Stealing Faces - Michael Prescott [102]
“Anything in the car?”
“One thing that was interesting. Notebook in the glove compartment. She was following Cray for about a month, and she kept a record of all the places he went.” A chuckle came over the line like a dry cough. “Our man Cray gets around, it appears.”
“Does he? Where?”
“Well, if Kaylie’s notes can be believed, he visited a strip club on Miracle Mile. Maybe you know the place—strictly in your professional capacity, of course.”
There was only one club of that kind in that district. Shepherd nodded. “I know it. Where else?”
“Bikers’ bar in South Tucson, for one. I happen to have spent an evening there once, some years ago, definitely not in a professional capacity, and please don’t ask me for any details. Fairly rough clientele, as I recall. I was glad to get out of there with my privates intact.”
Shepherd’s lunch lay cooling on his desk, long forgotten. “Doesn’t sound like a place where a man like Cray would want to hang out.”
“You never can tell about people, though.”
“I guess not.”
“I mean, hell, look at Kaylie’s father-in-law.”
Shepherd frowned. “What about him?”
“Didn’t I tell you? He’s dropped by our office three times since we informed him of Kaylie’s arrest. You’d think he’d be happy she’s finally back under wraps, where she belongs.”
“But he isn’t?”
“Far from it. He seems mightily pissed off, don’t ask me why. First time he comes in, he asks how they can hold her in the institute without an arraignment. So I explain to him that she’s still under the original indictment, and she’s being kept for observation to determine her competency to stand trial. He goes away, but a couple days later he’s back.”
“Why?”
“Seems he went over to Hawk Ridge, tried to get in to see her. They wouldn’t let him. I think Cray personally nixed the idea. Said she was in no condition to receive visitors, and seeing Justin’s father would only upset her.”
“Makes sense,” Shepherd said.
“I thought so too. But not him. He’s red in the face, he’s so ticked off. Keeps saying they’re keeping Kaylie from him, and it’s not right. Weird, huh? So I ask him, why would you want to talk to that little bitch anyhow, after what she did to your boy?”
“And?”
“He doesn’t answer. He just asks me if I know any good lawyers. Which, as a matter of fact, I do. I told him about this attorney from Scottsdale who keeps a vacation home in Kimball, northwest of here.”
“You said there were three visits.”
“Yeah, he put on a repeat performance just this morning. Dropped by to thank me for recommending that attorney. Looks like he’s hired the guy to help him force his way into the institute. He’s obsessed with seeing Kaylie. Won’t let it go. But that wasn’t the weirdest thing.”
“Then what was?”
“How he looked. He had Justin late in life, and he’s maybe seventy now, but until this morning he could’ve passed for twenty years younger. Now it’s like—like he was up all night crying.”
“Crying?”
“Well, his eyes were red as hell. He said it was allergies. I don’t know. He said to me, Kaylie’s all alone in the world. She’s got no folks—they died when she was growing up. No relatives by blood. There’s only him.” Wheelihan exhaled a deep, thoughtful sigh. “I just hated seeing him that way. Anson’s always been a rock. Even when his kid died, he took it like a man. So why’s he all teary-eyed now?”
Anson, Shepherd thought, noting the name. Anson McMillan.
“Well,” he answered, “you said it yourself. You just never know about people.”
“Isn’t that the damn truth. Hey, I’d better let you get back to your lunch. I could hear I interrupted you.”
The taco was cold by now. Shepherd figured he’d throw it out. “Okay, Chuck,” he said. “Thanks for the update.”
“Hey, thank you. After all the local coverage this case has gotten, the sheriff thinks he’s a shoo-in for reelection. And since you’re not around, he’s showering his gratitude