Welcome to book fourteen in the Operation Quickline series. When old evidence is uncovered in the long-unsolved murder of Sid’s mother, he and Lisa end up mired in one of the messiest cases of their careers. You can read the first chapter here, or check out the other chapters here.
It’s a good thing that Sy and Stella had taken Sid and me out to dinner that next evening. I suspect that things would have been even worse had we not been in public.
It had been a largely unremarkable day. Lillian paged me during my morning class. I called her from a pay phone on campus, got the case number, and then hurried to the university library. I found the reverse directory and looked up the phone number that Van Blinn had given Sid.
It belonged to Marlon Wanzyck, and the address matched the one Jesse had given me. I looked Wanzyck up in the regular directory, and there were no other phone numbers for him. I called the DMV’s special law enforcement line and got through right away. The license plate record showed the black Cadillac as belonging to Marlon Wanzyck.
I called Sid’s car phone after that to let him know. We agreed that it was interesting, but it didn’t tell us much about the mysterious Earline. Van Blinn hadn’t gone anywhere.
Later, as Sid and I drove to the restaurant where we were meeting Sy and Stella, Sid told me that Jesse was installing a tap on the phone from the outside phone box.
Eduardo Montoya is one of the floaters (or supervisors) for the Blue Line, which is based in Seattle. There are four courier lines for our shadow agency. Ours is red. Montoya’s cover career is as a telephone lineman. That fall, he’d agreed to teach members of each of the other lines how to plug into a phone line live from the wire box on the street. Sid, Nick, Jesse, Esther, and Desmond Moore, one of our runners, had all taken lessons.
We started dinner with Sid and Stella going back and forth on the progress of Sid’s star pupil, Alicia Mendoza. The thirteen-year-old had only been taking lessons since the year before but was playing better than a lot of accomplished adults. She’d taught herself to play a few years before by listening to the classical music station. The problem was she couldn’t read music, and getting her to play a piece without hearing it first was quite a struggle. Sid and Stella were both undecided what to do about it.
We were in the middle of eating when Stella had to ask if Sid had spoken to any of the contacts in the ledger.
“I haven’t had a chance to,” he grumbled. “It’s been busy.”
“And I’m not?” Stella said.
We’d gone to Sy’s favorite steak house. I was glad because I was able to get a big slab of prime rib, which I love but seldom get because Sid doesn’t eat red meat.
Sid sighed and focused on his grilled chicken.
“I managed to talk to Rhoda Farber and Tina Goetz today,” Stella continued, pointing her fork at Sid. “I even called Hannah Davis but had to leave a message. I called her twice, even.”
Sid’s head shot up, his eyes blazing. “You left a message? With what phone number?”
“The school’s, of course.”
“What the hell were you thinking?” Sid kept his voice down, but that didn’t diminish the anger. “You don’t know if any of these people are connected to the killer. What if one is and the killer comes after you by chasing down the school’s number?”
“How is the killer going to do that?” Stella demanded.
“By looking up the number in a reverse directory. Every library has one. And I’ll bet the school’s number is not unlisted.”
“Of course not.” Stella’s bright eyes fixed on Sid. “But I’ve been doing something about this. You haven’t done diddly.”
“I got you the damned casebook and the ledger.”
“Do you mean to tell me that it took your whole morning to copy that?” Stella snorted. “I could have done it in an hour or two in my office.”
“I also have writing deadlines,” Sid snarled back. “And with Lisa in school, I don’t have as much help as I used to.”
“You can put aside some time to work on this. It’s important.”
“I know, Stella.” He looked frantically at me. “I’ll make some calls tomorrow. In fact, we may have a lead on Earline Spinner. But that’s not the issue here. You need to be careful. You don’t know who you’re dealing with, and you do not have the least idea of how to defend yourself.”
“I have enough.”
“Do you have a gun?”
“Are you out of your mind, young man?” Stella’s voice did rise. “I am a pacifist. I raised you to be a pacifist. We do not carry weapons.”
“But what if this killer does?” Sid glanced around quickly. “Do you even know how to tell if someone is following you?”
“Well. I…” Stella sighed, then glared. “What about you? You’re not a cop, either.”
“I have taken self-defense classes, and Lisa’s done several articles on how to keep yourself safe.”
“Then you can show me.” Stella settled back in her chair with an air of triumph. “And you can start making some of those calls.”
Sid looked over at me. “Lisa and I will. Tomorrow.” He shifted again. “What did you find out from Farber and Goetz?”
“Not much,” Sy said, watching Stella.
“That Goetz woman was just plain disgusting.” Stella cut a bite of steak with more force than needed. “Told me she didn’t give a damn about what had happened. And that if I knew what was good for me, I’d butt out.”
I could see Sid biting his tongue. [Damned near in half. – SEH]
“Sounds not very helpful,” I said quickly. “What about Rhoda Farber?”
“Dr. Farber,” Stella said derisively. “She wanted me to make an appointment. So I did. For Monday, the twenty-third.”
Sid shifted. “Stella, why don’t I go with you?”
“Don’t you think I can handle it?” Stella’s eyes began blazing again.
I jumped in before Sid could. “That’s not it at all, Stella.” I fumbled for a second. “It will… Uh… Be easier for the two of you to work together if he hears things first hand.”
Stella frowned. “True. Very well. Dr. Farber is in San Diego, though.” She glared again at Sid. “Are you sure you can find the time to go down there?”
Sid forced a smile. “I will make the time.”
“Just what I wanted,” Sid grumbled.
It wasn’t even eight-thirty. While I went to see where the boys were on their homework, Sid called Van Blinn back.
Sid was still on the phone when I returned to the office.
“Good. I’ll see you then,” Sid said. “Bye.” He hung up and glared at me. “It’s convenient as all get out. We’re meeting at Wanzyck’s place so that I can meet Earline. He still doesn’t want to include you for some stupid reason.”
“Does it matter?” I slid into my desk chair. “It might make it easier for me to talk to him as one of my alter egos.”
As undercover agents, we each have two, both with FBI IDs and civilian ones.
Sid sighed. “Sounds good. Anyway, I want to be sure and thank you for keeping me from jumping down Stella’s throat over Farber.”
“You’re very welcome.” I got up and went around my desk to where he sat behind his.
“Crap, she was in rare form tonight.” Sid shuddered, then got up. “And poor Sy. What a hell of a time for him to begin living with her.”
I squeezed him. “On the other hand, if they survive this, they’ll survive anything.”
“True.” Sid couldn’t help chuckling. “My darling, sweet Lisa. You would look at it that way, and I am so very, very glad you do.”
I held him again, then looked at my watch. “Well, it’s almost nine. How about if you take on chasing the boys to bed, and I go upstairs and read in bed for a bit?”
“How about if I chase the boys to bed, then go upstairs and make you happy?” Sid’s grin was less than saintly.
My breath caught. “That sounds nice, too.”
(Sid’s Voice)
Van Blinn had given me detailed instructions on how to get to the Wanzycks’ home, including how to sign in with the guard at the complex gate. I arrived at the complex a little before noon and decided to try the gate code that Esther had gotten for us. It worked. The guard in the shack didn’t look at me twice, either.
The house was a large ranch-style, with off-white stucco and dark, rough wood planks. It could barely be seen behind the large bird of paradise and banana plants that ringed the bright green expanse of lawn in front and on either side of the wide driveway in front of the dark brown doors to the three-car garage. Inside, the entryway was paved with shiny terra-cotta tiles hemmed in by a plush off-white carpet on both sides, leading to a dining room on one side and the oversized living room on the other. Everything was laid out meticulously and shone with the kind of glow that meant someone was paying a fortune to maintain it. {Something we have plenty of experience with. – ljw}
I was willing to bet that the woman in her forties who admitted me to the house was not the woman doing the housekeeping. Her honey brown hair was cut into a soft wedge and too perfectly highlighted to be natural. Her stylist clearly knew what he or she was doing and probably charged a small fortune for the privilege. She wore a pink polo shirt tucked into pressed khaki slacks and large diamond stud earrings.
“You must be Mr. Hackbirn,” she said softly, leading me to the living room. “I’m Mrs. Marlon Wanzyck. The reverend will be here in a moment. Can I get you anything?”
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Please have a seat.” She waved vaguely at one of the gray leather overstuffed chairs flanking a huge rock fireplace, the diamonds in her wedding ring flashing.
“I’m here to see Congressman Van Blinn,” I said, edging slowly toward the chair.
“He’ll be out in a minute.” She offered me an oddly pained smile.
“You must be Mr. Hackbirn,” said a full voice from the back of the living room.
The medium-sized man approaching me moved quickly, but not so fast that I couldn’t see the expensively tailored dark gray wool suit and silk tie with blue and white stripes. He shook my hand warmly with both of his, and I saw the edge of a very good toupee that matched his light brown hair perfectly.
“I’m Reverend Marlon Wanzyck,” he said, letting go of my hand at just the right angle so that I couldn’t miss the huge diamond ring on his right hand. “Please. Sit down. Reba, go tell the congressman that his guest is here.”
“Of course, Marlon.”
I sat down smiling, but was not happy.
“So.” Wanzyck sat down on the chair across from me. “Have you been saved?”
“Um. Yeah.”
Yes. I was lying. The last thing I needed was some fuck who had to validate his beliefs by making me believe them, too. Lisa had always said that the only way to keep these bozos off my back was to tell them I believed.
“Great. Where do you go to church?”
I smiled, thinking fast. As it happened, Lisa and I did go to church. She’s a practicing Catholic and always has been. I went because I played organ for the choir, not because I believed in it. But odds were decent this guy wouldn’t count Catholicism as being saved.
“It’s a small community church on the west side of Los Angeles,” I said. “Very bible-oriented.”
“Oh, for Heaven’s sakes, Marlon,” said another voice, low and sultry with the slight rasp of a two-pack-a-day habit. It came from the dining room across the entry hall. “You don’t have to inspect a religion card for everyone who comes in here.”
The woman who’d spoken was a little shorter than Reba, with blond hair in a round helmet glued around her head. Jane Fonda would have envied her body, and she wore dark leggings to emphasize her shape under a frilly, oversized white blouse that opened just enough to allow a glimpse of her cleavage. Her face was far smoother than it should have been, and probably the work of a master surgeon.
Wanzyck rose and cleared his throat. “My… mother-in-law.”
I was impressed. She had to be in her early sixties, but looked younger than her daughter.
“I’m Earline Spinner Wilson,” she said, sauntering over to me. She didn’t smell like she currently smoked cigarettes, never mind the rasp.
I got up quickly. “Nice to meet you.”
Her smile grew hot. “Nice to meet you.”
Reba scurried in and shot her husband an apologetic look, but didn’t say anything.
“So you’re Jimmy’s guest.” Earline slid gracefully onto the couch and daintily crossed her ankles.
“Oh, good, Earline.” Van Blinn also came in from the back. “You’ve met Sid Hackbirn.”
“Hackbirn?” Earline’s eyebrows raised. That she could said even more about her surgeon. She gazed at me for a moment. “That’s right. Sheila had a little boy.”
“That was me,” I replied softly.
“I’m not surprised.” Earline’s eyes swept over me. “You look just like her.”
“I’ve been told.” Smiling, I let my eyes sweep over her. “How well did you know Sheila?”
Even though I kept my focus on Earline, I heard a gasp from her daughter.
“Well, we weren’t friends. We worked together, you know.”
“Mother…” Wanzyck’s voice was taut.
“Oh, please!” Earline let out a languid titter. “We all know what I did for a living back then. And I have repented. Washed in the blood and all that.”
I have never believed in judging others. But I must concede that I couldn’t help questioning the sincerity of Earline’s penitence. As I took a glance around, I saw that her daughter and son-in-law weren’t terribly convinced, either.
“What do you remember about Sheila?” I asked, again turning my focus on Earline.
“It was utterly awful what happened to her.” Earline blinked. That I believed she was sincere about. She gazed thoughtfully at me. “You might have had a mother.”
“Might have,” I said softly.
She laughed. “You’re right. Sheila was not exactly the maternal type. She hated kids. She was so mean to poor little Hannah.”
I heard a soft sigh from where Van Blinn sat on the couch.
Earline got up, and I rose with her.
“Look, Sid, right?”
“Yeah.”
She smiled kindly. “Sheila wasn’t a bad person. Like me, she was just stuck in a bad business.”
“I don’t judge.”
“Good.” She looked straight at the reverend. “It’s the Christian thing to do, right?” She turned back to me. “As for what happened that night, there’s not much I can tell you about it. Everyone kept saying it was one of her j— I mean, clients.”
“Can you tell us anything about them?”
“There was Jimmy, of course.” She smiled and turned away. “And he wasn’t the only one sweet on her, by the way. As for the others, it won’t do you much good. They’re probably dead by now. Except for Jimmy. They were mostly a lot of old men trying to recover lost youth.” Turning back, she gave me another appraising gaze. “You had to figure that Sheila’s kid was going to be pretty cute. You remind me of her. That same style, finesse.”
Van Blinn cleared his throat. “Well, Sid, I think it’s time we went to lunch.”
“Why don’t I drive?” I suggested.
“Yes. Thank you.”
Once in the car and headed toward another country club, this one relatively nearby, Van Blinn sighed.
“I’m sorry about the Wanzycks,” he said. “They’re very nice people. But, as you’d expect, they don’t like talking about Earline’s past.”
“That’s not surprising.” I frowned. “Wanzyck. I’ve heard that name before.”
“He’s pastor of a large evangelical church in Anaheim. Or is it Anaheim Hills?”
“Anaheim Hills,” I said, suddenly remembering that I’d read something about him not that long ago. “Living Faith Bible Church. He preaches something called the prosperity gospel, and he got written up… I forget where. My wife didn’t think much of him. Or the prosperity gospel.”
“What? You don’t believe you’re wealthy because of your faith?” Van Blinn chuckled.
“Absolutely not. Nor does Lisa. In fact, she says that us having money gives us even greater responsibility to be generous and recognize God’s preference for the poor.”
“I must concede her point.”
“She’s good that way.” I glanced over at him, then back at the road. “But something Earline said just now. You weren’t the only one sweet on Sheila.”
“Sadly.” Van Blinn shifted. “She had her pick of clients. But I was the one who was going to take her away. I never heard that from the others.”
“Such as…?”
He sighed. “Paul West, specifically. I’d rather not have named him. I don’t want to get him in trouble. And Earline was right. Most of the clients are dead, and I do not want to sully their memories. On the other hand, somebody is bound to remember Paul’s fondness for Sheila. And he is out here in Los Angeles. A tax attorney now. He’s one of the people I was going to visit, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to contact him.” Van Blinn looked at me. “He’s not a bad man. None of us were. Or are. We simply needed some female companionship as a way of blowing off steam. You understand that, don’t you?”
“I do.” And I most certainly did, which got me thinking about Lisa and how we blew off steam. “Um, why didn’t you want Lisa to join us?”
He looked astonished. “Why would you want her to come? She’d be bored silly. And we would have to be more… shall we say, refined if she were there.”
I just shook my head and didn’t bother trying to explain. Men from Van Blinn’s background did not want women around, supposedly because women didn’t understand or were not interested in the things men talked about. Lisa had said it was all about cutting women out of the deal-making and maintaining the status quo. I glanced back over at Van Blinn. He probably didn’t have the least clue that was what he was really doing. But I had to think that Lisa was right.
Thank you for reading. For more information about the Operation Quickline series, click here.
Please check out the Fiction page for the latest on all my novels. Or look me up at your favorite independent bookstore. Mine is Vroman’s, in Pasadena, California.