Cockatiels at Seven by Donna Andrews Page B

she’s involved in whatever Walker did, then?” he asked. “And dumped Timmy on you while she makes a getaway?”
    “It doesn’t sound like Karen, but who knows?” I said. “There’s always the possibility that it’s her husband who has done something wrong, and she’s getting dragged in because of him. By the way, how’s Timmy?”
    “Timmy’s fine. In fact, Timmy’s over the moon. Hal has invented a simple game that allows the player to drive a truck or a tractor around and crash it into things.”
    “Sounds like something Rob would love.”
    “Oh, he does,” Jack said, with a grin.
    “Timmy’s going to hate it when I try to drag him away,” I said, with a sigh.
    “So why rush?” he said. “Surely you can do some of your sleuthing from here?”
    “If I were cyber-savvy, I could.”
    “Or if you had a cyber-savvy assistant.” Jack pulled his chair up to his desktop computer and twiddled his fingers over the keyboard as if impatient to begin.

Fourteen
    “Okay,” I said. “Can you find out where Jasper lives? Or if he’s not findable, his uncle, Hiram Bass?”
    He could, quite easily. Jasper wasn’t in the phone book, but Hiram Bass was listed, at 14953 Whitetail Lane. Jack even printed a map to get me there.
    “How are you at phone numbers?” I asked.
    “Have you ever heard of a reverse phone directory?”
    “Do you have one?” I glanced at his bookshelves.
    “There must be a dozen of them on the Web,” he said.
    “Okay,” I said. “I’ve got four numbers. One appears to be her dentist, calling to confirm an appointment on Tuesday. I suspect she didn’t make that one. But let’s make sure it really is her dentist.”
    I handed the slip to Jack, who typed the numbers into something and then nodded.
    “Yes, that’s Dr. Payne. I go to him, too. Next.”
    “Next is Pete, with a college exchange,” I said, handing him the next two. “Actually, he called three times, the last time asking her to call back ASAP.”
    “Peter Willoughby in the computer support division,” Jack said. “Want his office number?”
    “Please. Although from what Ashok told us, today probably isn’t the best day to visit Mr. Willoughby. Next, someone named Trey.”
    Jack typed, then shook his head.
    “Cell phone,” he said. “I’m sure there’s a way to find the owner, but I’m afraid I don’t know it.”
    “Well, there’s an easy way to find out,” I said. I pulled out my cell phone, dialed the number, and listened while it rang.
    “No answer,” I said, after about seven rings. “And looks as if Trey hasn’t set up his or her mailbox.”
    “Feckless,” Jack said. “When will people learn to use technology effectively?”
    I decided not to mention that it had taken me six months before I’d gotten around to setting up the mailbox for my own cell phone.
    “And the last one is from Jasper, according to the message. Let’s see if he answers.”
    I dialed and we both waited. Eventually his voice mail kicked in and I hung up.
    “No answer,” I said. “And under the circumstances, I’m not sure I want to leave a friendly message for the guy. Wish I had a nickel for every minute I’ve spent listening to phones ring over the last two days. Anyway, that’s the lot. Not much use.”
    “Sorry about that. Anything else you want me to investigate?”
    I thought about it for a moment.
    “Yeah,” I said. “Nadine.”
    “Nadine have a last name?”
    “Probably; most people do. Unfortunately, I don’tknow it. But she works in the college’s Financial Administration office. She’s Karen’s boss.”
    “Let’s check the college Web site, then.”
    After a few minutes of typing, interspersed with frowns and the occasional muttered insult at the amateurism of the college’s Web site designers, Jack broke into a smile.
    “Here we are. Nadine Hanrahan. Office in the third floor of Grover Pruitt Hall.”
    “That’s her,” I said.
    “What do you want to know about her?”
    I frowned. Jack