something notable to share, Dr. Badalia would call.
No news just means…no news.
She joined Trembley and they walked into the building, which continued the outdated art deco theme. They took the stairs to the second floor and found Reinhold’s office at the end of the hall. Trembley opened the door and Jessie stepped into a sensory overload experience.
The entire waiting area looked like a room-sized piñata had busted open and movie posters had spilled out onto the walls. There was not a single section of the room that wasn’t covered by a framed one-sheet of a film. Jessie didn’t recognize the majority of the titles but she was sure that Trembley was familiar with the likes of Space Guardian 3, Ultimate Battle Master, and The Haunted Harlot.
“Can I help you?” asked a sixty-something woman with a scratchy, cigarette-weakened voice, frizzy gray hair, and thick glasses, who was parked behind an oversized reception desk.
“Yes, ma’am,” Trembley said, taking the initiative. “We’re with the LAPD. I’m Detective Trembley and this is our criminal consultant, Jessie Hunt. We need to speak to Mr. Reinhold.”
“And what is this in regard to?” the receptionist asked without missing a beat, as if having police show up at her office was an everyday occurrence.
Trembley looked at Jessie hesitantly, unsure of how forthcoming he should be. She decided to help him out.
“We’re investigating the death of one of his former clients,” she said. “He may have useful information.”
“Give me a moment please,” the woman said and picked up the phone. She didn’t actually say anything, but merely listened to murmured words Jessie couldn’t make out. After a few seconds, the woman hung up and looked sourly at them.
“I’m afraid Mr. Reinhold isn’t available right now. He’s with a client. Perhaps you’d like to make an appointment?”
“This isn’t really an appointment situation,” Trembley said, bordering on forceful.
“How did he know what we were saying?” Jessie demanded. “Does he have listening devices set up in this area?”
“He has a very full day,” the woman said as if she hadn’t heard them. “I have an opening tomorrow at ten thirty.”
“What’s your name, ma’am?” Trembley asked.
“You may call me Mrs. Portis.”
“Mrs. Portis, this is a pressing situation. We need to see him now.”
Mrs. Portis’s cell phone buzzed. She glanced at it, then looked back up at them.
“My apologies, I had inaccurate information. Mr. Reinhold has actually left for the day. So how about penciling you in for tomorrow morning?”
“He left for the day?” Trembley asked incredulously. “I thought he was with a client.”
“He’s meeting with a client at a different location. I had forgotten. I’m quite old.”
Her lips curled upward, approximating a forced smile. Jessie found it unsettling. She had also lost patience with Mrs. Portis. She decided it was time to break out an old Ryan Hernandez standby technique. Hopefully Trembley would pick up on what she was doing.
“Do you hear that?” she asked suddenly.
“What?” Trembley wanted to know.
“I thought I heard a cry for help coming from back there?” Jessie said, pointing down the short hallway to the office door at the end.
“I definitely heard it,” Jessie insisted. “It sounded like someone calling out weakly. I’m sure I heard the words ‘please help me.’ Listen. There it is again. Do you hear it, Trembley?”
Somewhere in the middle of her charade, he’d picked up on her plan. Stifling a grin, he nodded.
“I do. It sounds like someone’s in distress.”
“We should check it out,” Jessie insisted as she started down the hall.
“You can’t go back there!” Mrs. Portis wheezed.
“Please stay where you are, ma’am,” Trembley ordered importantly. “I don’t want to cuff you but I will. For all we know, you’ve got your employer bound back there so you can torture him.”
“What?” Jessie heard Mrs. Portis exclaim as she reached the back office.
She was tempted to pull out her gun but didn’t want to overdo it. Instead she yelled out “LAPD” and stepped aside for Trembley, who enthusiastically kicked in the door and rushed in.
Jessie followed right behind, truly enjoying herself for the first time all day. That is, until she saw Reinhold.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
He was not with a client.
But Phil Reinhold was quite busy. From the looks of it, the man appeared to be trying to destroy a thumb drive lying on his desk by smashing it with the base of some kind of award.
“Stop!” she shouted.
Reinhold glanced up at them fleetingly before returning his attention to smashing the thumb drive. Trembley whipped out his gun.