At Lexington Road, Reed tried again. “It won’t be a problem, Loo.”
“What won’t be?”
“Aaron and me.”
“Never assumed it would be.”
“One thing she gave us: Doesn’t sound like the Vanders are running from anything. What are we thinking about those sex parties Selena played at?”
“Good question.”
“So they’re still potential suspects?”
“No reason to eliminate them. Or anyone else.” Milo smiled. “With an alternative lifestyle. Whether or not that’s what got her-and the other women-killed? Who the hell knows?”
I said, “Selena’s missing computer says there are secrets the killer wants to stay hidden.”
Reed said, “Or it’s just the bad guy getting rid of any link between him and Selena. Meaning someone she knew. And she knew Huck. And now
“Creepy guy,” said Milo. “But not to the Vanders. Simon’s a sharp-eyed businessman. Trusting according to his daughter, but she never said he was an outright sucker. Why would he give Huck a job that had him living in?”
“The weird-the alternative lifestyle?”
Milo didn’t answer until we’d traveled a mile on Sunset. “All right, we’ll invite Mr. Huck for an interview, keep it mellow, maybe he won’t lawyer up immediately. But not today, give it a few more nights of surveillance. God’s smiling at us, guy’ll finally leave the house, head straight to Century Boulevard, solicit a working girl under your watchful eye, Detective Reed. Royal
Reed said, “You think he’d be that stupid? With all those bodies turning up, he goes back there?”
“You’re the one been itching to watch him, kiddo.”
Silence.
Milo said, “Yeah, it would be stupid but without stupid criminals, the job would be as cheerful as cancer. And from Huck’s perspective, there really isn’t much heat. We had a two-minute chat with him, haven’t been back, the press conference emphasized no leads. He’s got to feel we know diddly. Which ain’t far from the truth.”
Reed said, “Feeling confident, so he strikes out.”
I said, “The pattern of the murders implies a sequence of confidence-building. Start with women who could be considered throwaway victims and bury them out of sight. No one catches on, kick it up to someone bound to be missed, display her, call it in just to make sure.”
“Mr. Hissy,” said Reed. “And everything goes down at the marsh. What’s that, staying in his geographic comfort zone?”
I said, “The marsh could be part of the thrill.”
“The place turns him on? How?”
“Dr. Hargrove called it hallowed ground. Lust murders are often about control through defilement. What better place to showcase your handiwork? There could’ve also been a practical reason. There’s limited public access to the marsh. If he’d stuck to stashing bodies in the muck, his crimes could’ve stayed undetected for years.”
“Instead he decides to advertise.” Reed gave a low whistle. “Life do get twisted.”
Milo said, “First step toward being an ace detective, kid.”
“What is?”
“Figuring out you’re living in a different world.”
Pigeons had partied atop Reed’s rented Cadillac. He grumbled, “Story of my life,” sounding uncannily like Milo.
His cell phone went off. “Reed… I’m so sorry, ma’am… yes, absolutely, ma’am.” Pulling his pad out, he scrawled, hung up.
“That was Mary Lewis, Sheralyn Dawkins’s mom. She lives in Fall-brook. What’s more important, watching Huck or talking to her?”
“Her,” said Milo. “Bring a scrape kit. At the very least we’ll get a firm I.D. on Sheralyn. I’ll watch Huck.”
“Depending on what she has to say, Loo, I can start out now, do a turnaround, and be back at the Vander house in eight, nine hours.”
“You start out now, you hit the crush, forget it. Get the DNA kit, pack yourself an overnight bag, leave when it’s clearer. Take the coastal route, find yourself a bed in Capistrano, whatever. Eat a nice seafood dinner, watch cable, be ready for Ms. Lewis in the morning.”
“Any suggestions where to stay?”
“Department’s not gonna pay for the Ritz-Carlton, you’ll be lucky to get a mattress and Cheez Whiz from a vending machine. And for God’s sake, fill out the forms-no, forget it, I’ll do it for you.”
“I’ll do it,” said Reed. “Promise.”
“Yadda yadda yadda.”
The two of them drove off the Pizza Palazzo lot and I headed home.
I phoned Robin, asked if she wanted me to pick up dinner.
She said, “Beat you to it. Prime rib.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“Prime rib. I was thinking we could invite Milo and Rick. On the off chance Rick’s free.”
“Feeling hospitable?”
“Got my hostess gown and my martini shaker and I bought enough cow for eight, which should accommodate Milo. It dawned on me after he called you this morning. I haven’t talked to him in ages-and we haven’t seen the two of them socially for even longer.”
“Nice thought,” I said, “but Milo’s doing surveillance tonight.”
“Oh. Starting when?”
“After dark.”
“Let’s eat early.”
“You feeling okay?”
“What?”
“Acute attack of sociability.”
“I’ve been too isolated, darling. You get to go out, meet people. I talk to Blanche and pieces of wood.”
“I’ll call Milo.”
“I’ll call. He has trouble refusing me.”
Pleasant surprise for both invitees.
Dr. Rick Silverman was off shift at the E.R.
Milo said, “Red meat. Public safety will just have to cool its goddamn heels.”
Rick arrived first, wearing a maroon silk shirt, pressed jeans, and mesh loafers, bearing an enormous orchid arrangement for Robin. His silver hair was longer than usual, his mustache boasted of surgical skills. Robin took the flowers and kissed him. Blanche rubbed her head against his cuffs.
He kneeled, petted. “Gorgeous. Can I take her home as a party favor?”
“Love you, Richard,” said Robin. “But not that much.”
He played with the dog some more, eyed the roast, sizzling as it rested. “Smells fantastic, glad I took an extra dose of Lipitor. Can I help with anything?”
“Nothing to help with. Manhattan on the rocks, Maker’s Mark, capful of red vermouth, dash of orange bitters, no cherry?”
“Impressive,” said Rick. “Not that I ever stray from the familiar.” He sat. Blanche settled at his feet. A long arm dangled; adroit fingers kneaded her flews. “Big Guy should be here any minute.”
Robin said, “He phoned half an hour ago, said he got beeped by Downtown, would let me know if he couldn’t make it. I haven’t heard from him since.”
“Downtown. That again.”
