Chapter 11
Thursday, April 20
Henry pushed open the door to Sherman’s Deli the next morning for his usual Thursday morning breakfast with Wayne Johnson. He expected Wayne to be in their booth in the back but he wasn’t there yet.
“Hi Henry, Wayne called from his cell phone, said he’d be a few minutes late.” Millie said as Henry stood at the hostess stand. “Have a seat; I’ll bring you a coffee.”
He sat down in the booth and thought about the previous evening. He’d enjoyed himself, he hoped that he could be long term friends with Rosie; it would be nice to have some female companionship. This was the first time in a very long time that he realized that he had been lonely without Irma. Well, not really lonely, there was Charles and Wayne, but he was lonely for a woman.
“A penny for your thoughts.” Wayne said as he slid into the booth.
“Huh? Oh, this case has me puzzled.” Henry didn’t want to let Wayne know about his new social life just yet. After all, there wasn’t really anything to tell, was there?
“We’re no closer to anything, how did you do?” Wayne waved Millie over to get a cup of coffee.
“There’s a guy in the San Francisco Bay Area that bought a house that had once been owned by Bette Davis from Thornbird.
“Thornbird specialized in celebrity homes didn’t he?” Wayne said as Millie put coffee down in front of him.
“Do you guys want your usual?” She asked, pulling a pad out of her apron and a pencil from behind her ear.
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Wayne answered.
“No, I’d like something healthy. Can you get me a bran cereal with a banana or some other type of fruit?” Henry asked. Millie raised an eyebrow and looked at Wayne.
“Sure, Henry, we have fresh blueberries, is that all right?”
“Yes, that will be great…” Henry had missed the look between Wayne and Millie as he put down his coffee cup. “…and a refill on the coffee please. Thornbird specialized in celebrity homes, but the connections were loose and not real verifiable – if you know what I mean.” Henry explained. “Some of his customers knew that he was embellishing a little, the Bette Davis house buyer suspected something but apparently didn’t really know that it wasn’t true until the contractor working for him told him about a month ago.”
“Have you talked with him?”
“Not yet. I left him several messages yesterday, and again this morning before I came here. He’s not returning my calls.” Henry looked at Wayne, “He was down here the day that Thornbird was killed. Do you think we could have the cops in the Bay Area have a talk with him?”
“I don’t know. What are the Bay Area cops going to do? Pick the guy up and ask him if he knew that his house was owned by Bette Davis? I don’t think that will work. You should go up there and talk to him.”
“To San Francisco? That’s a long way but I guess I can do that. Help me find out where this guy works and lives and I can go up. Will Palm Springs PD pay for a plane ticket or should I drive?”
“We should be able to afford to fly you up there, I can make a couple of phone calls and get you all of the suspect’s address information, why don’t you call the airline and make a reservation? You should be able to go up and back in one day.” Wayne pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and started dialing his office. “Give me the phone numbers you have for him, I should be able to get addresses and everything you need from them.”
“Yeah, I guess I can go today, I think Alaska Airlines has flights directly to SFO from here. His numbers are on the back of this card.” Millie brought their breakfasts and Henry started in on his cereal. Millie gave Wayne another questioning look before heading to another table.
Wayne folded up his cell phone and started in on his pancakes. “They’ll call me back in a few minutes with his home and work address. I asked them to look up what kind of car he drives as well.”
“Ok, sounds good. I’ll go home grab a few things and call the airline.” Henry said.
“You know, we really need to get you a cell phone.” Wayne said in-between bites of his pancakes. “I’ll call them for you from here and get you a reservation.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket again and called information, within moments he was connected to the airline and started making Henry’s travel arrangements.
“My daughter Claire tells me the same thing, but I’m retired and don’t feel like being called by everyone all the time.” Henry snagged a blueberry with his spoon. He had the feeling that Wayne was not paying any attention to him at all.
“Ok, you’re set. I couldn’t get you out this morning; the earliest non-stop was at three something this afternoon. You’ll have to spend the night courtesy of the Palm Springs PD. Your flight back is tomorrow, you should be back in time to swim your laps. I booked you a car at the San Francisco Airport, but since I don’t know where your guy lives yet, I didn’t get you a hotel, you probably want to stay somewhere between his house and office.” During the entire time that Wayne was on the phone, he was eating pancakes. He managed not to get a single drop of syrup or butter on his cell phone.
“Hmmm, I hadn’t counted on spending the night. What the heck, that’s ok I guess.” Henry finished the last of the milk in his bowl of cereal.
“Yeah, like where do you need to be that you can’t enjoy an evening away in the Bay Area?” Wayne asked looking at his friend suspiciously.
“Nowhere, I said it was fine.” Henry looked at his watch and decided that he had plenty of time before heading out to the airport. “If I think Anchula did it after talking with him, do you want me to have the local cops pick him up?” “That’s probably the best idea; otherwise, one of us would have to fly up to get him. Just in case, why don’t you bring your handcuffs and your Glock?” Wayne waved Millie over to get a refill on his coffee. Henry waived off the offer of more coffee.
“I’ll bring the cuffs, but airport security will give me a lot of grief if I bring the Glock. I don’t have a badge anymore remember?”
“Ok, then please be careful. If you think you might have difficulty with this Anchovy guy, please call the locals in to help you.” Wayne sipped his coffee.
“Anchula, the guy’s name is Amit Anchula.” Henry explained.
Just then Wayne’s cell phone rang. He looked at its display before answering.
“Yeah.” He said flipping the phone open.
“Ok, wait a second.” Wayne pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket and pulled a paper napkin out of the dispenser on the table.
“Go ahead.” He spent several minutes writing down information that someone on the other end of the phone was reading to him. He finished and folded his phone up and put his pen back. He pushed the napkin towards Henry. “Anchula lives in Los Altos, I think that is somewhere south of San Francisco, and he works at Xalaxy a company in Mountain View. I’m not sure where that is, but I doubt that those two towns are very far apart. He drives a Mercedes ML320, that is one of those little SUV’s, looks like he has a few bucks.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right about the money. Did you get a color on the car? I’ll pick up a map at the Southern California Auto Club office on the way to the airport.” Henry said. “I guess I’ll get a hotel room when I get there and figure out the lay of the land.”
“Why don’t you give me a call once you land, maybe my office can help you out with something while you’re in the air?”
Wayne picked up the check that Millie had dropped on the table and got up to head for the cashier.
“Yeah, I can do that.” Henry reached in his pocket to get a couple of bucks for the tip. He was thinking if he needed to let Rosie know that he was going out of town. He wanted to, but there was really no reason to call her. They had left it fairly casual last night; he was to call her when he was ready to see her again. Maybe he should call her at her office and ask her out on Saturday night and then he could casually mention that he would be gone tonight. Yeah, that’s what he could do, that way she would know, but at the same tim
e it wasn’t as though he was calling specifically to tell her that he was going to be out of town.
Henry walked into his house and first wrote a message to Charles on the refrigerator’s white board to say he was flying out and would be gone until tomorrow. Then he grabbed a bag from his closet and packed his toiletries, a clean shirt, underwear and an extra pair of socks. He threw his handcuffs into the bag and picked up the paperback that he’d been reading from his nightstand as well. Just then he heard Charles come home.
“Heeeey, do you want a ride?” Charles poked his head around Henry’s bedroom door. “Where are you going anyway?”
“I’m flying to San Francisco this afternoon, picking up a rental car and then driving to Mountain View, you ought to be familiar with that area.” Henry zipped his bag shut.
“Sort of, I never went down the Peninsula much, there’s nothing there.” Charles leaned against the door frame.
“Well, there’s a potential suspect there, he’s not returning my calls and so Wayne asked me to go up and talk to him.” Henry picked his bag up from the bed and started for the door as Charles stepped aside.
“So the guy lives in Mountain View?” Charles followed Henry into the kitchen.
“No, he actually lives in Los Altos, but the company he works for is in Mountain View, so I’m hoping to find him at one of those two places.” Henry set his bag on the kitchen table and pulled his wallet out to see how much cash he had.
“Well, I believe they’re right next to each other, but I have a Bay Area map in my room, let me get it for you.” Charles walked off to his room at the other side of the house.
“I’ll take the ride to the airport if that offer is still good.” Henry yelled after him.
“Ok, I can take you right now.” Charles yelled back. “Are you ready? By the way, you should bring a jacket; it’s usually a lot colder up there!” He said in a normal tone of voice as he walked back into the kitchen waving the map.
“All right, let’s go now then, thanks for this.” Henry took the map and put it in the side pocket of his bag. He opened the hall closet and took a windbreaker off its hanger and opened his bag and laid it on top. He picked up the bag and walked out to the garage with Charles close behind.
One of the benefits of the small town atmosphere that Palm Springs has retained is that the airport is easily reachable from most areas of the city. Henry’s house was no exception and within fifteen minutes he was walking into the terminal looking for the Alaska Airlines ticket counter. He stood in a relatively short line and got to the ticket agent who welcomed him as Deputy Wright.
Obviously Wayne’s phone calls had made some impact with the airline. However, the agent at the counter told him that the only difference it made was that he would not have to go through the extra security check that someone who bought a last minute ticket at the counter normally had to go through since he was “traveling on official police business.”
Henry got his boarding pass and headed out to the terminal. He went through the security checkpoint, and indeed there was no problem. He bought a bottle of water at the snack bar; he thought it was amazing what airport stores charged for a simple bottle of water. He sat down near the gate to wait for the boarding announcement. The Alaska Airlines Boeing 737 arrived, let out a large number of passengers and within twenty minutes after it pulled up to the gate Henry was walking down the plane’s aisle looking for his seat number. He put his bag in the overhead and sat down just behind the wing in a window seat. He normally preferred aisle seats, he liked stretching his long legs out, but the ticket agent told him that he was lucky that he didn’t have to sit in the middle.
The jet took off; Henry looked out of the window to see if he could see his house, but they gained altitude quickly and Henry couldn’t spot anything that looked familiar except the wind farms that helped produce electrical energy for Palm Springs’ air conditioners. He settled back in his seat and realized that he forgot to call Rosie. Maybe he could call her tonight from the hotel. The plane reached its cruising altitude and Henry reached for the magazine from the seat pocket. He browsed through it as he thought again about confronting Amit Anchula. The stewardess, Henry couldn’t get used to calling them attendants, interrupted his thoughts and asked him if he wanted a drink. He had black coffee and some kind of sesame crackers they were handing out, they weren’t very good.
The captain came on the intercom and announced that they were approaching San Francisco International Airport where it was sixty-five degrees. Chilly compared to the ninety-five he had left behind. By the time the plane pulled up to the gate Henry was ready to go. He stood up and grabbed his bag, pulled his jacket out of it and put it on. As he was waiting in the aisle to get off the plane he thought he’d call Wayne to see if he had arranged a hotel room for him before heading off to get the rental car.
This must be one of the older terminals at the San Francisco Airport; he had a hard time finding a public phone. Everyone had cell phones these days, maybe he did have to get one; it would come in handy now. There was a bank of phones next to the security checkpoint, he found one that wasn’t being used and called Wayne’s cell phone.
“Henry, is that you?” Wayne answered.
“Yes, how did you know?” Henry was curious.
“I have caller id on my cell phone, I recognized the area code.” Wayne had a tone in his voice that this was obvious and Henry should have realized that.
“Oh yeah. I’m on the ground, I’m going to get my rental car, did you reserve a hotel room for me?” Henry asked. “Aw shoot, sorry buddy, I totally forgot, I got busy with this murder suicide we’re helping out on in Cathedral City.” Wayne said, “Hang on, I’ll get you something right now, I’ll…”
“Naw, never mind, I’ll find something on my own. I’ll call you again when I get settled.” Henry hung up the phone.
Henry took the airport people mover train out to the rental car office. They gave him a Ford Taurus, a map and some confusing instructions on pre-paying for a tank of gasoline. He headed out, found the freeway and was soon speeding south at sixty-five. After about twenty minutes all four lanes of the freeway came to a crawl. He forgot what rush hour on a major highway could be like, Eagle River, Wisconsin didn’t have any traffic and he hardly ever used the Ten as the Interstate was known in the Coachella Valley.
Along with thousands of other cars, he idled the remaining five miles towards Los Altos. By now it was close to six and he figured the best place to catch Anchula was at his home. He took the freeway exit for Los Altos and pulled over into a gas station to look at the map Charles gave him. He pulled the napkin from Wayne from his pocket, checked the map and it looked as though he was about five miles east of Anchula’s house. He headed west towards the mountains crossed over a large street that he’d heard of before, El Camino Real, and after a few more traffic lights and turns he was parked three houses down from Anchula’s home.
There were no cars on Anchula’s driveway, and the house looked like most of the others in the neighborhood. He got out of his Taurus quietly and walked over to the house and knocked on the door. There was no answer. He looked through the window next to the door, he was looking into the home’s kitchen and it looked spotless. Either Anchula didn’t use it much or he was a neat freak.
He decided to check out the back. He pushed open the gate at the side of the house, there were some garbage cans there, he picked up the lid on one, there were some paper bags and cups from McDonald’s and nothing else. He put the lid back and continued around the back. The patio had only one chair, nothing else, not even the obligatory barbecue that everyone in California had. There was a sliding glass door that led into what appeared to be the living room; there was a beanbag chair in front of a large television and no other furniture.
A look through the other windows revealed a bedroom without any furniture and what had to be the master bedroom with what appeared to be a brand new bedroom set with a king sized bed. It looked as though Anchula furnished
the home with the bedroom, but had not yet gotten around to buying anything else.
He walked back past the garbage cans and opened the gate when he was startled by an older man with a large dog on the driveway. It was either a lab or a mutt; Henry wasn’t too good at recognizing dogs other than their size and this one definitely qualified as large.
“Can I help you?” The man said while the dog watched him carefully, it looked as though it couldn’t decide whether to growl or wag its tail.
“I’m looking for Amit, I’m his Uncle, I’m in town for a convention and decided to stop by to say hello.”
Henry kept the gate between him and the dog. “Hmmmm, you don’t look like him, but whatever. It’s only six thirty; you’ll probably still find him at work. I’m Amit’s neighbor, Bob Thomas.” The dog started wagging his tail.
“Good to meet you, he’s my wife’s nephew, that’s why we don’t look alike. If he’s still at work at this hour that’s probably why he hasn’t been answering the phone.” Henry now stepped out past the gate and closed it behind him.
“Hmmm, I guess. He works for one of those high tech companies over here in Mountain View, but I don’t know exactly which one. I can tell him you came by, Mr.….” Bob Thomas walked to the curb with Henry.
“I have the address, I think I’ll drive over and surprise him right now.” Henry turned towards Bob to shake his hand. “I appreciate you looking after Amit’s place while he’s working. I’ll be sure to tell his aunt.”
“Sure, glad to help out. Tell her that kid works too hard.” Bob and his dog turned around to walk back to his house. “I’ll do that. Thanks again for your help.” Henry watched Bob go into the house next door before walking back to his car. He got in, sat down behind the wheel and breathed a sigh of relief. That was a close call, the dog could have caused quite a scene, he was glad he was able to convince Bob that he didn’t mean Anchula any harm. He pulled out his map, figured out how to get to Xalaxy and started the car.