"What kind of skills you looking for?"
"I want to take some initiative here. I need someone who can help me find Beth."
"Hold on a second, Gus."
Gus had shared enough meals with the Muellers to know what was going on. Leslie was returning to the table, an event as auspicious as the Queen of Heart's return to that garden in Wonderland: "Off with your head" if you didn't drop everything, bow, and pay homage.
"Who's that on the phone?" Gus heard Leslie ask. "Gus."
"Gus Wheatley?" she asked pointedly.
The shushing came as crackling over the line. Marcus was clearly sensitive to his wife's tone. "He wants help."
"You are not going to do that wife beater any favors. Tell him what we've decided."
"I can't tell him now. He sounds terrible."
"Tell him."
Gus could hear the embarrassment in Marcus's voice. "Gus, can I call you back?"
"I heard what Leslie said. What is it you need to tell me?"
"It's purely business."
"What kind of business?"
"I really don't want to do this on the phone."
"What," Gus scoffed, "are you firing me?"
His voice dropped, deadly serious. "For the time being, I think it's best if we severed our relationship."
Gus gripped the phone. "Over a stupid newscast? Come on."
"It's more than that."
"Then you must know something I don't know." "Apparently I must."
"What are you saying?"
The hesitation in his voice was palpable. Leslie was undoubtedly tightening the screws with one of her deadly glares. "Gus, I really can't discuss it."
"Does this have to do with the management change at the firm?"
"Let's not get into law firm politics."
"It's just an interim appointment. Until this passes. It's not permanent."
"Yes. And that's exactly the way you should view our separation. A temporary thing."
Gus went cold. His client's hollow tone made it painfully clear that neither change was temporary.
"Gus, I truly wish you the best of luck."
"Yeah. Thanks for nothing."
He switched off his cell phone. A flash of anger made him want to call Martha Goldstein, yell at her, ask her what the hell was going on. He caught himself fidgeting with his wedding ring, however, and the impulse instantly evaporated. It was a nervous habit of his. Whenever he got stressed, he would pull the platinum band on and off. It was off now. He checked the inscription inside, though he had it memorized.
It made him smile. Beth's sense of humor used to make him smile all the time. Back then. Now, however, it was a sad smile. Sadder than ever.
PUT ME BACK ON, it read.
He slid the ring back on, grabbed his briefcase full of flyers, and headed for his car.
Chapter Seventeen.
Waterfront Park was on the eastern edge of downtown, hugging Elliott Bay. It was Seattle's version of a soothing boardwalk, with elevated walkways that offered grand vistas of Puget Sound. On sunny summer weekends it was a prime spot for watching the water show put on by the city's fireboats, as geysers of sea water shot into the air at the rate of 22,000 gallons a minute. Grassy areas attracted picnickers and shirtless Frisbee fanatics. On a cloudy winter day, however, it was just another shade of gray, its concrete walkways blending with the fog that shrouded land and sea.
Andie arrived a few minutes early, walking briskly in the cold mist. The moisture gathered on her trench coat, not quite enough to warrant an umbrella. A group of hardy tourists tried their luck with the twenty-five-cent telescopes at the pier's edge. Occasionally the fog would break, perhaps offering them a glimpse of a tugboat or timber-laden barge cutting across the sound. Altogether, Andie saw no more than a half dozen pedestrians in the area, with no way of knowing which if any was the woman who had called her. She had mentioned the entrance to Pier 57, but Andie wasn't sure of the exact meeting spot. She stopped at the plaque commemorating the beginning of the Alaska Gold Rush in 1897. It seemed appropriate enough, as she herself was hoping to hit pay dirt.
"Agent Henning?"
She turned at the sound of the woman's voice. It was like looking in a smoky mirror. An attractive young woman wearing a drizzle-soaked trench coat. Perhaps she was a little older than Andie.
She stepped forward and extended her hand. "I'm Martha Goldstein."
"Nice to meet you." Her tone conveyed no recognition. "I'm a partner at Preston and Coolidge. Gus Wheatley's law firm."
"I see. I presume that's why you don't want to use your name?"
"Exactly."
"You could have told me that on the phone. You were so cagey about your identity, it made me a little suspicious."
"Sorry. When you asked for my name, I freaked a little. Believe me, I'm having second thoughts even as I stand here."
"You shouldn't. Not if you're going to tell me the truth." "Oh, everything I have to say is gospel truth."
"Tell me. You think you know something about Beth Wheatley's disappearance?"
Martha looked away, as if struggling. "Let me say this. I don't know Beth very well, but I've known Gus for a very long time. Over six years."