CHAPTER 45

Milo and I moved away from the body and waited.

“Hang ’em high,” he said. “More like hang ’em low.”

He was restless, went over and examined Daney’s sneakers. The fatal two inches. “Couldn’t have been comfortable. Think they used Drew’s gun or Barnett dipped into his arsenal?”

“I’d guess Drew’s. The temptation of poetic justice.”

“Cherish got that along with the money. If you’re already going for the irony, why hold back?”

Considering the need to proceed on foot up the dirt path, it didn’t take long for the six uniforms to arrive. Then four detectives, and a white coroner’s van bearing two investigators.

Milo briefed one of the D’s very quickly, then came over to where I sat, just outside the tape.

“Ready for dinner?”

“That’s it?”

“It’s someone else’s problem now.”

We had pasta and wine at Octavio’s, on Ventura Boulevard, in Sherman Oaks.

No conversation until Milo had finished half his linguini with clams. Then: “These rolls are great.”

“Yes, they are.”

A glass of Chianti later, I said, “Cherish may not have intended to, but she helped set Rand up to be killed. Maybe all she wanted was for him to rat out Drew, but it was a sloppy plan. She should’ve known he wasn’t smart enough to conceal his anxiety. Her hatred for Drew overrode that.”

“Sloppiness ain’t an indictable offense.” He broke off a piece of bread, sopped up sauce. “Delicious.”

“You’re really through with it.”

“Don’t see any reason not to be.”

“What about Cherish and Barnett stringing up Daney and blasting his balls off?”

“Wild West kinda thing,” he said, spooling linguine around his fork. Some of it dropped and he retrieved it, ate, got sauce on his chin. “And I ain’t the sheriff of Dodge.”

“Okay,” I said.

“We don’t know for a fact that Malley and Cherish were behind it, do we? Guy like Drew could make all sorts of enemies.”

I stared at him.

He wiped his chin with a napkin. “In any case, the Valley boys will pursue it to its logical end.”

“If you say so.”

“What, you’re not finished with it?”

“Guess I am. Except for therapy for the girls. If Detective Weisvogel calls.”

“That surprised me,” he said. “Given your attitude about long-term commitment. What, she catch you off guard?”

“That must’ve been it.”

He dove into his food again, came up for breath. “Sorry if I’m disillusioning you, Alex, but I’m tired.”

“Don’t blame you.”

“I’m talking serious tired. As in waking up and not wanting to get out of bed and dragging myself through the day.”

“Sorry,” I said.

He picked up a strand of linguini. Sucked it into his mouth the way little kids do. “I’ll be fine.”

Two days later, he called.

“Daney mighta wiped his Jeep down, but it’s a forensic trove. Pubic hairs, semen, tiny specks of blood in the ribbing underneath the door. Also, I just got a call from downtown. My request for DNA has been approved and will be sent to Cellmark expeditiously. If I don’t hear back within ninety days, give a call.”

“Any word on Cherish and Barnett?”

“Not that I’ve heard, but I might not hear.”

“Not in the loop.”

“The only loop of substance was the one around that bastard’s neck. Anyway, Rick and I are leaving for Hawaii, thought I’d call to let you know.”

“Good for you.”

“Condo rental on the big island, ten days.”

“Thought you don’t tan.”

“So I’ll sauté.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Twenty minutes if the E.T.D. on the board is accurate.”

“You’re at the airport?”

“Love this place. Two hours of security line worked by morons. I had to take off my shoes, they tossed my carry-on, frisked me. Meanwhile, everyone else, including a guy who could be Osama’s twin, sails through.”

“Must be your dangerous demeanor.”

“If they only knew.”

Detective Judy Weisvogel didn’t phone that day, but the following morning I came back from running and found a message from my service. I’d hoped it was Allison. Told myself Allison had her hands full and maybe I needed some of that, myself.

I reached Weisvogel at her downtown office.

“Thanks for calling back, Doctor. Still willing?”

“I am.”

“From what we can tell, you were right. He only molested Valerie and Monica Strunk. Valerie won’t talk to you but Monica seems okay with it. You’d be more qualified to say but she seems awfully dull to me, pretty close to retarded. Or maybe it’s trauma.”

“That would fit,” I said. “Valerie was his number one choice. Monica was brought in for backup.”

“Bastard,” she said. “Can’t say I’m losing sleep over what happened to him.”

“How’d Valerie take the news?”

“She doesn’t know yet. Didn’t know if I should tell her, seeing as she still talks about him as if he was Jesus. Damned Stockholm syndrome. What do you think?”

“Find her someone she can relate to and ask them.”

“Good idea. She’s got no family other than some distant cousins who want nothing to do with her.”

“Poor kid,” I said.

“Poor everybody. So when can you start?”

“I’ll come by tomorrow.”

“Terrific. We’ve got the social workers involved and all the girls are staying at a youth shelter downtown. Run by a Pentecostal church, but the people in charge aren’t doing the holy-roller bit and I know from past experience that they’re righteous.”

She gave me an address on Sixth Street.

I said, “I’ll be there at ten.”

“Thanks again, Doctor. In terms of the long-term placement, if you have some advice, we’re all open. The shelter’s good but it’s temporary. I can’t see sending them off to new foster homes without some real careful checking.” She laughed. “Now I’m being a social worker.”

“All part of the job.”

“Unless you keep it out of the job,” she said. “And I’m not ready to do that yet.”

CHAPTER 46

That night, Allison phoned. “I’m in the car, ten minutes away. May I come by?”

“Of course.”

I left the front door open. Seven minutes later, she strode in.

Cosmetics, jewelry, hair loose and shiny. Sleek white silk blouse tucked into wine-colored slacks. Burgundy suede sandals with tiny rhinestone bows. Tiny gold chains across her instep.

She took my face in both hands and kissed my lips, but it didn’t last long.

We sat down in the living room, thigh to thigh. I held her hand. She touched my knee.

“It seems like ages,” she said. “Since we had any fun.”

“It has been ages.”

“I heard about Drew Daney. It was on the news- something about the Sepulveda Dam. Not a lot of details.”

“Do you want details?”

“Not really. You doing okay?”

“Fine, how about you?”

“Me too.” Her eyes dipped at the outer edges.

“What’s wrong?”

“I wish I could provide fun, Alex, but I have to leave for Connecticut in a couple of days. Gram fell and broke her hip and Wes says it seems to have done something to her mind, she’s just not herself. I’d be on the plane tonight but I’ve still got Beth to worry about. She’s better, a lot better, and there’s a very good resident who wants to work with her. Beth seems to like her but the rapport hasn’t developed and there’s the whole abandonment thing to deal with. I’m hoping to get her to accept the resident in a couple of days. To understand that my absence will be temporary.”