(no subject)
=LG= Sal's Ranch - Saratoga - California
DESCRIPTION FOR SAL'S RANCH GOES HERE.
There is a lot of land, and a two-story house with a wraparound porch at the end of a long and graveled drive, and a barn nearly as big set back a little farther. It houses cats, as well as the ranch's compliment of horseflesh. At any given time there are horses out to pasture, or being worked, and other generally ranch-like things going on.
(Exits : [O]ut )
It's a quiet moment as Zaza arrives at the doorstep of the Harper for the second time. This time under far direr circumstances, the tense line of her shoulders and the strict line on her black suit reflecting that unease. This time, she comes as a professional not as a potential friend. She phoned ahead on the office ahead, so it should come as no surprise that she stands now on the threshold having just run the bell.
Despite the fact that Sal knows damn well Zaza knows how to find the ranch, the route she is given -- the route she is instructed to take -- is a circuitous one. (And yes, it starts at Old Home, rather than some vague, unknown point.) It may seem needlessly complicated, but given the circumstances, one hopes that Zaza will forgive her paranoia. The Sal that opens the door after Zaza's ring is similarly attired: though her pantsuit flatters the sharp lines of her features, there is none of the slightly-guarded, slightly-intrigued warmth that the younger woman experienced last time. The first thing Sal says, as she steps aside to let Zaza in, is, "Were you followed?"
Her answer is simple, although however polite, "No. I was not followed to the best of my knowledge." Zaza makes no comment on the given route, taking it without question and driving it seemingly casually, as if she was out for afternoon stroll. "May I come in Ms. Harper? Or to where ever you would care to speak," there is a warm professional ease her tone, practiced and polished as a lawyer's might be. Along with just a hint of a smile to offset even any potential rudeness, but for her eyes. Those blue eyes are focused, even a touch cold in their seriousness as quietly inform the world that is important and she is a professional.
Sal continues to wave Zaza in rather than respond, and closes the door firmly behind her before she moves to reset the security codes. "Good," she says when she's done, though it's left to interpretation whether it's for not having been followed, or some sign of approval for Zaza's professional tone. "We can do this in the office," she decides, and takes the lead. This time, instead of going through the kitchen to the living room, they cut down the hall beside/under the stairs, to a door a few down. "You'll want the security tapes," she says as she steps across the threshold. The office is spacious enough, with a clean-topped wooden desk and several sets of shelves, filing cabinets. There is a computer on the desk, and a second monitor that flashes pictures of the perimiter on a few-second delay. There is also a portable crib, in which young master James is currently in residence.
"Yes please, as well as any information that you can give on your cousin," Zaza queries politely. There is a soft look towards the crib before she is all business again, affecting a casual posture as she stands with her hands to the side awaiting the security tapes. "Any recent changes in the (it is a very carefully spoke 'the') last few months? Any new acquaintances, excluding myself and Iago, or anything just... odd that you can recall?"
Jimmy seems relatively content to amuse himself for the moment: this, at least, is somewhat regular routine. (Bedtime without Uncle Jack, however, was a misery.) Sal is all coiled tension as she reaches into a desk drawer and extracts a CD. It is labeled with the date that she's already reported seeing the suspicious vehicle. Her mouth skews unhappy, /hard/. "He has a standing meeting for coffee with a woman named Grace," she says, and the level look she gives Zaza says 'I know she tracks back to Titan,' "But that varies from week to week -- it's not always the same day. Few weeks ago, he tells me he can't shake the feeling that he's being watched, but he hasn't been able to make a tail. I think you're the last strays he's actually brought to the house, but I don't know all of his friends in town."
There's a short nod in return to that level look, both confirming that information and indicating that she is in fact listening. Blue eyes narrow as the mention of feeling watched, the only tell that something the least bit personal is functioning behind all of that highly educated and well trained, professional semi-gloss and glitter. "Has he been outed before? Or ever definitively?" Sal is too smart a woman to not know this could easily tie back to that and Zaza is laying it out straight. "Even any pertinent... previous issues that might have compounded into this, beyond familial relation?"
Sal slides the CD, in its case, across the desk to Zaza, and taps her finger against it once, lightly, before she withdraws her hand. "The family knows," she says, "and they were all here for Thanksgiving -- but this started before that. After," the movement of her hand isn't /dismissive/, so much as it encompasses Zaza sitting before her and her absent companion. "He was pretty sure that outed him. There may have been a couple of incidents in college -- he's younger than I am, so I can't be sure. This would be the only incident that he's mentioned, since showing up in California. We're not registered."
The CD case is tucked away into a suit jacket pocket with care, clearly a custom woman's suit as it has sizable inside pockets. Her eyes never leave Sal, even in the motion, nor when she takes a set back from the desk. "We some evidence of a connection to that," Zaza asserts with steady calm. She is quiet for a moment, thoughtful, "Would it be possible for you to give me a rough schedule or Jack's comings and goings or even his frequented places in town? If they have been following him for that long, we may be able to catch them watching his routine." It would be a possible start. There's a tap of her fingers against her pant-leg, making a mental note of the lack of registration and potential incidents.
"I can give you one better," Sal says, and shifts her attention briefly to the computer living on her desk. There is a brief, careful clatter of keys, and her frown deepens slightly. "There's a tracker on Jack's truck," she reveals, and her, "because we're both a little paranoid," is soft at the very beginning, but hardens back up at the end: obviously, neither of them was paranoid /enough/. "How far back do you want?"
There's a hard turn to Zaza's own mouth, there and gone in a flutter of motion. "Let's say two and a half months for good measure. I don't know how long they would have been following him, provided there was interest prior... but that should be a large enough time frame to give us something to work with." To start with.
Sal follows up her careful keystrokes with a few clicks of a mouse, and then somewhere under the desk comes the soft sound of paper being printed. "It'll be ready soon," she says, mouth still hard-set. There is a brief, hard tap of a finger against her desk that leaves a slight dent, rather than a smudge, and she frowns down at it. "Los Gatos Cafe," she says after a moment, "is at least one place he goes regularly, beyond what's on the list. Sometimes he parks somewhere downtown, and takes the kid to the park on foot. As far as I could tell without touching it-- in case LeBeau did shoot this up the line, and you brought a team in --his truck hasn't been messed with, although he's going to have a hell of a cleaning bill. I sent him out for milk and diapers," she explains, "both of which were still there. He went to the store in Los Gatos instead of sticking closer to home because he had a coupon, and was friendly with one of the clerks." Her resolve breaks, briefly, for a, "Son of a /bitch/," aborted as Jimmy re-announces his presence by banging a sippy cup against the edge of his playpen, and announcing, "Buh-buh-buh!"
"Thank you, that is good to know," Zaza says. There's another light tap, a softer and more thoughtful expression coloring her features at the new information. The interruption by Jimmy, who clearly has something important to say about his uncle Jack, is met by the bare curve of a smile. Once the wee one is taken care of, the women continue their conversation. Then Zaza leaves.
Zaza survives further interaction with Sal, aka Psycho Bitch aka today's exposition brought to you by.