Sensing a sudden reticence to speak, I probed, “Now, tell me why you think Paul is in the San Francisco area.”
Her discomfort increased, and after another long pause, Christine looked me in the eye and croaked, “A woman.”
Without reacting, I nodded and asked, “Does the woman live in that area? Did he indicate he was meeting her there? Are there any clues at all?”
Christine nervously toyed with her pearl necklace and said, “Ahm…Let’s back up, and I’ll explain.”
She recalled, “It had been a difficult day, and we’d both had too much to drink, especially Paul. We had an ugly row about me dancing too close with an acquaintance at Charlene Basset’s birthday gala. We both said some awful and mean things. And…like the awful person I am sometimes, I threw a name in his face.” She slowly wrung her hands. “That’s when Paul told me about a woman he met during the war.
“That woman was a nurse, and when I asked Paul where he met a nurse, he reminded me he was wounded and spent time in a U.S. Navy hospital in New Zealand. ‘Well, run to her,’ I said. He said, ‘Well, maybe I should!’
“We calmed down, apologized, and I whispered sweet nothings in his ear as Paul drifted off to sleep. Paul, bless his heart, can’t hold his liquor. Anyway, I whispered, ‘Sugar Pie? Where does this nurse from the war live?’ Well, he giggled, smiled that sweet, silly drunk smile of his, and muttered, ‘She’s from Richmond near Golden Bay.’
“When he left, that’s all I had. From what my detectives can figure out, Paul is around Richmond, California, on the east side of San Francisco Bay. The Golden Bay part doesn’t add up, but Paul was drunk, and if you think about the Golden Gate and San Francisco Bay, it kinda makes sense.” Christine’s voice became more upbeat. “I also learned her name–Ruth.”
“The U.S. Navy hospital in New Zealand,” I said, remembering the war years.
She nodded. “The letters he wrote me from there said it was a Naval hospital staffed by Americans.”
“Do you want me to work with the crew you’ve got looking for him?” I inquired.
“No, you’re my insurance man.” She smiled at my puzzled expression. “I want you to work alone and start over, beginning here in Fort Worth. We might have missed something. Dig into everything we have concerning Paul. Look at the ongoing investigation and whatever else you can find. You might come to the same conclusion as the others or discover that Paul ran off to Shangri-la with Lale Andersen.”
She punched her palm and said, “But I want to cover all bases. Paul is clever, and we can’t let him run away from me! We simply cannot!” Her eyes glittered with emotion and determination. This woman was used to getting her way, or there was hell to pay.
“I’ll do my best,” I said.
After studying me for a long moment, Christine went to an ornate writing desk against the far wall. She removed a large packet from the lap drawer and brought it to me.
“Now, Doug, give me your contract, and I will sign it.”
When we signed the contract, she handed me a $500 check for a retainer and tapped the packet. “Here’s everything we have to date. It contains an information sheet about Paul, the most recent reports from my detectives in the field and what they’ve found, or in their case, have not found.” Christine shook her head in frustration. “There is also a thousand dollars of expense money, a photo of Paul, a list of phone numbers and addresses, and two letters of introduction signed by Daddy. Our family name might open a door or shake loose information from a bureaucrat.”
She looked me in the eye and said, “Pull out all the stops. As soon as you find him, call me, day or night. I want to rush to his side and bring him home, so do not let him out of your sight until I can get there!” She pinned me with her intense gaze. “Understand?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I said in a firm and low voice.
She stared at me for a few more seconds before saying, “Good. Find him, Doug, and I’ll make it well worth your while.”
Christine then described the considerable resources she maintained so she could go immediately to Paul’s location. For the next half hour, we discussed everything in the packet, and I made some notes and wrote down some ideas.
“Now, Doug, we must discuss another very important matter. Two, really.” She looked away nervously and furrowed her brow in thought. “When Paul left, he uhmm… he… robbed Daddy’s safe.” The last three words tumbled out as if one word.
“Robbed?” I responded incredulously.
“Yes. That hurt almost as much as him leaving,” she lamented.
“Why on earth did he rob your father?” I asked. She shrugged as if she’d never considered it before. My right eyebrow crawled up my forehead in shock, a rarity in my business. “The police involved?”
Christine shook her head slowly. “No. Daddy and I decided not to involve the police.”
“How much did Paul…take?”
“Around ninety-six-thousand,” she said.
I whistled. “Ninety-six G’s? Some banks don’t keep half that…”
“I’m aware of that, Mr. Winter,” she snapped. She exhaled a long breath. “Look, I’m sorry, Doug. It’s just that…”
“I understand,” I said, not understanding at all, but I needed her talking. “I’m surprised at that much cash.”
“Yes, it seems unusual, but Daddy makes many cash deals,” she explained.
“Around ninety-six thousand?” I asked, trying to hide my incredulity.
“Oh, ninety-six, give or take a couple of thousand, I’d guess,” she clarified. “He doesn’t really keep a good tally of his cash on hand.”
‘Around?’ That alone spoke volumes about our respective stations on the economic scale.
Thinking about the logistics of grabbing that much cash, I asked, “Paul packed that all in one bag?”
Slightly chagrined, Christine said, “Yes, because Daddy kept it all in fifties, hundreds, five-hundreds, and quite a few thousand-dollar notes. He’s uhmm… strange like that.”
I thought I’d just heard it all, but little did I know, but there was more to come!
“How did he get into your father’s safe?”
Christine looked puzzled, and I elaborated. “Did he crack it, drill the lock, blow it open, or…what?” This would tell me a lot about Paul Smith.
With a pained expression, she shook her head and responded, “No, it was Daddy’s carelessness. He locks his safe, but he hates to go through all the rigamarole when he needs it open. So, Daddy runs the combination all except the last number and leaves it that way.”
“And Paul knew that,” I said.
She stifled a smile, but with a touch of pride, said, “I told you my Paul is smart, didn’t I?”
I nodded slowly and asked, “What’s the second important matter?”
More nervously, she said, “There was also a hardbacked, weighty, greenish-grey book. It’s about this big.” Her hands framed a space the size of a medium accounting ledger.
“It was a ledger, right?”
“Yes,” she answered with surprise. “It’s inside a canvas sleeve.”
I’d seen these kept in safes before, so I assumed they were records of her father’s accounts, but it seemed odd that Paul took this, too.
“Any idea why Paul took your father’s ledger?”
She stiffened for an instant and answered, “No, but Daddy needs it back.” Looking me in the eye, she said, “Recover the money, and you keep ten percent, and the ledger is worth another two thousand.”