“Enough to actually pay me?”
Faz smiled. “Unlike you, I can’t afford a Ferrari. I’m making payments on a 2010 Subaru.”
Nik shook his head.
“The wife was using an alias: Lynn Cora Hoff,” Del said.
Nikolic found a pen amid the clutter and wrote it on a piece of paper. “What was the first name you said?”
“Andrea. Andrea Strickland.” Del spelled the last name. “Her maiden name was Moreland.”
“And while you’re at it, ask around about a Devin Chambers,” Faz said.
“Hang on, hang on,” Nikolic said. “Give me the last name you said.”
“Chambers. Devin Chambers,” Faz repeated.
“Another alias?” Nikolic blew smoke toward the sliding-glass door.
“A friend who might have helped the wife disappear.” Faz opened up his briefcase. “I was hoping you could take a look at some documents, give me your learned opinion.” Faz was playing to Nikolic’s large ego. He set his file on one of the desks and pulled out photocopies of Lynn Hoff’s birth certificate and the driver’s license they’d obtained from the DOL. He handed the photocopies to Nikolic.
Nikolic studied each while sipping his coffee and sucking on the cigarette. Marta extinguished her cigarette butt in an ashtray, blew a stream of blue smoke, and picked up the photocopies as Nik discarded them.
Nik held up the certified copy of the birth certificate. “Looks legit.”
“It appears to be,” Faz said.
“Likely a real person then. It’s easier than using a dead person since they check the death records now.” Nikolic continued to study the copy of the birth certificate. “The typeset is intaglio printing, which is appropriate for an official document. And the seal looks good. Can’t tell you about the paper from photocopies.” He put down his mug and walked to one of the desks, which had a combination light and magnifying glass on the end of a retractable arm. He turned on the light and examined the paper.
“Likely it was quality safety paper, though. If someone had erased or altered anything on the original, you would have seen it on these photocopies.”
“You’re saying it was a legitimate birth certificate?”
“I’m saying it looks like it, yeah.”
“We didn’t find a record that a Lynn Cora Hoff is deceased.”
“She might not be, or she might be dead but nobody ever reported it,” Nikolic said, confirming Faz’s suspicion.
“So is the birth certificate stolen?” Del asked.
“Stolen, purchased, or given in exchange for some favor,” Nikolic said.
“What kind of favor?” Del asked.
“The privilege of keeping your finger,” Nikolic said. “Organized crime does it all the time. They get somebody under their thumb who owes them money and take their paperwork in exchange for not cutting off a finger. Then they sell the ID to pay off the debt.”
“Why would they use a California birth certificate?” Del asked.
“Bigger state, more people,” Nik said. “If the person who obtains the fake ID doesn’t do anything illegal, the real Lynn Cora Hoff would never know someone was using her ID.” Nikolic set down the documents and flicked his cigarette butt, still burning, out the door. “I can ask around, but if I find anything, you didn’t hear it from me.”
“We don’t even know who you are,” Faz said.
“You don’t know how much I wish that were true,” Nikolic said.
“You’d miss me,” Faz said.
“Like a bad case of the flu. I’ll ask around though. This one is getting some notoriety. Someone is liable to start bragging about it.”
CHAPTER 19
Tracy pulled to the curb of the Metropolitan Courthouse in downtown Los Angeles.
“So what are you up to today?” Dan asked in a tone that made clear to Tracy that he had figured out she wasn’t going to be spending the day at some museum.
“An interview,” she said.
“Do I want to ask who the interview is with?”
“The aunt of the woman in the crab pot,” Tracy said.
“You mean the case in which you no longer have jurisdiction.”
“That would be the one.”
“So how are you going to justify it?”
“Thorough police work,” Tracy said. Dan gave her a look like he wasn’t buying it. “Nolasco said to wrap up what we were working on. I was working on an interview with the aunt. I’ll talk to her, write it up, and ship it down to Tacoma.”
“And how far do you think that will get you if he finds out about it?”
“Let’s hope I don’t have to make that argument,” she said. “Seriously, though, I can say I was in Los Angeles on pleasure, and didn’t talk with Patricia Orr in an official capacity as a Seattle police officer.”
“Let’s hope you never have to make that argument either,” Dan said.
She smiled. “I’ll plan on being back around four.”
Dan kissed her. “Wish me luck.”