I turned and scanned the street, debating whether I should knock on the door again. If Brian or Wendell was lurking in the bushes, I didn’t see them. I peered back through the screen door as Dana wound down her conversation and replaced the phone on the desk.
When she caught sight of me through the screen, she gave a little jump, hand coming up automatically to her heart. “Oh, my God. You scared me to death,” she said.
“I saw you on the phone and didn’t want to interrupt. I heard about Brian. Mind if I come in?”
“Just a minute,” she said. She moved to the screen and unlatched the thumb lock. She opened the screen and stepped back so I could enter. “I’m worried sick about him. I have no idea where he’d go, but he has to turn himself in. They’re going to charge him with escape if he doesn’t show up soon. A sheriff’s deputy was just here, acting like I’d stashed him under the bed. He didn’t say as much, but you know how they act, all puffy and officious.”
“You haven’t heard from Brian?”
She shook her head. “His attorney hasn’t, either, which isn’t good,” she said. “He needs to know his legal position.” She moved into the living room and took a seat on the near end of the couch. I moved to the far end, perching on the arm.
I tossed in a question just to see what she’d say. “Who was that on the phone?”
“Wendell’s old partner, Carl. I guess he caught the news. Ever since this business with Brian came up, my phone’s been ringing off the hook. I’ve heard from people I haven’t talked to since grade school.”
“You keep in touch with him?”
“He keeps in touch with me, though there’s no love lost. I’ve always felt he was a terrible influence on Wendell.”
“He paid a price for it,” I said.
“Didn’t we all?” She shot back.
“What about Brian’s release? Has anybody figured out how he got out of jail? It’s really hard to believe the computer made an error of that magnitude.”
“This is Wendell’s doing. No doubt about it,” she said. I could see her look around for her cigarettes. She moved over to the desk, stubbing out the butt she’d left burning in the ashtray. She picked up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, coming back to the couch. She tried to light one and changed her mind, her hands shaking badly.
“How would he get access to a sheriff’s department computer?”
“I have no idea, but you said so yourself: Brian was his reason for returning to California. Now that Wendell’s back, Brian’s out of jail. How else do you figure it?”
“Those computers are bound to be well secured. How could he get an authorized jail release message sent through the system?”
“Maybe he took up hacking in the five years he was gone,” she said sarcastically.
“Have you talked to Michael? Does he know Brian’s out?”
“That’s the first place I called. Michael went to work early, but I talked to Juliet and really put the fear of God in her. She’s crazy about Brian, and she doesn’t have a grain of sense. I made her swear she would call me if either of them heard from him.”
“What about Wendell? Would he know how to reach Michael at the new address?”
“Why not? All he has to do is call Information. The new number’s listed. It isn’t any big secret. Why? Do you think Brian and Wendell would try to connect at Michael’s?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
She thought about it for a moment. “It’s possible,” she said. She pressed her hands between her knees to still their shaking.
“I probably ought to go,” I said.
“I’m staying close to the phone. If you learn anything, will you let me know?”
“Of course.”
I left Dana’s and headed over to the Perdido Keys. My prime worry at the moment was the whereabouts of Renata’s boat. If Wendell had really found a way to arrange Brian’s release, his next move would be getting the kid out of the country.
I pulled into a McDonald’s and used the pay phone in the parking lot, dialing Renata’s unlisted number without luck. I could hardly remember when I’d eaten last, so while I was on the premises I availed myself of the facilities, then picked up lunch: A QP with cheese, a Coke, and a large order of fries, which I took out to the car. At least the smell of fast food obliterated the last traces of Jerry Irwin’s sweat.
When I reached Renata’s, her big double garage door was wide open and there was no Jaguar in evidence. I did catch a glimpse of the boat at the dock, two wooden masts visible above the fence. The house itself showed no interior lights, and there was no indication of activity. I parked my VW about three doors away and demolished my meal, remembering as I finished that I’d already eaten lunch. I checked my watch. Ah, but that was hours ago. Well, two of them, at any rate.