Heartbreak Hotel

Chapter 40

At nine twenty-three A.M., Phil Duke left his house, got into his minivan, and backed out of his driveway. Reed and Binchy were on by then and Milo told Binchy to follow, Reed to keep circling.

The rookies had just returned from their shift looking eroded.

Eric Monchen said, “Damn, just missed it.”

Ashley Burgoyne said, “Maybe next time we’ll see the bitch.”

Milo had put together a stash of trail mix, donuts, and bottled water. “Nutrition, kids.”

Monchen said, “Um, sir, is there time for a healthy kinda protein breakfast?”

“Sugar and oil doesn’t work for you?”

Monchen’s up-and-down appraisal of Milo’s physique was rapid but telling. “I’d prefer something protein, sir.”

“Big T-bone.”

“Too fatty, sir, I was thinking an omelet, there’s a place up the block.”

“I know the place,” said Milo. “Sure, if you can ingest and digest and be back in forty-five minutes.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Ashley Burgoyne said, “I’m totally okay with what you got here, sir.” She picked up a bear claw, took a big bite, wiped her mouth.

I’m the good kid.

Monchen shot her a nervous look, glanced at the trail mix. “I guess I could stick with nuts and get protein.”

Milo said, “Have your omelet, Officer.”

“Sir—”

“They make a humongous Denver over there, son. Just about the size of Denver. Also, a thing with chili con carne. Think of me when you’re eating.”

“Sir—”

“Vaya con huevos, kiddo.”

Monchen screwed up his mouth and left.

When he was gone, Burgoyne said, “He’ll probably do egg whites.”

Binchy followed the van to a Ralph’s on Olympic. Phil Duke got out with three empty fabric shopping bags, went into the supermarket, and emerged twenty-four minutes later. Three full bags went into the rear of the vehicle. Nothing else inside.

Milo said, “His own bags, eco-sensitive. Touching. What’s his demeanor, Sean?”

“Normal.”

I said, “At least we know there’s no body in there.”

“Three bags,” said Milo. “He could be shopping for one or two or who the hell knows how many. Stay on him. How about you, Moses?”

“Driving by the second time,” said Reed. “Nothing. Plants are nice in the sunlight.”

Ten minutes later, Reed radioed in, again. Duke’s second stop was a nursery on Sawtelle where he purchased three large yellow plastic sacks of what appeared to be topsoil. Those ended up on the van’s rear seat.

Next: a McDonald’s a few blocks south on Pico. Purchase in the drive-through. Two small bags.

Milo said, “Same question, grub for one, two, or three?”

Moe Reed broke in. “I see her, L.T. Smoking in the doorway. Relaxed — kind of posing, like she knows she’s hot. It’s definitely her.”

“Anyone watching her pose?”

“Not that I could tell, L.T.”

I said, “It really wouldn’t matter. She’s out to please herself.”

Phil Duke got back on Olympic and made a fourth stop at a Union 76 station where he put gas in the van and squeegeed his own windshield.

“Like a regular guy,” said Binchy.

Moe Reed said, “Just passed the house. Door’s closed, no sign of her. Can’t swear she went back in but she’s not visible on the street.”

I said, “Not a homebody, this is definitely a hideout.”

Milo said, “Bow out for the time being, Moses. Sean’ll stick with Duke.”

Ten minutes later, Binchy sounded like a kid at his own birthday party. “He went home, had his hands full with the bags and guess who opened the door for him? I took a chance and slowed, hoping they wouldn’t notice. I’m sure they didn’t, they were too busy, Loot. Making out, right there in the open. He’s standing there with the McDonald’s, she’s wearing like a black bathing suit top and Daisys and she’s full-on sucking his face, Loot. Want me to do another go-round?”

Milo said, “No, hand it off to Moses and come back here.”

To me: “Father — daughter, indeed.” Then: “God, I hope not.”

I said, “Maybe they’re kissing cousins.”

Ashley Burgoyne looked up from her glazed donut. “Gross.”

“Excellent,” said Milo, punching air.

Burgoyne stared at him.

“Not the gross part, Officer. The her-not-being-nervous part. Know why?”

“No, sir.”

“We like when bad people get all comfy.”