Chapter Twenty-Six

Joe walked into Brent's room and watched for a moment while he tapped on his laptop. "Did you find anything on Ellen James or on that guy Clyman, who gave her the fake ID?"

Brent didn't look up. "Not yet. Being stalled like this is driving me crazy. We haven't had a new lead in over twenty four hours."

"I know," Joe said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I wish I could think of something."

"Relying on Cece is starting to feel useless."

"She might still turn out to be playing straight with us."

"And if she's not?"

"We're screwed." Joe rested his elbows on his knees and stared glumly at the carpet.

Brent turned back to the computer and began tapping again. Suddenly he cursed. "This is just what I don't need right now."

Joe craned his neck to see. "What?"

"My job. I was supposed to have a meeting with a major client yesterday and I forgot all about it. Now they're bitching to the CEO, who called my dad. He wants me back at the end of the week or else."

"End of the week is when? Tomorrow?"

"Yes." Brent composed a response to the email. "But what's worse is what isn't in my inbox."

"No word from the wife," Joe guessed.

"This isn't like her. I haven't written or called since I told her I had to go on an emergency business trip. If she's not trying to contact me, something's really wrong. She must've talked to my dad and found out this isn't a business trip."

"What are you going to do?"

"There's nothing I can do. I can't stop looking now."

"You just said we're stuck." Joe stood and began pacing the room. "Maybe you can do more from home than you can here. I suppose I could give you the key to my house and--"

Brent shook his head. "You aren't getting rid of me that easy. I promised I was going to find her and that's what I intend to do."

Joe stopped pacing. "Suit yourself, but I'm beginning to wonder what your real motives are."

"My real motives?" Brent stopped typing and turned around in his seat. "What are you talking about?'"

"You know, why you're tagging along, acting like you want to help. No other man would've done it."

"Don't be so sure. I told you I feel bad about what happened and this is the closest I can come to putting things right. If you want to read something into that, go ahead."

"What about your job, though? What about your wife? A guy doesn't walk away from all that unless there's something in it for him."

"As far as the job is concerned, it's only my dad. He'll get over it. And if he doesn't, screw the job. I have other means of income, and things were kind of ripe for a change, anyway."

"And your wife?"

Brent sighed. "It's not like we were getting along so great, you know."

"Well, either you're crazy, or you're lying about not being up to anything, because no one gives up a wife and a good job to chase after a woman he has no intention of keeping."

"I thought I already explained all that to you," Brent said with as much dignity as he could muster. "Last night I was told I'm a martyr and today I find out I'm crazy. Thanks a lot."

"What would you think if you were me?"

Brent looked away. "I guess I'd think what you're thinking. All I can tell you is it isn't true, and you'll have to take my word for it."

"Why should I do that?"

"For the same reason you're giving Cece a chance. What else are you going to do? You can send me away, but I think we've been pretty effective together so far. If we start working at cross purposes, what then?"

Joe turned away and feigned great interest in the cuffs of his flannel shirt. "Okay," he said. "I'll pretend to take your word for it, since I don't seem to have a choice. But we've got to do something soon about this situation with Cece. I'm feeling real uncomfortable with all the stuff she's doing for us. The rooms, the maids and having the run of the house were one thing, but now clothes? I'm thinking she doesn't want us to leave and she's just stringing us along."

"I've been thinking the same thing," Brent admitted. "Why don't we insist she call on the land line next time?"

Joe's eyebrows went up. "We should've thought of that before. I can say I want to listen on the other line, and we'll see what kind of reaction we get."

"If she refuses or gets weird about it, that means for sure she's lying to us," Brent added.

"That's a good plan, but what if it turns out she is lying to us? We have no other leads."

"We could try going back to Sylvia's."

Joe dropped his gaze. "I don't think so."

"Why not? It's a long shot, but at least it's a plan."

Joe shook his head adamantly. "Maybe you can go back there, but I can't." When Brent gave him a quizzical look, he added, "Just trust me on this, okay?"

* * *

Half an hour later Brent burst into Joe's room, waking him from a nap. "I found something."

Joe jumped to his feet, all drowsiness gone. "You found her?"

"No, of course not. I've got something almost as good, though."

Joe followed Brent into his room.

"Check it out." Brent waved Joe into the leather desk chair then leaned over and tapped a few keys. "What do you see?"

"It says John and Julie's St. Argent anniversary trip." He looked at Brent. "Who's John and Julie?"

"Doesn't matter. Scroll down and take a look at the pictures. Be sure to read the captions."

Joe did as he was told. "They stayed at a B&B somewhere around here, they rode bikes on the rail trail and John fell and had to be treated for road rash and a laceration on his arm.... dammit, will you just tell me what I'm looking for?"

"You'll know it when you see it."

With a frown of annoyance, Joe returned to the computer. "They went to a coffee shop, a few museums... they had a barbecue with some old high school buddies...."

"What are the names of the friends?"

Joe squinted at the screen, then sucked in his breath. "Well, I'll be god-damned."

"Scroll down two more frames." Brent reached to do it himself, but Joe shoved his hand away. "You'll want to click on the picture and get a bigger view."

Joe's eyes widened in surprise when he found the photo in question. It seemed an ordinary enough photo of a dark-haired young man in a starched white shirt and black tie, shaking martinis. He expanded it so he could take a closer look and read the caption out loud. "Our friend, Perry Clyman in his element as bartender at the Bellona Grill." His face lit up in a grin and he cuffed him playfully on the arm. "Good work. Now all we have to do is find this place and go over there." His face suddenly clouded over. "You think he still works there? How old is this information?"

Brent shrugged. "It was posted about two months ago, so that's good. Of course the pictures could've been taken years ago, but I have a feeling it's all pretty recent. It looks like these people were here over the summer, so I'd say there's an excellent chance Perry is still at Bellona's."

"Well, let's go." Joe jumped up and glanced at his watch. "It's 1:00, though. I wonder..."

Brent took a seat and began shutting down the computer. "Yeah, it's a long shot. I've never seen a restaurant have more than one bartender at lunch, and knowing our luck, it won't be him. But we can at least find out if he still works there and when his next shift is." The screen went dark and he snapped the case shut. "And who knows, maybe we'll get lucky. We know what he looks like now, so that will help."

"I'll say." Joe headed toward the door. "I'll go get my keys and jacket and meet you downstairs."

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