“Hi, babe. I bet you’d like to know what’s on this drive. But if you don’t have the code, too bad.”
A white box appeared and I had nothing to enter. The screen went dark again. But for a few seconds she had been alive. I could see her allure with her wide smile, the elegant movement to push her hair out of her face, the sexy taunt in her voice. I popped out the drive and stuck it in my pocket.
When I stepped out of the elevator, a woman was walking toward me: black, shoulder-length hair, attractive if older, elegantly dressed. As she came closer, I was sure I was wrong. I saw plenty of ghosts in my dreams.
But, no…
“Sharon?”
“David!”
She ran to me and gave me a long hug.
Her face was flushed and, up close, her usually perfect hair was mussed.
All I could do was sputter words. “What? Why?”
She grinned at my discomfort.
“What’s wrong?”
Where to begin? She was Peralta’s ex-wife. She had moved away to San Francisco in as final a breakup as I could imagine. I had known both of them for most of my adult life. And here she was, having obviously been in his room. But it was none of those things. I felt the embarrassment of nearly coming across my parents having sex.
“It’s all right, David.” She laughed that full-out laugh that always put me at ease. She studied me. “You’ve lost weight.”
Her eyes held concern rather than a compliment. I knew the suit was now almost hanging on me.
I said, “So you’re why he went to Balboa Park. I thought something was odd.”
“Maybe he can grow a little after all,” she said. “I was down here for a conference, so…”
So, indeed.
She hugged me again, made me promise we would get together for drinks or coffee before we left, and disappeared into the elevator.
After a minute to collect myself, I knocked on his door. He greeted me in a bathrobe.
“Why are you blushing?” he demanded.
“I got too much sun at the beach.”
“Why is your shirt and tie a mess?”
“A baby peed on me, okay? You change and I’ll come back.”
“I’m fine,” he said and walked inside, leaving the door open. I reluctantly followed him.
He plopped down on the unmade bed. I sat on a sofa and filled him in on Tim Lewis, the baby, and Grace Hunter’s small business. He closed his eyes and grunted after every few sentences, taking it in as he always did. He offered no more reaction when I showed him the flash drive. We would have to find someone to break the code.
The room was too warm for my suit.
I wrapped it up. “Tim Lewis has parents in Riverside. I told him to take the baby and go there today.”
“Did you get their address?”