“Very nice. A very nice home.”
“Thanks.”
“Adele and I lived in a house like this when we married. Outside Stanford in the hills. We had a loft like this. We had a deck. Very nice.”
His fondness for the house outside Stanford was obvious. But maybe his true fondness was for the time they’d shared before their lives changed.
I said, “Would you like a bagel?”
The fond smile vanished.
“No, I do not want a bagel. I didn’t come here to eat. Where’s my son?”
“I haven’t found him.”
“Are you looking or are you too busy eating bagels?”
He had me there.
“Josh and Skylar Lawless discovered a payoff scheme involving a city councilman and multiple real estate developers. I believe they took it upon themselves to investigate, during which time Ms. Lawless was murdered.”
“The tramp? This whore he was with?”
“Her name was Rachel Belle Bohlen.”
“Fine. Whatever. Where’s Josh?”
“Hiding. He knows she was murdered. It’s in the news. It’s possible he’s left town, but I don’t know. It’s just as possible he’s still investigating.”
Corbin smacked his cane into the floor.
“Stupid! A simpleton! He’s no journalist.”
“He considers himself a journalist.”
“Magical thinking! Assuming there’s anything to this, he should have taken it to the police.”
I nodded, but my nod was slow.
“I guess he wanted to do it himself.”
“And now this girl is dead and he may be dead, too.”
“I guess it was important to him.”
“Idiot.”
I was tired. Lucy was gone and I hadn’t slept and I didn’t know if she would leave or stay or if they’d be gone from my life forever. I was tired of Corbin demeaning his son and from knowing what this must have been like for Josh growing up.
I said, “He wants to matter.”
“Oh, please.”
“Josh made a sign for the wall in his apartment. One word. It says ‘Matter.’ A reminder, I guess, to do something that matters.”
“He hasn’t.”
“I asked about it and Ryan told me something you should know. The only thing Josh cares about is impressing you.”
Corbin frowned. He shifted the cane but said nothing.
“He wants you to think he matters. I guess he feels like you don’t.”
Corbin shifted and the cane bore his full weight.
“You must’ve been a helluva father.”
Corbin leaned on the cane, swaying gently. He swallowed. His face was dark and closed and he swayed. His mouth worked. The hooded eyes glistened. He blinked faster and his mouth worked and he turned for the door.
Corbin said, “Bring him home.”
I watched him go, but I did not go with him. He let himself out. I felt angry and mean and small.
Some days were bad all the way around.
44
Corbin left me thinking about Josh and the means by which Josh could investigate a seated member of the council. Josh didn’t work for the Times or NBC. His resources and access were limited, but Josh was smart. According to Eddie Ditko, many of the articles Josh downloaded concerned developers whose projects were rumored to have been stalled or killed when they refused to pay Richter’s price. If Josh was still trying to dig up dirt on Richter, he might have reached out to them. If he had, they might have a means to reach him.
I opened my laptop, googled the companies, and identified the principal owners and their contact information. Keeping busy was better than brooding.
I called Block Sixteen first. A young male voice answered.
“Paul Hanlon’s office.”
“Jace Evers. I’m calling from the Internet Fraud Division. May I speak with Mr. Hanlon, please?”
“Um, he’s not available. What is this regarding?”
“Has Mr. Hanlon been approached by a podcaster named Josh or Joshua Schumacher, also known as Josh Shoe, anytime in the past two weeks?”
The young male voice hesitated.
“Josh who?”
“Do all Mr. Hanlon’s calls go through you?”
“I’m his assistant.”
“Josh or Joshua Schumacher. A podcaster, though he may have identified himself in another way. Regarding Councilman Richter’s office.”
“You could leave your name and a number.”
“You don’t recall speaking with Mr. Schumacher?”
“I’m afraid I don’t.”