Serpentine

Chapter 32

Deirdre Seeger was slumped in the backseat of the Impala, head down, mouth open, snoring.

People under stress do that, the body trying to recoup energy. Victims and suspects. Experienced detectives know that the guiltier the suspect, the easier the slumber.

Milo retrieved his attaché case from the front passenger seat. Moving the shotgun gingerly, even though the safety was on. Good habits pay off.

Popping the case, he took the magazine from me and laid it atop the blue file folder, shut the case, and placed it horizontally on the front seat. Leaving the door open, he motioned me away from the car, strode to the taped walkway, and crooked a thumb at the house.

“Looks like a bona fide burglary but maybe not if they were looking for Seeger’s source material.”

“That would be my bet.”

“Who would know I talked to Deirdre about Seeger? No one I can think of. Or am I missing something? I could understand if I’d said something to Val Des Barres. She phones her brothers, they dispatch someone. Or she handles it herself via Sabino, guy’s got a record, busting a door and rooting around wouldn’t be a leap.”

I said, “Actually, you did talk to one person about Seeger and a missing woman from the mansion. Someone with police experience who’d know to make a break-in look real.”

“Who—” He went pale. “Galoway? That was... four, five days ago.”

“Four.”

“Plenty of time to plan. Shit.”

He stomped away, paced, returned, mopping his face repeatedly. “Bad-guy detective? That’s a nightmare scenario... goddammit. Anyone else I blabbed to and forgot about?”

“Nope.”

“Galoway,” he said. “Mr. Helpful.”

I said, “Pseudo-helpful. He’s the one who directed us to Des Barres, which could’ve been a distraction from focusing on Dorothy Martha Maude, whoever.”

“He knows her?”

“Be worth finding out. The timing works. Galoway caught the case shortly after Seeger retired, and we know they talked. He made sure to let us know Seeger was incompetent and had learned nothing. Another misdirection. Now we know Seeger had stayed curious and found the article. That was you, what would your next step be?”

“Call the new guy... the Harley... Jesus. So Dorothy’s alive and well and evil?”

“Keep turning the prism,” I said, “and there’s no real evidence she died. Burnt-up body, no DNA back then, quick cremation. If so, who got immolated in the Cadillac? Likely another woman who lived at the mansion. We know of two others who went missing, but there could be more. And one more thing: Martha Maude grew up in a rural area, being comfortable on a horse doesn’t seem a giant step.”

“Mommy’s a psychopath.” His big chest heaved and swelled. “Just what Ellie needs to boost her mental health.”

He walked away, paced past two houses and returned. “I need time to clear my head and make sense out of this, Alex. Meanwhile, let’s get Deidre out of here and in a safe place.”

He turned grim. “You think her being with Ellie is safe?”

I said, “What’s the alternative? A random motel? Boudreaux seems to know what he’s doing.”

“Yeah, he’s solid, I’ll tell him what he needs to know.” Wolfish, tooth-baring smile. “Guess the only alternative would be my place. Or yours, but who knows if she likes dogs?”

The shotgun and the attaché case rode in front. Deirdre Seeger and I shared the backseat.

I said, “Everything okay?”

Her look said, What a stupid question.

Milo drove more slowly than usual. No one spoke all the way to Hollywood.

When he drove north on Western, Deirdre said, “This is a lousy neighborhood.”

Milo held up a wait and see finger and drove faster.

“Slow down. I get carsick.”

“Yes. Ma’am.”

Extruding the words like a machine. If she heard the tension, she didn’t let on.

When he turned off Los Feliz into the luxury enclave, she said, “Big houses but surrounded by a lousy neighborhood. You’re sure it’s safe?”

“Movie stars live here.”

“They’re not exactly good citizens.” A beat. “Which ones?”

“Not sure about now but back in the day Rudolph Valentino had a mansion not far from here. And Cecil B. DeMille built a bunch of houses.”

“I liked The Ten Commandments.” Folding her arms across her chest, she relapsed into silence.

When we were a block away, Milo texted Mel Boudreaux. We pulled up to find Boudreaux waiting in the doorway, filling most of the space. He wore a tight black T-shirt, black cargo pants, black sneakers, sidearm again displayed in a black mesh holster.

Deirdre Seeger said, “Him? He’s... bl — big. That’s a good thing. I guess.”

“He’s extremely well trained.”

“If you say so.”

Milo carried her bags and I followed with Deirdre. During the brief walk to the house, her elbow bumped my arm several times. Balance problems or one of those people with hazy concepts of personal space.

Boudreaux said, “Ma’am, welcome. We’re going to take care of you.”

“Hope so.”

He stepped aside revealing Ellie standing behind him, wan and round-shouldered in a shapeless black dress. Something different: bright-red lipstick applied too generously. As if she’d felt faded and decided at the last minute to risk color.

Deirdre beelined to her, arms stretched wide for a hug. Ellie was surprised but she allowed herself to be clasped, finally laced a loose arm around Deirdre’s back.

Satisfied by the reciprocation, Deirdre drew back, held on to Ellie’s arms and studied her. “You poor thing. My late husband cared so much about your poor mother. He did everything in his power to solve what happened to her.”

Ellie said, “Thank you, Mrs. Seeger.”

“Call me Didi. And thank you, dear. For offering me the sanctuary of your lovely home.” Edgy glance at Boudreaux. “And protection.”

She turned back to Ellie. “I’m sure we’ll have lots to talk about. Now where do I bunk?”

Boudreaux said, “Upstairs, ma’am, I’ll show you.”

Deirdre smiled at Ellie. “I’m not picky, anyplace to rest my weary head.” Bending as if burdened, she followed Boudreaux up the stairs with surprising speed.

Ellie smiled feebly.

Milo said, “Thanks for doing this.”

“Sure,” she said, sounding anything but. “I didn’t think to ask you about the break-in. Was that due to me?”

“No.”

“No? Definitely not?”

“Ellie, even if it turns out to have something to do with the investigation, that’s not your responsibility.”

“Well,” she said, “it kind of is. I’m the one who initiated the process.”

“You did and it was your prerogative. But you did nothing other survivors haven’t attempted.”

“But you didn’t want—”

Milo waved that off. “I want to now.”

“You’re sure?”

“Couldn’t be surer,” he said. “My job boils down to chasing the truth. If that sounds corny and phony, can’t help it.”

She said nothing.

“Think of yourself as a flint in darkness, Ellie. You helped light a spark, it caught, and the fire’s raging.”

“So if I changed my mind—”

“Irrelevant. With or without you, I’m gonna take it as far as I can.”

Tic of tension in his jaw. All the years we’d worked together, I got the implication.

Taking it places you don’t want to go, kid.

She said, “That’s reassuring. I guess.”

Another flick of constricted muscle.

If you only knew.

Boudreaux’s baritone floated down from the top of the landing. “You have bar soap? She doesn’t do liquid.”

Ellie Barker said, “Let me go up and check. If I don’t, I’ll get some. Whatever makes her comfortable.”

She trudged up the stairs and Boudreaux descended. Milo motioned him into the living room. Boudreaux kept his mouth shut and his eyes clear, ready for input.

Milo said, “The break-in looks bona fide but something came up that’s leaning me toward a staging. Not gonna get into details but an ex-D might be a bad guy and that’s who you should prioritize when you’re looking around. Don’t ask why, too complicated.”

“Don’t like complicated,” said Boudreaux.

Milo gave him Galoway’s name and described Galoway’s car.

“Red Jag,” said Boudreaux.

“I know, conspicuous. So there could be another vehicle registered to him. Once I find out, I’ll let you know. One more thing: Galoway might be operating in someone else’s interests, not just his own.” He cocked his chin toward the stairs. “This you absolutely keep to yourself.”

Nod.

“Girlfriend, she’d be early sixties.”

“Senior citizen,” said Boudreaux.

“Don’t let that comfort you, Mel. If it’s true, her kind of bad doesn’t fade with age.”

“You’re not saying...”

“I am saying.” Milo lowered his voice to a near-whisper. “Mommy not-so-dearest.”

Boudreaux blinked, then turned steely. “Interesting.”

“You have a way with words, my friend.”

“My philosophy,” said Boudreaux. “Fewer the better.”

At the Impala, Milo put the shotgun back in the trunk and his case on the backseat.

I said, “Wow, Dad, I get to go in front.”

“Not for free. Start ideating.”

“About what?”

“Who what where how then start over again. Any damn thing that floats into your cranium, let Boudreaux do the taciturn bit.”

By the time he wended his way back to Los Feliz and made the iffy left turn, I hadn’t spoken.

He said, “Ahem.”

“Don’t have much to add.”

“Then add a little. For practice.”

“You don’t need me to tell you, you just told Boudreaux. Priority is learning what you can about Galoway.”

He tapped the wheel impatiently, headed west on Franklin, barely acknowledged the next few stop signs. “Any suggestions?”

I said, “When I looked him up, I came across an article from a town where he served on the city council. Forget the town’s name, it’s in my notes back home. Some sort of controversy about zoning, there was one councilor on the other side. Nothing like political enemies.”

“Excellent. See — once that massive brain of yours starts ticking it keeps going. Next.”

“You’re putting your order in, huh?”

“I am indeed. And throw in some bagels and a schmear.”

I laughed. Thought for a while. Heard no ticking. “Okay, assuming Galoway’s been lying about everything, the part about his captain forcing the case on him could be bullshit. Just the opposite could be the case, if we’re right about him and Dorothy being together.”

“Galoway volunteered.”

“In order to find out what was known and then get rid of the files. Galoway said the captain was obese and a smoker but given his credibility, it’s worth trying to locate him. That name I do remember: Gregory Alomar. Reminded me of the baseball player.”

“Which one?”

“Robbie Alomar.”

“You follow baseball?”

“Intermittently.”

“I’m intermittent with football. Got my head knocked around plenty in high school, that’s why I rely on your memory. Okay, let’s start with Alomar. Call Petra and see if anyone at Hollywood remembers him.”

I tried, got voicemail, left a message.

Milo said, “The nerve, working her own cases. Anything else?”

“Maybe carefully read the article on Martha and see if any details help.”

“Let’s both re-read. How’s the rest of your day shaking out?”

“Open unless Robin needs me for something.”

“I’ll drop you at your car and meet you back at your place. Your kitchen has that big table for a work surface, the light, the peace and quiet.”

Not to mention self-serve catering.

“Also,” he said, “the cuisine. But not what you’re thinking, we’re getting deluxe takeout on my tab. Spago, Jean-Georges, you name it. We’ll use Grubhub or something to deliver, throw in perks for the pooch. That work for you? If it doesn’t, now’s the time for stoic.”