lines on his weathered brow deepened. “Have you talked to my son-in-law?”
Mel answered, “Yes, last night. He seemed at a loss to explain what happened. Have you talked to him?”
Henry nodded. “Georgette did, last night. He’s the one who told us what happened.” He tugged at his collar. “…we’re both concerned about him and how he’s coping.”
I got the impression there was an unspoken message behind what he’d said. I looked at Montreal’s wife. “How is your relationship with Vincent?”
“Oh, he’s a dear boy… I talked to him again this morning. He’s worried sick.”
I made note of the fact that she was the one who had talked to Vincent. I looked at her husband, who didn’t respond to what she’d said and had kept his eyes downcast.
I decided to ask what was on my mind. “Tell us about their family situation. Were there any problems between Vincent and Allison?”
Georgette answered. “Heavens, no. They…” She glanced at her husband before going on. “They had some problems early on in their marriage, but when the children came along all that went away.”
“What kind of problems?” Darby asked.
“It was just a rocky period.”
“Was there an affair?”
“Goodness, no. It’s just that…” Georgette drew in a breath. “They were going through a rough patch. I think lots of couples who are recently married go through the same thing. It was a matter of adjusting to the demands of married life.”
Henry’s blue eyes drilled into Darby. “That’s all ancient history. What happened has nothing to do with this.” He looked at me. “How do you want us to proceed?”
“You need to call us immediately if anyone contacts you. We’d also like your permission to tap your phones. If this is a kidnapping, they’ll probably tell you that your daughter and grandchildren will be in jeopardy if you talk to the authorities. Don’t believe them. The only way for you to get your family back is to let us know.”
Montreal nodded, checked his watch. “Make the arrangements. We’ll do whatever you say.”
We spent another half hour with the couple, reiterating how to handle any ransom demands. We also went over problems their daughter and son-in-law may have had with friends, coworkers, or other family members, but got nothing worthwhile.
Henry, who had repeatedly checked his Rolex during the discussion, finally said, “If there’s nothing more, I’m late for a meeting.” He stood up. “Georgette will see you out.”
We were in the circular driveway, saying our goodbyes to his wife, when we saw Henry’s Porsche roar out of the garage and disappear onto the street.
When we were back in the car, I said to Leo. “Somebody’s in a hurry.”
My partner put the car in gear. “We’ve got nothing better to do. Let’s follow him.”
Forty minutes later, we pulled to the curb and watched from a distance as Henry Montreal’s expensive sports car disappeared into a parking garage in downtown Los Angeles.
Leo pulled back into the heavy traffic and said, “I get the impression Henry’s a busy man, always in a hurry.”
I nodded. “I also get the impression that he doesn’t like being told what to do. I think he’s worth watching. Let’s head back to the office and see what Oz thinks.”
ELEVEN
Frank Dyer was a block down the street, watching the cops who had followed Henry Montreal. The PI was tall, with short reddish-brown hair and hawkish dark eyes. He stayed in his car long after Montreal had parked and the police had left the area. The fact that the authorities had followed the wealthy financier told Dyer they were already onto the game, and this was now a game of odds. If he was a betting man, he’d bet that Henry Montreal hadn’t said anything about the trophy he’d left on his desk. He also knew that his mark was smart and would try to play his own game.
The path that had led the PI to this day had been long and tortuous. Dyer’s real name was Wendell
Mel answered, “Yes, last night. He seemed at a loss to explain what happened. Have you talked to him?”
Henry nodded. “Georgette did, last night. He’s the one who told us what happened.” He tugged at his collar. “…we’re both concerned about him and how he’s coping.”
I got the impression there was an unspoken message behind what he’d said. I looked at Montreal’s wife. “How is your relationship with Vincent?”
“Oh, he’s a dear boy… I talked to him again this morning. He’s worried sick.”
I made note of the fact that she was the one who had talked to Vincent. I looked at her husband, who didn’t respond to what she’d said and had kept his eyes downcast.
I decided to ask what was on my mind. “Tell us about their family situation. Were there any problems between Vincent and Allison?”
Georgette answered. “Heavens, no. They…” She glanced at her husband before going on. “They had some problems early on in their marriage, but when the children came along all that went away.”
“What kind of problems?” Darby asked.
“It was just a rocky period.”
“Was there an affair?”
“Goodness, no. It’s just that…” Georgette drew in a breath. “They were going through a rough patch. I think lots of couples who are recently married go through the same thing. It was a matter of adjusting to the demands of married life.”
Henry’s blue eyes drilled into Darby. “That’s all ancient history. What happened has nothing to do with this.” He looked at me. “How do you want us to proceed?”
“You need to call us immediately if anyone contacts you. We’d also like your permission to tap your phones. If this is a kidnapping, they’ll probably tell you that your daughter and grandchildren will be in jeopardy if you talk to the authorities. Don’t believe them. The only way for you to get your family back is to let us know.”
Montreal nodded, checked his watch. “Make the arrangements. We’ll do whatever you say.”
We spent another half hour with the couple, reiterating how to handle any ransom demands. We also went over problems their daughter and son-in-law may have had with friends, coworkers, or other family members, but got nothing worthwhile.
Henry, who had repeatedly checked his Rolex during the discussion, finally said, “If there’s nothing more, I’m late for a meeting.” He stood up. “Georgette will see you out.”
We were in the circular driveway, saying our goodbyes to his wife, when we saw Henry’s Porsche roar out of the garage and disappear onto the street.
When we were back in the car, I said to Leo. “Somebody’s in a hurry.”
My partner put the car in gear. “We’ve got nothing better to do. Let’s follow him.”
Forty minutes later, we pulled to the curb and watched from a distance as Henry Montreal’s expensive sports car disappeared into a parking garage in downtown Los Angeles.
Leo pulled back into the heavy traffic and said, “I get the impression Henry’s a busy man, always in a hurry.”
I nodded. “I also get the impression that he doesn’t like being told what to do. I think he’s worth watching. Let’s head back to the office and see what Oz thinks.”
ELEVEN
Frank Dyer was a block down the street, watching the cops who had followed Henry Montreal. The PI was tall, with short reddish-brown hair and hawkish dark eyes. He stayed in his car long after Montreal had parked and the police had left the area. The fact that the authorities had followed the wealthy financier told Dyer they were already onto the game, and this was now a game of odds. If he was a betting man, he’d bet that Henry Montreal hadn’t said anything about the trophy he’d left on his desk. He also knew that his mark was smart and would try to play his own game.
The path that had led the PI to this day had been long and tortuous. Dyer’s real name was Wendell
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