V Is for Vengeance

social service agencies. I tried the white pages as well and bombed out on both. “They’ve got a couple of donation bins in Santa Teresa, but the organization isn’t listed. I thought it might be headquartered here.”
    “What’s the relevance to Audrey?”
    “Sorry. I should have brought you up to speed.” I told her how I’d identified Georgia Prestwick and ended up following her that morning. The story was almost as long and boring as the surveillance itself. “I remembered your mentioning a white panel truck parked next door on the nights Audrey worked late.”
    “Absolutely. It was always there when she was in town.”
    “If you see it again would you let me know? I snapped a couple of photos as it was speeding away. I also took a shot of the logo on the bin. Once I get the film developed, I’ll let you take a look. It would be great if you recognized either one.”
    It was 2:20 when I finally turned onto the southbound 101. I maintained a sedate sixty miles an hour. It was a gorgeous afternoon with perfect road conditions, and I used the drive time to assess my discoveries to date. I was happy with the progress I’d made. I wasn’t certain how Marvin would feel or whether he’d be willing to underwrite my continued investigation. I’d have to have a long chat with him before I did anything else.
    As is so often the case in life, I pictured myself in a holding pattern, like an airplane circling a field. I knew where I’d been and I had a sense of where I’d land. All I needed was clearance from the tower. In hindsight, I see how complacent I was, lulled by a feeling of accomplishment. If I’d been alert and kept an eye on the rearview mirror, I might have spotted the pale blue sedan that had fallen in behind me as I left Vivian’s house.

20

    I left the freeway at Capillo and kept to surface streets as I worked my way through town to the lower part of State. When I passed the pawnshop I’d visited with Pinky, I turned right at the corner and parked on the side street. I walked the half block to State and went into Santa Teresa Jewelry and Loan. As far as I could tell, everything was exactly the same, from the paintings mounted on the wall to the guitars strung together in a line to the glass cases filled with watches and rings. Now I wondered if there was any turnover at all. Perhaps when we’re forced to forfeit what we own, we lose any sentimental associations. Perhaps pawning our valuables frees us in the same way a house fire destroys not only our worldly goods, but our attachment to what’s gone.
    June was at the register when I entered the shop, and she looked up as I approached. She’d re-dyed her hair since I’d seen her last. Gone was the wide ribbon of gray roots she’d shown the week before. Her eyeglasses were also different. This pair was framed in lime green and seemed better suited to her wavy red-gold locks.
    I said, “Hi, June. Kinsey Millhone. I came in with Pinky Ford when he reclaimed his wife’s engagement ring.”
    She fixed me with a shrewd look. “You’re the private detective.”
    “I’m impressed. I didn’t think you’d remember.”
    “I saw your name in the paper after that woman went off the bridge. The way I read it, the reporter had it in for you.”
    “Thanks for saying so. I thought I was being paranoid.”
    “Not a bit of it. She made it sound like you were just plain uncooperative.”
    “And ‘fanciful.’ Don’t forget that.”
    “The vice detective was the one who threw that in. He’s a piece of work. I’ve had dealings with him before and didn’t much care for the man. I couldn’t believe he’d pooh-pooh the idea of organized retail theft. He knows better or why would he be in here chatting with me?”
    “Probably following up.”
    “About time,” she said. “Too bad he was so arrogant or I’d have given him an earful.”
    “Try me. I could use the education.”
    “What in particular?”
    “Well, I know professional thieves are out there—Audrey Vance being one. I’m trying to get a line on where they set up shop. They have to have places to lay off merchandise.”
    “You bet. With stolen property, there’s always a fence. Nothing comes through us, in case you’re wondering.”
    I smiled. “It did cross my mind.”
    “It’s a common misconception. People think pawnshops are a magnet for stolen goods, but nothing could be further from the truth. We’re strictly regulated. By law, we are required to get a photo