“Worked together in San Bernardino,” Alvarez said quickly. “Before I moved here.”
One of Pescoli’s eyebrows arched. “You were with the San Bernardino Sheriff ’s Department?” she asked O’Keefe.
“Yeah, I worked for the county.” He gave a curt nod and his jaw tightened a bit. “A while back.”
“That’s right,” Alvarez cut in and forced a smile she didn’t feel while sending O’Keefe a quick, warning glance, cautioning him to keep his mouth shut. What had happened in California was a long time ago, a blemish on her career and the ruination of his. The fewer people who knew about it, the better.
“You don’t look like a lawyer,” Pescoli said, and his mouth twitched.
“Left my three-piece suit in the truck.” When she didn’t crack a smile, he added, “Corporate law slash criminal law, didn’t really take with me. I’m not the behind-a-desk kind of guy.”
“Lots of money and lots of years in school to finally figure it out,” she observed as her cell phone jangled. Frowning, she read the small screen, then her face lost some of its hard edges as she picked up. “Hey,” she said into the phone, her voice a little softer than usual, indicating that Nate Santana or one of her kids was on the other end of the line. “... Yeah ... No. At my partner’s house. No. Just wrapping up something here. Mmm ... about half an hour.” She glanced up at Alvarez, who gave her a quick wave, silently advising her to leave. There was nothing more for Pescoli to do except dig a little deeper into Alvarez’s private life and that was something Alvarez would prefer to avoid.
As she hung up, Alvarez said, “There’s nothing more to do here, I guess.”
And Pescoli, glancing around, nodded. “Nothing taken but the dog?”
“Nothing of value, except maybe around twenty bucks that I had in a top drawer by my bed. My computer, TV are all in place, I had my laptop and cell phone with me and I don’t have any jewelry or silver that’s worth much, though I can’t find a hoop earring ... one with a fake ruby in it. One my grandmother gave me years ago. I could have lost it, I suppose, and misplaced the cash, but I don’t think so. Maybe a couple of other things are missing. I can’t find my locket, one I had since high school but never wear, and a ring or two; stuff I haven’t looked at in years. And a week or so ago, I noticed one of my silver stud earrings wasn’t with the other one. I looked around, couldn’t find it, but didn’t think much about it. All of the stuff that I can’t find, if you add it all together, isn’t worth a hundred dollars, maybe not even fifty.”
“Weird.” Frowning, Pescoli gave O’Keefe the once-over, and asked, “So what’s your story? I take it you’re not on the force any longer.”
“No story.”
“You’re a PI now.”
“Uh-huh.”
Her eyes narrowed. “As an ex-cop, you should know better. Leave chasing down suspects to the police.” To Alvarez, she added, “I’ll call the Helena PD. See what’s up and let them know their suspect’s been spotted here, chased down by a relative with a law degree, someone not in uniform. They’re gonna love that.”
“No doubt,” he said as she zipped up her coat and headed outside, a blast of cold air in her wake, the front door nearly slamming behind her.
“Sweet, isn’t she?” he observed.
“Cuddly as a porcupine.”
“You two get along?”
“Yeah.”
“Figures.” He glanced around the living room with its smooth hardwood floors, muted rug and sleek modern furniture. Everything in white, black and tan. Only a splash of color in the art or throw pillows, one o
f which was deflated after suffering Roscoe’s fury the morning before, all of the stuffing, batting and feathers long vacuumed away. She thought of Roscoe with his big, lolling tongue, bright eyes and enthusiasm for life. Damn, she already missed that miserable pup.
O’Keefe glanced at the stairway where wet tracks were visible on the carpet. “Why do you think Reeve ended up here?”
“Don’t know. Dumb luck?” Jane Doe, who had been perched on one of the dinette chairs, plopped down and, with a dismissive glance at O’Keefe, trotted over to Alvarez, where she began walking in figure eights and rubbing against Alvarez’s ankles.
“Maybe.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw, his five o’clock shadow scraping beneath his fingers. “But he seemed to beeline here. From the pizza parlor on Grand.”
“That’s half a mile away.”
“I know,” he said. “I chased him. Reeve didn’t hesitate for a second.” O’Keefe walked to the sliding door and eyed it. “No forced entry.”
“I must’ve forgotten to lock it when I let the dog out earlier,” she said as she picked up the cat and held her close. Jane began to purr as Alvarez petted her soft head. “I usually double-check all the doors and windows before I leave, but I was in a hurry.”
“Aren’t you always?” he thought aloud, and shook his head.
“I came back twice; once midday and then again after four because I knew I’d be working late, so I let him out, walked him around the complex, fed him and left. I guess ... I guess I missed the latch.”