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Martinez took the ball and read from his file. “Doctor William Vance. Cardiologist. Followed daddy’s footsteps into the medical field. His nurses say he has a god complex, but they tell me that’s pretty normal. He’s got a vicious temper, but he doesn’t have any knuckle raps that I can find. He’s only been married and divorced once. The wife was more than happy to tell us everything she could. I think she’s still a little bitter.”
“That’s the understatement of the year,” Lewis said. “If she could’ve served us his balls on a platter, she would have. Believe me, she was thrilled at the thought of him going to prison. He left her for a nineteen-year old Barbie lookalike who also happened to be the babysitter to the two Vance children. The wife skinned William in the divorce and things got pretty messy. William never did marry the babysitter. The relationship only lasted about six months from what we can gather, and he’s a serial dater now, sticking with the young, blond and built types.”
“What about his car?” I asked.
“A Corvette. Red. No white Cadillac to be found.”
“What about the other Vance?” I asked.
“Gregory Jr. Everyone calls him Greg,” Lewis said. “He’s done well for himself. Married his college sweetheart. Three kids ranging from eleven to sixteen in age. He belongs to the Lions Club, the Knights of Columbus, the Rotary Club and the Chamber of Commerce. He’s a deacon at the Methodist church in Richmond and he owns two very successful car dealerships.”
“Dealership,” I said, more to myself than anyone else. I tried to remember why that should be important.
“What’s that?” Carver asked.
I got up to go look at the photograph I’d found inside George once more. There was something about that morning. And then I had it. Or at least part of it.
“The dealership,” I said again. “George told me he deals directly with a dealership in Richmond. What if he and Vance were connected that way?”
“It’ll be easy enough to find out,” Jack said. “I’ve got all the files and appointment books for the garage. What I don’t have is any record of the car George was sent to pick up out past Daniel Oglesby’s house—the green hatchback Miss Pilcher told us about. Something funny is going on with those cars and the garage.”
“Carver, can you use that fancy computer of yours to do a search for me?”
“I can try. Sometimes she can be temperamental.”
“Your computer is female?” I asked.
“All the best things are, sugar,” he said, winking.
I looked at Jack and rolled my eyes, and then we had one of those shared moments that couples do. Where the look turns into something more meaningful and deeper. I broke eye contact first, and I realized my heart had started pounding in my chest. I felt like an idiot. I wasn’t a teenager anymore, but damned if I could control what was happening to me.
“What do you need?” Carver asked Jack.
I got up and restlessly paced the floor, trying to get my thoughts in order. I was having a harder time doing that lately.
“We’re missing some piece of important information. I want to know everything there is to know about all three Vances. We’ve done as deep of a search as we’re legally able to do without a warrant. I know you can go deeper and do it faster. I want to know about ex-wives, ex-girlfriends, the friends of their children, disgruntled clients. Anything and everything.”
“She can do all that and more,” Carver agreed, patting his computer. “It’ll take about twelve hours though.”
“Then everyone go get some food and some sleep. We’ll meet back in the morning.”
Jack stood and stared at his boards a long time after everyone left. I didn’t want to interrupt him, and if I hadn’t been watching him so closely I never would have seen the change in his expression.
“You’ve figured out something,” I said.
“Maybe. Just maybe,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Ronnie Campbell.” Jack dug through one of his many file folders.
I knew I’d heard the name mentioned before. “Who’s that again?”
“He was the man Julie Lawrence was prosecuting before she was killed. I’ve seen that name before. I need to go talk to Gregory Vance Jr.” Jack checked his watch. It was just past seven o’clock and my stomach growled loudly. “We’ve got time. You want to come with me?”
“Yeah, I’ll go.” I grabbed a lighter jacket and transferred my gun from my heavy coat into my jacket pocket.
“We’ll grab something to eat on the way back.”
I thought about what I wanted to say, and how I wanted to say it. And I eventually decided to just get it out.
“I’ll live with you,” I said. “Move in with you, I mean. Like a couple.”
