Part 15 (1/2)

He studied the cases, but found nothing about them that reminded him of Ellen Snyder. In even the most elaborate schemes, the culprits were stationary. They would submit a false claim and stay put, waiting for payment and hoping that n.o.body would learn what they had done or, in any event, would never find enough evidence to prove it.

Ellen Snyder's murder was not like that. The killers had known in advance that the fraud would be discovered, the checks traced, the trails followed. Their solution had exploited the weakness in the system, which was that these things took time. They were prepared to move faster. When the check came, they had it deposited within an hour in an account where it was sure to clear early, so it could be paid into the next set of accounts. And they had provided a prime suspect by making the McClaren's employee who had approved payment disappear.

That night, he went home and stared at the telephone for five minutes, then walked to a restaurant a mile away to eat a solitary dinner. When he came home, he found himself staring at the phone again. He took the card out of his wallet, turned it over, and dialed the number.

Serena's voice said, ”Yeah?”

Walker paused for a moment at the sound. Now that he had heard it, this was real. ”h.e.l.lo,” he said. ”Serena?”

”Yeah.”

”It's me,” he said.

It became Mary Catherine Casey's voice, tight with suppressed laughter. ”Which me is it? Am I supposed to guess?”

”John Walker.”

”Oh, that me,” she said. ”Are you calling to tell me that you've been dreaming of me every night, or that you want your money back on the flowers?”

”I'm glad you got them,” he said. ”At least that went right. You like flowers? I never asked.”

She said, ”I liked that Constantine was stricken with fear and dismay when they came here. He's afraid I'll run off with you. Don't get excited: if I felt like running, I'd run. Flowers wouldn't have much to do with it.”

”But I have been dreaming about you.”

”How romantic. Did I have clothes on?”

”What kind of question is that?”

”It's a perfectly reasonable question,” she said with a laugh. ”I didn't, did I?”

”Well ...not really.”

”That's comforting,” she said. ”I was beginning to be afraid you were more complicated than that.” She went silent for a moment. ”I see you're calling from home. You must have found the girl.”

”She's dead,” said Walker. ”They killed her in Illinois. I guess I thought Stillman told you, but ...”

”I wondered why I hadn't picked her up again,” she said. ”Are you okay?”

Walker took a breath as he considered. ”I'm not sad for me. I guess that's what you meant. I'm sad for her. She was just this girl, a nice person who did her job and didn't harm anybody.”

She a.s.sumed her business voice, as though he had been talking to Mary Casey and had not heard the click when his call had been transferred to Serena. ”If we can help, call us.”

”Not 'us.' The one I was calling was you. I wondered if I could fly down on the weekend and see you.”

”Uh-uh.”

”If this weekend isn't a good time, I could-”

”Not interested,” she interrupted.

”Oh,” he said quietly.

”You haven't finished with her.”

”She's dead.”

”That's worse. She's not going to turn out to be a thief, or make any mistakes you can't forgive. I can't compete with her.”

”Who asked you to? She's gone.”

”I can hear her in your voice. Look, if she was this nice person, then thinking about her for a while is no more than she deserved from you. So do it. When you've let go of her, you can call me.” The line went dead.

Walker spent the next two hours searching his mind for arguments that she had not given him a chance to use. He was over Ellen Snyder, and if he had not been, she was gone. He still thought about her sometimes, but the way he thought had changed. She was an a.s.signment, a case that his boss had asked him to study and solve.

As he formulated the argument, he realized that it sounded false even to him. He was not in love with Ellen Snyder, but Ellen Snyder was not a case. She was a person who had been subjected to fear and probably pain, and worse, a nightmare feeling that n.o.body knew what was happening to her, and no help would come. And no help had come. It made him sick. The fact that he had once loved her had made her so familiar that he could see it happening in his imagination, know what she had been thinking. He did not love her anymore, but Serena was not wrong.

The whole next day, Walker worked on the fraud project. He moved forward in time to cases that were currently under investigation, but it was impossible to find anything that was suspicious in the same way as Ellen Snyder's case. It was nearly quitting time when he noticed a commotion in the bay. There were heavy footsteps, male voices, the sounds of furniture being moved.

He saw Joyce Hazelton pa.s.s by his doorway, so he stepped out. ”What's going on?”

”Nothing, I hope,” she said. ”We're just getting the bay ready. If Hurricane Theresa keeps moving toward Florida overnight, we'll need to have a phone bank to handle the calls. Everybody sits in here and grabs whatever phone rings. After the L.A. quake in '94 we were at it for nearly two weeks.”

”What should I be doing?” he said.

”Going home,” she said. ”Get lots of sleep. If you're smart, you'll pack an overnight bag and keep it ready, so if it happens you'll be able to brush your teeth and wear clean clothes. They've clocked winds up to a hundred and twenty and growing. If it doesn't lose steam, the phones will be ringing when you get here tomorrow.”

The call came even earlier. It was three A.M. A.M. when Walker's telephone rang, and he was awake instantly. Joyce Hazelton's voice was quiet and clam. ”John, it's what we talked about this afternoon. I just got the call myself. We've all got to get into the office right away. It's already morning in Florida.” She hung up before he could ask any questions. As he dressed, he decided she had probably been wise. The questions that he could have asked were things he would find out when he got there. when Walker's telephone rang, and he was awake instantly. Joyce Hazelton's voice was quiet and clam. ”John, it's what we talked about this afternoon. I just got the call myself. We've all got to get into the office right away. It's already morning in Florida.” She hung up before he could ask any questions. As he dressed, he decided she had probably been wise. The questions that he could have asked were things he would find out when he got there.

Walker drove through the nearly empty streets, making good time. He listened to the radio, tapping the b.u.t.ton from station to station, hearing the drone of voices on call-in talk shows, s.n.a.t.c.hes of sports reports, blares of music. When he finally heard the word ”hurricane,” it was on some sort of listing that had to do with travel, and the next words were ”and in Minneapolis, partly cloudy turning to fair.”

He parked in the garage at three-forty, started toward his trunk to bring his suitcase with him, then thought better of it. The parking s.p.a.ces around him were filling up quickly. If he arrived with a suitcase, some of those people would be amused. If there turned out to be a need for it later, they would be much less so. He entered the lobby and saw that night security was still in effect, so there was a short delay while he signed in at the desk, and then another delay while a security guard used his key to operate the elevators to the upper floors.

When Walker reached the seventh floor, he saw that the transformation was already complete. Twenty of the forty desks in the open bay were occupied. There were typists and receptionists beside actuaries and underwriters. There were even a few of the investment people in the s.p.a.ces at the corner nearest their corridor. But his most vivid sensation was the sound of telephones ringing all over the room.

People were s.n.a.t.c.hing up receivers, uttering a few acknowledgments as they took notes on message pads. Then they would tap in policy numbers on their computer terminals and stare at the screens while they tried to answer questions. Walker could see already that many of them were out of their depth. A few would look puzzled, then raise their hands in the air like schoolchildren.

Joyce Hazelton would stride up the aisle to answer the question or take over the call, but it was a Joyce Hazelton he had never seen. She had always been made up and combed like a minor official of the State Department, always wearing a ring, a pin, and small ear studs of some semiprecious stone that matched her suit. Today she was wearing faded blue jeans, a pair of bright white running shoes, and a gray sweats.h.i.+rt that said PRINCETON 70 PRINCETON 70 in blue letters. He moved closer to her as she took a telephone out of the hand of a man he recognized as a vice president who issued performance bonds on construction projects. in blue letters. He moved closer to her as she took a telephone out of the hand of a man he recognized as a vice president who issued performance bonds on construction projects.

”Yes, sir,” she said into the phone. ”I'm a supervisor. My name is Joyce Hazelton.” She was leaning down to read the computer screen. ”Your premium was received on the twenty-third, which is plenty of time.” She pointed to a line on the screen so the vice president could see where it was. ”Your coverage is in full force.” She listened. ”What I would do in your place is make a videotape of the house. Just walk through every room with your belongings still in place, and then the outside too. That part I would do while I was getting into the car to drive away from the beach area.” She paused and listened again. ”No, sir. If there really are hundred-and-fifty-mile-an-hour winds, we'd rather pay off on your home owner's policy than your life insurance.”

While she was talking, Walker saw that there were some other managers walking the aisles, some of them getting novices set up at desks with hurried instructions, and others handling questions. He moved toward one of the empty desks, but Joyce handed the telephone back to the vice president and caught up with him. She guided him away from the desks and up the aisle, talking rapidly.

”John, did you bring your suitcase?”

”Yeah,” he said. ”Thanks for the warning. Where do you want me to sit?”