Chapter 14

                                    

                                              
Copyright (c) 2015 Phyllis Zimbler Miller
                          
All rights reserved.
                          
         Josh shook his head as he parked his car at 8 a.m. Wednesday in a public lot in Beverly HIlls and walked two blocks to the stockbroker office where Pamela Tannenbaum had worked.  Why had he let Rebecca talk him into this?  True, three out of 10 people scheduled to eat together for a Sukkot lunch had died.  But he certainly had enough to do without playing amateur detective.

                          
         On the other hand, he just had to chat up the office manager, what was his name?  Oh, yes, Neil Block.  Not that there was much chance of chatting up the guy when the phones were probably ringing off the wall.
                          
         Josh had decided on a surprise visit with no advance warning.  And although he disliked getting such an early start to his day, he thought an 8 a.m. visit would help his cause.  After all, most Beverly Hills residents should still be at their power breakfasts, their workout gyms, or not up yet.  That only left the question of whether Josh would find this Block fellow at work.  
                          
         As he walked, Josh checked out the windows of the boutique stores he passed -- upscale stores catering to rich clientele, both local residents and foreign tourists -- everything from leather purses that cost more than an average month's rent to party decorations for extravagant affairs.  When he reached the stockbroker office he entered and walked up to a woman seated behind a glass desk.
                          
         Josh said his name and asked for Neil Block.  
                          
         The woman gave him a once-over look before nodding and directing him to a glass-enclosed office.  As Josh walked toward the office, he noticed that only one desk was unoccupied.  The nameplate on it said "Pamela Tannenbaum."
                          
         Obviously the receptionist had warned Block while Josh had walked to his office.  A man in his late thirties wearing a two-piece grey suit and red paisley tie stood in the office door.
                          
         They shook hands and Josh explained that he was here at the request of Rebecca Stone, who had been a friend of Pamela Tannenbaum.
                          
         "Rebecca would have come herself," he said, "but she's tied up at the World covering the financial crisis."
                          
         Block nodded and gestured Josh to a seat, then sat across from him.
                          
         "You have to understand it was quite a shock for me to find her," Block said.  "I mean, the police actually broke in, but I was right there."
                          
         He paused and Josh tried for an expression on his own face of sympathetic encouragement.
                          
         "Can you recall anything she might have said Monday night before leaving the office?  Anything that might indicate her state of mind at that time?"
                          
         Block stared at Josh.  "State of mind? Devastated, like the rest of us."
                          
         "Devastated enough to take her own life?"
                          
         Block shook his head.  "It seems so."  And with that he stood up and said, "I've had my calls held, but now I must get back to work."
                          
         As Josh walked back toward the front door, he eyed the nameplates on the other desks.  When he saw the  name "Myra Winters" he remembered that this was the name of the sister of John Winters, a business manager whose client list overlapped somewhat with Josh's client list.  
                          
         Josh would have to call John to see if this Myra Winters was indeed his sister.  If so, Rebecca would surely love to talk to her.
                          
         And then maybe Josh would be off the hook with Rebecca for any more snooping.