“The other time was Friday. He was in a car that passed me on State.”
“This past Friday? You’re sure of that?”
“Friday’s the day I go to the bank. I was on my way when he went by.”
“He didn’t see you?”
“He was looking the other way.”
“He was driving?”
She nodded.
“Anyone else in the car with him?”
“He had a passenger, but I couldn’t get a good look at him from where I was. I thought it was Fritz but I could be wrong about that.”
“What time of day was this?”
“Must have been just after lunch because I had to close the shop for twenty minutes so I could make a deposit at that Wells Fargo at the corner of State and Fig.”
“You’re sure it was Austin?”
“Not a hundred percent, but pretty sure,” she said. “If I hadn’t just seen him on Tuesday, I might not have noticed him at all.”
“Curious,” I said.
Joey said, “You going to tell her the rest of it?”
“I guess,” she said, reluctantly. “That day you came to the store, you didn’t ask if I’d seen Fritz, but I had. When he got out of CYA, he called Stringer—Steve Ringer—and said how great it would be if Steve would get some of the old gang together. Stringer’s roommate is this other friend of ours named Roland Berg so they invited a few of us over. Joey didn’t go because he didn’t know anyone from Climp.”
“Who else besides you?”
“Patti Gibson. She’s married now and her husband came with her. And let’s see. Betsy Coe and Michelle and me. Bayard, of course. Blake Edelston was invited, but I ended up leaving before he got there.”
“Troy?”
“Not him. He doesn’t have much to do with the kids from Climp these days.”
“So how’d it go?”
“The party? It was boring. I don’t have anything to say to those guys. I went to be polite and because I was curious, but that didn’t last long.”
“How did Fritz seem to you? You think prison changed him?”
“He was as obnoxious as ever. He has this laugh that gets on my nerves. Around Climp kids, he was always self-conscious and sort of out of it. He still is.”
Joey, Iris’s prompter in the great play of life, said, “You want to tell her what he said?”
She looked at him blankly.
“About the blackmail demand,” he said.
“Oh, right.”
“You know about that?” I asked.
“Everyone knows. You mentioned it when you came to the store, acting like a fake reporter,” she said, unable to resist the dig. “The minute Fritz heard about the scheme, he was on the phone bitching about the twenty-five thousand; pissed because his parents wouldn’t pay. He complained to everyone.”
I said, “Ah. So that’s why you were all so well-informed. And here I thought the matter was private.”
“Nothing’s private with him. He never mastered the art of keeping his mouth shut.”
“Did he voice an opinion about who he thought was behind the scheme?”
“He didn’t, but if you ask me, it sounds like something Austin would do. He liked to have something to hold over your head so he could make you do what he wanted.”
“You think that’s why he came back?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. He was always hostile toward Fritz, so why not put the squeeze on him?”
“Speaking of Fritz, when did you talk to him last?” I asked.
“I forget exactly. Sometime last week.”
Joey said, “Bayard invited us over for a swim and Fritz was there.”
Iris said, “Then he called back all in a lather because the extortionist left a message on his parents’ answering machine. He mentioned Austin’s name himself, so he was under the same impression I was.”
I shook my head. “I’m not sure I understand what’s going on.”
“Then we’re all in the same boat,” she said.
Joey stirred restlessly. “Anyway, that’s about all there is. I don’t mean to rush this, but we both gotta get to work.”
“Well, I appreciate your coming in,” I said. “If you spot Austin again, would you give me a call?”
“We can do that,” Joey said. As he stood up, he reached over and shook my hand. “Sorry to have to run. Appreciate your time. Nice seeing you again.”
“Same here,” I said.
The minute they were out the door, I put in a call to Lauren McCabe.
When I identified myself, I could hear her voice deflate. “I was hoping this was Fritz,” she said.
“Still no sign of him?”
“None. You mentioned filing a missing person’s report, which Hollis thought was a good idea. He went down to the police station this morning.”
“Good. I’m glad. It’s a wise move.”
“You said if Fritz hadn’t put in an appearance by now, you’d help.”
“Of course, but I’ll do this my way. If I make a mistake, that’s on me. If you interfere, then I’m out.”
“Agreed, as long as you explain your terms to Hollis,” she said. “He thinks he should be running the show. I understand your point, and while I’m willing to give you full rein, he might not be as agreeable. You don’t want me to step out of your way only to have him step in. Right now, he’s furious with me.”
“Why?”
“He says he should have been allowed to handle this from the start.”
“Last I heard, the two of you were in agreement. What would he have done differently?”
“He’d have pretended to accept the terms and then confronted the extortionist before he paid.”
“What if the extortionist settled on a money drop at some remote location? Most blackmailers aren’t going to agree to meet face-to-face. They want the cash. They don’t want you knowing who they are.”
“Hollis would have insisted or no deal.”
“Come on, Lauren. That’s ridiculous. For all we know, the extortionist would have turned him down cold and put the tape straight in the mail to the DA.”
“Then he’d have gotten nothing. No money at all.”
“You’re assuming money’s the motive.”
“What else could it be?”
“Making you suffer. Ruining your lives. Something along those lines.”
“Oh dear.”
“I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I hung up, grabbed the mail, and shoved it in the outside pocket of my shoulder bag. I was up and crossing the room when the phone rang. As usual, I was tempted to let the call go to the answering machine, but just in case it was Lauren again, I picked up.
“Kinsey, it’s Erroll.”
I walked back around the desk and sat down. I could feel my heart give a hard thump. “How’s Phyllis? Is she okay?”
“We’re hoping so. Sternberg put her in a medically induced coma.”
“This is your friend the neurosurgeon?”
“Sorry, yes. Tom Sternberg. He says when the brain swells in the wake of an injury like this, the pressure can starve some areas of oxygen. Swollen tissue can also be injured when it pushes against the inside of the skull. The point is to reduce the electrical activity and slow down the brain’s metabolism to minimize the inflammation. He’ll know more as they bring her out of it. For now, she’s stable and that’s about as much as we can expect.”
“Will she recover?”
“No guarantees, but he’s optimistic,” he said. “Something else has come up and this news isn’t so good. Ned came back.”
“To the condominium? When?”