Gone

CHAPTER 28

Erica Weiss phoned back while I was in the shower. I dried off and reached her at her office.

“What an experience, Doctor. You okay?” Like many referrals, she was just a phone voice to me. Fast-talking, high-energy, peppy as a cheerleader.

“I’m fine. Any word on Hauser?”

“Haven’t checked yet. What exactly transpired?”

When I finished the re-tell, she was peppier. “His malpractice carrier will be thrilled to learn the ante just got upped. Idiot just cooked his goose well-done. When can I depose you?”

“Everything’s in the police report,” I said.

“Even so. When’s convenient for you?”

Never. “How about tomorrow?”

“I was thinking more like today.”

“It’s short notice.”

“Those poor women could use their settlements, Doctor.”

“Try me late in the afternoon.”

“You’re a doll,” she said. “I’ll come to you with the court reporter. Just name the place.”

“Let’s talk later.”

“Commitment-shy? Sure, whatever works, but please make it sooner rather than later.”

Billy Dowd’s address was on the south side of Beverly Hills, a short walk to Roxbury Park. Last year, I’d witnessed a shoot-out at the park that had never made the papers. This was Beverly Hills, with its aura of safety and ninety-second police response.

Lots of Spanish-style duplexes from the twenties on the block. Billy’s was pink with leaded windows, a red-clay roof, and exuberant plaster moldings. An unfenced gateway led to a tile-inlaid stairway that climbed to the second floor. The overhang created a shaded entry nook for the ground-floor unit.

The wrought-iron mailbox inside the left-hand gatepost was unmarked. I climbed to the upstairs unit and knocked on a heavy carved door. The peep-window was blocked by a wooden slat but it stayed closed as the door opened.

A brunette in a white nylon uniform dress looked at me while combing her hair. Coarse hair chopped boyish meant short brisk strokes. She was fortyish with a dangerous tan, a beakish nose, and close-set black eyes. Santa Monica Hospital name tag above her left breast: A. Holzer, R.N.

A strange man showing up unannounced didn’t perturb her.

“Can I help you?” Some kind of Teutonic accent.

“Billy Dowd lives downstairs?”

“Yes, but he’s not here.”

I showed her my police consultant I.D. Expired six months ago. Very few people are detail-oriented. A. Holzer barely glanced at it. “Police? About Billy?”

“One of Billy and his brother’s employees was involved in some trouble.”

“Oh- you wish to speak to Billy about that?”

“Actually, I’m here to see you.”

“Me? Why?”

“You look after Billy?”

“Look after?” She laughed. “He’s a grown man.”

“Physically he is,” I said.

The hand around the hairbrush turned glossy. “I don’t understand why you are asking these questions. Billy is all right?”

“He’s fine. These are routine questions. Sounds as if you like him.”

“Of course I do, Billy is very nice,” she said. “Listen, I am very tired, got off shift early this morning. I would like to sleep- ”

“Eleven-to-seven shift your usual?”

“Yes. That’s why I would like to sleep.” New smile. Frosty.

“Sounds like you deserve it. What unit do you work on?”

“Cardiac Care- ”

“Eight hours of CCU care, then all the time you spend with Billy.”

“It’s not- Billy doesn’t require- why is this important?” She placed a hand on the door.

“It probably isn’t,” I said. “But when something really bad happens, lots of questions need to be asked. About everyone who knew the victim.”

“There was a victim. Someone was hurt?”

“Someone was murdered.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “Gott en Himmel- who?”

“A man named Reynold Peaty.”

Head shake. “I don’t know this person.”

“He did janitorial work at some of Brad and Billy’s buildings.” I described Peaty.

When I got to the muttonchops, she said, “Oh, him.”

“You’ve met him.”

“Not a meeting, just seeing.”

“He came here,” I said.

She plucked at her badge. Gave her hair a few more whacks.

“Ms. Holzer- ”

“Annalise Holzer.” Lower voice, soft, guarded. I half expected a rank and serial number.

I said, “Reynold Peaty came to see Billy.”

“No, no, not to see, to bring things back.”

“Things?”

“Things Billy forgets. At the office. Sometimes Mr. Dowd brings them himself, sometimes I guess he sends this man.”

“Reynold Peaty.”

“Billy didn’t kill him, that is for sure. Billy opens the windows to let flies out so he doesn’t have to hit them.”

“Gentle.”

“Gentle,” Annalise Holzer agreed. “Like a nice little boy.”

“But forgetful,” I said.

“Everyone forgets.”

“What does Billy forget?”

“The watch, the wallet. Lots of times the wallet.”

“Mr. Peaty came by and gave you the wallet?”

“No,” she said. “He tells me Billy lost the wallet and he is returning the wallet.”

“How many times did that happen?”

“A few,” she said. “I do not count.”

Lots of times the wallet. I raised an eyebrow.

Annalise Holzer said, “A few times, that’s all.”

“Those times, did Mr. Peaty go inside Billy’s apartment?”

“I don’t know.”

“You watch him.”

“Nein,” she said. “Not watching, not babysitting. Mr. Dowd asks me to help if Billy needs something.”

“Sounds like a good job.”

Shrug.

“Good salary?”

“No money, only less rent.”

“Mr. Dowd’s your landlord?”

“Very nice landlord, some of them are like…snakes.”

Milo hadn’t mentioned any Beverly Hills properties in the Dowds’ holdings.

I said, “So you get a discount on the rent in return for looking in on Billy.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“What does that involve day to day?”

“Being here,” said Annalise Holzer. “If he needs something.”

“How does Billy get around?”

“Get around?”

“Go from place to place. He doesn’t drive.”

“He does not go out much,” said Annalise Holzer. “Sometimes I take him to a movie on Sunday. Century City, I drop him off, pick him up. Mostly I rent him DVDs from the video store on Olympic near Al-mont Drive. Billy has a big flat-screen TV, better than a movie theater, no?”

“Anyone else ever drive him?”

“Mr. Dowd picks him up in the morning and brings him home. Every day they work.”

Wide circuit from Santa Monica Canyon to Beverly Hills and back to the beach city. Brad’s unpaid job.

“Is there anyone else?”

“What do you mean?”

“Taxi, car service?”

“Never do I see that.”

“So Billy doesn’t go out much.”

“Never by himself,” said Annalise Holzer. “Never do I see him go out, even to walk. I like to walk, when I ask him does he want to walk with me, he tells me, ‘Annalise, I did not like gym in school. I’m a big couch potato.’ ” She smiled. “I joke with him that he is lazy. He laughs.”

“Does he have any friends?”

“No- but he is very friendly.”

“A homebody,” I said.

The word puzzled her.

“He comes home and stays here.”

“Yes, yes, exactly. Watching the flat screen, DVDs, eating- I cook, sometimes. He likes some things…sauerbraten- special veal meat. Spaetzle, it is a kind of noodle. I cook for two, bring it downstairs.” She looked over her shoulder. The room behind her was tidy and bright. White porcelain figurines crowded the ledge of an arched, tiled mantel.

In the current market, the rent would be three, four thousand a month. Steep on a nurse’s pay.

“You live alone, Ms. Holzer?”

“Yes.”

“You’re from Germany?”

“Lichtenstein.” She pinched thumb to forefinger. “It is a teeny tiny little country between- ”

“ Austria and Switzerland,” I said.

“You know Lichtenstein?”

“I’ve heard it’s pretty. Banking, castles, Alps.”

“It is pretty, yes,” she agreed. “But I like it here better.”

“ L.A. ’s more exciting.”

“More to do, the music, the horses, the beach.”

“You ride?”

“Anything with sunshine,” she said.

“Working nights and sleeping days and doing things for Billy.”

“Work is good. Sometimes I do a double shift.”

“What are Billy’s needs?” I said.

“Very easy. If he wants takeout and it is a long time for the restaurant to deliver, I get him his dinner. There is Domino Pizza on Doheny near Olympic. Billy likes Thai food, there’s a nice place on La Cienega and Olympic. Sushi is also on Olympic. Nice place near Doheny. Very convenient, being near Olympic.”

“Billy’s a gourmet.”

“Billy eats anything,” said Annalise Holzer. “You must really think of him as a boy. A good boy.”

When I was back on Olympic, I celled Milo, expecting voice mail because he was with Armando Vasquez.

“Canceled,” he said. “Vasquez’s D.P.D. had other plans but didn’t bother to tell me. The prelim on Michaela’s autopsy finally came in. I woulda been there but they did it earlier than scheduled. Bottom line is no sign of sexual assault, cause of death was strangulation, the stab wounds on her chest were relatively superficial. The neck wound was a puncture, pathologist can’t say what caused it. Get to Billy’s place yet?”

“Just finished with that and you’re going to feel smart. The woman upstairs is a nurse on the night shift at Santa Monica Hospital, meaning she’s gone by ten fifteen or so. Plus, she thinks L.A. ’s an exciting city, likes art, the beach, riding horses. Her tan says she’s out plenty during the day.”

“Not much supervision.”

“On top of that, Peaty came to Billy’s apartment several times. Claimed he was sent by Brad to return things Billy left at the office. Brad told us he thought Peaty wasn’t licensed to drive. Unless he lied about that, Peaty misrepresented his presence.”

“How many times is several?”

“The woman couldn’t quantify. Or wouldn’t. She said Billy lost his wallet a lot. Then she backtracked to ‘a few.’ ”

“What’s her name?”

“Annalise Holzer. She’s one of those people who gives you lots of details and ends up not telling you much. She considers Billy childlike, gracious, absolutely no problem. Some of that could be the rent-break Brad gives her. The building’s another Dowd property.”

“That so? Not on the BNB list.”

“Maybe the Dowds have another corporation or a holding company that doesn’t trace back to their names.”

“All that real estate,” he said. “These people have got to be hugely rich, and rich people get protected.”

“Holzer was protective, all right. But I wouldn’t trust her to know the details of Billy’s life.”

“Meaning Peaty coulda been a regular at Darling Billy’s. I’ve got to take a serious look at the guy. After I speak to Vasquez’s wife. That’s the change in plans. All of a sudden, I can’t have access to Armando until I talk to the missus.”

“About what?”

“P.D.’s being cryptic. It’ll probably turn out to be a stupid lawyer trick but the D.A. insists I check it out.”

“D.A.’s office has their own investigators.”

“Whom they pay. That’s why I’m figuring it for scut palmed off on me.”

“Where are you meeting the wife?”

“Right here in my office, half an hour.”

“I’m twenty minutes away.”

“Good.”