Night Moves

Chapter 39

We left Bitt in his studio and convened on the sidewalk. Afternoon was conceding to evening, trees zebra-striping sidewalks, a mustard glow limning rooftops.

Milo said, “Please tell me you don’t agree.”

“About what?”

“Bitt’s clean.”

I said, “Cardiac tech verified his alibi?”

“Belted and hooked up for eight hours, never left the sleep lab.”

The door to Bitt’s house opened and the artist stuck his head out. “I just got off the phone with Don Swarzsteen. No form necessary, call him at your convenience.”

Milo said, “My new pal. Dammit.”

“Your level of charm, you’re surprised?”

Another door opened a few houses down. Another head, peering out briefly then withdrawing. Suburban whack-a-mole.

A brief phone chat with Donald Swarzsteen III left Milo shaking his head as he pocketed his cell. “Guy has that ’tude you get from people who live off the rich.”

I said, “Thinks he’s more than a babysitter.”

“You must be a psychologist. Yeah, he’s a stick-up-the-ass snoot. He also backs up Bitt’s claim that there’s no other money.”

We entered the Corvin house. Marlin Moroni stood watch on the upstairs landing. He came down, looking bored.

“Girl’s in her bedroom doing whack drawings. I figured it was okay, she gets ideas about her fucking pencil, I can handle it.”

I said, “Whack as in?”

“Hope you don’t want me to get medical, Doc. Whack as in tiny little squares over and over. But what do I know about art? She’s also got headphones on. Attached to a — get this — CD player, Country Joe and the Fish, my older brother was into all that flower-power crap.”

I said, “San Francisco, her father’s era.”

Moroni said, “You cleared him?”

“Disgustingly alibied,” said Milo. “What about the boy and Mrs. C?”

“He’s in his room, playing videogames, she’s at the kitchen table pretending nothing happened. I got a look at her screen, something about curriculum.”

“She works for the school district.”

“Figures, she’s got that mean-teacher vibe. Anything else you need?”

Milo said, “Nah, you can go. Thanks, Marlin.”

“Thank you for the overtime,” said Moroni. He checked a rubber-strapped diver’s watch. “Shift’s not officially over but I’m assuming we’re not going to get all fractional.”

Milo said, “I’ll put it in as a full, enjoy life.”

Moroni rolled his shoulders and put on mirrored shades. “This one chalks up as a good day. Had nothing to do in the first place and I’m walking away healthy.”

Felice Corvin sat typing at the kitchen table. She saw us but kept working.

Milo said, “Let’s talk about Chelsea.”

Felice’s fingers rested on the keys. Her eyes faced her screen. “Hasn’t there been enough stress for one day?”

“Not as much as there could’ve been, ma’am, as in I don’t need a white cane.”

“That was unfortunate.”

“Fortunate for me, ma’am.”

“Of course. I’m sorry. Chelsea’s sorry.”

“She can atone by cooperating.”

“She has nothing to offer, Lieutenant.”

“I won’t know that until I talk to her.”

“I’m her mother, trust me.”

Milo said nothing.

Felice shut her laptop. “She’s a minor.”

“She comes of age in a few days.”

“Rules are rules.” That sounded like something she was used to saying.

“I have no problem with rules,” said Milo. “The penal code’s got one about attempted assault on a police officer.”

“Oh, please! She didn’t even touch you.”

“Not for lack of trying, Ms. Corvin. She can be arrested right now, for a serious felony. I’m assuming you’d rather I talk to her.”

“This is extortion.”

“No, ma’am. Extortion is a crime and I’m not a criminal. I’m laying out contingencies.”

She didn’t answer.

He said, “Have it your way.” Reaching around under his jacket, he produced his cuffs.

Felice shot to her feet. “Please!”

Milo looked her in the eye. She made a fist but uncurled it quickly.

“You’re wasting your time, but fine, let’s go talk to her. You’ll see she has nothing to say.”

“Sorry, no.”

She squinted. “No, what?”

“I talk to her, you stay here.”

“You’re not allowed, she’s a minor.”

“I’m allowed if you say so.” His fingertip began a slow climb toward his eye.

“Stop that, I get the point.”

Milo smiled. “Interesting choice of words.”

Felice Corvin gritted her teeth. “You’re being vindictive.”

“I’m working two murder investigations.”

“That Chelsea knows nothing about.”

“I hope you’re right.”

She crossed her arms. “I don’t see why I can’t be with her.”

“I want to talk to her when she’s not being influenced.”

“That’s absolutely moronic.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion, ma’am. If you prefer, Chelsea can be taken in, booked, and put in a holding cell. You’ll hire an expensive lawyer who’ll get her bail and block access to her. But the process will continue and that means indictment and either a deal or trial.”

“This is... Orwellian — how can you go along with this, Dr. Delaware? A so-called healthcare professional.”

I said, “No one’s out to harm Chelsea. We realize raising her has been a challenge.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“Now that she knows who her father is, new challenges will come up. The quicker she can be eliminated from the investigation, the better.”

Her chest rose and fell. “You’ll guarantee her emotional well-being?”

“No one can guarantee anything. I can assure you that she’ll be treated with sensitivity.”

“Then why can’t I be there?”

“Because it’s important that Chelsea be treated as an individual.”

“Oh, sure, it’s for her own good.”

“It might be,” I said. “When’s the last time she was taken seriously?”

Her cheeks reddened. “You have no right to say that, she’s always — fine, do whatever useless thing you think you need to do. But I’m holding you responsible. Both of you. I’m also going with you to the stairs and staying there. If I hear anything the least bit inappropriate, I’m going to step in.”

Milo said, “Fine with me.”

He beckoned her toward the doorway with an arm flourish. She sat there. Waved dismissively. “Oh, forget it, I’ll stay here, the onus is on you.”

As we crossed the dining room, Milo whispered, “You disapprove of my methods?”

I said, “She did try to blind you.”

He grinned. “Friend in need.”