Survival Of The Fittest

“Maybe what?”

Montez stared at him. Licked his lips, again. “Maybe it's stupid, but I dunno, maybe I figure I help her- I dunno, guess it was… the way she was hanging, I didn't want no kids to see it… my grandchildren. And she was always a nice kid, I wanted her to look nice.”

“You knew her?” said Hooks.

“Latvinia? Sure. Everyone know her, she crazy.”

“She came round here a lot?”

“Not inside, on the street.” He tapped his temple. “She live on Thirty-ninth, few blocks from my daughter. Everyone see her walking around, no clothes. A little… not right.”

“No clothes at all?” said Hooks. When Montez looked confused, he added, “She walked around totally naked?”

“No, no,” said Montez. “A little clothes but not enough, you know?” Another tap. “Not right- you know? But happy all the time.”

“Happy?”

“Yeah. Laughing.” Montez's eyes hardened. “I do something wrong, cutting her down?”

“No, sir-”

“I go out, I see her up there, think the kids see that. My grandchildren. Go get a knife from the supply closet.”

He slashed empty space.

“How long have you been working here, sir?” said Milo.

“Nine years. Before that, I worked over at Dorsey High, twelve years. Used to be a good school, there. Same problems now.”

Milo hooked a thumb at the body. “When you saw Latvinia hanging, were her clothes the way they are now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Were her pants up when you saw her hanging?”

“Yeah- what, you think I-”

“No, sir, we're just trying to find out what she looked like when you saw her.”

“The same,” said Montez, angrily. “ 'Zactly the same, pants up, the same. I get a knife, cut her down, and put her on the ground. Maybe a miracle, she not dead. But she dead. I call 911.”

“The way you placed her,” said Milo.

Montez's eyes were uncomprehending.

“Arms at her side,” said Hooks. “Like you wanted her to look nice.”

“Sure,” said Montez. “Why not? Why shouldn't she look nice?”

Hooks let him go and we watched as he returned to the school's main building.

“What do you think?” he asked Milo.

“Any reason to doubt his story?”

“Not really, but I'm going to do a background on him and if the girl was raped, I'll try to get some body fluids.” He smiled. “Some thanks for the good Samaritan, huh? But we've seen plenty of those turn out not so good, right? Thing is, though, if he's the bad guy, why would he do her right here where he works, focus attention on himself.”

“Bloodshot eyes,” said Milo. “Maybe he was up late.”

“Yeah,” said Hooks. “But no booze on his breath and he said he works two jobs. This during the day, part-time at a liquor store on Vermont at night. Says he was at the store last night, that should be checkable. Did he look hinky to you? If he's dirty, he's ready for the Oscar.”

He gazed through the fence at Twenty-eighth Street, then took in the traffic on Western. “Somebody driving or walking by could very well have seen her swinging, but you heard what he said about all the crap goes down on the schoolyard. Unlike Mr. Montez, people around here don't volunteer much.”

“If it was some dirt next door,” said Milo, “wonder why he'd take the trouble to hang her here.”

“Who knows?” said Hooks. “Maybe they ran into each other around the corner, made a date, headed over here to consummate. Montez said he finds condoms all the time.”

“Techs have any idea when the chain was cut?”

“Just that it wasn't fresh, which is also consistent with Montez.”

“The school keeps using a broken chain 'cause the minute they put a new one on, someone slices it.”

“Yeah,” said Hooks. “Nothing like security for our youngsters.” He looked at the body again. “Maybe it does mean something, bringing her here, the bad guy making some kind of statement.”

“Such as?”

“I hate school.” Hooks smiled. “That narrows it down, huh? Pull in all the bad students.”

Milo gave a short, hard detective laugh and Hooks laughed, too, fleshy jowls undulating. The four wrinkles smoothed.

“Put your hands up, punk,” he said, making a finger-gun. “Lemme see your grade-point average. Two D's and an F? Off to the lineup.”

He chuckled some more, exhaled. “Anyway, except for strangulation and both being retarded, I still don't see any parallels with your case.”

“Strangulation, retarded, and no rape,” said Milo.

“We don't know for sure if there was no rape,” said Hooks.

“But if there wasn't any- no assault at all- that's interesting, right, Willis? How many sex fiends don't do anything to the body?”

“Maybe. But who knows what goes on in assholes' heads? Maybe hanging her got him off, he watched her dangle, came in his pants, went home, had sweet dreams. I remember one, few years back, guy got off on playing with their feet. Killed 'em first, set 'em up on their beds, played with their feet. That was enough to get him off- what do you think of that, Doctor?”

“Something for everyone,” I said.

“This guy, the foot guy, he didn't even have to yank the monkey. Just playing with the toes did it for him.”

“I had a foot guy, too,” said Milo. “But he didn't kill, just tied 'em up and played.”

“Probably woulda killed if he'd kept on.”

“Probably.”

“You could probably sit down and dig up lots of stories about perverted stuff.” Hooks stiffened and shot Milo a quick, embarrassed look. Milo's face remained still. “Anyway, if Mac and I come up with something, we'll let you know.”

“Ditto, Willis.”

“Yeah.”

A young white cop jogged over.

“Excuse me, Detective,” he said to Hooks. “Coroner's driver wants to know if we can transport the vic.”

“You got anything more you want to do, Milo?”

“Nope.”

“Go ahead,” Hooks said. The officer hustled back, delivered the word, and two morgue attendants came forward with a gurney and a black body bag.

I noticed movement from the north end of the playground. A few teachers had come closer to the tape and were watching while drinking coffee.

“School days,” said Hooks. “I was born on Thirty-second. We moved to Long Beach when I was three, otherwise I woulda gone here.”

The attendants got the body into the bag and lifted it on the gurney. As they wheeled her away, the white cop turned his attention to the ground and called over another uniform, a tall black man, even darker than McLaren. Then he jogged back to us.

“It's probably nothing, sir, but you might want to take a look.”

“At what?” said Hooks, already moving.