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“Adam owns a studio in town—Sound Systems. It’s convenient and free,” he said, “which is nice since we’re spending so much time practicing right now.” A faint grimace flashed across his face. “Lida’s putting together some new songs and it usually takes us some time to get all the instrumentation right.”
I thought I could sense a touch of resentment about the amount of time the band demanded. “Lida writes all of the songs?”
“Most of them,” he said, “though Trey’s put together a few as well.”
“What about Michael?”
Roger gave a small laugh. “Um, no. I mean, Michael’s brilliant at playing existing stuff, but he doesn’t do the creative stuff. At all.”
“Does he read sheet music?”
He shook his head firmly. “No. Plays strictly by ear. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s absolutely amazing at it. He can hear something once and then play it damn near perfectly, but someone always has to play it for him first. Usually Lida does that.” Then he smiled. “But she’s incredibly patient with him. It’s really cool.”
“Sounds like it,” I said, suddenly wishing I knew more about music and performance. I also wished I had more time to grill Roger about Lida and the other band members, but that would have to wait for another time. “Well, we’re burning daylight. Let’s go look for your client.”
Taking separate cars, I followed Roger over to the City Towers, where Vic had his office. The City Towers building was a landmark in town, not only because it used to house the city offices, but it was also the skyscraper in Beaulac. If a seven story building could be called a skyscraper. But it was the tallest structure in town other than the water tower.
Unfortunately, the building had lost a number of its tenants in the last year due to newly constructed office complexes that were willing to price their rent competitively in order to fill their spaces. Judging by the almost empty parking lot, I didn’t think there were more than a dozen occupied offices in all of City Towers. It looked as if any attempts at landscaping that were more complicated than cutting the grass had been abandoned. Bushes ringed the building, but they’d been allowed to grow so high and thick that the first-story windows were almost completely obscured. Walking into the building, I could see more reasons business owners would have left. The linoleum in the lobby was stained and cracked, and the walls probably hadn’t seen a new coat of paint since the seventies. In fact it didn’t look as if anything had been updated or maintained for a few decades.
Roger took me up to the sixth floor and unlocked the door to a very ordinary office. Utilitarian and boring were the words that first leaped to my mind. Black and white tile floor, metal desk, a row of metal filing cabinets, and a couple of slightly battered chairs. I had to wonder how successful an accountant and financial advisor he was if this was the best office he could afford. It certainly wasn’t the sort of place I’d want to meet clients. As far as I could tell, Vic Kerry had the only occupied office on this floor. And, I didn’t think the other floors were too much better.
Maybe he’s simply frugal, I thought charitably. On the other hand, the view from his window was nothing short of spectacular. I could see down the entire length of Lake Pearl from here, and with binoculars I thought I’d probably be able to pick out my aunt’s house on the lakefront.
“He has a little home gym set up through there,” Roger said, gesturing to the another door. “Once he started to lose the weight he shelled out some serious bucks for really nice equipment.” He opened the door and flipped on the lights. Still the same ugly tile floor, but this room was packed with weight benches and machines, and the far wall was taken up with a small kitchenette area with refrigerator. I didn’t know a whole lot about exercise equipment, but even I could tell that this was gym-quality stuff—not the kind sold at Walmart. Okay, so maybe he preferred to spend his money on stuff that actually mattered to him.
“Actually, I work out here pretty often,” Roger told me. “I gave Vic a discount on my training fee in exchange for being able to use the equipment here.” He glanced at me with a wry smile. “Sometimes it’s nice to get a totally uninterrupted workout. If I’m at Magnolia I’m kinda always on duty, and I get interrupted all the time by people wanting help or a spot or whatever.”
“Trust me,” I replied, “I totally sympathize with the ‘always on duty’ thing getting old.”
He grinned. “Yeah, I guess cops get it all the time.”
“You know it. So, was Vic dating anyone?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” Roger said. “I’m pretty sure he would have mentioned it if he was.”
“What about business dealings? Did he ever talk about that?”
“Um, sure, Vic mentioned some stuff sometimes,” he said. “But he never gave details about the accounts he worked on. He knew his shit, though. He gave me some great advice.”
“What sort of advice?” I asked.
“Investments. That sort of thing.” He gave me a casual shrug that struck me as being a bit too casual. Maybe some of Vic’s advice had been off the mark and Roger had retaliated? Just because Roger was reporting Vic missing didn’t mean that he wasn’t the cause.
I turned back to the front office and went to the desk. Neat and tidy, obsessively so. I riffled through a stack of papers on the desk, but didn’t see anything that leaped out at me as a reason to go missing. No threatening letters from an ex-girlfriend. No blackmail notes.
I sighed and looked out at the view. A few sailboats were making their way across the lake in meandering patterns. I stepped closer to the window then stopped, frowning as a strange sensation rippled over me.
What the hell? I shifted into othersight, shocked as a familiar resonance washed over me. Like the creature that grabbed Lida.
Pulse quickening, I switched back to normal sight, then crouched and peered at the tiled floor. There was dirt there. Not much, but on the pristine floor it was noticeable. I straightened and looked at the window itself.
“Did you find something?” Roger asked.
I glanced back at him. “Do these windows open?”
“Yeah, they prop out,” he said, stepping up to point to the latch mechanism at the bottom.
“This one isn’t latched,” I murmured. Shit. I knew I needed to look, but I didn’t want to. I had a sick and certain feeling that I knew where Vic was.
