“Would your parents have any additional-”
“They’re gone,” she said. “Cancer, both. Danny thinks it was the radon in the basement and I think he might be right. Because Mom and Dad went within nineteen months of each other and there was definitely radon, Danny had it measured. So we’d know if our kids could be safe. They didn’t find a lot but there was some. I wanted Adriana to sell the house and keep all the money. Danny and I sell every pound of meat we raise and we’re also getting good money for bones and skin and renderable fat. So I wanted Adriana to get the house but she said it belonged to both of us by right, she wouldn’t take extra.”
“What happened to the house after Adriana moved to Portland?”
“We sold it, by the time taxes and the mortgage were paid, there really wasn’t much left.”
I said, “Any reason Adriana took jobs outside of Boise?”
“She told me it was time to travel, see what was out there. I said, why don’t you go all the way, do something crazy, check out Europe? Danny and I love to travel, we cruise, last year we saw the coast of Italy, it was amazing.” She smiled. “I guess the West Coast was adventure enough for Adriana.” She bit her lip. “Now I guess I have to look? To identify her?”
“That won’t be necessary, Ms. Johanson.”
“No?”
“We know who she is.”
“Oh, okay, so how does it work? Do I take her back with me?”
“Eventually but not quite yet, Ms. Johanson.”
“She’s being autopsied?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“When will that be finished?”
“Within a few days.”
“Then what?”
Milo said, “You’ll be informed and given a list of local undertakers who can help you through the process. They’ll take care of everything.”
“I guess I’ll bury her next to Mom and Dad … there’s a space. Two, one for each of us.”
I said, “No other sibs?”
“Nope, just Adriana and me … I’ll tell her pastor, I’m sure he’ll want to do some kind of memorial.”
Milo said, “Could we have his name, please?”
“Pastor Goleman. Life Tabernacle Church of the Fields. Any recommendations for picking an undertaker, Lieutenant Sturgis?”
“They’re all good, ma’am.”
“Six of one, half dozen of the other? Okay, I guess I’ll fly back, you tell me when I can have my sister.”
“Do you need a ride to the airport?”
“No, I reserved a car and driver for all day.”
“When’s your flight?”
“Whenever I want.” She looked away. “I’m leaving from Van Nuys, we own a small plane-a tiny little jet, you can’t even stand up in it, nothing fancy. We use it for business, visiting the various cattle auctions and semen dealers and whatnot.”
“Makes sense,” said Milo.
“Efficient. That’s what Danny says, though between us, I think he just wanted his own plane. I thought I’d be bringing Adriana back with me, talked to the pilot about there being room in the hold, he said there was.” She swiped at her eyes. “I guess I’ll be going home alone.”
CHAPTER 20
Adriana Betts’s cell phone registration traced to an address in Portland but her recent billing had gone to a Mailboxes Galore in a La Jolla strip mall. Milo began the paperwork for subpoenaing the records, then tried the mail drop.
The clerk said, “Let me check … here we go, Betts. Closed three months ago.”
“Any idea why?”
“We don’t ask.”
“She leave a forwarding?”
“Let me check … nope, just a close-down.”
“Was she all paid up?”
“To the day,” said the clerk. “That’s pretty cool.”
“What is?”
“Someone being honest.”
I said, “La Jolla makes sense if she was working for two doctors. Big medical town. And a pair of physicians would be less likely to run out of nanny money.”
“Med school’s a big place,” he said. “You have any contacts?”
“A few in Pediatrics, but the sister said cancer research so I’d try Oncology first.”
“Sister didn’t know much, did she? Maybe Adriana didn’t want her to. Why would a church girl need a P.O.B.?”
I said, “Church girl with a secret life?”
“She didn’t die pretty.”
An outraged activist might call that blaming the victim. Anyone with homicide experience would call it logic.
He read off the Portland address on the cell registration. “Let’s talk to these people, first.”
Susan Van Dyne worked as a reference librarian at the Multnomah County Library, Main Branch. Bradley Van Dyne was in human resources at a start-up software company. Both had Facebook pages that showed them as bespectacled towheads with an interest in snow sports. Their only child was a three-year-old named Lucas, already wearing glasses. In one of several posted photos, Adriana Betts could be seen holding the boy on her knee.
Everyone smiling, Adriana’s grin the widest. She had on the same dress she’d died in. Lucas grasped her finger with a tiny hand. Child and nanny appeared in love. So far, I believed everything Adriana had told her sister.
The Van Dynes’ number was listed. They gasped in unison when Milo told them about the murder.
“My God, my God,” said Susan. “Adriana was a gem. We so regretted having to let her go.”
“Why did you?”
Bradley said, “Lost my job, couldn’t afford her anymore. When the HR department gets reamed, you know the company’s terminal. And guess what? They bellied up ten days after I got my pink slip.”
Susan said, “With Bradley staying home it didn’t make sense.”
“I became Mr. Mom,” said Bradley. “Not my finest hour, I’m finally bringing in a paycheck again. Poor Adriana, I can’t believe anyone would hurt her. Was it a random thing? ’Cause it’s not like she traveled the fast lane.”
“No partying?” I said.
“Her? She made us look like night-lifers and trust me, we’re not.”
Susan said, “She had her evenings to herself but never went out. All she wanted to do was read and watch TV and crochet. She made three lovely blankets for Lucas. Oh, God, he’d be so sad if he knew.”
Milo said, “Did Adriana have any friends?”
“None that we ever met.”
Bradley said, “She actually told me her best friend was Lucas.”
Susan said, “She and Lucas really bonded. She had great instincts, could get down and play at his level. He still asks about her. Letting her go wasn’t easy.”
“How’d she react to that?”
