and pocket organizer.
“That’s all right, old man,” van Arndt said generously. “You’re here on business. Dr. Bernstein even told me the name of the paper she’s planning. Anachronistic Mimesis and Temporal Alienation: Violent and Nonviolent Acting-Out Strategies of Compensation. What do you think of that?”
“I don’t know what it means.”
“Me neither, me buck-o, me neither.”
Lindsey scratched his head with the top of his International Surety pencil. “I’m afraid I’m losing the thread here. You told me this fellow Joseph Roberts actually saw the Duesenberg stolen.”
“Caught a glimpse of it, I’d say.”
“Came running back into the mansion shouting and then passed out.”
“Precisely.”
“But he was able to give a statement to Officer Gutiérrez?”
“I think so.”
“And then Dr. Bernstein did—what?”
“She loaded him into her Land Rover and took him home.”
“His or hers?”
“Oh, hers. He was much too drunk to drive. They had to go in her Rover.”
“Yes, but where did they go home to? His home or hers?”
“Please, Mr. Lyons,” Wally van Arndt said, “that is not a polite question at all.” She plucked the olive from her glass and used her teeth to pull it from its toothpick. She chewed carefully on the olive, dropping the toothpick onto the polished hardwood floor. “Besides, they didn’t say.”
CHAPTER TWO
In the morning Lindsey phoned Oakland Police Headquarters and asked for Officer Gutiérrez. Gutiérrez wasn’t in so Lindsey asked if he could get a copy of the theft report on the Duesenberg. Gutiérrez had said Monday, but it couldn’t hurt to try. The operator said she’d transfer the call, but after a dozen rings Lindsey decided that nobody worked at headquarters on Sunday.
He didn’t like working on weekends himself, but Harden had really come down on him about this claim, and it looked like another of those make-or-break opportunities. International Surety could stall for a while, hoping that the Duesenberg would be recovered. But eventually, if the car didn’t turn up, they’d have to pay. Unless they could find an out, like proving contributory negligence. Leaving a car like this one out-of-doors and unguarded, especially in a city with a crime rate like that of Oakland.…
Any Duesenberg, especially a 1928 Phaeton, must be a prize plum for collectors—and consequently for thieves. And if they’d left the keys in the ignition, the company could make a strong case against the owners.
Whoever had parked the car and left it standing in the driveway.… Lindsey hit himself on the forehead. He realized that he didn’t know who had driven the car last night, who had left it parked in front of the mansion. Ms. Smith had disappeared somewhere in the mansion while he was talking with the van Arndts, and that couple had practically drowned him in their own boozy bonhomie but they hadn’t given him nearly the amount of information he needed.
He was going to recover that Duesenberg, or give it a hell of a shot, anyway. It wasn’t the first time he’d set out to save International Surety a bundle on a theft claim, and if he could recover the Phaeton, he’d add to his record. But it was more than a matter of saving the company dollars, more than a matter of winning another gold pencil from International Surety.
It was his chance to be alive again!
Mother was settled contentedly in front of the TV, and while she remained absorbed in a rerun of The Donna Reed Show, he phoned their neighbor Joanie Schorr and asked her to come over for a few hours.
Leaving his mother in Joanie’s care, Lindsey drove to his office. He called up the New California Smart Set’s policy on the computer and studied it. Who had sold the policy? A broker located in Oakland. East Bay Quality Insurance Limited. Huh. He’d dealt with them before, with a stuffy individual named Elmer Mueller. Not much chance they’d be open on Sunday either, but it was worth a phone call. No luck, but at least they had an answering machine and he left his name and a request to call back.
He hadn’t wanted to deal with the Mr. Coffee at International Surety. That would have got Ms. Wilbur all out of joint when she came in Monday morning. So he had stopped and bought a styrofoam cup of coffee and a roll at a fast food stand on his way in.
He spread the wrapper on his desk, took a bite of the roll and a sip of the coffee. It wasn’t good but it was hot, and that was welcome on a gray winter’s morning.
He slipped his pocket organizer out of his jacket and studied the notes he’d made in Oakland the previous night. Mr. and Mrs. van Arndt looked like a pair of lightweights, although they might still be helpful in tracking the stolen Phaeton. But Joe Roberts was the one he needed to talk to first.
There were half a dozen Joseph Roberts in the Oakland directory. Lindsey started the laborious work of phoning them. Three were at home. None of them had ever heard of the New California Smart Set. Two of the numbers rang until he gave up on them. He got one answering machine, left his name and number and asked that Joseph Roberts to call him back.
There was an M. R. Bernstein, Ph.D., in the book. He dialed the number. A man answered. Lindsey asked if Dr. Bernstein was home. The man asked him to hold.
He took another bite of his roll and sipped coffee.
“Dr. Bernstein here.”
Lindsey swallowed coffee and roll. “Martha Bernstein?”
“Yes.”
He told her who he was, asked if Joseph Roberts was at her house.
She said he was. She said she’d summon him, sounding gleeful at the prospect.
Roberts sounded bleary. Probably he was hung over. If the van Arndts’ description was anywhere near accurate, he had good cause to be.
Lindsey said, “I represent the International Surety Corporation, and I’m processing the insurance claim on the Duesenberg Phaeton that was stolen last night. I’d like to come out there and have a chat with you, Mr. Roberts.”
Roberts didn’t reply for a while, but Lindsey waited patiently. Finally, “I don’t know—Mr.—what did you say your name was?”
“Lindsey. Hobart Lindsey. International Surety.”
“Yeah. Got it.”
“Well, may I?”
“May you what?”
“Come and see you about the theft of the Duesenberg.”
Another lengthy pause. Lindsey could hear an off-phone conversation, but he couldn’t make out what was said. Then he heard Roberts clear his throat. “Ah, I don’t think that would be such a good idea, Mr. Lindsey.”
“You want to collect on this claim, don’t you?”
“It’s
