Killer

CHAPTER 24

Milo phoned the coroner’s office and helped set up an appointment for Connor Sykes. The two of us walked him out of the station, watched him head up Butler Avenue. Average-sized man moving at average speed.

Milo said, “One happy family.”

“Not that we’re here to judge,” I said.

“I live to judge. Wish I could be the jury, too. So Ree never hinted at who daddy is?”

I shook my head.

“May I ask why you didn’t press her?”

“It wasn’t relevant.”

“She was presumed to be kosher until Connie proved otherwise.”

“Exactly.”

“Connie was certain it was Winky or Binky, late-night fun on the band bus, huh?”

“You have a flair for description.”

We headed back inside. He paused at the stairwell. “If the surviving Sykes sister doesn’t show up soon, I’ll check out the band.”

“Easy enough,” I said. “Monday night at Virgo Virgo.”

He fist-pumped. “Freebird! Meantime I’ve got a BOLO on Ree’s car and Hollywood patrol’s been sent the usual grainy DMV photo. Subpoenas on her phone and her credit cards would be a whole lot more helpful but sibling rivalry ain’t grounds for that level of paper so I need to uncover something incriminating about her in order to uncover something incriminating about her.”

“Techies get to her apartment?”

“Not yet because Martolo — the landlord — punted to her lawyer who refused entrance just for the sake of being an asshole. I left two messages on her personal line, total stonewall.”

“Tell her you’ll relieve her of the free storage she’s giving Ree.”

“Mercenary motive,” he said. “I like the way your mind works.”

Punching a preset number on his cell, he connected, smiling edgily. “Ms. Martolo? Lieutenant Sturgis … yes, I know. I … yes, but I thought you and I could work something out without having to go through … I assure you there’ll be absolutely no disruption or damage … nothing will be taken … nothing will be cut out of the carpets … I see … well, I’m sorry about that, that’s totally inexcusable but … yes, of course, you have every right to be … nothing like that will happen with my people, I promise, Ms. Martolo, scout’s honor … you were? Well, me, too, made it to Eagle, we trustworthy types need to stick together, don’t you think? Also — hear me out — if you allow my techs access I’d be happy to take all those personal items you’ve had to store for Ms. Sykes … yes, all of it … just what I said initially: quick swabs, dusts, you won’t even know they were there … thank you Ms.… thank you, Dee. I’ll remember you at the next jamboree.”

He clicked off, slapped my back hard enough to rattle my ribs, reached the crime lab, and emphasized the need to move quickly before the property owner changed her mind. Charging the tech crew to look for “any damn thing but without doing damage. You want a fiber, tweeze it out, no slice and dice, I mean it.”

After he hung up, I said, “Martolo had a bad experience with the department?”

“Narcotics raided another building she owns. Unfortunately, they had the wrong address, scared the shit out of everyone, including the poor family living in the apartment. Door got kicked in, place was trashed, it took six months and a whole lot of paperwork before she got reimbursed.”

“Long arm of the law. So what’s next?”

“I try to locate Ree Sykes and you do whatever you want.”

“Ree’s lawyer might know where she is.”

He pulled out his pad. “Who’s the lucky mouthpiece?”

“Myron Ballister, office in the Valley.”

“What’s he like?”

“Never met him.”

“He refused to come in?”

“Both lawyers wanted to meet with me, I turned them down.”

“Why?”

“I generally avoid attorneys because their only motive is to try to influence me and I want my information straight from the principals. The exception is a custody situation where the parents will have to work together and I think the lawyers can help with that. In a guardianship suit, there’d be no reason. Which didn’t stop Connie’s lawyer from showing up at her appointment and trying to muscle in.”

“You set him straight.”

“Her. Medea Wright, works for one of the more assertive firms.”

“Think she’s worth talking to?”

“You could try but I doubt she’d cooperate.”

“Probably the same for this Ballister. But his client’s smelling dirtier each day, so let’s give it a shot. You remember where in the Valley?”

“Sherman Oaks.” I recited the address.

“You memorized it?”

“It was on every court document I read.”

“Paper storm.”

“It always is.”

“You know,” he said, “all these years I never knew much about that part of your work. Big-time fun, huh?”

“Bundle of yuks.”

We took the unmarked over the Sepulveda Pass. Neither of us talked much during the drive. Milo’s face and posture were uncharacteristically static. I had no idea what was on his mind.

I was thinking. Again.

About it.

How close I’d come to being a morgue statistic.

Who’d miss me, who wouldn’t.