Jonathan Kellerman - Gone

“What time did this whispering call come in, Jackie?”

“Like…we were in bed with the TV. Armando answered and he was pissed off ’cause a the other calls hanging up. He’s, like, started yelling into the phone and then he’s, like, stopped, listened. I said what, he waved his hand, like, you know? He listened and his face got all red. That was the last time.”

“Armando got mad.”

“Real mad.”

“ ’Cause of the whispering.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did Armando tell you about the whispering after he hung up?”

Jacalyn Vasquez shook her head. “Later.”

“When, later?”

“Last night.”

“Calling from jail.”

“Yeah.”

“You never heard the whispering and Armando didn’t tell you about it at the time. Then, after Armando shot Peaty, he decided to tell you.”

“I ain’t lyin’.”

“I can understand your wanting to protect your husband- ”

“I ain’t lyin’.”

“Let’s say someone did whisper,” said Milo. “You figure that made it okay to shoot Peaty?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’s that, Jackie?”

“He was dangerous.”

“According to the whisperer.”

“I ain’t lyin’.”

“Maybe Armando is.”

“Armando ain’t lyin’.”

“Did Armando say if this whisperer was a man or a woman?”

“Armando said the whispering made so you couldn’t tell.”

“Pretty good whispering.”

“I ain’t lyin’.” Jacalyn Vasquez folded her arms across her bosom and stared at Milo.

“You know, Jackie, that any calls to your apartment can be verified.”

“Huh?”

“We can check your phone records.”

“Fine,” she said.

“The problem is,” said Milo, “all we can know is that someone called you at a certain time. We can’t verify what was said.”

“It happened.”

“According to Armando.”

“Armando ain’t lyin’.”

“All those hang-ups,” said Milo. “Then all of a sudden, someone’s whispering about Peaty and Armando’s listening.”

Jacalyn Vasquez’s hands, still crossed, climbed to her face and pushed against her cheeks. Her features turned rubbery. When she spoke through compressed lips, the words came out slurred, like a kid goofing.

“It happened. Armando told me. It happened.”

Brittany Chamfer was waiting in the hall, playing with her nose stud. She whipped around, saw Jacalyn Vasquez dabbing her eyes. “You okay, Jackie?”

“He don’ believe me.”

Chamfer said, “What?”

Milo said, “Thanks for coming in.”

Chamfer said, “We’re looking for the truth.”

“Common goal.”

Chamfer considered her response. “What message should I give to Mr. Shuldiner?”

“Thank him for his civic duty.”

“Pardon?”

“Thank him for creativity, too.”

Brittany Chamfer said, “I’m not going to tell him that. ”

“Have a nice day.”

“I will.” Chamfer flipped her long hair. “Will you ?”

Renewing her grip, she propelled Jacalyn Vasquez up the corridor.

Milo said, “That’s why the D.A.’s office palmed it on me. What a crock.”

“You’re dismissing it out of hand?” I said.

“You’re not?”

“If Vasquez’s lying to exonerate himself, he could’ve picked something stronger. Like Peaty threatening him explicitly.”

“So he’s stupid.”

“Maybe that’s it,” I said.

He leaned against the wall, scuffed the baseboard. “Even if someone did call Vasquez to prime the pump against Peaty, the right suspect’s in jail. Let’s say Ertha Stadlbraun got things stoked up because Peaty had always creeped her out. My interview tipped her over and she stirred up the tenants. One of them was an incompletely reformed banger with a bad temper and boom boom boom.”

“If you’re comfortable not checking it out, so am I.”

He turned his back on me, imbedded both hands in his hair and turned it into a fright wig. Smoothing it down was a partial success. He stomped back into his office.

When I entered, he had the phone receiver in hand but wasn’t punching numbers. “Know what kept me up last night? Damned snow globe. Brad thought Meserve put it there but the one in the van says Peaty did. Would Peaty taunt Brad?”

“Maybe Peaty didn’t leave it.”

“What?”

“Meserve thinks he’s an actor,” I said. “Actors do voice-overs.”

“The Infernal Whisperer? I can’t get distracted by that kind of crap, Alex. Still have to check out all those buildings Peaty cleaned, stuff could be hidden anywhere. Can’t ignore Billy either, because he hung with Peaty and I was masochistic enough to find out.”

He passed the receiver from hand to hand. “What I’d love to do is get to Billy in his apartment, away from Brad, and gauge his reaction to Peaty’s death.” He huffed. “Let’s take care of this whispering bullshit.”

He called the phone company, talked to someone named Larry. “What I need is for you to tell me it’s crap so I can avoid the whole subpoena thing. Thanks, yeah…you, too. I’ll hold.”

Moments later, his faced flushed and he was scribbling furiously in his pad. “Okay, Lorenzo, thanko mucho…no, I mean it…we’ll forget this conversation took place and I’ll get you the damned paper a-sap.”

The receiver slammed down.

He ripped a page out of the pad and shoved it at me.

The first evening call to the Vasquez apartment had come in at five fifty-two p.m. and lasted thirty-two minutes. The caller’s mid-city number was registered to Guadalupe Maldonado. The call from Jackie Vasquez’s mom at “like six.”

Milo closed his eyes and pretended to doze as I read on.

Five more calls between seven and ten p.m., all from a 310 area code that Milo had notated as “stolen cell.” The first lasted eight seconds, the second, four. Then a trio of two-second entries that had to be hang-ups.

Armando Vasquez losing patience and slamming down the phone.

I said, “Stolen from who?”

“Don’t know yet, but it happened the same day the call came in. Keep going.”

Under the five calls was the doodle of an amoebic blob filled with crosses. Then something Milo had underlined so hard he’d torn paper.

Final call. 10:23 p.m. Forty-two seconds long.

Despite Vasquez’s anger, something had managed to hold his interest.

Different caller, 805 area code.

Milo reached over and took the page, shredded it meticulously, and dropped it in his trash basket. “You have never seen that. You will see it once the goddamn subpoena that is now goddamn necessary produces legit evidence.”

“ Ventura County,” I said. “Maybe Camarillo?”

“Not maybe, for sure. My man Lawrence says a pay phone in Camarillo.”

“Near the outlets?”

“He wasn’t able to be that precise, but we’ll find out. Now I’ve got a possible link to the Gaidelases. Which should make you happy. All along, you never saw Peaty for them. So what’re we talking about, an 805-based killer who prowls the coast and I’ve gotta start from scratch?”

“Only if the Gaidelases are victims,” I said.

“As opposed to?”

“The sheriffs thought the facts pointed to a willful disappearance and maybe they were right. Armando told his wife the whispering made it impossible to identify the sex of the caller. If it’s amateur theater we’re talking about, Cathy Gaidelas could be a candidate.”

His jaws bunched. He scooted forward on his chair, inches from my face. I thanked God we were friends.

“All of a sudden the Gaidelases have gone from victims to psycho murderers ?”