points. Where is she?”
“I have no idea. She’s not at the Waldorf?”
“If she was why would I be calling you?”
Because you’re as charmed by me as I am by you?
“If you tried there and her cell phone, I have no idea.”
“It would be good if you did.”
“I thought you said Joel’s death had nothing to do with her.”
“I don’t like witnesses running out before I talk to them. Makes them look bad.”
“Running out? Did she check out of the hotel?”
“No, and her things are still in her room. But she’s not turning up.”
“You were in her room?”
“Oh, gee. Shouldn’t I have done that? Look, when you hear from her, you’re going to let me know right away, right?”
“Anything you say.”
“Because I don’t like people helping witnesses run out, either.” He hung up on me.
“Mulgrew can’t find Alice,” I told Bill. “He thinks that makes her look bad. I can’t tell him where to find her, so I look bad, too.”
“Did she check out?”
“No.”
“Then what makes him think she’s not just in a meeting or something, with her phone off?”
“Probably because so many people avoid him all the time, it’s his first guess.”
“She may not even know he’s looking for her.”
“Or she could be in trouble. Maybe that’s what was fishy.” I tried Alice’s cell and the Waldorf myself but just got voice mail. I pulled her card from my wallet. “I’m going to call her office in Zurich. Maybe they know how to reach her.”
“You can do that, but it’s eight at night there.”
I did it anyway, and all it got me was a woman’s voice, speaking German, saying nothing I understood except “Alice Fairchild.” I tried to leave a message, but the phone clicked off.
“How’s your German?” I asked Bill.
“My Dutch is better. Why?”
I made the call again and handed him the phone.
“The office is closed for two weeks,” he said. “Please call back.”
“That’s why it won’t take a message?”
“Who wants their voice mail clogged with two weeks’ worth of calls?”
“Who can afford to blow off business for two weeks? Wouldn’t your clients drop you if you did something like that?”
“My clients drop me for all sorts of reasons.”
“Yeah, like you don’t have that smart, dependable Chinese partner anymore.”
“And they know it’s my own fault. Maybe all the clients she cares about have her cell number.”
I was trying to think what to do when the phone rang again. It was another unfamiliar number, and I considered letting it go to voice mail, but at the last minute I answered, drawing out both names in case it was Mulgrew again.
“Ms. Chin? This is Leah Pilarsky calling.” The voice was tentative. “You don’t know me. I’m Joel Pilarsky’s sister-in-law.”
I felt as if the sun had suddenly gone down. “I’m so sorry about Joel.”
“Thank you. We all loved him. Ms. Chin, Joel’s wife, Ruth, asked me to get in touch with you. She got a call from someone looking for Joel, someone who didn’t know . . . Anyway, Ruth thinks it has to do with the case he’d just started, with you. Joel always spoke highly of you, and Ruth is sure he’d want you to go on. Do you want the number?”
Joel spoke of me at all? And, highly? “Yes, I do, please. Was it Alice Fairchild?”
“No. A man called Friedman, Stanley Friedman.” She gave me a number. “Do you know him?”
“No, but I’ll call him right away. Thank you very much. And please tell Mrs. Pilarsky how sorry I am.”
I briefed Bill while I dialed.
“Friedman and Sons, you’ve reached Stanley Friedman.” The voice had an Eastern European accent.
“Mr. Friedman, my name is Lydia Chin. I worked with Joel Pilarsky. I understand you called him?”
“Yes, I did. You’re his partner? My condolences to you.”
“Thank you.” I let the inaccuracy slide. “Mr. Friedman, do you have information you wanted to give Joel?”
“I’m not sure I do, I’m not sure I don’t.
“I have no idea. She’s not at the Waldorf?”
“If she was why would I be calling you?”
Because you’re as charmed by me as I am by you?
“If you tried there and her cell phone, I have no idea.”
“It would be good if you did.”
“I thought you said Joel’s death had nothing to do with her.”
“I don’t like witnesses running out before I talk to them. Makes them look bad.”
“Running out? Did she check out of the hotel?”
“No, and her things are still in her room. But she’s not turning up.”
“You were in her room?”
“Oh, gee. Shouldn’t I have done that? Look, when you hear from her, you’re going to let me know right away, right?”
“Anything you say.”
“Because I don’t like people helping witnesses run out, either.” He hung up on me.
“Mulgrew can’t find Alice,” I told Bill. “He thinks that makes her look bad. I can’t tell him where to find her, so I look bad, too.”
“Did she check out?”
“No.”
“Then what makes him think she’s not just in a meeting or something, with her phone off?”
“Probably because so many people avoid him all the time, it’s his first guess.”
“She may not even know he’s looking for her.”
“Or she could be in trouble. Maybe that’s what was fishy.” I tried Alice’s cell and the Waldorf myself but just got voice mail. I pulled her card from my wallet. “I’m going to call her office in Zurich. Maybe they know how to reach her.”
“You can do that, but it’s eight at night there.”
I did it anyway, and all it got me was a woman’s voice, speaking German, saying nothing I understood except “Alice Fairchild.” I tried to leave a message, but the phone clicked off.
“How’s your German?” I asked Bill.
“My Dutch is better. Why?”
I made the call again and handed him the phone.
“The office is closed for two weeks,” he said. “Please call back.”
“That’s why it won’t take a message?”
“Who wants their voice mail clogged with two weeks’ worth of calls?”
“Who can afford to blow off business for two weeks? Wouldn’t your clients drop you if you did something like that?”
“My clients drop me for all sorts of reasons.”
“Yeah, like you don’t have that smart, dependable Chinese partner anymore.”
“And they know it’s my own fault. Maybe all the clients she cares about have her cell number.”
I was trying to think what to do when the phone rang again. It was another unfamiliar number, and I considered letting it go to voice mail, but at the last minute I answered, drawing out both names in case it was Mulgrew again.
“Ms. Chin? This is Leah Pilarsky calling.” The voice was tentative. “You don’t know me. I’m Joel Pilarsky’s sister-in-law.”
I felt as if the sun had suddenly gone down. “I’m so sorry about Joel.”
“Thank you. We all loved him. Ms. Chin, Joel’s wife, Ruth, asked me to get in touch with you. She got a call from someone looking for Joel, someone who didn’t know . . . Anyway, Ruth thinks it has to do with the case he’d just started, with you. Joel always spoke highly of you, and Ruth is sure he’d want you to go on. Do you want the number?”
Joel spoke of me at all? And, highly? “Yes, I do, please. Was it Alice Fairchild?”
“No. A man called Friedman, Stanley Friedman.” She gave me a number. “Do you know him?”
“No, but I’ll call him right away. Thank you very much. And please tell Mrs. Pilarsky how sorry I am.”
I briefed Bill while I dialed.
“Friedman and Sons, you’ve reached Stanley Friedman.” The voice had an Eastern European accent.
“Mr. Friedman, my name is Lydia Chin. I worked with Joel Pilarsky. I understand you called him?”
“Yes, I did. You’re his partner? My condolences to you.”
“Thank you.” I let the inaccuracy slide. “Mr. Friedman, do you have information you wanted to give Joel?”
“I’m not sure I do, I’m not sure I don’t.
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