Page 13 of Pro Bono

“There’s nobody she liked very much, and I doubt that anybody like that turned up in the hours between your office visit and eight o’clock or so, when I called her.”

“What about her family? Where do they live?”

“She’s from somewhere in the east. She went to Bryn Mawr. That’s in Pennsylvania, but I think she was brought up in Ohio. Same difference, I guess. She was very close to her mother, at least growing up. She’salways quoting her, and she did say some sharp and funny things, but I don’t know if she’s even alive now. Vesper had a sister, too, but she died for sure. An especially bad form of breast cancer that swept her away in a few months.”

“Are you the kind of friends who have keys to each other’s houses?”

“We used to be years ago. She and George lived a couple blocks from Bill and me, so it made sense. If I locked myself out, I could just walk over there and get my key, or she would drive over with it. But after you got me the house in the divorce and I had the pleasure of kicking Bill out, I sold it and bought this place, which is miles away. When I moved, I gave her key back.”

“Is there anybody else who might have that kind of relationship with her?”

“Not that I know of,” she said. “And none of our old mutual friends lives that close to her now, so it would probably be somebody new.”

“Well, thanks,” he said. “Please don’t forget to let me know if you hear anything.”

“Sure,” she said. “You sound worried about her.”

“Just trying to save myself a lot of extra work later,” he said. “My motives are selfish, I assure you.”

After the call ended, he thought about what he’d learned and what he’d said. He judged that his tone had been sufficiently even and unemotional at the end to calm Tiffany down and prevent her from telling her friends something might have happened to Vesper Ellis. He continued to be surprised at how often his profession required him to lie.

He dialed the phone again, listened to the ring signal, then heard a voice say, “Major Crimes, Sergeant McHargue.”

He said, “Hello, Sergeant. This is Charles Warren again. Do you remember that when you asked me whether there was anythingin my business that might be connected with the attack the other night, I mentioned I had a client who noticed money disappearing from investment accounts? I’ve been trying to reach her since that afternoon. She hasn’t answered any calls. I just got off a call with the close friend of hers who referred her to me. She’s called everybody they know in common, and nobody else has seen her or been able to reach her either.”

“Were they expecting to?”

“There wasn’t a specific event, but I’m told this isn’t normal for her. Normally she would have told that friend what had happened at her meeting with me, for instance. She didn’t. Others had been trying to reach her too. I wondered if you could have an officer drive by her house and do a welfare check. I could meet him there.”

“Do you have a reason to think somebody did something to her?”

“I think it’s a possibility. I’ve been finding more evidence that someone has been diverting funds from her accounts. The fact that someone came after me within three hours of our meeting makes me think somebody may have been watching her.”

“I’ll ask for a check. Can you give me her address?”

Warren read the address on his computer screen.

“Got it.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. I’d like to be there when the officer does the check. How soon do you think that will be?”

“I’d say you should start heading over there now.”

“Thank you again.”

In a moment he was walking across the outer office, putting on his sport coat. “I’m heading over to Vesper Ellis’s house to see if she’s there. I may not be back, so when you leave, make sure everything that can be locked or turned off is.”

The house was in Encino, a two-story white colonial-style building with black door and shutters, two chimneys, large oak trees, manicured lawn, and a rose garden. It looked as though it had been picked up and moved from Connecticut. There was a walkway made of cobblestones leading from the driveway to the front steps.

Warren had just parked at the curb when the police car arrived. The officer who got out and walked to the front door was a short woman with dark hair in a tight bun. She pushed the doorbell, and as Warren got out of his car, he could hear the chime sounding inside. He walked to the foot of the driveway and said, “Hi, officer. I’m Charles Warren, Mrs. Ellis’s attorney. I’m the one who asked for a welfare check. She doesn’t seem to be responding.”

“Not so far,” she said, “but I just got here.” She pushed the doorbell again.

“Do you mind if I hang around while you do the check?”

“Suit yourself,” she said.

She rang the doorbell again, they heard the chime and waited for about ten seconds, and then she knocked on the door loudly and they both listened, but there was no sound of footsteps. She knocked again, this time more loudly, with no response, and then she rang again. Next she stepped to the front window and looked in. “I can see the alarm panel, and the green light is on, so it isn’t armed.” She tried the doorknob, but it was locked.

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