Serpentine

Chapter 15

The drive to Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Center is one I can pull off in my sleep. It’s a venerable institution planted at Vermont and Fountain. Around the corner from the Western Peds campus on Sunset, where, as a newly licensed psychologist, I’d spent long days on the cancer ward.

I drove to the parking valet where Milo police-tagged my dashboard and told the attendant, “Leave it here, worth your while.”

He badged us through the lobby and we headed for the ICU. The waiting room was full of miserable-looking people, as ICU waiting rooms always are. A nurse at the desk was prepared for Milo’s badge.

“Second room to your right.”

“How’s Mr. Twohy doing?”

“You’d have to ask the doctor that.”

Second room to the right was windowless, off-white, and sterile, set up with scarred furniture. A space accustomed to bad news.

The look on Ellie Barker’s face said she’d heard plenty. She sat on a hard-pack, fake-leather sofa between Petra and Petra’s partner, Raul Biro. Brown sweats, maybe of her own design, bagged on her. Her complexion was one shade grayer than the room, her hair tied back carelessly with a red rubber band.

She saw us but didn’t move or speak. Both detectives nodded.

Petra was her usual tailored self, this suit, black crepe. I’ve never seen Raul when his dense black hair isn’t brushed back and sprayed perfectly in place and his suit’s not a masterpiece of tailoring. Despite the blood and gore he encounters routinely, he favors light shades of featherweight twill and remains spookily stain-resistant. Tonight’s one-button was cream-colored gabardine over a starched white shirt and a massively knotted raw-silk tie the color of Japanese eggplant.

Milo and I pulled up two facing chairs.

Ellie said, “Thanks for coming.”

Milo said, “Of course.”

She shifted to me. “You probably think I need help.”

Just like the first time we’d met, cool to my presence. She’d spoken of being a difficult teen and I wondered if Stan Barker’s attempts to deal with the issue before sending her away had led her to some bad therapeutic attempts.

Milo said, “We here to support you, Ellie.”

“Thanks. Sorry, don’t mean to be snippy.” She lowered her eyes to her hands.

Petra said, “Let’s step outside, guys.” Unspoken signal to Raul.

He said, “I’ll be here with you, Ms. Barker. Anything you need, let me know.”

Ellie said, “I’m okay, really.” Then she burst into tears.

Raul had a tissue already in hand. A good detective prepares.

The three of us walked up the nearest hallway, passed nurses and doctors hurrying by, finally found a quiet stretch.

Petra said, “Looks like I couldn’t avoid your case.”

Milo said, “You think this is related to Swoboda?”

“It’s not an attempted robbery and given what you’ve told me about the file going missing, I can’t exclude it. Maybe someone really doesn’t want this dug up.”

“How did it go down?”

Petra said, “Twohy got shot coming back from a run. He’s a serious runner, has been working on speed goals for next year’s marathon.”

I said, “When we met him he was aiming for eight fast miles.”

“According to Ellie he reached that goal yesterday and decided to dive right in for nine. When I ran seriously I always heard it was important to rest, but maybe he’s at a different level.”

“More like driven,” I said.

Milo said, “More like a bad decision. What was his route?”

Petra said, “Out of his neighborhood, turn east on Los Feliz Boulevard, past the park, into Atwater and beyond. He got nailed four blocks from home. Before they prepped him for surgery he was conscious and in a lot of pain, staff didn’t want me around. I got them to allow me a minute. Nothing substantive.”

I said, “Fatigued and probably dehydrated. Easy target.”

“Easy and unobservant. I asked if he saw anyone or anything. Negative. He got shot from behind, single entry wound in his lower back, exit right below his rib cage, probably small caliber.”

Milo said, “Who called it in?”

“A neighbor heard the gunshot and came out with his own firearm. He’s a vet, knows the diff between a weapon and a car backfiring. Fortunately for Twohy, he also knows first aid and stanched the wound while he 911’d.”

“Hero of the story.”

“Ninety-four-year-old hero, we’re talking World War Two.” She checked her own notes. “Herman Lieber, retired accountant.”

Milo copied.

Petra said, “Feel free to talk to him but I doubt he’ll have anything to add. We’re still not sure where the shooter was stationed, there’s mature foliage and trees all over, plenty of places to use as a blind. Just got a call from the scene, so far no casing, so maybe a revolver or we just haven’t found it yet. That’s it so far. Someone lay in wait, popped out and popped Twohy. What does that sound like to you?”

Milo said, “Personal.”

I said, “Was it up close and personal?”

“Not so much,” she said. “No scorch marks. CSI’s best guess is ten, fifteen feet away.”

I said, “Lucky shot in the dark.”

“I thought so, too, Alex. It is pretty dark, nearest streetlight is up a ways.”

“If it was an execution, why only one in the back? Once Twohy was down, a headshot would’ve sealed the deal.”

Petra said, “Maybe Mr. Lieber opening the door scared the bad guy away.”

I said, “Maybe.”

Both of them looked at me.

“This is a reach but what if it didn’t matter if Twohy died?”

“He may very well end up dying,” she said. “What are you getting at?”

“If the goal was to scare Ellie off, a serious wounding might be enough.”

Petra considered that.

Milo’s frown said he didn’t want to. “Or,” he said, “this has zero to do with Ellie and everything to do with Twohy.”

Petra said, “Ellie doesn’t know anyone who’d hate him.”

“That may or may not be relevant, kiddo. They haven’t been going together that long, come from different circles.”

“Twohy has a secret life? I guess anything’s possible, obviously I need to learn more about my vic. But what Alex is saying about wounding could be right.” She grinned. “He often is right, no?”

“So I’ve been told.”

She said, “Let’s go with the warning thing, just for argument’s sake. Who knows about your investigation?”

“Bunch of politicians including the mayor, Martz and her boss, and the third D to try to solve it. I’m voting for Martz.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice. Seriously.”

“Don’t know if Ellie told anyone but from our perspective, all that’s left is a rich lady from Montecito who we know from another case. She’s the one who revved up the politicos. Plus two of Des Barres’s heirs that we know about: daughter and son. There’s another son but we haven’t talked to him yet.”

Petra said, “Dredging up Dorothy threatens them?”

Milo frowned. “At this point, that’s a giant leap. The daughter was actually at the fundraiser where Ellie made contact with Bauer. When we spoke to her a couple days ago, she was open, didn’t seem bugged by our questions. Same for the brother we spoke to right after.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” she said. “Still, we’re talking two days later and Twohy gets ambushed. Plenty of time to put something together.” Her turn to jot. “Names?”

“Valerie Des Barres, William Des Barres. The one we haven’t contacted is Anthony. She lives here, the sons are in Illinois. William’s a lawyer, Anthony’s a doctor.”

“Where’s here?”

“Daddy’s former mansion,” he said. “Where Dorothy also lived.”

“Whoa,” said Petra. “Contracting a shooter from Illinois is feasible, but keeping it local sounds a lot easier. What if the daughter faked being chill? What else do you know about her?”

“Writes and illustrates kiddie books, comes across like a female Mr. Rogers.”

I said, “How would she know where to find Twohy?”

“Did she and Ellie exchange addresses at the fundraiser?”

Milo said, “I doubt it, don’t want to bring it up now. Could get Ellie needlessly freaked out.”

Petra tapped her pad against her thigh. “Kiddie books. She make money at it?”

“Probably not. She self-publishes.”

“Not Dr. Seuss but lives in a big house,” she said, “so we’re likely in trust-fund territory. The world finding out Daddy was a homicidal letch could threaten her on multiple levels. I have to say, guys, she doesn’t disinterest me. I have your okay to contact her?”

“If you don’t mind, hold off,” he said. “For your sake and mine.”

“What’s my sake?”

“If she is dirty, no sense alerting her. For now, I’d rather do a loose surveillance on her place, see if anyone interesting goes in and out. You know how contract kills usually go. No slick movie hit man, some loser who needs dough. It’s a huge property, we saw a gardening crew and a butler-type houseman but there could be more guys in and out.”

“Who do you see surveilling, you or me?”

“I can do it.”

“Hoped you’d say that. Are we talking live-in staff?”

“Probably not the gardeners but maybe the butler. I’ve only got a first name — Sabino — but I can try to cross-ref with the address. If he turns out to have a record, it gets kicked up several notches.”

Petra copied the name. “Wouldn’t that be something? The butler did it? Heck, if I get lucky my next call-out will be on a dark and stormy night.”

I cleared my throat.

Milo said, “Unless you’re coming down with a cold, I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Here’s the thing,” I said, “everyone who knows about the Swoboda investigation — from Martz to Galoway — helped it along. Even Val Des Barres, by switching seats with Ellie so she could talk to Bauer. I think her openness was real and I didn’t pick up any sense of threat on her part. Also, with social media, a whole lot of people could know Ellie’s personal info, especially if she posted about her mother. And I’ll bet Twohy’s got a serious online presence, maybe to the point of charting his runs.”

Petra whipped out her phone. “The Web Deities. Why didn’t I think of that?”

Milo said, “Job stress. Clogs the neurons.”