The Pendleton Omens - 17. Chapter 17

Julie Kent was probably on time, and I was definitely late. Just when I was supposed to leave Scoot’s apartment, I got another call, only the second since I’d been there. This was from his landlord, or at least the company that managed his building. I’d left a message for them asking where to send the rent, and it took us a while to work that out.

I also called the restaurant and left a message. But who knew if Julie Kent could wait?

She did. I sat down a little past two-ten, a bit out of breath.

“You made it,” she said.

“I’m sorry,”

“It happens all the time.”

She was probably in her mid-thirties but could have been younger. I couldn’t tell how tall she was, since she was sitting behind a restaurant table. But she seemed tall. She was also very pretty, with light skin and short red hair.

The waiter handed me a wine menu. Julie Kent was having a drink. Something on the rocks with an onion.

“I’ll just have water,” I said.

“Are you on duty?” she seemed to tease.

“Closer to vacation.”

Then I explained why I was late.

“I’ve been trying to pay Scoot’s bills and wanted his landlord to know he was getting a check with a different signature and my initials.”

“That’s very nice of you.”

“But for some reason it was complicated. They had to be sure I wasn’t illegally subletting.”

“It’s a constant problem. I owned a four-unit apartment building for a while. As an investment. But it was too much trouble.”

I didn’t want to give Julie Kent a bad impression of Scoot. Especially since she occasionally hired him.

“We’ve never had to do this for him before,” I went on. “He’s always taken care of himself.”

“He’s a good kid.”

“Which is why this is a surprise.”

The waiter returned, and after we ordered, I got out my list. I’d printed out my updated e-mail addresses and people’s names and phone numbers. I’d noted everyone I’d called and who gotten back to me and how.

Julie Kent admired the list and said, “I’d like to be this organized.” Then she picked up a pen from the notepad beside her. She’d been working when I came in.

“Do you mind if I add notes?” she asked.

“Anything helps.”

She circled some names, added phone numbers besides others, and corrected a few e-mail addresses. Some of the new information was in her head. Some was in her phone.

“The people I’m circling are all in the business. It looks like most of these are work contacts. Is there another list of friends?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “This all came off his laptop.”

“I wonder why he didn’t take that with him?” she asked. “If he’s working.”

I’d been thinking about that. I got a laptop when I split with Sharon. But I still had to sort, duplicate, and divide our files.

“Though he may have another one for travel,” she added.

“The laptop’s only one of four computers,” I clarified. “At least, four.”

“What’s on the others?”

“Movie stuff. Things you could probably make more sense of than I can. If you know the programs.”

“I know some of them,” she allowed. “But that’s not my field. Though if you think there’s anything useful there, I could have one of my guys look.”

“I might need that. If he doesn’t turn up soon.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Since Saturday. Saturday afternoon.”

“When did you last hear from him?”

“The end of the month. We usually e-mail each other – occasionally phone. But that’s harder because of the time difference. I didn’t even realize he was gone till his girlfriend called.”

“And she was worried?”

“As worried as Scoot’s mother. I told you about that.”

Julie smiled. “And both more worried than you?”

“Maybe then. Probably as much as I am now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m sure a great job came up, and he took off without thinking. A good friend of his, Zak Parness, just flew to New Zealand. Halfway there, he e-mailed Scoot to get on a plane. There was an opening. I’m sure if Scoot didn’t already have a job, he’d be in New Zealand.”

“As I said, there’s a lot of rush in this business. No one seems to think ahead.”

“Do you know Zak?” I asked. She’d circled his name.

“He’s worked for us.”

“I’ve only heard good things.”

“All the kids out of college are normally very good. They know so much more than we did. Though given our choice, we’ll usually take Scoot over Zak.”

It seemed like she was giving me a compliment.

“In any case,” she said, finishing with my list, “this may be all I can do. If you check his computers and see if there’s other information you need, I may be able to help. I can certainly try.”

“Thanks again,” I said, as I signaled for the check.

“It’s already taken care of,” she said, laughing. “This is deductible business.”

“It’s a young business,” I replied. “Scoot says he’d like to be out of it in fifteen years. Settled at a good university, teaching.”

“It’s one plan. Personally, I’m going to hang in as long as I can.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’m superstitious enough to take anything that’s offered.”

Leaving the restaurant, I walked her to the valet and waited while they brought her car. A white, two-seater Porsche. Either it was leased, or her business was doing well.

Five minutes later, I retrieved Scoot’s dusty Mustang from the parking garage. I thought about exploring the nearby Farmer’s Market first – it was a landmark that dated to the 1930's – but instead. I headed back to the Valley. Of course, I hit traffic, and what had been a thirty minute drive was now double. There was a new message on Scoot’s machine in the apartment. But it was only from Amy.

“Hi. Nothing important. At least, nothing new. But if you’d like to have dinner tonight, please call.”

I did and soon said I’d pick her up at eight. She suggested we meet partway, in a place called Westwood. “It’s near UCLA.”

“I’ll find it.”

“The restaurant’s named Palomino. It’s someplace I’ve been wanting to try.”

“Sounds great.”

Next, I phoned Sharon, to tell her about Julie Kent.

“Do you think the new names will help?”

“I hope so. I’m gonna start calling now.”

“Don’t stay up too late.”

“You know I don’t make calls after nine. Besides, I’m going out to dinner.”

“With Amy?”

“Who else do I know?”

“You saw her yesterday.”

“And the day before. And Saturday. It’s not like I’ve got other friends in California.”

Sharon laughed. “Good thing I’m not the one who has to worry.”

I couldn’t make sense of that and had to ask, “What do you mean?”

When she didn’t answer, I added, “You don’t think I’m hot for Amy?”

She was still silent, but I thought I heard her laughing.

“Right,” I said, then called Noah and told him Sharon’s joke. He laughed, too.

“How’s everything?” he went on.

“I was hoping to be out of here tonight.”

“What’ve you found?”

I told him about Julie Kent.

“What’re you gonna to do with her info?”

I told him about my follow-up.

“Makes sense.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I promised.

“I’m not worried,” he answered, seeming to mean it. “If I got you out of your apartment, I can get you out of LA.”

He told me some other things, too, lightly complaining about the miserable weather. “I’m jealous of yours.”

“I’ll send you some. It’s being wasted on me.”

“Fool.”

I knew we both wanted to talk. But I had to work.

Three hours and maybe twenty phone calls later, I pulled into crowded Westwood and couldn’t find a place to park.

“I should have told you about the structure,” Amy said, when I finally made it to her table. “Westwood’s worse than Santa Monica.”

“Structure?” I asked. “Is that different from a parking garage?”

She laughed. “No, they’re the same thing. And I guess a parking lot is flat.”

“That’s what I did, eventually. Went into the ‘structure’ next door.”

“You’re probably next to me.”

It was a good dinner, and the restaurant looked more expensive than it was. But I’ve always been a cheap date – nothing fancy, and I’m fine with salad and meat. I don’t need two drinks, coffee, and dessert.

“This is great,” Amy said as we finished. “I almost don’t hate going back to work tomorrow.”

“Are you still thinking about other jobs?”

“I try not to think about anything on my days off. But I have asked about switching to four-day weeks.”

I whistled quietly. “Nurses make more than I thought.”

“They’re ten-hours days.”

“Whoops. Can you handle that?”

She shrugged. “Some shifts are easier than others.”

I laughed, remembering working midnight-to-eight as a new hire. The main challenge was staying awake.

“They’re good at moving us around,” Amy reassured me. “And night shifts are more relaxed. That’s when I usually talk with parents.”

That triggered something I’d been thinking about, and I tried to figure out how to say it. “I’ve been meaning to tell you this,” I started carefully. “I think you should call that guy.”

She looked at me, a bit confused. “Dean?” she asked.

“Yeah. Or his wife. Just to check in. It might make you all feel better.”

“I’m seeing Scoot,” she said.

“What’s that have to do with it?”

She grinned. “I’m always amazed how much more freedom men have than women. If you’d met Dean the way I did, you could call. If I did, or if I even spoke with his wife, I’d seem like a threat to their marriage.”

I might threaten their marriage, too, but I didn’t explain. “I guess I couldn’t call his wife that easily,” I admitted. “Though as a cop, I’m used to calling anyone.”

“I can’t bother them,” she insisted. “I hope they’re all right. I’d like to know that. But Scoot will be back soon.”

“I’m glad you’re thinking that way.”

She brightened. “Two days’ sleep always makes me feel better.”

Heading out, we walked together towards our cars.

“This was really great,” she told me again. “Thanks.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I assured her. “Fill you in.”

“Goodnight,” she said. Then she kissed me. As any woman might kiss her father-in-law.