Flesh and Blood (43 page)

Milo said, "Did you notice any of the names?"

"No, she didn't let me get that close—just wanted me to see the tree, and then brought it back into her room. Like she was proud of it. She said it was a genealogy program; she'd bought it and downloaded it herself." Salander flinched. "And then when you called and asked about the computer and I realized it was gone . . . That's when I started to worry."

"That maybe someone wanted to get hold of the family data."

"That and the fact someone had gotten into our place. Then, when I heard about Jane." Salander bit his lip. "I started thinking: Maybe Lauren had misjudged her mother. Maybe Jane didn't want Lauren to get too close not because she was worried about getting cut off but because it was dangerous. What if Jane really cared and Lauren was never able to see that?"

Milo stood, paced the space between the bed and the window. "Did Lauren indicate that she'd ever actually made contact with Tony Duke?"

"No," said Salander. "All I know about is that tree thingie. But he does live in Malibu, right? That humongous place, with all the parties."

"What else did she tell you that could help me, Andy?"

"That's it, I promise. After that one time she spilled her guts, she pulled back—just like Jane did with her. Mostly she stayed in her room, in front of that computer."

"Did she ever talk about other family members? Besides Tony Duke?"

Salander shook his head.

"What about girls she'd worked with?"

"Not that I recall."

"Michelle Salazar?"

"No."

"Shawna Yeager?"

"Uh-uh. She never talked about the past. And like I told you the first time, she didn't have any friends. A real loner."

"A girl and her computer," said Milo.

Salander said, "So sad." Then: "Now what?"

"Have you told anyone besides Mr. LeMoyne about any of this?"

"No." A glance at LeMoyne. "And all Justin wanted was to write up a treatment and register it—" He stopped. "That could be dangerous, huh? If someone at the Guild saw it and—"

"Oh, please," said LeMoyne. "No one in the Industry reads."

"Still," said Milo.

"Fine, fine," snapped LeMoyne. "Fine."

Milo turned to Salander. "Andy, I'll be needing you to repeat everything you've told me for a formal statement."

Salander blanched. "Why?"

"It's the rules. We'll do it in a couple of days. Either down at the station or somewhere more private, if you're straight with me about sticking around. This time."

"More private," said Salander. "Definitely more private. Do you think we can move back to Justin's place? I mean, if Lauren and Jane died because Lauren was Tony Duke's daughter and I know about it—"

"That's the point, son," said Milo. "No one knows you know. If you're discreet, I don't see any imminent danger. If you're not, I can't promise you anything."

Salander laughed hollowly.

"Something funny, Andy?"

"I was just thinking. About those times you came into The Cloisters and I served you. It's really a great job, tending bar. You have the power to make people happy—their moods just kind of fall into your hands. Not just the booze, it's everything—the listening. I knew you were a cop, someone told me. At first it bothered me. What an ugly world you must live in— I hoped you wouldn't start talking, didn't want to soak up all those negative vibes. But you never did. You just sat there and drank— you and that handsome doctor. Neither of you talked, you just drank in silence, then left. I started feeling sorry for you—no offense. Soaking up those vibes yourself. But I also felt good about helping you—not that you had a problem, but you know what I mean. I was in charge, got those beers and shots delivered right on the money and everyone was happy. And now . . ."

Another laugh. "I'll be discreet, all right," said Salander. "I'm the soul of discretion."

Outside, I said, "No imminent danger?"

"Not if he keeps his mouth shut."

"No grounds for protective custody?"

"That's TV crap—LeMoyne's world. So was my line about Salander being a material witness. The truth is, he and old Justin are free to fly off to Antigua any damn time they please." He looked back at the Palm Court, cracked his knuckles. "I always knew it was about money, but Tony Duke's daughter . . . Talk about high-stakes blackmail."

I watched the traffic on Washington Boulevard, thinking about things Lauren had told me—that her parents hadn't been married when she'd been conceived. That they'd "brought me up with lies." The wall of ice between her and Lyle. The remark to Michelle about her mother "screwing up." How early had she sensed something wrong? What had the truth done to her?

Jane had called me in a panic after Lauren had disappeared. Knowing what Lauren was up to, suspecting the five-day absence was more than just another extended weekend. Trying to motivate the police but holding back facts that might've helped. Even after Lauren's death Milo had felt Jane had been less than helpful. I thought back to any hints she might have dropped, came up with only one: "Lauren's never gotten anything from her father, and maybe that was my fault."

Guilty—she had to have been tormented. Yet it hadn't led her to finally open up. Worrying about her own safety. Justifiable fear.

And maybe something else: Lies had been the poisonous glue that held this family together.

"The time line fits," I said. "Lauren was arrested for prostitution in Reno when she was nineteen, called Lyle for bail money but he turned her down. I always wondered why she phoned him and not Jane, but maybe it was because she still cared what Jane thought. Still, stuck in jail, she might've turned to Jane. And maybe Jane came through. But she didn't give Lauren any of the money she'd collected from Tony Duke because she didn't think Lauren could handle it. Instead, she tried to reconnect with Lauren. It was a slow process—Lauren had been on the streets for three years, was sitting on a lot of anger, and she continued to hook and strip. But Jane persisted, and some kind of bond must've been formed. Because two years later—when Lauren was twenty-one—Jane did give her the money, using the Mel Abbot cover story. You remember how Jane emphasized to us how well Lauren and Mel got along."

He nodded. "Mel being a nice guy made it easier for Lauren to believe."

"Shortly after Lauren received the hundred thousand, she set up her investment account, went back to school, got her GED, enrolled in community college, quit working for Gretchen. Maybe all of that was part of a deal with Jane, or Lauren really wanted to get her life together. Every year after that she invested another fifty-thousand-dollar annual payment."

Milo said. "A deal. Give up the life, get rich." His hand landed on my shoulder, and his eyes took on that sad, sympathetic droop—the look that comes over him when he delivers bad news.

"I know," I said. "Lauren continued to freelance. Cash income, most of which she never declared and used for spending money."

Big tips. Expensive tastes. Rapprochement with her mother or not, Lauren had remained a very angry young woman. About missing out on all those years as Tony Duke's daughter. About the trade-offs she'd made.

What Andy Salander had called every little girl's fantasy had become Lauren's reality—only to twist and abort.

"Maybe it wasn't blackmail," I said. "Just Lauren claiming her birthright—stepping forward and upsetting the family applecart."

"What, someone tied her up and shot her because she wanted emotional validation?" Milo's hand got heavy, then it lifted. His eyes remained sad, and his voice got soft. "I know you want to believe something good about Lauren, but cold execution and all those other people dying says she tried to use her birthright to hit on the old man big-time. A fifty-grand-a-year allowance is one thing, a chunk of Duke Enterprises is another."

"Maybe I am denying," I said. "But think about it: Blackmail would only have worked if Tony Duke had something to hide, Milo. He sent money to Jane—and by extension to Lauren—for years. If he wanted to eliminate nuisances, why not do it right and have them killed right at the beginning?"

"Because he was dealing with Jane and Jane was reasonable. But once Lauren knew the truth, things got nasty— O impetuous youth. Jane knew what Lauren was capable of. That's why she tried to hold her back from contacting Duke. That's why when Lauren disappeared she suspected something was off. Not that it led her to tell me the truth."

"Jane tells her who her daddy is, then holds her back," I said. "It was manipulative."

"Or just a screwup. People make mistakes. Salander's right about cheap wine. Jane had been living with the secret for over twenty years. Her inhibitions finally dropped and she ran her mouth. Then she realized what she'd done, tried to get the Furies back in the box."

"Still," I said. "Dr. Maccaferri's presence at the estate says Duke's seriously ill. Why would he be worried now about acknowledging Lauren's paternity? On the contrary, wouldn't he want to connect? But there are people who'd view Lauren as the ultimate threat: a giant slice cut out of the inheritance pie."

He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets. "Dugger and his sister."

"Lauren carried a gun but never used it. My theory was that she knew and trusted the killer. Half sibs would fit that bill. Especially a half sib like Ben Dugger—outwardly such a nice guy. Lauren thought she had him pegged, let down her guard. She thought she was the actress and he was the audience. That delusion cost her."

A pizza delivery truck sped into the lot, stopped, checked the address, continued toward the front door, and screeched to a halt in a No Parking zone. A kid wearing a blue baseball cap got out toting two flat white boxes.

Milo said, "Yo!" and waved him over. The kid stood there, and we jogged to his side. Hispanic, maybe eighteen, with hair cropped to the skin, Aztec features, puzzled black eyes.

"Here you go, friend," said Milo, peeling off two twenties. "Room two fifteen, just knock and leave it outside the door. And keep the change."

"Thanks, man—sir." The kid sprinted for the hotel, shoved at the door, vanished.

Milo said, "The Pizza Olympics. Offer enough positive reinforcement and we'd have ourselves a winning team in track and field." He motioned toward the unmarked, and we started walking across the lot.

I said, "Lauren probably thought she was after the money, but she was searching for Daddy. Pathetic."

"I wonder," he said, "if Lyle ever suspected Lauren wasn't his kid."

"Why?"

"Because it's just the thing Lauren might have told him out of spite. His finding out would explain how hostile he was when we notified him. Also why he's eager to pump me about Lauren's will. Not being her blood relative, he knows he's got no legal right to anything she left behind. But with Jane gone, who's gonna argue with him, and under the law his paternity's presumed. The Duke family's sure not gonna protest if he ends up with the money in Lauren's investment account. And even if he does manage to connect Lauren to Duke, he'd keep his mouth shut about it, 'cause that would squash his claim to three hundred grand. To them, that's chump change. To Lyle, it would be the windfall of his life."

"Lauren did made a crack to Tish Teague about her daughters not being family, so I can see her taunting Lyle. But he told us he and Jane had tried to have other kids, but all they could squeeze out was Lauren. So it was obviously Jane's problem. Still, if Lauren did take a dig at his manhood, it could've led to something else. Lyle's an angry guy who likes to drink and surrounds himself with firearms. He could've just lost it. Gone after Lauren, then Jane. Revenge for the lies. And now he hopes to profit."

"An alternative scenario," he muttered. Five steps later: "Nah, I don't like it. If Jane suspected Lyle had killed Lauren, that's something she would've been happy to spill. And Lyle doesn't connect to Michelle and Lance—he'd have no way to know them. No, the way Lauren was dispatched wasn't a crime of passion. Lyle's just a circling vulture who never gave a shit about Lauren—this girl had some life."

"Short life," I said, and my eyes began to hurt.

We reached the car.

"Lauren sitting at her computer," he said. "Researching her family tree."

"Discovering Ben Dugger. Learning about his experiment. She applied to be a paid subject—not for the money, for the connection. Got a confederate job instead, because she was beautiful and poised. Used her looks and her charms to wangle her way into Dugger's confidence. He sweated, got irate, when you pushed him about having a personal relationship with Lauren. Maybe she turned him on sexually, took advantage of that because that was her specialty. But eventually she sprang the truth on him."

"Guess what, I'm your sister."

I nodded. "As family reunions went, it was a bust. The money, but maybe also something else. I've always thought Dugger had some kind of sexual hang-up—at the very least he's sexually unconventional. If Lauren aroused him, discovering she was his sister could have ignited some serious incestuous panic. And rage. Toss in Lauren trying to horn in on his inheritance, and she was finished. She couldn't have picked a worse time to surface."

Rig tips. Lauren deluding herself that she was the dancer, knew the steps. But her life had been choreographed for her.

He opened the car door and got in. "Inheritance makes me wonder about something else, Alex. That story Cheryl Duke told you about the gas leak. What if that was no accident but an attempt to eliminate another couple of slices?"

My throat got tight, and my breath caught. "Baxter and Sage. The dead dog tipped Cheryl off—she and the kids got lucky. But they also ended up back at the Duke estate. Under the control of the Duke family. It puts a whole new flavor on Kent Irving's remark about Cheryl being a neglectful mother: setting the stage so no one's shocked when the kids fall in the pool or tumble over the cliff or have a grisly mishap on that funicular or drown in the ocean."

"Cheryl fell asleep on the beach, so she's giving them more to work with."

"True," I said. "She's no genius. But why should she suspect? People without the capacity for evil can't imagine the worst of intentions."