How many times had Marge heard that before? She said, “We’ll find out if you have a second on the condo.”

“I don’t even officially own the condo,” he spat out. “Until she’s declared legally dead, all of her assets are frozen, for your goddamn information.”

Oliver held up his hands. “Peace, bro, we’re just trying to figure things out.”

“Well, if you want to figure things out, why don’t you ask Raymond Holmes where he was the night she phoned me.”

“Absolutely.” Oliver stood up and put his hand on Dresden’s muscled shoulder. “I’m not trying to take you down, bro. I’m just trying to get to the truth. In the long run, it’s good for you, because once we find out what happened to Roseanne-either in the crash or up at San Jose-you can get your money.”

Dresden was still fuming about his exposed personal life. Still, he blurted out, “I sold my car and I’m driving Roseanne’s Beemer. I can’t sell it, but I can sure as hell use it.”

“See how easy that was?” Oliver said.

“I should be taking a vacation in Mexico to clear my mind. Instead I’m working harder than I ever did. I’m also doing overtime.”

“Fifteen thousand dollars must constitute a lot of overtime,” Oliver said.

“Three thousand worth of overtime, ten gees for my old clunker. The rest came from pawning the jewelry given to Roseanne by Mr. Fat Ass. The Chopard watch went for about twenty cents on the dollar. Some lucky babe is going to get a very sweet deal.”

18

M ARGE KNOCKED ON the open door to the Loo’s office. “Have a few minutes?”

“Sure, have a seat.” Decker looked up from the list, noticing that Marge and Oliver were smiling. “How’d it go with Ivan Dresden?”

After relating the bulk of the conversation, Marge said, “He told us Roseanne had left a message on the answering machine. She said she was up in San Jose.”

“And that was about the only part he got right,” Oliver said.

Marge said, “The first time he told us about Roseanne’s message, he said that she was subbing for someone in San Jose. After we adroitly pointed out that WestAir hadn’t assigned Roseanne a shift in San Jose, he changed the line and said that she was up in San Jose, but he didn’t know why she was there.”

“So why was she there?” Decker said.

“Dresden pointed to the obvious, that she went up north to visit Raymond Holmes.”

“Yeah, he was also quick to tell us that Raymond Holmes has a temper,” Oliver said.

“Dresden met Holmes?” Decker asked.

Marge said, “No, he never met him, although he claimed he talked to the guy on the phone. From what we gathered, they got into a verbal pissing contest, but that was as far as it went.”

Decker said, “Do we know where Ivan Dresden was when his wife was in San Jose?”

“He was out for the evening, but didn’t say where,” Marge said.

“My guess is Leather and Lace,” Oliver said. “I think he’d like to keep his proclivities quiet until he gets his insurance money.”

Decker said, “If Roseanne was planning to come home from San Jose the next morning to talk over the fight, she probably took the five A.M. WestAir flight from San Jose to Burbank. So there’s a possibility that someone on that flight might have remembered her.”

“I thought about that,” Marge said. “The flight attendants and pilots who worked the five A.M. WestAir flight also worked flight 1324. Ergo, those WestAir employees are no longer alive to identify her.”

“The passengers from the five o’clock flight made it out alive.” Decker wondered how they felt, dodging the speeding bullet. “Maybe we can hunt down a passenger list and see if any of them remembers Roseanne.”

Oliver said, “Even if no one remembers her, she still could have been on the five o’clock flight.”

“Of course.” Decker thought a moment. “If Ivan’s telling the truth about Roseanne’s last words, that she said she was coming home in the morning to talk about the fight, why didn’t she deplane from the five A.M. flight at Burbank and just go home?”

Marge said, “One: She never made it back to Burbank. Two: She made it back to Burbank, deplaned before Erika Lessing came into work, and that was the last anyone ever saw of her again. Three: She got a last-minute assignment shift and was on flight 1324. Recovery just hasn’t found her body.”

Oliver said, “Option one points to her being bumped off in San Jose, option two means she was bumped off in Burbank, option three, she died in the crash. Or, there is an option four-she’s alive and kicking under a new identity.”

Marge said, “Since the last phone call on her cell came from a tower in San Jose, we’re thinking we need to talk to Raymond Holmes.”

“When did you want to do this?” Decker asked.

“I’ve got a light schedule tomorrow,” Marge said.

“Can’t make it tomorrow,” Oliver said. “What about Thursday?”

“Thursday, I’m jammed,” Marge said. “I can do it myself, Scott.”

“Someone call up Raymond Holmes and make an appointment to interview him,” Decker told them. “If it’s tomorrow, I’ll go up with Marge. If it’s Thursday, I’ll go up with Scott. I want to talk to him personally. Roseanne’s parents have been calling me specifically, and I feel I owe them something.”

Marge said, “I’ll give Holmes a ring and let you know.”

“Great. By the way, before you two leave…” Decker handed them each a stapled packet of papers. “Here’s your homework: the complete list of the tenants from the destroyed Seacrest apartment house from 1974 to the present. I’ve taken 1974 to 1983. Scott, you take ’84 to ’94, and, Marge, you’ve got ’94 to the present.”

“What do you want us to do?” Oliver said, scanning the sheaves of paper.

“Go down the list and verify that all the names in your years are accounted for-either alive or dead with a death certificate. If you find a name that you can’t verify-there’s bound to be some of those-check them against our burned-up Jane Doe to see if any are potential candidates.”

“There’re a lot of people on my list,” Oliver said.

“There are a lot of people on my list as well,” Decker said.

“All that phone calling…” Oliver shook his head. “Carpal tunnel has wreaked serious havoc these days. It’s grounds for disability, you know.”

Decker reached inside a desk drawer and pulled out a bandage. “Here you go.”

“How’s that gonna help carpal tunnel?”

“It won’t. But if you put it across your mouth, it’ll stifle your bitchin’.”

FEELING HIS EYES close, Decker sensed the papers slipping from his fingers, and wondered if he should give into that blissful sensation of nothingness. The alternative-to snap open the lids in an attempt to squeeze out a little more work before nodding off-seemed like a colossal waste of time and energy.”

“Do you want me to save you the puzzle?” Rina said.

Decker opened his eyes and took in a deep breath. “You can do it if you want.”

Rina took the papers that had landed on his lap and chucked them onto the floor. “Turn off the light and let’s go to sleep.”

No sense arguing with logic. Decker reached over to his nightstand table lamp and turned it off. He slithered under the sheets and slapped his forearm over his brow. “What time is it?”

Rina plumped up her pillow before settling down into bed. “A little past eleven.”

“You’re married to an old man.”

“I know. I was dying to go clubbing and you spoiled everything.” She stroked his arm. “What fascinating tidbit of police-science reading had you so captivated?”

Decker smiled in the dark and took his arm off his eyes. “I was going over a list of tenants that had resided in the now-destroyed Seacrest apartment from 1974 to 1983.”

“You’re trying to find your Jane Doe among those names?”

“Exactly. I’ve verified about half the people on my roster. I was just going over the rest of the names to see if something jumped out at me.”