CHAPTER FOUR

Note to self, when there are lots of things on your mind that you would rather not think about do not spend the afternoon alone in a car surveilling someone. A call to the office to put in a request for Caltrans footage from Mac netted her a message from Marjorie Kincaid. Mac said there were a lot of descriptive phrases including words like slut, prick, and castration, but the main point- Jimmy was leaving work early for a conference and would be home late.

Since Piz's murder investigation was not going to pay the bills, here she was waiting outside Jimmy Kincaid's office thinking about the dark blue Mercedes or BMW witnessed by the owner of Books & Beans. It was obvious to her that he was talking about Logan's car since as she'd pointed out before, it didn't exactly blend.

There were three possible scenarios. First, Mr. Misanthrope saw the car last Wednesday morning when she picked up Wallace for work and he confused the days. Second, he actually did see a blue BMW convertible the morning of the shooting, just not this one. Third, he was lying. When in doubt, pick C. Veronica dialed her cell.

"Mars Investigations."

"Wow, très bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I'm impressed."

"I'll have you know I take my job as First Impressions Officer very seriously."

Veronica grinned. "I need you to pull everything you can find for this bookstore on Mission Avenue, Books & Beans- incorporation, property tax records, owners and employees. Also background checks on all said owners and employees."

"Got it." A long pause, "you know, you still haven't told me how breakfast went this morning."

"Et tu, Brute? I thought our working relationship was perfect. I put crazy, impulsive, get me in trouble things on the calendar and you try to stop me from doing them. It won't work if we are both scheduling the dangerous activities."

"Not me, blame Wallace."

"Oh I plan to, if I ever speak to him again." People were starting to pour out of the squat, tan, industrial building. "I have to go. I'll come by your place later with fish tacos and you can give me the stuff on Piz."

"About that…"

Veronica started the car and held down the answer button to transfer the call to Bluetooth. Several short beeps and a few "hellos?" later, the call to Mac was gone. Why, when you needed it most, did technology not work the way it was designed to work?

Her quarry exited the building with an elfin redhead dressed in tan slacks and a matching tan polo shirt. Against the backdrop of the office building, she was like a desert chameleon. Veronica kept them in sight as they separated from the herd, crossed the lot and climbed into a truck. The company's name, Smart Start, was emblazoned across the side with an 800-number and the words "computer and audio visual rentals: trade shows and corporate events" in bold-face right beneath it.

Great, here she thought "conference" and "home late" were going to be code for banging the office assistant at a cheap motel, only to find attending conferences was his actual job- thanks for the tip Marjorie. Abandoning the tail and leaving Jimmy to his own devices was a tempting idea, but if she was going to bill for the day she needed something for the report.

She followed Jimmy and the redhead down Ruffner to Balboa Avenue then over to the San Diego Freeway South. Their likely destination was the San Diego Convention Center, which meant her likely destination was a long boring afternoon. Dad was starting to make grumbling noises about being ready to work and do more than sit behind a desk. This time the Bluetooth worked without a hitch. "Feel like meeting me in San Diego?"

"Are we going to the zoo?"

"No, way too much excitement for you in your weakened condition. I thought you might want to tail someone around the convention center for a few hours."

"That sounds like a lovely afternoon of daddy-daughter bonding."

"It would be, but I'm not staying. Mac has information on Piz, but I need some incriminating photos if I plan on paying rent this month. Rock, hard place- you see the dilemma."

"I would love to, but you know I'm still not allowed to drive."

"Yes, old wise one, but that is why you will make Wallace drive you. He owes me for this morning."

"But you didn't even stay for breakfast."

"Details, details. I'll see you in say, an hour?"

"It's a date, now what should I wear?"

"Tan." They made arrangements for him to call once he arrived so she could tell him how to find her in the 2.6 million square foot building. Veronica followed Jimmy and the redhead from the freeway and down to Harbor Drive. She resisted the temptation to stare across the bay toward the Naval Air Station, but she couldn't resist the temptation of thinking about Logan. Thinking about him and worrying about him.

It was truly wonderful how much information could be found on the Internet to assist with her worry, so far her favorites was the article entitled, "Several Reasons Why Aircraft Carriers are Super Dangerous" and the statistic where Lloyd's of London said working on the flight deck was one of the most dangerous jobs in the world. On the plus side, Logan couldn't really give her any grief about being a private investigator. On the downside, every minute she wasn't talking to him, she lived with a heavy weight of dread. It was a special kind of hell.

There were several other Smart Start tan minions already setting up strange equipment in one of the ground-floor exhibit halls by the time Jimmy and the redhead arrived to help. Veronica surreptitiously took a photo of Jimmy, which she texted to both Keith and Wallace along with the information for the exhibit hall. If Jimmy really wanted some alone time with the redhead there were any number of exits for him to choose from and way too many for Keith to cover. It was probably going to be a complete waste of his day, but it might help rehabilitate his spirits. If worrying about Logan ever got tiresome, there was always worrying about Keith to occupy her thoughts.

An interminable amount of time later, a delighted Keith and a disgruntled Wallace showed up to relieve her. Veronica passed off her bag with the camera equipment and Jimmy's file before waving goodbye. She stopped at the Blue Water Seafood Market to pick up lunch; mahi-mahi tacos for Mac, salmon tacos for her plus a salad and lemon bars for dessert.

The second she walked in the door, Mac gestured toward the computer. "Where do you want to start?"

Veronica held up the bags, "lunch?"

"I ate already. You eat, I'll talk."

She pulled a chair over to Mac's desk and spread her lunch on the corner. Despite her protests to the contrary, Mac picked up one of the tacos and talked in between mouthfuls. "I started with the credit cards only to find that Piz hasn't made a single charge on them for almost two months. Next I turned to his bank records, which I might add were more difficult to obtain, and again nothing."

"What do you mean by nothing? No paycheck deposits, bill payments, ATM withdrawals?"

Mac shook her head, "no deposits at all and the only withdrawal in the same two month period was an automatic payment to an insurance company last week." She passed a painfully thin folder to Veronica with printed copies of Piz's bank statements for the past two months. It was just as she said no transactions except the one to a company called Primerican Life. "Now here is where it gets interesting."

Veronica wiggled the file, "this wasn't interesting?"

Mac chose to ignore her. "The last bank transaction before the two month dry spell was a withdrawal for $9,999.00 dollars in cash."

"He was trying to avoid the Currency Transaction Report you have to fill out for cash transactions over ten thousand dollars."

"Taking out that sum was probably more conspicuous than just taking the ten. A smart teller, or in some banks the computer, would have recorded the transaction on a suspicious activity log."

"Suspicious activity is right. My question is what he needed the money for and what was he doing in New York…"

Mac interrupted her, "not New York, Neptune." Mac passed over another file. "I assumed what you did, that he arrived the day he came to talk to you, which is why he went to stay with Wallace, but we were both wrong."

The first sheet in the file was a flight manifest; Veronica arched her brow at Mac, "how much trouble could this get you in?"

"If they caught me? Plenty."

Delta flight 1586 had one Stosh Piznarski landing in San Diego at ten p.m. on the 28th of July, almost a full six weeks before he came to see her. "Where was he staying and what was he doing?"

"In case you're a little sketchy on this arrangement- that's your job to, you know, detect stuff."

"Just because he landed in San Diego doesn't mean he came to Neptune."

Mac turned the page in the file, a car rental agreement showing that Piz rented a car from Hertz at the San Diego airport, but three days later returned said car to a Hertz here in Neptune. Mac shrugged, "there is no computer trail of him at all after that car is returned."

"What about his cell phone records?"

"Conveniently enough, his cell phone contract was canceled. When you ask? Ding, ding, ding- two months ago."

"Anymore good news?"

"I'm still putting together all the stuff you wanted on Books & Beans."

"I'll leave you to it then." Veronica cleaned up the mess from their late lunch and took the Piz files into her office. Her first phone call was to Wallace, "hey buddy. Why didn't you tell me Piz was staying with you for the past two months?"

"Because he wasn't. He got to my house Wednesday night after you blew him off."

"I love you Wallace, but we're really going to need to talk about that attitude of yours. Piz arrived in Neptune six weeks ago and I thought he was staying with you."

"Next time, just try asking."

She knew he'd hung up on her because she knew Wallace, but sometimes she missed the good old days of an angry click, deafening silence, and then the wail of a dial tone. Veronica scrolled through her cell phone contacts and found the one for Piz. It was a little after one in New York, actual lunch time, but someone in the office might be around to answer a few questions. She used the office phone to place the call. "Can I speak with Walt Matthews please?"

"Hold on please."

Their "hold music" was a live broadcast of the show. Sometimes when she would call Piz she would do it when he was on the air and she'd listen to his show while waiting for a transfer to voicemail. He accused her of doing that on purpose. He said it was easier for her to make excuses for cancelled plans into his voicemail rather than telling him in person. That's when he usually won the argument. It was hard to disagree with the facts.

"Walt Matthews."

"Walt, I don't know if you remember me, but this is Veronica Mars, I used to date Stosh Piznarski."

There was a pause. "Yes, the very busy law student who we all believed to be imaginary?"

"One and the same." She took a deep breath, "you probably haven't heard, but Piz was…Piz…died. Actually he was killed and I'm looking into his death."

He hesitated, "are you representing the person who killed him?"

"No, no I'm not a lawyer; I'm a private investigator in Neptune, California." This was not going well, "the reason I'm calling is to see if you knew why Piz was in Neptune. Was he working on something for the station?"

"Piz quit working here, what maybe six, seven weeks ago? He applied for a job with the new radio program Reveal and it was my understanding he got it. I personally wrote him a recommendation for the job."

"Reveal?"

"The CIR and PRX put it together."

"I'm sorry; I don't know what any of that means."

"No, I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget to stop speaking radio. The Center for Investigative Reporting and the Public Radio Exchange put the program together. It examines things, that well, government and big business would like to keep private. They only have three or four pilot episodes so far. Things like teens in solitary confinement, the drug trade."

"Piz wasn't an investigative reporter; he put together nice, human interest stories."

"I don't know what to tell you. He said he was ready for a change and he wanted to report on the big issues. Truth be known I think he was looking to crack the next Watergate scandal."

No, no, no Piz, what did you do? Veronica thanked Walt for his help and ended the call with a promise to contact him soon with funeral information. She wrote the words CIR, PRX and Reveal on a Post-it note and left her office in search of Mac. Maybe if she could track down contact information for the show, Veronica could talk to someone before the end of the day. Instead of finding Mac at her desk, Keith was waiting for her. "You're not Mac?"

"I sent her home for the night."

"Why did you do that? She was getting me information I needed and I have something else I want her to look into."

"Veronica, it's still my name on the door and I thought it best for Mac not to be here while we talked."

"You're starting to scare me. Are you okay? Did something happen? Do you need to go to the doctor?"

"I'm fine Veronica."

"Oh my God, it's not Logan is it? Please tell me it's not Logan." She gripped the end of the desk to keep her self upright. Her mind immediately jumped to the sound of the alarm that ended their phone call this morning. Was it really only this morning? No. Logan had to be okay. He promised. Always, he said always. The tears were unstoppable. Veronica felt herself begin to sway.

Keith jumped up and folded her into his arms. "No, Veronica, no. Logan is fine. Do you hear me? Logan is fine. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm so sorry honey."

His words weren't working. The panic she kept at bay was unleashed and she couldn't tamp it down. What she needed was to hear Logan, but it could be days or weeks before that happened. Keith coaxed her to the sofa and sat with her. It was a long while before her breathing returned to normal and she trusted herself to speak. "If you are okay and Logan," her voice cracked, "is okay. Then what is this all about?"

"Maybe we should go home and have dinner first. I'll make my super special secret lasagna. You know- double the cheese. This can wait."

"It didn't look like it could wait when you sent Mac home. Let's just do this okay?"

He got up and retrieved her camera case from Mac's desk. "First, can you tell me why you had me following a married, no correction, a happily married couple all afternoon?"

Veronica scanned her memory for the faces of the tan minions, none of which was her client. "When did Marjorie get there? Did she make a scene?"

"Who's Marjorie?"

"Our client, Marjorie Kincaid. She hired us to follow her husband James, the guy in the picture, she thought he was cheating with his office assistant, which I thought might be the redhead he was with today."

"Veronica, the redhead he was with today was Susan…Susan Kincaid, his wife."

"I don't understand."

"There were too many exits to cover them all and there are only so many times you can walk back and forth in front of an open door to see if the guy you want is still inside. So Wallace and I went into the exhibit hall and pretended we were inspecting their work, like we were interested in hiring them for a private investigator's symposium we're hosting later this year. It was convenient since I have the credentials to back up my story."

Veronica smiled. Obviously her dad was more than ready to return to work.

"I talked to a very helpful guy, who gave me an overview of their services, the soft sell if you will before passing me off to his boss, the owner of the company, James Kincaid. Natural born salesman, I almost booked his services, before I remembered the symposium was a fake. In the interest of closing the deal, James invited me and Wallace to dinner with him and his wife Susan."

"A Marjorie Kincaid was in this office on Monday morning to hire us to tail her husband. I gave her the daily rate of $300.00 plus expenses and she wrote me a personal check for $1,500.00 that cleared our account yesterday."

Keith shook his head, "I don't know what to tell you honey, but that woman is not married to the man I followed today."

Her head hurt. Did she need to start investigating her clients now? New Mars Investigations policy- background checks on everyone that walks in the door. "Was that it?"

Keith rolled Mac's chair from behind her desk until it was in front of Veronica. He sat down and placed the camera bag at his feet between them. "Do you want to tell me about this?"

Veronica looked at the bag, then at Keith, then back at the bag. Realization dawned in her aching head. "That was not how I wanted you to find out."

The pregnancy test had been in her bag for the past week. She took the box out and stared at it every morning before putting it back thinking, I'll do it tomorrow. She stared at it every night thinking tomorrow is the day. After her horrible morning with Piz on Wednesday, she even drove around with it on the seat next to her all afternoon. That box had not been out of her mind for a second until this morning. Once she took the test, the box lost all its importance. She'd put it in her bag so she could throw it out some place far away from the Mars residence, not so she could hand it to her father in a convention center.

"I guess it's time for you to start practicing, who's your granddaddy?"

"Is the baby Logan's?"

"Of course it's his; I haven't been with anybody else."

"How can you be sure it's not Stosh's baby?"

"God, Dad. Don't you think I know? It's not like I rolled out of bed with Piz and hopped in the sack with Logan."

He frowned at her. That's exactly what he thought. Well she was not going to sit here and explain how long it had actually been since she had sex with Piz. For it to be his baby she'd be two weeks overdue, not still in her first trimester.

"Are you going to keep it?"

And the hits just keep on coming. "How can you even ask me that?"

"I know you love Logan, but have you thought about what kind of father he'll be? He didn't have a very good example. And you? Being a private investigator is not exactly a safe job. There are no regular hours and it's not very stable. Babies need schedules and stability."

Veronica scooped up the bag and stood. "I should drive you home."

Keith sighed. "You're right. Let's go home, have dinner and we can talk about it more later."

"No. I'm going to drive you home and you can have dinner with Wallace. Because you see this conversation, it's the last one we are going to have on the subject. This is my baby, mine and Logan's and there will be no more talk about getting rid of it, ever again."