Bill Pronzini - The Other Side Of Silence

“Laughlin. Why go there?”

“Hunting for Court Spicer.”

“What made you think that’s where he was?”

“Lucky piece of information.”

“Luck’s the name of the game. Find him?”

That put Fallon up against the line again. Tell Ulbrich that Spicer was dead, murdered, see what kind of reaction that bought him? No. The situation here was different than it had been with the Rossis and Bobby J. He’d be leaving himself wide open if Ulbrich wasn’t involved. He didn’t know the man, how law-abiding he actually was. Ex-cop, licensed private investigator… he might take that kind of knowledge straight to the Laughlin authorities.

He said, “No. Casey Dunbar disappeared before we could.”

“Two of you hunting her ex together,” Ulbrich said musingly. “You’re not in the investigation business yourself, are you?”

“No. I told you, she’s a friend.”

“She didn’t mention your name when she hired me.”

“I haven’t known her that long. How we got involved is a long story. And not relevant right now.”

“So what it amounts to, you’ve been playing detective.”

“If you want to put it that way. Four years MP duty, dozen years security work for a company in L.A. I’m not exactly an amateur.”

A waiter appeared bearing a steaming plate of corned beef and cabbage, set it down in front of Ulbrich. “Another Guinness,” Ulbrich said to him. Then, to Fallon, “Sure you don’t want anything?”

Fallon leaned back away from the mingled aromas of the food. They made the eggs he’d had earlier churn in his stomach.

Ulbrich fell to with gusto. Between bites, he said, “You still haven’t told me how it happened. Mrs. Dunbar’s disappearance.”

“She was at the motel where we were staying. I went out to see if I could track down Spicer and when I got back she was gone. No note, nothing- just gone. I haven’t heard a word from her since.”

“So you’ve been hunting her for two days.”

“That’s right.”

“What about Spicer? He kidnapped his son, he’s capable of snatching his ex-wife too. You must know there’s no love lost between them.”

“I know, but Spicer’s not responsible.”

“No? How do you know?”

“Reasons I don’t want to go into.”

“Suit yourself. If not Spicer, who else? Somebody he knew in Vegas?”

“That’s what I thought at first. And that’s where I went from Laughlin.” “And you didn’t find out anything and now you’re here talking to me. Looking for leads, or have you got some screwy idea I’m mixed up in it?”

“Are you?”

“Hell, no.” Ulbrich didn’t sound any more offended than he did guilty. Cabbage juice drooled from one corner of his mouth; he licked off some of it, wiped the rest away with his napkin. “What possible reason could I have for going to Laughlin, making a former client disappear?”

“I can think of one, if you did locate Spicer and found out about his sideline.”

“What sideline would that be?”

“Blackmail.”

The eyebrow went up again. “Blackmail. Well, well.”

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“I’ve been around too long to be surprised by much of anything. So? Why would this blackmail angle interest me?”

“You could’ve tried to cut yourself in. Or to put the bite on him to keep quiet.”

Ulbrich thought that was funny. He laughed, nearly choked on the hunk of corned beef he’d stuffed into his mouth, coughed, swallowed the rest of his beer, coughed some more. “Man,” he said when the fit had passed, “you’ve got some imagination. Either that, or you’re so desperate you’re grabbing at any straw that blows by in the wind.”

“Seems plausible to me.”

“Not if you know Sam Ulbrich, it isn’t. I’ve been in one kind of law enforcement or another for nearly thirty years, Fallon. Spotless record. I’d never do anything to jeopardize it.”

“What about the time you were brought up before the state board of licenses?”

Ulbrich sobered. “You know about that? Yeah, well,” he said darkly, “that was a bogus charge made by a client who was pissed that I couldn’t get the kind of evidence he was looking for on a business partner. The judge cleared me, you understand? Completely cleared me.”

“Okay, so you didn’t know Spicer was a blackmailer. Didn’t find out anything along those lines when you were investigating him.”

“That’s right. And if I had, I wouldn’t tell you what it was.”

“But you’d have told Casey Dunbar.”

“Full disclosure to my clients, always. And nobody else without their permission.”

Fallon said, “Where were you Monday night?”

“Still not convinced, huh?”

“So convince me.”

“Why the hell should I? I ought to push your face in.”

“Welcome to try.”

Their eyes locked and held. During the staredown, the waiter returned with the fresh Guinness and that broke it up. A slow, sardonic grin turned up the corners of Ulbrich’s mouth. He shrugged, picked up his fork.

“Hell,” he said, eating, “I’m not trying to be a hard-ass here. Mrs. Dunbar is missing, you’re a friend of hers, you’ve got a right to be worried. I’d be worried, too, in your shoes.”

“You haven’t answered my question about Monday night.”

“I was right here in San Diego. Imperial Beach, actually.”

“You don’t live in Imperial Beach.”

“That’s right, I don’t. But my daughter does. With her husband and her two kids. One Monday a month I go out there, have dinner with them, and she tells me all about what her mother’s doing these days and I try not to puke while she’s doing it. That’s where I was last Monday night. You don’t believe it, I’ll give you my daughter’s phone number.”

Fallon slumped against the booth back. Wrong again. Sam Ulbrich wasn’t any guiltier than David Rossi or Sharon Rossi or Bobby J.

“Truth hurts sometimes,” Ulbrich said philosophically. “So where do you go from here, Fallon?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know where to go or what the hell to think. I just keep stumbling into dead ends.”

“Maybe you need some help.”

“Maybe I do.”

“Professional help. My kind.”

Fallon considered it, but only briefly. Even with better resources, what could Ulbrich do that he hadn’t already done or couldn’t do himself? Something in the long run, maybe, but he needed answers now . Besides, it would mean telling him the whole story. All confiding in Ulbrich would accomplish was to put himself into greater jeopardy.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

“If it’s because you’re low on money, we can work something out.”

“Money’s not an issue. I’ve got to see this through on my own.”

Fallon slid out of the booth, started to turn away.

Ulbrich said, “Wait a minute.” And when Fallon leaned down, “I don’t know that this’ll help you much, but you can have it for what it’s worth. I had the feeling Casey Dunbar was holding something back when she hired me. Hiding something, maybe.”

“Such as what?”

“I don’t know. Just an impression I got when we were talking about Spicer and the kid. I can read people pretty well-one of the reasons I’m good at what I do.”

“Lying to you?”

“Not exactly. Just not giving me the whole story, leaving out details that I should’ve been told. You didn’t get the same feeling from her?”

“No,” Fallon admitted, “I didn’t.”

“Probably because you wanted to believe her. That’s the difference between the personal and professional perspective.” Ulbrich lifted his fresh Guinness. “Luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”