve in Vietnam?”

“No, I never asked him why. A lot of the vets have done very well, so they're good clients and they need estate planning. He goes to all of their functions.” Patricia pressed a number into her phone. “Excuse me while I call his golf buddies. I bet he's with one of them.”

“Thanks,” Mary said, seizing the opportunity to snoop around. She skimmed the correspondence on the desk, scanned the red case accordions, then gravitated to the photographs.

Patricia spoke on the phone. “Hello, Don, this James Geltz's secretary Patricia. Is he with you? I haven't been able to find him and I need to talk to him…”

Mary scanned the photos on the bookshelves behind the desk, and there were a few pictures of a pretty young girl who must have been James's daughter, as well as a bunch of group photos with men in ties holding drinks or wearing golf clothes with verdant backdrops. She looked at the faces but she didn't recognize James in the photos.

“… You haven't seen him since when? Okay, thanks. Sorry to interrupt you. Good night…”

Mary picked up one of the group photos and held it up for Patricia. “Is one of these men James?”

“Sure, yes.” Patricia hung up the phone then pressed more numbers into the keypad. “Dan hasn't seen him, and I'm going to try Morris. He could be with Morris.”

“Thanks.” Mary eyed the photo again. “In the photo, which one is James?”

“He's the man in the middle, with the mustache.”

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

“James has a mustache?” Mary masked her alarm. “I looked him up on the website and he didn't have a mustache.”

“That picture is five years and fifty pounds ago. Also, he wasn't dyeing his hair then. The clients tease him about it. They call him Grecian Formula.” Patricia said into the phone, “Hi, is this Morris? Morris, this is Patricia, James Geltz's secretary. I was wondering if James is with you…”

Mary turned away, hiding her surprise. She set the photo back down on the shelf, her thoughts on fire. So Geltz
did
have a mustache. Then it could've been him in the brown Subaru on Moretone Street and at the Philadelphia Children's Alliance. And if Geltz had gained weight, his face would've been more fleshy, too. So was it Geltz, following Edward and Patrick? Why?

“… You haven't seen him? I called Dan but he doesn't know where he is. I think you're right, he probably went down to the Caymans. Right, his golf bag's always in the trunk. Okay, good night. Sorry to bother you.”

Mary turned around. “No luck?”

“Not yet. That was two strikes, and I'm going to try the third, but they're not worried about him. Morris told me he'd been talking about the Caymans and he thinks that's where he might be.” Patricia scrolled through her phone to find another number, then called. “Cal, hi, this is Patricia, James Geltz's secretary? I wonder if he's with you. Sorry to bother you, but I have a client who needs to speak with him. He's not there? Did he mention anything to you about going down to the Caymans? Oh, okay. All right, I won't worry. Thanks a lot.”

Mary remembered that the two times she had seen the brown Subaru was on Thursday afternoon between three and four o'clock, when they were at the Philadelphia Children's Alliance, and on Friday, late afternoon, when she had followed it down Moretone Street then lost it on the way to Robertson's house. She went back to the desk and looked around for James's calendar, but she didn't see one. He must have it on his phone.

Patricia hung up. “I give up. He's a big boy. He's not with them, but I'm not worried about him anymore. They think he went to the Caymans. That's probably why he took the computer.”

“Patricia, let me ask you, does he have a calendar or does he keep it in his phone?”

“He keeps it in his phone, but I can access it, why?”

Mary tried to act casual. “It's funny, I'm sure I saw him driving by on Thursday between three and four, and on Friday, in the late afternoon. Do you know where he was at those times?”

“Does it matter? I really should get home. I have a child to take care of. And a six-year-old.” Patricia chuckled.

“Please? Can you just check his calendar? I'm curious. It's driving me crazy.”

“Okay, hang on.” Patricia thumbed through her phone, then stopped, reading it. “He was out at a client meeting on Thursday afternoon between three and four and on Friday afternoon, late, but he didn't say which clients. He just put in ‘client meeting.'”

“Is that typical, that he does that?”

“Sometimes.” Patricia put the phone back into her pocket.

“But he has to bill time. Do you do the bills?”

“Yes, and I take care of all of the expenses for the office, too. He takes care of his own money, that's it.”

“How do you know who to bill his time to, if he only writes ‘client meeting'?”

“I take it from his time sheets, not the calendar. Usually when he writes ‘client meeting,' he doesn't assign it to any client on his time sheets. I noticed it a while ago, but I figured, so what? He can take down time. It's his business, not mine.” Patricia checked her watch. “Okay, I gotta go. Let's lock it up.”

“But wait, Patricia, I'm sure it was James I saw on both of those days, watching Edward's house and following him around.” Mary hadn't wanted to tell Patricia, but this was her last chance.

“Why would he do that?” Patricia recoiled.

“I don't know, that's what I'm trying to find out. I mean, he told me Edward hadn't been in for four years.”

“That's right.”

“So they had nothing to do with each other for four years, then all of a sudden, James starts following Edward around?”

“Oh, come on,” Patricia snapped, newly defensive. “He didn't
follow
anybody. Now you're being ridiculous.”

“But I know he did, I saw him.”

“You
saw
my boss following his client? Are you sure it was him?”

“Yes. Last Thursday and Friday.”

Patricia hesitated. “Well, I remember something minor about Edward, but it probably doesn't matter.”

“What?” Mary asked, intrigued.

“I think it was on Wednesday last week, Edward called the office. He called on the landline and I took the call.”

“What did he want?”

“He wanted to talk to James but James wasn't in. So then I asked him what it was in reference to, and he said that he needed a referral for a lawyer. He didn't say what kind of lawyer and I didn't ask him why.”

Mary put two and two together. “That must have been when he was looking to hire me. It was for a Complaint that had just been filed against him in connection with his grandson, Patrick.”

“Oh, he didn't say that. Anyway, he asked me if I knew any good lawyers and I said no. I didn't think James would want me giving referrals, willy-nilly.”

“Sure, right.”

“So then later, I told James that Edward had called asking for a lawyer. That's all.”

“What did James say?”

“He got mad at me, asking me why didn't I find out what the matter was and why Edward wanted a lawyer. He snapped.”

Mary felt stumped. “Why would he snap at you for that? Why would he care if Edward needed a lawyer?”

“I have no idea.”