"Beyond that," he said, "just be in my office at eight A. M. sharp. And prepare to work your ass off."
A cold rain started to fall. Andie popped her umbrella. "Need a ride to your car?"
"Nah. I'm just a half block away." He turned.
"Isaac," she said, stopping him. "Thank you."
The rain was falling harder. He gave her a mock salute and dashed across the street. Andie watched from the curb. Halfway across, he slipped on the wet pavement, then raised a fist triumphantly as he regained his balance with hardly a break in stride.
B. J. Bond, she thought, smiling as she headed for her Car.
Chapter Five.
The police weren't the help Gus had hoped they would be. To them, a thirty-five-year-old woman in a rocky marriage who was missing less than twenty-four hours seemed a more likely candidate for an extramarital affair than foul play. They did let him fill out a missing-persons report. Beyond that, Gus was pretty much on his own.
He canceled his Monday appointments and spent the morning and most of the afternoon trying to reconstruct Beth's weekend. He called the credit card companies to see where she had charged things, then visited those stores and restaurants. It was privately embarrassing, but his most recent photograph of Beth was almost a year old; things had gotten that bad between them. Even so, one of the assistant managers at Nordstrom's department store recognized her. She hadn't seen Beth in weeks. No one else could even place her.
Around three o'clock he got an emergency call from one of those ever so considerate clients who just wouldn't take "family crisis" for an answer. Two minutes turned into ten, ten into thirty-five. Gus finally had to fake a dead battery in his cell phone to shake free. He spent the balance of the afternoon at home making phone calls. Beth kept an address directory on their computer. He scrolled down the list alphabetically, calling each entry, asking if they'd seen her.
The process became mechanical after a while, and he lost track of time. He was phoning the P's when the doorbell rang.
Gus answered it. Carla was standing in the doorway with a covered dish.
"I brought Morgan dinner."
Before he could even invite her inside, she was heading for the kitchen. Gus followed. "Okay if I eat some, too?"
The ribbing didn't break the ice. He said, "Actually, Morgan's having dinner over at a friend's house. I've been making phone calls all day. I didn't want her around."
"Business never stops for you, does it?"
"It wasn't business. I've been trying to find Beth." "Oh," she said sheepishly. Her combativeness dropped a notch. "Actually, so have I."
"Any luck?"
She laid her casserole on the counter and removed her gloves. "No. But that doesn't mean anything. It hasn't been that long."
Gus looked away, then back. "Can I ask you something kind of personal?"
"It depends."
"Just forget for a minute that you're my sister. Put on your hat as Beth's best friend."
"Okay."
"Lately, I can't really say I've seen the two of you together all that much. Sometimes best friends can be like sisters. Sometimes it's just a label. Were you and Beth close?"
She made a face, as if the question were complicated. "We were at one time."
"But not lately?"
"We've been closer. There was no big blowout or anything. It's like I told you this morning. Beth has been really unhappy the last few months. She was pretty unapproachable."
Gus nodded. "That's what I'm finding out. I've been going down her address book, calling all her friends. I haven't talked to anyone who's seen her or even talked to her on the phone in the past two months."
"Maybe she was too embarrassed. Abused women often blame themselves."
He turned away, exasperated. "I never laid a hand on Beth. I don't know why she said that. Other than to hurt me."
"Gus Wheatley a victim? I don't think so. From what I saw of Beth lately, she was more likely to hurt herself than to hurt you."
Their eyes locked, as if a light had just gone off. Each could tell exactly what the other was thinking. Gus said, "You don't think--"
"God, I hope not."
The phone rang. Gus grabbed it on the second ring. "Hello. Yes, this is he." He started to pace, listening intently. The eyes widened with concern, borderline panic.
"I can be there in twenty minutes," he said finally and hung up.
Carla seemed on the verge of explosion. "What?" she asked with urgency.
"Police found a body in Washington Park Arboretum. Looks to be a woman in her mid-thirties."
She raised a hand to her mouth in horror. "Is it--"