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“Let’s see if Ivan Haas is in. If we can see him,” she said, Googling the attorney’s address. “Hey, not too far from here.”
Paterno drove the half mile to the lawyer’s office building and lucked out with a parking spot on the street as a UPS truck pulled away from the curb. The space was marked for loading only, but Paterno took his chances. He and Tanaka made their way into the glass-walled building housing the offices of Haas, Fielding, and Taft.
They dropped by the attorney’s office on the seventh floor and were informed by a prim woman in her forties that Mr. Haas was in court until later in the afternoon. They would just have to reschedule. She smiled brightly, though Tanaka thought the pasted-on grin was fake. Smug.
Tanaka told her tightly, “We’ll be back later today.”
“Oh, no, no. Today just won’t work. Nor tomorrow, either. Mr. Haas won’t be in. He’ll be out of town. But week after next, uh, on Thursday possibly? I might be able to squeeze you in.” This time the grin was more sincere, as if she’d just done the impossible.
“Don’t bother,” Tanaka said. “Have him call.” And she left her card with the receptionist.
Once the glass doors to the offices swung shut behind them, Paterno said, “You rolled over pretty quick on that one.”
Tanaka punched the call button for the elevator and shot him a look. “Apparently she didn’t get that we’re the cops. And I’m not waiting for Haas’s damned call. We’re coming back.” The elevator doors whispered open. “Today.”
“That’s the Tanaka I know.”
“And love,” she added testily once inside the car. “Remember? ‘And love’? You forgot to add that.”
At least they were fast enough to keep from earning a ticket in the tow-away zone.
* * *
“I just want to know what the fuck happened,” Macon repeated once Sarina had herded everyone into the kitchen where she offered them soft drinks and a snack of crackers and cheese hastily tossed onto a platter.
“Me too.” Seth was nodding, but already reaching for a slice of cheese as they all crowded around the peninsula.
Bianca was flopped on the couch next to Tucker sleeping in his infant seat. The television was turned on to some reality show Pescoli recognized as one where a bunch of twenty-somethings try and fail to live together, this one focused on what seemed to be Cor possibly D-list celebrities. She thought she recognized a face or two in the crowd of a dozen, but she couldn’t be certain and really didn’t care.
Using the remote, Bianca turned off the show, pushed herself to her feet, then joined them at the counter.
She got a nod as a way of greeting from Seth.
Macon didn’t bother. “I saw on the news that Dad was murdered,” Macon said, his voice tinged in disbelief, though he showed little, if any, grief.
“Brindel too,” Collette reminded him.
“Yeah.” He plowed on, “So after I see what happened on the news, even before I can phone Seth, I get a call from some chick cop who wants me to come in.”
“You talked to her?” Pescoli asked.
“Not then,” Macon said. “She left a message.”
Pescoli: “So you did call her back?”
“Not right away. I wanted to talk to Seth and then, because I still didn’t believe it, thought there had to be some mistake: I phoned Dad like a million times and texted him, too. I left all kinds of messages. Voice. Text. I even tried to get through to Brindel, which was stupid, I know. Seth had told me she was dead. When I couldn’t get through to anyone then . . . I called the cop just to confirm.” He ran a hand through his wild hair, pushing it from his eyes. “Man, this is all just so bat-shit crazy!”
Amen, Pescoli thought.
Macon grabbed one of the bottles of Coke and twisted off the cap. “I just can’t fuckin’ believe it, you know? Why would anyone want to kill Dad? He was a doctor. He saved lives. That’s what he did for a living. It’s just so wrong for him to be murdered, you know? Shit.” He took a long gulp from the bottle, then added, “I hope they get the fucker who did it and string him up by his balls.”
“If it’s a guy,” Seth said.
“You think a woman would shoot him?” Macon asked.
Seth grabbed a bottle of Dr. Pepper and cracked off the cap. “Maybe.”
“Nah.”
