Serpentine

Chapter 29

Type A parents don’t mind weekend appointments and neither do I. So I worked on custody cases from eight to noon, celebrated a quiet house with coffee, then returned to my office to get organized. Thirty-five emails, mostly junk. One from Milo, at eleven fourteen.

I called his cell. He said, “Just about to give up on you and leave for a noon meeting with Owen. She sounds encouragingly not-crazy. You wanna meet me there?”

“Sure.”

“Brentwood. She’s working today, so close to her job, Hava-Java, San Vicente near Bundy.”

“See you there.”

“You already caffeinated? I am.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“So we’ll go decaf.”

Hava-Java was shoehorned into the northwest corner of a strip mall in the heart of Brentwood shopping. The parking lot was populated by electric cars, hybrids, scooters, and a few gas-eating SUVs for the atheists. A harried attendant stood guard at the entrance, dispensing time-stamped tickets and listless warnings not to park in handicapped slots.

I said, “How many spaces are still open?”

“Not many.”

I circled twice without success, finally saw a rose-colored Tesla pulling out and zipped in. During the first circuit, I’d spotted Milo’s Impala, which was good. I had no idea what Bella Owen looked like.

I found him alone at a table, checking his watch, then his phone.

Tall cup of something iced and foamy in front of him. He said, “She called fifteen minutes ago but didn’t leave a message. Phoned her back, straight to voicemail, hope to hell she didn’t cancel.”

He pointed to his drink. “In answer to your next question, chai yogi something or other. Tastes like cloves and cotton candy — okay, this is probably her.”

I turned to see a tall woman approaching and waving. She I.D.’d us immediately; we carried the only Y-chromosomes in the place.

Bella Owen was nice-looking, on the heavy side, with porcelain skin, bright-blue eyes, and pulled-back dark hair. A couple of curled tendrils hung intentionally loose. She wore a black tunic and pants. A yellow sunrise logo on the left breast sat above orange lettering. Bodywise.

Milo introduced me by name, not title.

She said, “Nice to meet you guys,” sat and placed her hands on the table. Eight of ten fingers were banded by a ring. Reaching down, she produced her phone and placed it next to her right hand.

“Reason I called a few minutes ago is I might be getting another photo of Vicki. My aunt who lives in Downey said if she has one she’d email it. But she’s old and not always with it so who knows? I figured if you could’ve made it a bit later, I’d wait to see if the jpeg came in, you might or might not want to meet. Then a client I don’t like working with did a walk-in and I didn’t want her to see me so I left.”

Milo said, “No problem. Appreciate your getting in touch. Have you remembered anything more about your cousin?”

“No, sorry. She was quite a bit older than me, my mother was the baby of the family and Vicki’s dad was the oldest. By the time I was born, she had to be eighteen, nineteen and not around much. Also, her family lived in Delano and we lived in Davis.”

“The aunt in Downey is her mom?”

“No, Thelma’s an aunt to both of us. She lives in care, can sometimes remember stuff or claim she does. But it comes and goes. I was surprised she had a picture. Her opinion of Vicki isn’t exactly positive.”

“How so?”

“Mind you, this is her speaking not me.” She formed air-quotes with both hands. “Wild child, hung with hooligans, never learned anything at school, thought her looks could get her everything. But Thelma’s a bitter person. Her own daughter committed suicide years ago. What’d you think of the photo I showed you of Vicki and some other cousins? She was just a kid, but maybe?”

Milo said, “The coloring’s right.”

Bella Owen slumped. “But the faces are teensy, I know. I’m feeling a little foolish about all of this, Lieutenant. You must be so busy.”

“Never too busy to check out leads, ma’am. No matter how yours turns out, we appreciate your taking the initiative.”

“Well,” she said, “I figured it was the least I could do, my mom said Vicki’s vanishing basically killed Vicki’s parents. The stress of not knowing. Both of them did get cancer and what I know about holistic medicine tells me stress is a giant factor in that. What struck me was the time period in your post and the fact that we’re talking L.A. According to my mom, Vicki definitely came here. Her parents heard from her a few times, then nothing.”

I said, “Do you have any idea what led her to L.A.?”

“My guess would be excitement. Delano was pretty much grapes and screw-top wine. Vicki’s mom and dad both worked for Gallo. I suppose she didn’t want to slip into that.”

She smiled. “Or as Thelma put it, ‘The girl was old enough to vote but all she wanted to do was have fun.’ ”

“Vicki was twenty-one.”

“Just.”

“Does your mom remember anything else?”

“Wish I could ask her, she’s gone, too,” said Owen. “Those quotes are just stuff that came up. Everyone’s gone except Thelma. Sometimes I think she’s just too ornery to stop breathing.”

She shrugged. “I guess if I could clear up what happened to Vicki, I’d feel a little bit heroic.”

Milo and I nodded.

“Also,” she said, “all that’s left of the family besides Thelma — and she won’t last long — is me and my daughter. The bad part of being the only child of the youngest child.”

I said, “What was Vicki’s family like?”

“Conventional, religious, no one before had just upped and left.”

“But she did stay in contact.”

“In the beginning. Thelma claims Vicki sent her a couple of postcards. ‘Dashed’ them off. Hollywood cards — the sign, Grauman’s Chinese.”

I said, “Proof of sinfulness to Thelma?”

Bella Owen laughed. “You got it. She was always fire and brimstone but Suzette’s suicide made it worse.”

Milo said, “We’ve tried to find information on Vicki and haven’t been successful. What I can tell you is she has no criminal record.”

Bella Owen’s hands relaxed. “That’s good to hear. I like to think the best of everyone so I’d like her to be just a bored girl looking for some fun — is that the Chai Zen Frothy you’re drinking? Mind if I get some? I’ve worked on some pretty tight backs all morning and it totally dehydrated me.”

Milo said, “On me,” and got to his feet.

“Oh, I couldn’t do that.”

Before the sentence was complete, he was at the counter ordering and paying.

Bella Owen looked at me. “Is that typical?”

“He’s a generous person.”

“Well, that’s a nice quality in a guy. And pretty darn rare, especially the young ones who always seem to leave their wallets home by accident. I keep telling my daughter to be pickier. Then again, she knows from her father that I’m no expert.”

Milo returned with the drink. Taller glass than his.

She said, “Oh, my, you got me the Molto, I’ll never finish it.”

“Give it the old college try.”

Giggling, she sipped through a paper straw, following the gradual drop in fluid level with vivid blue eyes that seemed to gain wattage with each millimeter.

When the glass was down by a quarter, she removed the straw, now bent and soggy. “I know it’s a good cause but these things are totally useless.”

Her phone buzzed on the table.

She snatched it up. “Hi, Auntie... you have? That’s amazing... yes, of course I believed you. Did you have trouble sending it... no, of course not, it was super-fast, sorry. That’s great, Auntie, thanks so much... I’m not saying I approve of everything anyone does including her, but... sure, I’ll tell them. Thanks again, Auntie, enjoy your snack.”

Once the connection was cut, she puffed her lips in exhalation. “Apparently the picture is proof that Victoria was ‘wanton and wild.’ She wants you to know the family did not approve... let’s take a look... okay, here it is.”

Bigger frown. Long sigh. “Sorry. Vicki’s not your girl.”

Milo said, “Let’s have a look anyway.”

Owen handed him the phone. On the screen was a color shot of a blonde in a minimal white bikini posed on an unidentifiable empty beach. Careful positioning, sharp contours, and dramatic use of light suggested a professional job.

The woman leaned on her elbows in a way that thrust her chest upward. Sleek tan skin sheathed a slim but curvy body and a quartet of coltish limbs.

Pinpoints of condensed moisture topped smooth shoulders. The illusion of passion sweat courtesy a spritz from a water bottle? Or she really had been perspiring.

If so, it wasn’t due to tension. Languid posture, clear confident eyes, and slightly parted lips revealing a hint of white teeth said this was someone who loved the camera.

Bella Owen said, “It actually is pretty racy. I can’t believe she sent this to Thelma.”

I said, “Maybe she was asserting herself to Thelma.”

“Hmm, yes, you could be right. Standing up for herself. I like that. But Thelma held on to it.”

“Maybe there’s more to Thelma than you know.”

“Hah. Anyway.”

Milo held on to the phone. Staring, processing. The moment I’d seen the model’s face my gut had tightened and from the way his jaw was working, so had his.

Not the woman we were seeking, but a familiar face.

The cheekbones.

Bella Owen drank a bit more before pushing her cup away. Glanced at her phone. “Need to get back, guys. Sorry it didn’t work out. Would’ve been nice.”

I said, “If you don’t mind, could you call your aunt and ask if anything’s written on the back of the photo?”

“Why? She’s not your girl.”

“She’s missing and who knows, something could come up during the investigation.”

Milo’s eyes had slid toward me. Owen didn’t notice.

“Oh. Okay, I’ll try her now.” Rapid number punches. “Auntie, sorry to bother you again... that’s why I said I’m sorry, Auntie... I understand, nutrition’s important, but so is learning about Vicki so if you still have the picture, could you see if anything’s written on the back? Yes, at their request. No problem, I’ll wait... yes, I know it’s my choice.”

Sighing and rolling her eyes, she switched to speaker.

Milo whispered, “You deserve combat pay.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

A minute passed before a constricted voice said, “Only going to say this once so pay attention, Marabella. Sterling Lawrence Studio Nine Fifty-Three Gower Street Hollywood big C small A.”

Click.

Milo had been scrawling rapidly. “Got it.”

“A professional studio,” said Bella Owen. “Vicki was a model. Or hoping to be one. Or maybe an actress.” Her eyes misted. “All that dreaming and look what happened. She’s dead, isn’t she, Lieutenant?”

“No way to know.”

“All these years?”

Milo said, “It’s not looking great but we do get surprised.”

Bella Owen said, “Appreciate your honesty. I never really knew Vicki, I just... I need to forget about it and go back to living life.”

Quick hand squeeze for each of us before she walked away.