82 Desire

the uncomfortable feeling he felt that way as well.
    “Anyway,” she said, “Bebe’s otherwise engaged, Eugenie’s away at school, Cindy Lou doesn’t pan out, he’s depressed because he’s lost his parents—”
    “What about the job?”
    “Well, therein lies the interesting part. We just don’t know what it is. First of all, Allred was investigating Fortier for some mystery client, using an operative posing as a computer technician. As you may recall, the file she copied has since disappeared.”
    Abasolo nodded. That had been in Skip’s original report on the Allred murder.
    Skip continued, “Beyond asking his boss—dude named Douglas Seaberry—if he knew whether Fortier was up to anything, there wasn’t much I could do. Naturally Seaberry said he didn’t know. Fortier had a couple of other friends there, but I don’t really want to tip them to Allred’s connection with Fortier.
    “However, they’re all way too nonchalant about this thing—even uncooperative. One of them ducked out for lunch when he knew I was waiting to interview him.”
    “You think if something funny’s going on, they’re in it with Russell?”
    “I sure wouldn’t rule it out.”
    “You want to try to subpoena their phone bills—see if they have any unusual long-distance calls?”
    “I don’t think so. I have a feeling we wouldn’t find anything.” She gave him the half smile that let him know she’d already checked through the confidential phone company source most good cops manage somehow to have.
    He said, “Did you go through Fortier’s computer? Maybe there’s something in there.”
    “I took a look, but to really do it justice, I’d have to download every single file and read it—and he’s got years of work in there. I’d say it would probably be a full-time job for the next six months, and since I don’t know what I’m looking for, I’d probably miss it. Not only that, if someone killed Allred to keep it from coming to light—Russell, say—you’ve got to figure he’d have deleted it.”
    “So where are you going with all this?”
    “You put your finger on it—not only was all that other stuff true, but, as we just mentioned, work was getting pretty hot. He could have stood Bebe up at the airport so he could get some time alone to kill Allred—but why do that if he wasn’t trying to protect his own little universe? I mean, if you were willing to give up your life, all you’d have to do is disappear—you wouldn’t have to kill someone, then disappear.”
    “Point well taken.”
    “So, maybe he just went sailing.”
    “What?”
    “Well, sailing’s what he did. If he was going to disappear somewhere for good, he’d probably do it on a boat.”
    “Did he have one?”
    “Oh, yes. It’s still in its slip—or so says the co-owner.”
    “Maybe he bought another one.”
    “His bank records don’t show any large withdrawals—he could have sold stock or something, I guess. Or maybe he had a stash somewhere. Or maybe he borrowed or stole it.”
    “Okay. So maybe he’s off sailing. Where does that get us?”
    “I’ve already checked with every clerk in the airport who was working that day. No one remembers him.”
    “And anyway, how could he fly? You have to have a picture ID.”
    “Well, needless to say, no Russell Fortier flew that day—”
    He opened his mouth, but she held up a hand “—or the next couple of days; we checked that out, too. If he flew anywhere, he had to have a fake ID.”
    “Well, where would an oil company executive get something like that?”
    She tapped her mouth with her open hand—it was a mannerism she had when she was thinking. “Very good question, AA. Provocative in the extreme.”
    He stood up and gave her a macho grin. “You lose me when you start with the four-syllable words.”
    As he walked away, she pressed her hand against her mouth and started to rock a little bit, completing the thought that had started coming to her: What if he had stolen an ID?
    She liked this idea. She was just getting into it when the phone rang. “Hey, good-lookin’.”
    It was a sexy male voice and she recognized it. “Darryl Boucree. To what do I owe this honor?”
    “Hey, I’ve got to talk fast. I’m between periods here. But something’s bothering me. There’s something funny about The Baroness.”
    “I’m glad to hear you say that. I thought you were smitten.”
    “Uh-oh. You know something about her.” He sounded so crestfallen she knew she