“And if Schumacher called for Mr. Hanlon, it would’ve gone through you?”
“Mr. Evers, everything goes through me. I have no life.”
I thanked him, phoned Frank Pinella of Crest Pinella Construction, and did it again.
“Jace Evers. I’m calling from the Internet Fraud Division. May I speak with Mr. Pinella, please?”
“I’ll see if he’s available.”
She put me on hold and returned a few seconds later.
“What’s this regarding?”
“A podcaster named Josh or Joshua Schumacher, also known as Josh Shoe. I’m calling to see if—”
The line went dead, so I called again.
“Crest Pinella. Mr. Pinella’s office.”
“We were cut off.”
The line went dead again. Josh had reached out, and Pinella didn’t want to talk about it.
Helene Moskavich’s assistant recognized Josh’s name, but asked her boss if she would like to speak with me. Her answer must’ve been no. Her assistant hung up.
Edward Dane’s assistant also recognized Josh’s name, and put me on hold to ask if Mr. Dane would speak with me. I waited on hold for almost six minutes, but Edward Dane finally picked up the line. He didn’t say hello or greet me. He started right in.
“I’ll tell you what I told Mr. Schumacher. I have nothing to say. That’s it. If he shows up again, I’ll call the police.”
I was surprised.
“He came to your office?”
“Well, I didn’t return his calls, so, yes, he showed up.”
“When was this?”
“Who are you again?”
“Jace Evers. Internet Fraud Division.”
Official-sounding names were usually best.
“Uh-huh. This was the day before yesterday. As soon as he opened his mouth I threw him out.”
“But he called several times.”
“He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Would you have his number? We’ve been trying to reach him.”
“I didn’t keep it. Why would I keep it? I have no intention of speaking with him.”
Edward Dane sounded nervous.
“He asked you about Councilman Richter.”
“I threw him out. I have nothing but respect for Councilman Richter.”
He didn’t sound as if he respected Richter. He sounded afraid he was being recorded.
The day before yesterday. Josh was still in town and still chasing Richter.
George L. Rolly’s assistant refused to put me through. The assistant at Daemler-Riggins hung up without asking her boss if he’d speak with me. Andrea Scotti of Dieder-Scotti took my call, but only to tell me she had nothing to say. She asked me not to call again. People were afraid.
I phoned Mendez-Warren next. Lou Warren’s assistant sounded pleasant and upbeat when she answered, but when I mentioned Josh, she lowered her voice and seemed uncertain.
“I don’t think he’ll speak with you.”
“Please ask. It’s important.”
“He asked Mr. Schumacher to leave.”
“Because Mr. Schumacher asked about Councilman Richter?”
She hesitated.
“I’m sorry.”
She was sorry, but she didn’t hang up.
“Did Mr. Schumacher leave a phone number or a way to be reached?”
She hesitated, and said it again.
“I’m sorry. Hold please.”
She kept me on hold for almost three minutes, but then she returned. Her voice was even softer now.
“Who are you, really? And please don’t tell me this internet fraud nonsense.”
She wanted to talk, but she’d read me like a Sunset Strip billboard. I liked her for it.
“My name is Elvis Cole. I’m a private investigator. Josh Schumacher’s mother hired me because Josh disappeared. I believe him to be in danger.”
“Because of this business with the councilman?”
“I believe so, yes. In part.”
“In part.”
“Did he leave a number or way to reach him?”
“He didn’t, but I referred him to a friend of Mr. Warren’s. She might be able to help. I’ll send her contact information, if you’d like.”
I gave her my cell. Three seconds later the contact information for someone named Allie Rice arrived in a text.
“Did you get it?”
“Who’s Allie Rice?”
“Hold, please.”
She put me on hold again. I waited almost six minutes, but she returned with the answer.
“Someone who tried to help Mr. Warren. She was wonderful. A truly good person.”