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“How do you know that?”
Helene stared out the sliding glass door, unable to look at anyone. “During those four months she dated Vince, I had her followed. I hired a private investigator from Costa Mesa who used to be a cop. I discovered Anna was also having an affair with a doctor, a heart surgeon. That made me dislike her even more.”
“Did you ever tell Vince that Anna was fooling around with this other guy?” Lucien wanted to know.
“God knows I tried. He wouldn’t hear anything bad about Anna. We had several tiffs about it. I even told him everything the former cop said about the heart surgeon.”
Brogan sat down in the chair Lucien had vacated. “Which was what? What was the doctor’s name?”
“I think his name was Hemming or Deming or something like that. I remember the investigator saying that the doctor was a piece of work because of his affairs. He was seeing women all over Orange County.”
Lucien rubbed at his temple, where a headache began to pound. “What was the private investigator’s name?”
“Jim Holman. After Vince went missing, I tried to hire Holman to look into it for me, but by then, the investigator had died. His wife told me she had lost him to cancer. No one else was ever interested in looking into Vince’s disappearance for me.”
Helene picked up her tea, now gone cold. “What can I do to convince you that Vincent would never hurt anyone? You’re private investigators. Investigate. I want to hire you to find Vince. I have some money in savings. I was fifty-seven when my son went missing. That makes me seventy-eight. I’ve celebrated a string of Christmases, Thanksgivings, and birthdays alone. I don’t want to die without knowing what happened to my only child.”
Brogan laid a hand over Helene’s. “We’re not taking your money. But we will find out what happened to Vince and all the others. We promise. By the way, what size shoe did your son wear?”
“Shoe? Eleven and a half or a twelve, sometimes depending on the shoe. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
“I’m sorry, but I think you should go now,” Helene said quietly, tears filling her eyes. “I don’t feel like talking anymore.”
There were toomany things buzzing around inside Brogan’s head to get revved up about the return flight back to Pelican Pointe. Besides all the questions she had, the dogs were exhausted and hungry, ready for their adventure to end.
Since pulling away from Helene Toussaint’s house, they had discussed the likelihood that someone had done away with Vince.
But Lucien was far from convinced. As he settled back for the flight home, he popped the top on a can of Coke. “I suppose it’s possible. But the traffic stop is hard to get past.”
“What if it wasn’t Vince driving, though?”
“Explain how that would happen.”
“I don’t know,” Brogan snapped. “Talking to Helene wasn’t what I expected. And it wasn’t what you expected, either.”
“No, she was convincing. If that was an act, Helene Toussaint deserves an Oscar for her performance.”
“I don’t think it was an act. What if Deming somehow got hold of Vince’s vehicle and is the one who did all this?”
“Because Deming also thought Elliott belonged to him,” Lucien surmised. “And both Deming and Vincent disappeared after the murders.”
“Don’t forget Valkyrie Graf, the model sitting in South Africa. She was engaged to Deming and left L.A. sometime after the murders. We should encourage Birk to get his associate to finish checking her out.”
“The only problem with Deming is that he doesn’t strike me as a standup guy who’d go to the trouble to kidnap his son.”
“Really? What do you mean? The guy’s a heart surgeon. Deming helped save people just like Vince did as a nurse, possibly more so.”
“That doesn’t make him a hero or a saint. His mother made Vince sound like a decent enough guy. While Deming comes off looking like an unfaithful jerk who was only interested in Anna, his mistress.”
“Why is that because he’s a surgeon, whereas Vince is a jovial, easy-going nurse?” Brogan maintained.
“That’s according to his mother.”
“Yes, but no one seems to be able to explain how Deming knew about the murders so quickly and showed up lurking around the driveway that afternoon. Rivkin couldn’t explain it. The question we have to answer is which man is more likely capable of double murder.”
“And kidnapping,” Lucien added. “And what use did the killer have for poor Trey? Where the hell is Trey?”
