Victims (12 page)

“But easygoing,” I said.

“
That’s
what I meant. Marlon was the easiest-going guy, I can’t believe someone would hurt him. I mean
Marlon
, for God’s sake. He was the original bleeding heart. That’s how he got Louie, no one wanted to adopt Louie, probably because he’s so dim. My husband and I used to call him the Dumb Blond. A breathing, pooping throw rug. Anyone who’d steal that mutt is a worse idiot … sorry, I’m ranting, I still can’t believe this. Someone actually hurt
Marlon
. Unbelievable.”

“Mrs. Quigg’s pretty traumatized, if you think you’re up to coming over right now—”

“I’ll be there in a jif.”

Back in the living room, Belle Quigg was resting her head on Milo’s shoulder. Eyes closed, maybe sleeping, maybe withdrawing deeper than slumber. She’d caught him in an awkward position but he didn’t budge.

I told him a friend would be showing up shortly.

Belle Quigg stirred.

Milo said, “Ma’am?”

“Huh?”

“If you can handle a few more questions.”

Her eyes opened. “Whu?”

“Is the name Vita Berlin familiar?”

“Like the city?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Not familiar with Vita Berlin?”

“Sounds like a food supplement.”

“What about an insurance company named Well-Start?”

“Huh?”

He repeated the name.

“We use Allstate.”

“Allstate’s casualty, Well-Start does health insurance.”

“We use one of the blue ones, Marlon paid all the bills.”

“So neither Vita Berlin or Well-Start rings a bell.”

“No.” Flash of clarity. She sat up but remained pressed against him. “No. Neither. Why?”

“Just routine questions.”

Smiling, the new widow placed a hand on his chest. Snuggling closer, she said, “You’re so
big
.”

CHAPTER
15

T
wo women entered the Quigg condo. First through the door was a tall buxom redhead with short, feathered hair, wearing a green sweater over a black unitard and red Chinese slippers. She announced herself as Letty, identified her shorter, sweats-attired companion as “Sally Ritter, she’s also a friend.”

Belle Quigg didn’t react. Her eyes were open but they’d been blank for the last quarter hour. One hand continued to grip Milo’s wrist. The other rested on his chest.

Letty Pomeroy said, “Oh, honey!” and surged forward.

Milo manage to extricate himself and stretch.

Sally Ritter said, “So what exactly happened?”

I said, “I’ve explained to Ms. Pomeroy.”

“From what she told me on the way over, that’s not much.”

Milo said, “We don’t know much, that’s why we need to investigate. Thanks, ladies.” He headed for the door.

Belle Quigg said, “Wait.”

Everyone looked at her.

“You’ve remembered something, ma’am?”

She shook her head. “But
everyone
should stay.”

Milo started up the engine before closing the driver’s door, sped onto Sunset. Crossing the next intersection on an iffy amber evoked honks and curses. He said, “Sue me,” and steered with one finger as he celled Moe Reed.

“Any shoe prints out front?”

Reed’s voice came on speaker, grainy but audible. “A few closer to the gate like you suggested. Techies arrived just after you left and I had them cast. Unfortunately, nothing was clear enough, all they got is an approximation of shoe size.”

“Which is?”

“We’re talking at least five different sets, ranging from small to big.”

“What about tire tracks?”

“I really have to be the one to tell you, huh?”

“That bad?”

“No tracks whatsoever, Loo. Whoever sliced that poor guy up either walked in and out or he parked somewhere in the surrounding neighborhood. Street parking is illegal after eight p.m., any vehicle would’ve stood out and the locals would’ve probably complained. I checked with Traffic. No one called in anything and no tickets were issued last night.”

“Have the uniforms canvass the entire grounds again.”

“Uniforms just finished canvassing a second time. Nothing.”

“Do it a third time. You supervise. Have Sean participate, sometimes he notices things.”

“Sean’s doing a door-to-door with the nearest neighbors.”

“You, then. Make sure it’s done right.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m not only talking juicy obvious evidence, Moses. I’m talking
random trash, a bottle, a candy wrapper. Anything but the damn trees and shrubs and rocks that God put there.”

“Only different thing that came up the second time was a dead snake near an empty garbage can. California king, a baby, pretty little thing, with blue and yellow and red stripes. And I’m not sure you can call that out of place.”

“Didn’t know you watched Animal Planet, kid. Bring me a cobra and I’ll be impressed.”

Reed laughed. “Really was a nice snake, poor thing.”

Milo ended the call; a second later it beeped Brahms. “Sturgis … oh, hi. Thanks for calling back … sure … actually I understand the whole schedule thing, a good friend of mine’s a physician … Richard Silverman, he’s also at Cedars … you do? Yes, he is. So when can I speak to both of you? Sooner’s better than later … I see. Well, that’s fine, just give me your room number. Great, see you in twenty.”

He accelerated, zoomed around curves. The unmarked’s loose suspension griped. He kept racing, zipping past the tree-shrouded northern border of the U.’s massive campus.

I said, “Vita’s downstairs neighbors?”

“The Drs. Feldman. That was the male half. They both just got off call, found out about Vita, and are too freaked out to return home. So they’re staying at the Sofitel across from Cedars.”

I said, “Freaked out because they know something or just general anxiety?”

“We’ll find out soon enough, I’m headed straight there. Any thoughts about poor Mr. Quigg?”

I repeated what Letty Pomeroy had told me.

“Mr. Nice Guy,” he growled, as if that was the gravest personality flaw of all. “Maybe too trusting?”

“Sounds like Louie sure was. No protective instinct at all.”

“And now he’s probably lying in a ditch with his own guts churned up. What the hell’s going on, Alex? One victim’s the most hated
woman in Southern California, the other’s ready to be sainted. There’s a rational pattern for you.”

I said, “Only thing I can see in common is they were about the same age.”

“A psycho who targets aging boomers? Now all I have to do is keep a close watch on a few million potential carvees. Hell, Alex, maybe I sic AARP on the damn case. Here I’d convinced myself this had something to do with Vita specifically. Now I’m picking up that random stench. Or something so crazy it might as well be random. Please tell me I’m wrong.”

“Too much planning went into the killings for a random strike. Same goes for the cleanup and sitting by the bodies until they were safely dead before mutilating.”

“So something nuts. Wonderful.”

“Calculated evil, not insanity. My bet is Vita and Quigg were both stalked. Vita was a stay-at-home who went out to shop and eat. Quigg took the same walk with his dog every night.”

“Creatures of habit,” he said. “Fine, but what made them targets? Vita pissing off some psycho I can see. But mild-mannered Marlon? So maybe Quigg’s not as perfect as his wife made out. You have time to revisit her? Maybe she’ll give something up.”

“I have time, but she sure seemed to like your big manly chest.”

“Hate to deprive her but you’ll be an excellent second choice.”

A mile later, he said: “The dog bothers me. So he’s no pit bull. But standing around while Quigg got butchered?”

I said, “All the killer needed to do was incapacitate Quigg then tie the dog’s leash to a branch or pin it under a rock. If Louie did react to seeing his master die horribly, that could’ve heightened the pleasure.”

“A sadist.”

“With a captive audience.”

“Think the dog’s dead or a live trophy?”

“Could go either way.”

“Either,” he said. “God, I hate that word.”

CHAPTER
16

D
r. David Feldman sat on the edge of the hotel bed. Dr. Sondra Feldman sat so close the two of them looked glued together. The room was compact, tidy, air-conditioned frigid.

He was thirty or so, tall, thin, and long-limbed as an egret, with wavy black hair and the anxious nobility of a Velasquez prince. His wife, pretty and grave with nervous hands and straight black hair, could’ve been mistaken for his sib.

They’d insisted that Milo slip I.D. under the door before unlatching. The chain had remained in place while two sets of eyes checked us over through the crack.

After letting us in, Sondra Feldman bolted and rechained and David Feldman double-checked the strength of the hardware. Both Feldmans wore jeans, sneakers, and polo shirts, hers a pink Ralph Lauren Polo, his a sky-blue Lacoste. Their white coats were draped individually over separate chair-backs. A bowl of fruit on a nightstand was untouched. A bottle of Merlot had been touched to half empty.

Sondra Feldman saw me looking at the wine. “We thought it might help but it was all we could do to hold it down.”

Milo said, “Thanks for getting back to me.”

David Feldman said, “We’re hoping you can protect us. Or is that unrealistic?”

“You think you’re in danger?”

“A neighbor gets murdered right above us? Wouldn’t you consider that danger?”

Sondra said, “There’s no alarm system in the apartment. That always bothered me.”

“Have you had security problems?”

“No, but we’re into prevention not treatment. We talked to Stanleigh—Mr. Belleveaux. He was reluctant to install anything for a one-year lease.”

David said, “For lack of contradictory data, we’re assuming we’re in danger. We’ll be moving soon as we find another place but at some point, we’ll need to go back to retrieve our stuff. Is there any way we could receive some sort of police escort? I know we’re not celebs and the city’s tight financially, but we’re not asking for anything extensive, maybe one cop.”

Milo said, “Until you find a new place, you’ll be staying here?”

Sondra frowned. “The cost is crazy and we get what, two hundred square feet?”

David said, “We both have tons of loans. Stanleigh’s place seemed like a great deal because he was friendly and honest and it was reasonably close to both our work. But after this? Not a chance.”

“You’re a resident at Cedars?”

“And Sonny’s at the U.”

The mention of work seemed to relax them. I said, “What are your specialties?”

“I’m in medicine, want to do a gastro fellowship. Sonny’s pediatrics.”

Sondra Feldman said, “Can we interpret your not answering the request for an escort as a no?”

Milo said, “Not at all. Once you’re ready, get in touch. If I can’t accompany you myself, I’ll get someone else.”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure. I’ll be back to the scene several times, anyway.”

The Feldmans exchanged quick rabbity looks. Sondra said, “Well, thank you.”

Milo said, “Hey, a neighbor murdered is heavy-duty, I don’t blame you for being on edge. But is there some specific reason you feel you might be targeted?”

Another exchange of jumpy eye-language.

David said, “We may just be paranoid, but we think we might have seen something.”

Sondra said, “
Someone
. The first time was around three weeks ago. Davey saw him—you tell them, honey.”

David nodded. “I can’t be sure exactly when this was, given our sleep patterns, time blurs. We get home, take Ambien, collapse. The only reason I noticed him in the first place was the neighborhood’s generally quiet, you never see anyone out past five. Not like Philly, we lived in City Center, there was street life all the time.”

Sondra said, “The second time was maybe two weeks ago and I was the one who saw him. Davey hadn’t told me he saw him so I never mentioned it. It was only after what happened to Vita that we compared notes.”

Milo said, “Who’s him?”

She said, “Before we get into it, Lieutenant, we need to feel certain we’re doing the right thing.”

“Believe me, Doctor, you are.”

“We don’t mean morally, we mean personal-safety-wise. What if it gets back to him that we played a role in his apprehension and he comes after us?”

“Dr. Feldman, we’re a long way from that.”

“We’re just saying,” said Sondra. “Once we pass along information we’re part of the process. There’ll be no way to get
un
involved.”

Milo said, “I appreciate your concern but I’ve been doing this a long time and I’ve never had someone in your situation harmed.”

David said, “Please excuse us for not finding that comforting. There’s always a first time.”

I said, “You returned Lieutenant Sturgis’s call. That wasn’t just to ask for a police escort to pick up your stuff.”

“That’s true,” said David. “We wanted to do the right thing. But then we got to discussing it.”

“A criminal investigation is a complex process. Before anyone’s apprehended, let alone charged and brought to trial, there’ll be thousands of bits of data added to the pile. Your contribution won’t stand out.”

Sondra said, “You sound like my father. He’s a psych prof, always dissecting things logically.”

“What does your father think you should do?”

“I haven’t told him! Neither of us has told anyone.”

David said, “If he knew, he’d be here on the next plane. Trying to run things, telling us, See, I was right, you should’ve stayed in Philly.”

She smiled. “Your mom, too.”

“In spades. Meddle-city.”

They held hands.

I said, “Who’d you both see?”

Sondra said, “If our contribution’s so insignificant, you probably don’t need us in the first place.”

“Not insignificant,” I said. “But not conspicuous, either. Isn’t medicine like that? You don’t always know what will work?”

David said, “We’d like to think medicine can be pretty scientific.”

“We’d like to think criminal investigations can be scientific but reality doesn’t always cooperate. The information you have may turn out to be irrelevant. But if it narrows things down, it could help.”