Victims (13 page)

Sondra said, “Okay, fine.”

“Sonny?”

“It’s the right thing, Davey. Let’s just get it over with.”

He inhaled, massaged the little crocodile snarling at his left breast. “I was coming home from work around a month ago, saw a guy across the street. It was at night but I could see him, I guess there were stars out, I really don’t know. My initial impression was he was staring at our building. Up, at the second story.”

I said, “Vita’s apartment.”

“I can’t swear to it but from the way his neck was tilted that’s what it seemed like. I found that curious because in all the time we’d been there, we never saw Vita have a visitor. I suppose it’s possible she entertained during the day when we were gone. But all the times we were home during the day, we never saw anyone.”

“Total loner,” said Sondra. “No surprise.”

“Why’s that?”

“Her personality.”

“Abrasive, combative, obnoxious, pick your adjective,” said David. “She’s on top, we’re on bottom, if anyone’s going to hear footsteps it’s us. But we never complained and trust me, her steps were heavy, she wasn’t exactly a fashion model. Sometimes, after we’d been on call, it was hell being woken up by her clomping around.”

Sondra said, “It seemed to happen a
lot
when we came back from call.”

Milo said, “You think she was trying to bug you?”

“We wondered.”

David said, “We didn’t get into it with her, what’s the point? Then she goes and complains to Stanleigh about us.”

Sondra said, “How can you hear footsteps from downstairs? Plus we always go barefoot. Plus we’re careful. Stanleigh was cool, said he was sorry. Obviously he was paying lip service. After that, anytime we’d see Vita she’d give us the stink eye.”

David said, “Anyway, back to the salient issue: She never once had a visitor that we saw and now some guy was looking up at her place.”

I said, “From across the street.”

“He took off the moment he saw me watching him.”

“What did he look like?”

“White, maybe five eleven. What I did find unusual was how he was dressed. It was a warm day but he was wearing a coat. No one wears coats in L.A., I brought one from Philly, it’s still in a garment bag.”

“What kind of coat?”

“Kind of bulky. Or maybe he was bulky and filled it out.”

Sondra said, “Given the benefit of hindsight, maybe he chose a bulky garment in order to conceal a gun. Was she shot?”

Milo said, “She was stabbed.”

She gripped her husband’s arm. “God, even if we had been there, it could’ve gone on right under our noses and we might not have heard it. That’s
repellent
.”

I said, “What else can you remember about this person, David?”

“That’s it.”

“What was his age?”

“I really can’t say.”

“When he left how did he move?”

He thought. “He didn’t limp if that’s what you’re getting at … didn’t move like an old guy, so probably not too old. I wasn’t close enough to get details. I was more concerned about what he was doing there. In fact, I wasn’t really worried, more like curious. It’s when he got out of there that I started to wonder.”

Milo said, “Think he was younger than fifty?”

“Hmm … probably.”

“Younger than forty?”

“That I can’t tell you.”

“If you had to guess.”

“Twenties or thirties,” he said. “And I don’t even know why I’m saying that.”

“Fair enough.” Milo turned to Sondra.

She said, “Three weeks ago—I know that because I was rotating at a clinic in Palmdale, too far to commute so mostly I slept out there but that night I got off early and David was on call and I wanted to clean up the apartment. So that would make it a week or two after Davey saw him. It was also at night, nine-ish, I’d gotten home at eight, eaten, showered, was doing some puttering, it relaxes me. Part of that was emptying the trash baskets into a big garbage bag and taking them out to the alley.”

She bit her lip. “In retrospect, it’s terrifying.”

I said, “Someone was in the alley.”

She nodded. “Not near our garbage, near the garbage next door. I must’ve spooked him because as soon as I got to our garbage, I heard footsteps. Then I saw him running. That freaked me out. Not only had he been there and I was unaware, but the fact that he ran away. Why would you run if you weren’t up to no good? He ran fast, west up the alley. Some of the properties have security lights and as he passed under them I could see his form diminishing. Could see his coat billowing. That’s why I know—I think—it’s the same person Davey saw. It was a warm night, why wear a coat? I can’t give you his age, saw him from the distance and from the back. But from the way he moved—more like a bear than a deer—I got the feeling he was kind of husky, the bulk just wasn’t the coat. Do you think Vita’s murder had to do with her specifically?”

Milo said, “As opposed to?”

“A random psychopath.”

David said, “Obviously we’d rather it be something specific and not some sexual predator targeting all women.”

Sondra said, “That night, when I went down to the garbage, it really was warm. I had on a tank top and shorts. And I’m not sure I drew all the drapes on our windows.”

Her eyes teared up.

Milo said, “We have no evidence he was after anyone at the building other than Vita.”

“Okay,” she said. Her tone belied any confidence.

David said, “No matter, we’re out of there.”

I said, “Sonny, when you saw this person running away, what did you do?”

“I hurried back inside.”

“The only rational response,” said David.

Her eyes shot to the left.

I said, “Did you look around at all before you hurried back?”

David said, “Why would she?”

Sondra said, “Actually …”

David stared at her.

“Just for a second, Davey. I was frightened but I was also curious, what would someone be doing there? I wanted to see if he left something. Some kind of evidence. So I’d have something to report to the police if he came back.”

“Wow,” said David. “Wow-ow.”

“It’s okay, hon, he was long gone, there was absolutely no danger. I only looked around a bit and then I went right back inside.”

I said, “What’d you see?”

“Not much. There was a box on the ground so I assumed he’d been rooting around in the trash. I wondered if he was just a homeless guy scrounging for something to eat. That could explain the coat. When I rotated through Psych they told us schizophrenics sometimes dressed way too heavy.”

“What kind of box?”

“A pizza box, empty. I know that because I picked it up and put it in the trash and from the weight you could tell it was empty.”

David said, “Ugh, time for Purell.”

She shot him a sharp look. “Like I didn’t?”

“I’m kidding.”

Milo said, “Any markings on the pizza box?”

“I didn’t notice. Why? Does pizza have something to do with Vita?”

Milo said, “Nope.”

“So maybe,” said Sondra, “he was just a mentally disturbed homeless guy Dumpster-diving, no big deal.”

“Anything else?”

Twin head shakes.

“Okay, thanks, here’s my card and when you need that escort, give a ring.”

Both Feldmans stood. He was an easy six four, she was four inches shorter. One day they might breed and create a brainy power forward.

As we headed for the door, I said, “Philly as in Penn?”

Sondra said, “Undergrad and med school for me, med school for Davey, he did undergrad at Princeton.”

David allowed himself a smile. “We come across as Ivy League twits?”

“You come across as serious thinkers.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I think.”

“Thinking,” said his wife, “can be a big pain.”

CHAPTER
17

M
ilo had his phone out before beginning the drive back to the station. He started with Moe Reed, checking again on the campgrounds.

Reed said, “Nothing, but Sean has something for you.”

Sean Binchy came on. “A neighbor thinks she saw someone lurking three days ago. White, indeterminate age, wore a coat, which she thought was weird, seeing as it was a warm night.”

“What kind of coat?”

“I didn’t ask. Is that important?”

“Maybe.” He recounted the Feldmans’ sightings, Sondra’s theory about a concealed weapon.

“Oh, boy,” said Binchy. “I’ll go back and requestion her.”

“No need,” said Milo. “Give me her info.”

We sped to Temescal Canyon.

The house was a wood-sided, two-story Craftsman on a generous
lot due west and slightly north of the campground entrance, separated from the road by a densely planted berm. Plenty of hiding places among trees and shrubs.

Not ideal for a woman living alone, and that’s what the informant turned out to be. Stunning, fortyish, athletically built, she responded to Milo’s I.D. with, “Hi, Milo B. Sturgis, I’m Erica A. Vail.”

Stepping out onto her lawn, she bent to pluck a dead bud from an azalea bush. She wore a skimpy black top, leggings in a curious shade of green that took on pink highlights when the sun hit the fabric at a certain angle, pink Vans. Her hair was huge, dark, artfully mussed. A diamond chip pierced her left nostril.

“I don’t know what I can add to what I told that young cop. Didn’t know you guys could be so hip. Spiky hair, that whole surfer thing, Doc Martens. Someone brought that to me in a script I’d tell them to get authentic. But apparently I need to be more broad-minded.”

“You’re a director?”

“Producer.” She name-dropped a comedy series that had been off the air for five years, added the fact that she had three pilots in development for three separate networks.

“Glad Detective Binchy was helpful,” said Milo. “I’m his boss.”

Erica Vail flashed blindingly white teeth. “I merit the boss? Flattered. Maybe you’ll be a little more forthcoming. Who exactly got killed?”

“A man who lives nearby.”

“How nearby?”

“Couple of miles.”

“By lives do you mean actually lives, like in a house? Or one of those homeless guys who congregate at PCH?”

“He had a home. His name was Marlon Quigg.”

“Never heard of him,” she said. “I’d figured it for a homeless guy, once in a while they wander in. But when one of us asks them to leave we’ve never had a problem—did one of them kill Mr. Quigg?”

“Too early to say, Ms. Vail.”

“The guy I saw didn’t impress me as homeless. Too healthy-looking. Even a little on the heavy side.”

“Tell us about it.”

“Sure,” said Erica Vail, bright-eyed, cheerful. “Three nights ago, must’ve been close to ten, I came out and there he was.” Pointing to the berm. “I was just about where I am now and I could see him because the moon was fat, it created kind of a halo around him.” She smiled. “Almost a special-effects thing, forgive me, I tend to think in terms of movie frames.”

Milo said, “You don’t seem upset.”

“About the murder or seeing him?”

“Either.”

“The murder doesn’t bother me because it’s too abstract and back in a former life I was a surgical nurse, including duty in Afghanistan. So it takes a lot to gross me out. Seeing him didn’t bother me because of Bella.”

“Who’s Bella?”

She jogged back inside her house, returned moments later with a beast in tow.

At least a hundred fifty pounds of defined blue-gray muscle was graced by a massive, blunt-nosed head. Spots of gold accented the brow above the small, watchful eyes, same for the bottoms of the legs. A color-morphed rottweiler. But bigger and leggier than a rottweiler with a tail docked to a stub and ears cropped to pointy remnants. Circling a tree-trunk neck was a stainless-steel pinch collar tethered to a stout leather leash.

“Say hello to the nice policemen, Bella.”

The dog’s lips drew back, baring lion-sized fangs. A low but thunderous noise—abdominal, menacing—emerged from its maws.

Erica Vail said, “Apart from me, Bella doesn’t like people.”

As if on cue, the dog lunged at us. Even with a pinch chain, Erica Vail had to labor to hold her at bay.

Erica Vail laughed. “Men, in particular. She was my present to myself after my divorce.”

“What’s her breed?” I said.

“Cane Corso. Combination of Roman war dog and some sort of Sicilian hound. Back in the old country they guard Mafia estates and hunt boar.”

Bella growled.

“I am woman, hear me roar,” said Milo.

Erica Vail laughed. “You can see why Mr. Lurker didn’t bother me. Bella smelled him when she was still in the house. That’s why I came out, she was getting all restless, whining near the door. Once we got out she went straight for him, would’ve had him for a snack if I hadn’t been able to hold her back.”

“How’d he react?”

“That’s the funny thing,” she said. “Most people see Bella coming, they cross the street. This idiot just stood there. Maybe he was trying to prove how macho he was. But it was stupid, Bella pulls hard enough, I’m not sacrificing my shoulder.”

She tossed her hair, loosened her grip on the dog. Bella edged closer. I tried a closed-mouth smile; some dogs view teeth as a threat. She cocked her head, not unlike Blanche when she’s thinking. Favored me with a long stare and settled for aloof condescension.

Erica Vail said, “I was about to warn the fool when he finally got smart and split.”

Milo said, “Which way did he go?”

“Down the street, that way—south. If he’d disappeared into the berm I’d have called you guys.”

“Anything else you remember about him?”

“I figured him for a perv because he was wearing a coat. You know, a yanker, Joe Raincoat.”

“Exhibitionist,” said Milo.

“Exhibitionists I’m used to,” said Vail. “See ’em every day on the set. So what, you think he killed Mr. Quigley?”

“We’re just starting to investigate. How big was the guy you saw?”

“Average size.” Tapping my shoulder. “More like him than you.”

“What about the coat?”

“Knee-length. He wore it open, that’s another.”

“You could tell it was open because—”

“The shape, too wide to be zipped up. I got the impression of bulk, so nothing like microfiber. Hope you catch whoever killed that poor man. Bella and I are going back inside to read scripts.”