Wolf in the Shadows - Marcia Muller [13]
“I’m going to try. I gather he uses this American Express card in the same way.” I read her the number I’d copied off the rental-car contract.
“That’s right.”
“Will you do me a favor and call American Express? I’d like to know if Hy used the card for anything after he rented that car.”
“Sure. You sound as worried as I’ve been ever since I found out the plane’s still at Oakland.”
“I am. I don’t like the fact that the car was damaged and dropped off by someone other than Hy. While I’ve got you on the line, will you also give me the name and number of his accountant?”
“Barry Ashford, here in Vernon. I’ll check the phone book.” While she paged through it, she asked, “Why do you want to talk with Barry?”
“This morning you mentioned that Hy left instructions with him to pay all bills as they come in, and he also paid his ranch hands two months in advance. I want to know if he gave any explanation.”
“Good idea. Here’s the number.” She read it off to me. “Sharon, do you want me to go out to the ranch and talk with the guys? Maybe he mentioned his plans to one of them.”
“If you would, I’d appreciate it. But I’ll bet he didn’t tell them a thing. There’re times when being the strong silent type isn’t a virtue—and this is one.”
After I hung up, I checked my watch. Five to five. Quickly I looked up the number of the general aviation terminal at Oakland Airport and dialed. Sandy was about to go home, but willing to take a moment to check the number of the pay phone from which Hy had made his calls. Next I found Pacific Bell’s toll-free customer-service number in the directory; after listening to a recorded voice drone out a long list of options that seemed to encompass everything except talking with a human being, I finally reached a service representative.
I identified myself as Kate Malloy of the Spaulding Foundation. “On the morning of Wednesday, the second, one of our employees made some credit-card calls from Oakland Airport. We haven’t received our bill yet, and I need to find out the time and charges as well as the numbers called.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but there’s no way I can access that information. The employee should have asked that the time and charges be reported at the conclusion of the calls.”
“Who can access that information?”
“You might talk with one of the supervisors in the billing office, but it’s closed now.”
I looked at my watch again. Five straight up. “Thanks for your trouble.”
There had to be a quicker way to find out what I wanted than waiting until the billing office opened in the morning. I thought for a moment, then dialed my friend Adah Joslyn’s extension at the SFPD homicide detail. Adah was out, the inspector who answered told me, as was her partner, Bart Wallace. No one knew when they’d be back. For a moment I considered calling my former lover, Greg Marcus, now a captain on Narcotics, and asking him to expedite an inquiry to Pacific Bell—but only for a moment. Greg operated pretty much by the book, and before he’d make the request, he’d want to know exactly why I needed the information, an explanation I wasn’t prepared to give him.
As I sat drumming my fingers on the base of the phone, a memory nudged at me. I muttered, “What did I do with that card?” Grabbing my Rolodex, I thumbed to the P’s. Nothing where Pacific Bell would be filed. I could have sworn I’d kept it, though. Phone company, perhaps? No. Telephone? No again. Sexy-guy-I-met-at-a-party? Hardly.
Informant—phone company. Aha!
His name was Ron Chan, and I’d met him at a Christmas party at my neighbors’ house. We’d hit it off instantly and spent most of the evening together. Before I left, he gave me his card—he was a mid-level manager in Pacific Bell’s marketing division—and said he’d be glad to help me with information they normally didn’t give out, providing I didn’t misuse it. I hadn’t needed any favors since then, and I hadn’t pursued the invitation that his writing his home number on the back of the card implied.
Now I pulled the card out and turned it over. The home number was a 648 prefix, the