22
PATTI OROSCO OPENED her front door to two Homicide inspectors and, under the impression that she’d made an appointment for this visit, invited them in.
Barefoot, Patti was wearing jeans and a blue sweater. She led the way up the stairs and into the living room. When they got there, the view stopped Abby in her tracks. “Wow,” she said.
Patti turned and said with an air of apology, “I know. It’s kind of ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t use that word. If I lived here, I wouldn’t get much done. I’d just sit and stare out that window.”
As everyone took a seat around the coffee table, Patti said, “I spend some time doing that myself. Probably too much. If I were working, I’d have to go someplace else to get anything done.”
“You’re not working?” Abby asked.
“I don’t. No. I haven’t in some time.” Patti offered another apologetic smile. “Sometimes I think I’m one of the luckiest people in the world, except for my personal life. But how I really feel is that I’d trade it all, straight up, the money for the other stuff. People don’t believe me, but sometimes I think I would.”
“Did that cause friction between you and the Chases? The fact that you were wealthy?” Abby asked. “We’ve heard that they were having trouble with money.”
“I think that was part of it, at least recently, after Katie stopped working and her cash flow dried up. In a way, I couldn’t blame her if she was jealous about my situation. I mean, what happened to me was so weird.”
“And what was that?” JaMorris asked. “What happened to you?”
Patti brushed some hair off her forehead, let a sigh escape. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I suppose, but it usually hits people funny.”
“Do you want to tell us?”
“When I got out of college, I got a job as a secretary with Bazoom! Nobody remembers them anymore, but back then they were a happening start-up. They gave us the option to take some of our pay in stock. Anyway, long story short, I took them up on it, and about two years later, say ’03 or ’04, Sprint bought us out and I made about three million dollars.”
JaMorris nodded in appreciation. “That must have been a good day.”
“It was completely amazing. But then—for better or worse, depending on where you were—I invested in some other stocks, and everything doubled over the next few years. On top of that, I got freaked out at my exposure in the market and pulled it all out and into cash about two months before the crash. I’ve been so stupidly lucky, and all I do now is feel guilty about everything.” She shook her head. “Oh, but listen to me, the poor little rich girl.”
“I love that story,” Abby said. “So it really happens.”
“It does.” Patti brought her hands together. “But where are my manners? Can I offer you anything, or do you want to just get down to it?”
A small silence settled before JaMorris asked, “Down to what, exactly?”
“You know. Me and Hal. What you called me about yesterday.”
The two inspectors shared a questioning glance. JaMorris took up the ball. “Sure,” he said. “You and Hal.”
“All right. Then let’s start with I know he didn’t kill Katie.”
“How do you know that?” Abby asked. “Do you have any solid proof or evidence? Did you see him or talk to him or anything that night?”
“No, but I know he was trying to get back with her and make it all work.”
“Get back with her from what?” JaMorris asked.
“Well”—Patti looked quizzically from one inspector to the other—“from us.” He had made up his mind that we weren’t going to be together anymore, so there was no reason he had to do anything drastic about Katie. Isn’t that pretty much what I said yesterday?”
Abby could stand it no longer. “Patti. Who did you talk to yesterday?”
Patti was looking at JaMorris. “It wasn’t you?”
“No.”
“I thought it was you. You said you’d be by this morning, and then when you guys showed up here . . .” She stood up. “Just a minute.” She left the room and came back after a moment with a small notebook. “You’re not Abe Glitsky?”
“No, ma’am. I’m JaMorris Monroe. Abe Glitsky used to be head of Homicide. You’re saying you talked to him yesterday? About Hal? And Katie’s disappearance?”
She nodded. “I told Hal we should tell the truth about us, that hiding it would just make us look bad. So he told Inspector Glitsky, and he called me last night . . .”
“Glitsky called you last night?” JaMorris asked.
Patti nodded. “Yes. He asked if he could come by and talk a little this morning, so when you showed up . . . I mean, you said you were inspectors . . . I just thought . . .” Clearly flustered, she sat down on the edge of her couch. “So who are you guys if you’re not working with Glitsky?”
Abby had her ID out. “We’re inspectors with the Homicide Department, Patti. We’re investigating Katie’s disappearance. We came to see you because Daniel Dunne, Katie’s brother, told us that you and Hal were probably in a relationship.”
“I just told you about that. But wait a minute. Who is Glitsky, then?”
“He’s retired,” JaMorris said. “You say he’s working with Hal?”
“That’s what he said.”
Abby raised her eyebrows—a question—at her partner, who could only shrug.
Then the doorbell rang.
? ? ?
“I CAN’T SAY it was my finest hour.” Glitsky sat in Hardy’s office, trying to look relaxed in one of the comfortable chairs by the Sutter Street windows. But he drummed his fingers on the chair’s arm and hadn’t touched the tea that Hardy had poured for him.
“You had every right to be there,” Hardy said. “You were a private citizen paying a call on another private citizen, with whom you had a scheduled appointment. Nothing about that is remotely illegal.”
“True enough, but everybody knew I was really investigating Katie’s disappearance, and possibly impersonating a law officer in the bargain.”
“Did you state or imply to Ms. Orosco that you were a cop?”
“Not in so many words, but she must have gotten the general idea somehow.”
“Again, not your problem, and you broke no law.”
“I’m not worried about breaking a law. Nobody cares if I’m breaking a law. What they’re going to care about is that I’m sniffing around and maybe obstructing what’s starting to look like a righteous homicide investigation. I hated that kind of stuff back in the day. I still do, if I think about it.”
“Well,” Hardy said. “It was only a matter of time.”
“Thanks. That’s heartening.”
“You’re welcome.” Hardy stood by the windows, looking down at the traffic. Finally, he turned back to Abe. “What’s she like, the other woman? Worth killing for?”
“You know I’ve only got eyes for Treya, so my opinion can’t be relied on. But I think most normal males would find her irresistible in the extreme.”
Hardy raised his eyebrows. “In the extreme?”
“At least.”
“So the answer to ‘worth killing for’ would be yes.”
“If anybody is.”
“And yet Hal broke up with her.”
“That’s what they say.”
“Now I’m hearing reservations from you.”
Glitsky crossed one leg over the other. “You know when I said she was ‘irresistible in the extreme’? I lied. She’s about two or three times that. If Foley and Monroe hadn’t been there, and in spite of my only having eyes for Treya, I don’t know if I would have been able to talk to her without babbling.”
“I’d like to see you babble.”
“Many people would, but few get the chance. Patti Orosco would have gotten a large dose of full-blown babble. Really, she’s so beautiful, it’s silly—no other word for it. Oh, and she’s worth ten million dollars, too. Did I mention that?”
“How did it come up in casual conversation?”
“Hal mentioned it to me last night. To prepare me, I suppose.”
“For?”
“For the whole package. He told me that when I met her, I would have a hard time believing he’d let her go. He was right, but he wanted me to know what I was walking into.”
Hardy said, “You know what this is starting to remind me of? When he first came in to meet me. Homicide had only just had their first talk with him, but he wanted to prepare me for when they turned up the heat, so I’d be ready.”
“There are similarities,” Glitsky said. “Strategically.”
“I wish I knew what they meant.”
“Maybe it’s the way Hal handles things. Of course, he tries to leave me with the impression that he knows nothing about Katie’s disappearance, and if I’m forewarned about all the stuff that makes him look bad, suddenly, I’m not surprised. Therefore, I don’t jump to conclusions.” Glitsky shifted in his chair. “I’m assuming you still want my basic mind-set to be that he didn’t do it.”
Hardy allowed himself the germ of a grin. “Until you find a bit of evidence that says he did.”
“I haven’t. But on that, I’ve been trying to imagine other scenarios and have come up with a couple.”
“Hit me.”
Glitsky reached for his tea, took a sip, and made a face. “This stuff is cold.”
“Think of it as iced tea that’s gotten warm. What are your scenarios?”
After a rundown of his visit to the Golden Gate Bridge that morning to check on the feasibility of Katie’s suicide—in an hour of tapes, fast-forwarded, there hadn’t been any sign of a woman sneaking onto the bridge behind an unsuspecting bicyclist on the night in question—Glitsky concluded, “So that took the idea of her suicide, which I think was slim to begin with, pretty much out of the running.”
“You really think she might have killed herself?”
“Maybe. If she found out about Hal and Patti, if life at home with the kids was hell . . .” He shrugged. “I can’t rule it out entirely. People have been known to get creative, doing themselves in. She might have walked into the ocean and swum till the current got her. Did Frannie say she was depressed?”
“No. We haven’t talked about their sessions, Abe. Privilege.”
“My favorite. Would she talk to me?”
Hardy didn’t have to think about his reply. “Not unless they find her body, and even then maybe not. You’re welcome to try, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. Is that all you had with alternative scenarios, possible suicide?”
“Actually, no. Next was checking the lovely Patti Orosco’s alibi, which is the primary reason I’d gone by to meet her.”
Hardy nodded in appreciation. “Isn’t it fun to force your brain out of its ruts? If you’d gone on the assumption that it was Hal, you never would have met Patti, not to mention suspect her of murder. What was she doing on the night in question?”
“She went to the movies by herself. She thinks it was the seven-fifteen showing. Life of Pi. She loved it. And no, she did not keep her ticket stub. She also called Katie the day before—covering the phone records that will surely be discovered—and while that gave a plausible excuse why she couldn’t make the Thanksgiving dinner, it also would have allowed her to find out, if she didn’t already know, exactly when Hal would be leaving to pick up his brother at the airport.”
Leaning against his desk, Hardy crossed his arms and let out a small sigh. “You think they were in it together?
Glitsky replied, “I’m under orders not to think it was Hal, remember. Patti didn’t need him to be part of it, and if she can avoid suspicion, she comes out smelling like a rose, the sexy rich best friend who stood by Hal in his moment of torment and need. But one thing is certain: Both of their lives are immeasurably better if Katie is out of the picture.”
“You really like them for it,” Hardy said.
Glitsky’s mouth ticked up a quarter of an inch. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t warming to the idea.”