W Is for Wasted

Pete said. “The connection with this Pensky fellow may be entirely innocent. High school buddy lives in Reno? No big deal. She knows she’ll be in town for this conference so she sets up a meeting to say howdy and catch up on old times. I suspect there might be something more, but we’re not going to know unless I’m authorized to act.”
    “Shit.”
    “No need to assume the worst. There’s probably more to it than meets the eye, but from what I observed, I don’t believe it’s anything of a romantic nature.”
    “What is it then?” Willard sorted through the pages a second time and then studied the copies of the black-and-white photos from the high school yearbook. His complexion, ruddy by nature, now looked like he’d spent too much time under a heat lamp.
    “I wouldn’t want to speculate. She ever mention this Pensky fellow?”
    “No.”
    “She might have looked him up when she got to Reno, on the off chance he was still in town. Old high school chum, a classmate. Nothing wrong with that.”
    “But look how intense they are.”
    “Fellow might have marital issues. Had you thought of that? She calls him to say hi, letting him know she’s in town, he might have jumped at the idea of having a confidante.”
    “
Is
he married?”
    “Records check is next on my list if you decide to proceed. I didn’t have a chance to go over to the Washoe County courthouse while I was there. Enough going on at the hotel that I felt my time was better spent on the premises.”
    “What am I supposed to do now?”
    “Up to you,” Pete said. “Phone calls in the bedroom with the door shut? I don’t like the sound of that.” He paused to shake his head. “Easiest solution is to install a bug.”
    “Stop saying that. I don’t like spying on her. It’s not right.”
    “It’s a little late to fret when you have a guy like me chasing all the way to Reno to take photographs. What’s the point of stopping short when it might all be easily explained?”
    Willard sank into a brooding silence.
    Pete had to suppress his impatience. Here he was spoon-feeding the fellow, coaxing him toward the obvious conclusion. Nothing as persuasive as a self-generated decision even if it was Pete nudging him in the right direction. Let Willard think he’d come up with it on his own. Pete grew uneasy, wondering if he’d pushed the man too hard. “Believe me, I understand where you’re coming from. You love your wife, so it’s natural to want to maintain trust. At the same time, I can think of other explanations for what seems troublesome.”
    “Such as what?”
    “Suppose he had personal problems. Might have had a setback of some kind in his career. Fellow’s a journalist, so it might be worthwhile to check that out.”
    “What’s involved in a phone bug? I mean, assuming I agree.”
    “Simple matter of installing a device in the handset before she gets home. I can put a voice-activated tape recorder on remote; close by, but not actually in the apartment. You don’t want her to come across a piece of hardware while she’s cleaning house. I can also plant a pen mike. Looks like a ballpoint pen, but it’s capable of transmitting sound for short distances.”
    “What will that accomplish?”
    “Remains to be seen. My suggestion is we run audio a few days and see what we pick up. This whole business might not have anything to do with you.”
    Willard turned and stared out of the car window. “Okay.”
    “Good man,” Pete said. He continued to sit in silence.
    Willard looked over at him. “So is that it?”
    “There’s the matter of another advance. Soon as I have that in hand, I’ll go to work. Any more contact between the two and I’ll head back to Reno and do deep background on him.”
    •   •   •
    Which is how Pete ended up two days later in Colgate, wearing a coverall while pretending to weed the flower border under Willard’s bedroom window. He avoided yard work as a rule. Here, it wasn’t unpleasant, but it seemed undignified to be crawling around the building on his hands and knees. This was the second late afternoon he’d weeded. Day One had produced nothing. He’d started his labors in the central courtyard, uncertain where he’d pick up the best reception. Several residents had noticed him and nodded in acknowledgment though none had stopped to chat. They seemed pleased that someone was actually being paid to tidy up.
    In addition to the phone bug, he’d supplied Willard with a pen