Day of the Dead - J. A. Jance [134]
“I’m busy right now,” Brandon told her. “I’ll have to pass.”
“You won’t get a better offer,” Diana told him with a laugh.
Brandon knew it was true, but the best part about missing lunch with his wife and daughter was knowing Diana and Lani would be out together—in public. That was better than their being home alone and trusting their safety to a passing deputy. Lani and Diana were safe, leaving Brandon free to keep watch on Larry Stryker.
It doesn’t get any better than that.
Gayle went by her house and picked up a few essentials—including her loaded Davis Industries P-380, which she slipped into her jacket pocket. After hastily stuffing two suitcases, she loaded those, along with three empty briefcases, into the back of the Lexus.
Then she began her circuit of three separate banks, visiting each in turn, going through the safe-deposit boxes and removing everything of value she found there. She’d learned it was wise to have close banking relationships with several different banks, and the loot she’d managed to squirrel away in all of them over the years was quite impressive. The problem was, she couldn’t simply waltz into a bank and waltz right back out again. She was an important customer in every one of them. The people who worked there—managers and tellers alike—wanted to visit with her and chat her up. One or two even expressed careful sympathy over the “unfortunate” situation with Mr. LaGrange.
Gayle tried to keep things light. More than that, she tried to keep things moving. When leaving a vault, she attempted to carry her briefcase with the same casual indifference she’d used when carrying it in. That wasn’t easy, since loaded briefcases were far heavier than empties.
Finally, when the safe-deposit boxes were cleaned out and the Lexus fully loaded, Gayle headed for The Flying C. She wouldn’t have gone at all except, unlike Larry, there were a few items she wanted from the ranch. Some of the artwork was too valuable to just abandon. She’d put the pieces she wanted in the backseat and drop them off at her storage unit on the way to the airport.
As she headed north, Gayle called the office. When Denise answered, she was crying.
“What’s wrong?” Gayle asked.
“Haven’t you heard?” Denise sobbed.
“Heard what?”
“About Erik?”
“What about him?”
“He’s dead, Mrs. Stryker. One of the reporters just told me. He committed suicide in jail. I can’t believe it! I just can’t believe it!”
You’d better believe it, bitch, Gayle thought. If he hadn’t been sniffing after you, maybe he’d still be alive. That’s not what she said. “What terrible news. Does Dr. Stryker know?”
“I haven’t told him, but someone else might have.”
“Put me through to him, then,” Gayle said.
“What about the reporters? They want to talk to either you or Dr. Stryker.”
“I already handed you a copy of our standard no-comment response, Denise,” Gayle said firmly. “All you give them is that. Do not answer questions. Is that clear?”
“Yes.” Denise sniffled.
“Now put me through to my husband.”
“Hold on, then,” Denise told her. “I’ll have to knock on his door. He has DND selected on his extension.”
Denise Lindsay came back on the line a minute or so later. “He’s not there,” she said.
“What do you mean, he’s not there?” Gayle demanded. “Maybe he’s in the rest room.”
“He’s not,” Denise said. “I checked. His car’s not in the parking lot either. He left without telling me. He must have gone out the back way.”
Gayle was upset, but she didn’t allow any of that concern into her voice. “That’s all right, then,” she said. “I’ll try his cell.”
She did—immediately—but he didn’t pick up, not the first time or the second or the third. That son of a bitch! she muttered. I told him to stay put. What the hell is that damned fool up to?
When Gayle hit the first traffic tieup on Oracle, she shot over to the freeway. She preferred to take the long way around rather than sitting stuck in stalled traffic.