The Museum of Desire

Chapter 37

Next morning, same room. I was starting to feel at home.

Clean whiteboard, six chairs assembled in two rows like a classroom. Milo had amped up the catering: two boxes of pastries, another of assorted bagels, lox, cream cheese, paper napkins, a coffee urn, hot water, tea bags, Styrofoam cups. All on his dime.

Enthusiastic consumption all around. Even Reed, succumbing to a whole-wheat bagel.

He sat in the back row with Binchy and me. In front of us were Marc Coolidge, his Inglewood colleague, a six-foot-five Kobe Bryant look-alike named Albert Freeman, and Alicia Bogomil.

Up at the board, his jacket freckled by crumbs, Milo wielded a wooden pointer.

He’d been over the basics: no additional data on any of the four victims, no sightings of Medina Okash. Even with her car behind the gallery, the inactive look of the entire building suggested she’d slipped out and had been picked up by someone.

That combined with the mail pile-up at the blue house caused the room to go quiet.

Milo tapped Geoffrey Dugong’s face. “He’s gone, too, but to my mind, he’s a low-probability suspect. Unless he’s a consummate actor, and I don’t think he’s bright enough. Either way, we had nothing to hold him on so he’s back in Key West, courtesy a flight paid for by Homeland Security.”

Albert Freeman said, “How’d you pull that off?”

“Personal charm. Meanwhile, I’ve kept watch on the gallery and Alicia’s been surveilling Okash’s apartment. A warrant’s out of the question and I still can’t convince the D.A. a welfare check isn’t going to get us in evidentiary trouble. But one thing I did get from Dugong was Okash’s cell number and I’ve issued a subpoena for her records.”

Coolidge said, “So despite what the whack-a-walrus said, she’s high-probability.”

“She’s got a history of violence, the last place Benny Alvarez was seen alive is her gallery, she patronized the market where Solomon Roget posted his ads. And now we’ve got your Volvo lead and her connection to Clearwater. We’ve been figuring this for at least two people.”

“Her and some dude with a Rolls.”

“The reaction we saw to the murders was a one-eighty from what she showed Dugong.”

Milo turned to me.

I said, “Calm to the point of being flat and extremely flirtatious. So she may have been one of Rick Gurnsey’s flock of sexual partners, possibly the woman seen with Gurnsey at the house last January.”

Coolidge said, “So what’s the motive?”

Milo said, “Given Okash’s business, we might have some sort of sick performance art.”

More silence.

I said, “I just thought of something. The burner Gurnsey was talking to before he got killed has a Baltimore number and Okash went to high school in Annapolis.”

“It’s a burner, Doc,” said Binchy. “Random numbers.”

Alicia cleared her throat. “Not exactly. In the early days you could pay for an area code. And sometimes codes actually matched where they were sold. Least I saw that in Alburquerque.”

Milo said, “That so? Okay, maybe another brick in the wall.”

He pointed to a photo of the blue house on Clearwater. “Onward to this place. Still haven’t found any names associated with the property, just a company, AOC — Asian-Occidental Concepts.”

The pointer shifted to the right. Enlargements of a white Volvo and a long, sleek Rolls-Royce the same color. “These aren’t actual cars and in fact none are registered to AOC. But these exact models are registered to one of their subsidiaries, an outfit called Heigur, Limited. Making it even more interesting, another subsidiary, Western Import-Export, owns the building that houses Okash’s place as well as the two other galleries on the ground floor. Neither of which we’ve ever seen actually doing business.”

Coolidge said, “Some sort of front.”

“That’s what it smells like,” said Milo. Tap of the Volvo. “This one’s a ’96 850, just like you figured, Detective Freeman. Wanna I.D. the Rolls?”

Freeman walked to the board, put on glasses, returned to his seat. “Lower radiator, extended wheel base, got to be a Mark Three Silver Dawn. In terms of the year, about the same vintage as the Volvo: ’93 to ’96.”

“Impressive,” said Milo. “DMV says Heigur’s Rolls is a ’95.”

Reed said, “Rolls-Royce, a house in B.H., mega-money.”

Freeman said, “The house maybe, but not necessarily the car. Market’s soft as a baby’s butt, you could get one of these for twenty-five, thirty K.”

Binchy said, “You’re kidding.”

Alicia said, “Thinking of upgrading, Sean? Putting a surfboard on the roof?”

Binchy smiled. “Maybe, if there’s enough belts for the car seats.”

Coolidge said, “Both cars are from the nineties so maybe that’s when these Asian folk came to town. Meaning they could’ve bought the Rolls new and we are dealing with a big-bucks thing.”

Milo said, “So far, we’ve found no other vehicles registered to Heigur, so maybe. In terms of what that means for the case?” He shrugged.

Reed said, “What I was getting at is that with corporate types or Chinese gangsters, there could be lots of flying in and out. For all we know Vollmann and McGann got dumped near the airport because it was on the way to a fly-out.”

Al Freeman said, “Maybe they are jet-setters but here’s the thing: Cars can’t just sit there, they get garage rot, the engine freezes. So if both vehicles are operable, someone’s driving them on a semi-regular basis. And servicing them. There are plenty of places to handle the Volvo but the Roller’s more specialized. Besides a couple of dealers, there are like four guys in L.A. County you’d go to. It might narrow things down.”

Coolidge turned to regard his colleague. “You going on Jeopardy!? See why I brought him?”

Milo said, “Could you call the four, Al?”

“Sure, get me the VIN and I might be able to nail it, specifically.”

Milo grinned. “I didn’t know better, I’d think you owned one.”

Freeman shrugged.

Coolidge nudged him. “C’mon, give it up, man.”

Alicia whistled.

Freeman said, “Got a ’76 Shadow couple of years ago.”

Hoots all around followed by brief applause.

Freeman got up, bowed, sat down. “No big deal, picked it up for thirteen K.”

Coolidge said, “Bet you don’t tell the ladies that.”

Milo said, “Which of the four mechanics services your car? You could start there.”

“I do it myself.”

Coolidge stared at his friend. “That and college basketball? Where’s your cape, Ironman?”

Alicia looked at Freeman intently.

He said, “It’s not rocket science. Spent some time with a guy in Van Nuys, yeah I’ll start with him.”

“I’ll email the VIN,” said Milo. “Thanks.”

Alicia had loaded a photo of a ’76 Silver Shadow on her phone. “Nice. What color’s yours?”

Freeman said, “Shell gray, red interior.”

“Sounds gorgeous.”

“I take care of it.”

She smiled at him. He smiled back.

Milo said, “In terms of where to go from here, we just keep watching Okash’s places. Same rotation if that works for the three of you.”

Reed, Binchy, and Bogomil nodded.

I said, “Another canvass of Benedict Canyon might be a good idea. Neighbors who weren’t there the first time, people who remember something new.”

Milo said, “If we can fit it in, maybe.”

Alicia said, “What about that autistic kid? He claims he was actually out there when the killers left. Are you sure he told you everything?”

Milo said, “He’s a minor and his mother was pretty protective so I don’t see getting access.”

Alicia said, “We’ve got a psychologist.”

Everyone looked at me.

I said, “I’ll give it a try.”