As MINDY RETURNED to her office the corridor filled with people.
Milo said, "That Chinese food made me thirsty."
We rode a crowded elevator down to the med school cafeteria. Amid the clatter1 of trays and the odors of mass fodder2, we bought Cokes and settled at a rear table. Behind us was a cloudy glass wall looking out to an atrium.
"So," he said. "Mindy."
"Not a terrific liar," I said. "Her complexion3 wouldn't cooperate, and she was squeezing that pen hard enough to break it. Especially when she talked about the photos. Adam Green said they were loose black-and-whites, not magazine pages. Mindy tried to make him out as some nut, but he seemed pretty credible4 to me. And Mindy's explanation makes no sense. Why would her boyfriend keep skin mags in her room? Green wondered if both Shawna and Mindy had followed up on a solicitation5 to pose. That would explain Mindy's nervousness."
He nodded. "Especially now that she's an old married woman."
"You didn't press her on it."
"I felt I'd gone as far with her as I could. For the time being. Even if Shawna did pose for nudies, there's no proof it was really a Duke gig, and not some con6 man with a business card. Fact is, I can't see Duke using some psycho photographer—too much at stake. And I can't exactly march into Tony's corporate7 headquarters and demand access to the photo archives."
His beeper went off. He read the number, cell-phoned, couldn't get a connection, and stepped outside the cafeteria. When he returned he said, "Guess who that was? Lyle Teague. Mommy doesn't call me, but Daddy does."
"What did he want?"
"Have I gotten anywhere, was there anything he could do? Forcing himself to be polite—you could just about see his hands clench8 through the phone lines. Then he slips in a question about Lauren's estate. Who's in charge, what's going to happen to her stuff, do I know who's handling her finances?"
"Oh, man."
He shook his head. "The vulture circles. When I told him I had no idea about any of that, he started to get testy9. Poor Lauren, growing up with that. Sometimes I think your job's worse than mine."
He bought another Coke, emptied the can.
I said, "The one thing Mindy did confirm was Shawna's attraction to older men. That and a Duke angle—real or not—does provide a possible link between her and Lauren."
"Dugger," he said.
"Older man, rich, smart. A psychologist, no less. He fits Shawna's list. And talk about business cards—he's got paternity to back it up. For all we know he uses the magazine as a lure10. Same for the intimacy11 study."
"Double life, huh? Mr. Clean by day, God knows what after hours?"
"Even by day he's strange," I said. "He has no current clients but keeps that lab going. Putting people in a strange little room and measuring how close they get to each other. Sounds more like voyeurism12 than science to me. And he was running ads prior to both Shawna's and Lauren's disappearances14."
"His staff said Shawna had never been to Newport."
"So he destroyed records. Or met Shawna another way. Taking glam pictures, or he used some other premise15. Mindy said Shawna got all dressed up for that weekend thing back home. She didn't buy the story, assumed the obvious: a date. Shawna was eighteen years old, hungry for the finer things, talked openly about digging older guys. It wouldn't take a genius to seize upon that and exploit it. And here's something else to think about: A year has passed between Shawna's disappearance13 and Lauren's death, but that doesn't mean there've been no victims in the interim16."
"I checked for that," he said. "Right after you told me about Shawna. No obvious similars."
"Things happen," I said. "Stuff no one knows about. Especially when there's money involved."
He didn't answer. But he didn't argue.
We left the Med Center and walked to the no parking zone in front, where he'd left the unmarked. A parking ticket flapped under the windshield wipers. He crumpled17 it and tossed it in the car's backseat.
I said, "At the very least, it would be worth talking to Shawna's mother. She might be able to confirm or deny the weekend event in Santo Leon. Maybe she's still working at the Hilton."
"Someone else to make miserable," he said. "Yeah, yeah, let's blow by. After that, I'm heading out to Sherman Oaks to see Jane Abbot. Happy Mother's Day."
The Beverly Hilton sits at the western edge of Beverly Hills, just east of where the L.A. Country Club begins its dominance of Wilshire. The drive from Westwood was five minutes. The hotel's personnel office was cooperative but careful, and it took a while to find out that Agnes Yeager had left the Hilton's employ nine months ago.
"She didn't stay long," said Milo. "Problems?"
"No problems at all," said the assistant personnel manager, Esai Valparaiso, a small, friendly man in a tight brown suit. "We didn't dismiss her, she just left." Valparaiso's thumb flicked18 the edge of the folder19. "Without notice, it says here."
"Any idea where she went?"
"No, sir, we don't follow them."
"And her job was to clean rooms."
"Yes, sir—she was a Housekeeper20 One."
"Could I have her most recent address?"
Valparaiso's hands spread atop his desk. "I hope she hasn't done anything that reflects upon the hotel."
"Not unless grief's bad for your image."
"Twelve hundred Cochran," Milo said, reading the slip as we headed for the car. "The place Mindy told us about." He plugged Agnes Yeager's name into DMV. "No wants, warrants, violations21, but the address is back in Santo Leon."
"Maybe she gave up, moved back."
He got the area code for the farm town, called Information. "Not listed— Okay, let's have a look at Cochran."
The apartment was a six-unit dingbat just south of Olympic, on the east side of the street. White-stucco box faced with blue diamonds, remnants of sparkle paint glinting at the points, an open carport packed with older sedans, and a spotless concrete yard where there should've been lawn. No Yeager on the mailbox in front, and we were about to leave when an old black man leaning on a skinny chromium cane22 limped out of the front unit and waved.
His skin was the color of fresh eggplant, shaded to pitch where a wide-brimmed straw hat blocked the sun. He wore a faded blue work shirt buttoned to the neck, heavy brown twill trousers, and bubble-toed black work shoes with mirror-polished tips.
"Sir," said Milo.
Tip of the hat. "So who did what to who, Officers?" The cane slanted23 forward as he limped toward us. We met him midway to the carport.
Milo said, "We're looking for Agnes Yeager, sir."
Cracked gray lips canted downward. "Agnes? Is this about her daughter? Something finally happen with that?"
"You know about her daughter."
"Agnes talked about it," said the man. "To anyone who'd listen. I'm around all the time, so I ended up doing lots of listening." Bracing24 himself on the cane, he held out a horned hand, which Milo grasped. "William Perdue. I pay the mortgage on this place."
"Detective Sturgis, Mr. Perdue. Nice to meet you. You're talking about Mrs. Yeager in the past tense. When did she leave?"
Perdue worked his jaws26 and placed both hands on the cane. The straw of his hat brim had come loose near the band, and the sunlight poking27 through created a tiny lavender moon under his right cheekbone. "She didn't leave of her own will—she got sick. Nine or so months ago. Happened right here. My niece was down visiting me from Las Vegas. She's a traffic dispatcher for the police there, works the morning shift and tends to get up early, so she was out that morning just before sunrise. She heard it—a big noise from Agnes's apartment." Twisting slowly, Perdue pointed28 to the ground-floor unit across from his. "Agnes fell down, right inside her door. The door was open, and the newspaper was on the floor next to her. She went outside to fetch it, took a step back inside, and collapsed29. Tariana said she was breathing, but not too strong. We called 911. They said it looked like a heart attack. She didn't smoke or drink—all that sadness was probably what caused it."
"Sadness over her daughter."
"It cut her to the bone." The cane wobbled, but Perdue managed to draw himself up.
"Any idea where she is, Mr. Perdue?"
"They took her right down the block—to MidTown Hospital. Tariana and I went to see her there. They had her in the intensive care and we couldn't get in. She didn't have insurance, so a while later they moved her to County Hospital for evaluation30. That's a far trip for me, so I just called her. She wasn't in much of a state for talking, said they still didn't know what was wrong with her, but she'd probably be moving out, she'd send someone for her things, sorry about the rent—she owed a month. I said not to worry and don't be concerned about her things either— There wasn't much, she rented the place furnished. I had everything packed up—two suitcases—and Tariana brought them over to County Hospital. That's the last I heard from her. I know she was discharged from County, but no one would tell me where."
"Mr. Perdue," said Milo, "did she have any ideas about what happened to Shawna?"
"Sure did. She figured Shawna had been killed, probably by some man who lusted31 after her."
"She used that word, sir? 'Lusted'?"
Perdue pushed up the brim of his hat. "Yes, sir. She was a pretty religious woman, one of those with a strong sense of sin— Like I said, nodrinking or smoking, and once she got home from work, she sat and watched TV all night."
"Lusted," said Milo. "Did she tell you why she thought that?"
"It was just a feeling she had. Shawna meeting up with the wrong gent. She also said the police weren't doing much—no offense33. That the officer in charge didn't communicate with her. One time I met her out back. We were both taking out the garbage and she was looking sad and I said what's wrong, and she just started bawling34. That's when she told me. That Shawna had been a little difficult back home and that she'd tried her best but Shawna had a mind of her own."
"Wild in what way?"
"I didn't ask her, sir," said Perdue, sounding offended. "Why would I pour salt in her wounds?"
"Of course," said Milo. "But she didn't give you any details?"
"She just said she regretted the fact that Shawna's daddy died when Shawna was a baby. That Shawna never had any father, didn't know how to relate to men properly. Then she started crying some more, talking about how she'd done the best she could, how when Shawna announced she was moving down here to go to college it had scared her 'cause Shawna was all she had. But she let her go, because you couldn't say no to Shawna—she'd do what she pleased, like entering those beauty contests. Agnes never approved of that, but Shawna wouldn't be refused. Agnes figured you had to cut the apron35 strings36. 'Now look what's happened, William,' she told me. Then she just cried some more. Pitiful."
Perdue ran a finger over his upper lip. The nail was hardened, cross-grained like sandstone but carefully shaped. "I told her it wasn't any of her fault, that things just happen. I lost a boy in Vietnam. Three years I spent fighting Hider's war, and I came back without a scratch. My boy flies over to Vietnam, two weeks later he steps on a mine. Things happen, right?"
"They do, sir," said Milo.
"They do, indeed."
We drove to Crescent Heights, crossed Sunset as the street shifted to Laurel Canyon37, and headed for die Valley.
"Woman with a heart condition," said Milo. "I'm gonna kick her off the ledge38?"
"What do you think about what she told Perdue?"
"About Shawna being wild?"
"Wild because she had no father in her life," I said. "Wild in a specific way. I think her mother knew of Shawna's attraction to older men. Meaning maybe Shawna had older boyfriends back home."
"Maybe," he said. "But that could also mean that Shawna's story about heading home for the weekend was true. She got dolled up for some Santo Leon Lothario, it went bad, he killed her, dumped her somewhere out in the boonies. That's why she's never been found. If so, there goes the Lauren connection."
"No," I said. "Agnes might've been aware of Shawna's tendencies, but I doubt she knew about a specific hometown boyfriend. If she had, wouldn't she have given his name to the police? Even if the police weren't listening."
"Leo Riley," he said. "SOB39 still hasn't called back."
"He probably couldn't tell you much anyway. Milo, I think Agnes Yeager knew Shawna's pattern and suspected history had repeated itself in L.A., but she didn't know the specifics."
"Could be. The thing that bothers me is that whoever made Shawna dead really didn't want her to be found. But just the opposite's true of Lauren, and Michelle and Lance. We're talking bodies left out in the open, someone flaunting—maybe wanting to set an example, or scare someone off. Something professional. None of that fits with a sex crime."
"So the motives40 were different," I said. "Shawna was a lust32 killing41, the others were eliminated to shut them up."
We passed the Laurel Canyon market, and the road took on a steep grade. Milo's foot bore down on the accelerator, and the unmarked shuddered42. As the trees zipped by my heart began racing25.
"Oh, man."
"What?"
"What if Shawna's death is the secret? Lauren found out somehow, tried to profit from it. Talk about something worth killing for."
He was silent till Mulholland. "How would Lauren find out?"
I had no answer for that. He began pulling on his earlobe. Took out a panatella. Asked me to light it and blew foul43 smoke out the window."Well," he finally said, "maybe Jane can elucidate44 for us. Glad you're here." Angry smile. "This might require psychological sensitivity."
We drove up to the gates of the Abbot house just before four P.M. Both the blue Mustang convertible45 and the big white Cadillac were parked in front, but no one answered Milo's bell push. He tried again. The digital code sounded, four rings. Broken connection.
"Last time it was hooked up to the answering machine," he said. "Cars in the driveway but no one's home?"
"Probably just as we thought," I said. "They went away, took a taxi."
He jabbed the bell a third time, said, "Let's talk to some neighbors," and turned to leave as the third ring sounded. We were nearly at the car when Mel Abbot's voice broke in.
"Please . . . this is not. . . this is. . ."
Then a dial tone.
Milo studied the gate, hiked his trousers, and had taken hold of an iron slat. But I'd already gotten a toehold, and I made it over first.
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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fodder
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| n.草料；炮灰 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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credible
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| adj.可信任的，可靠的 | |
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solicitation
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| n.诱惑；揽货；恳切地要求；游说 | |
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con
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| n.反对的观点，反对者，反对票，肺病；vt.精读，学习，默记；adv.反对地，从反面；adj.欺诈的 | |
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corporate
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| adj.共同的，全体的；公司的，企业的 | |
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clench
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| vt.捏紧（拳头等），咬紧（牙齿等），紧紧握住 | |
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testy
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| adj.易怒的；暴躁的 | |
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lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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voyeurism
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| n.窥阴癖者 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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disappearances
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| n.消失( disappearance的名词复数 )；丢失；失踪；失踪案 | |
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premise
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| n.前提；v.提论，预述 | |
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interim
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| adj.暂时的，临时的；n.间歇，过渡期间 | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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folder
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| n.纸夹，文件夹 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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violations
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| 违反( violation的名词复数 )； 冒犯； 违反（行为、事例）； 强奸 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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bracing
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| adj.令人振奋的 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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poking
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| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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evaluation
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| n.估价，评价；赋值 | |
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lusted
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| 贪求（lust的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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bawling
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的现在分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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canyon
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| n.峡谷，溪谷 | |
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ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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elucidate
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| v.阐明，说明 | |
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convertible
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| adj.可改变的，可交换，同意义的；n.有活动摺篷的汽车 | |
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