I opened the first of four photograph albums covering Karen Best's development from infancy to young womanhood. Taped to the second was a tiny envelope labeled
Holding the packet up to the light I saw several curly snippets inside.
Grade school graduation program. Karen, the winner of a Good Citizenship award.
High school yearbook, Karen in French Club and Song Girls.
A prom shot: Karen beautiful and mature-looking by now, her blond hair long and silky and curled at the ends. On the arm of a gawky boy with a dark Beatles do and a struggling mustache.
A dessicated orchid corsage in a stiff plastic packet embossed with the name of a New Bedford florist.
A hundred or so copies of the sheet Best had given me, bound by rubber bands.
A copy of the Lord's Prayer.
I put it all back. Best was standing over the kitchen sink, hands in plastic gloves, the water full blast and steaming.
I went in.
As he washed, he stared at something over the faucet.
Another Bible picture, this one a black-and-white etching.
A young woman being dragged by her hair.
Best's gloved hands were clenched. The steam had fogged his glasses and his lips moved rapidly.
Praying.
15
When I got back, I read the Bible. What I learned made it hard for me to fall asleep.
The next morning, Robin and I had breakfast in town; then I drove back to the library and had a second look at the newspaper account of the Sanctum party. August 15. Karen Best had been last seen the night before.
After xeroxing the article, I called Milo. He was out but Del Hardy picked up. The black detective was Milo's occasional partner, but they hadn't worked together recently.
'Hey, doc, how's it going?'
'Pretty good. How's the guitar?'
'Sitting in a closet, no time to play. Listen, Bigfoot's finishing up a robbery at the Smart Shop on Palms, maybe you can catch him.'
He gave me the number, and I talked to a female officer who finally put me through to Milo.
'Morning salutations.' He sounded distracted.
'Don't want to bug you but-'
'Nah, I'm finished here. What's up?'
I told him.
'The Best girl,' he said. 'Wasn't she a blonde?'
'She dyed her hair that summer. And according to her brother she had very long legs. It may turn out to be nothing, but I just-'
'It- uh-oh, TV crew just drove up, gotta split. Where are you?'
'Westwood.'
'Meet me at Rancho Park, on the north end, past the baseball diamond- take the first entrance past the golf course and go as far as you can. You'll know me 'cause I won't be feeding the ducks.'
I got there a quarter hour later and found him on a bench, near a cement wading pond that had been drained but was still streaked with algae. A stray retriever was nosing the grass. No ducks or people in sight. I showed him Best's data sheet and the clipping and pointed out the date of the party.
'Night before she missed her call home, for what it's worth.'
He skimmed and handed it all back to me. 'You actually met with the father?'
'At his request.'
'How does he grab you?'
'Devoted. Obsessive.'
'So you two got along great.'
'There was a certain rapport there.' I summarized what Best had told me about the search for Karen, ending with his suspicion of the Sheas.
'So what does that have to do with Lowell and Trafficant? Paradise Cove is- what?- ten, fifteen miles up from Topanga.'
'She worked in Paradise Cove, but she lived near Topanga Beach. I passed the address coming into town. Just a hop and a jump from Topanga Canyon Road. Then there's the time frame and her physical similarity to the girl in the dream.'
Crossing his long legs, he looked up at the sky. An airplane was writing something illegible. He shook his head. 'This father sounds obsessive to the point of nuttiness. The way he's been bugging those people.'
'He says he hasn't done it for years. If that's true, it indicates self-control.'
He continued skygazing. 'Actually, that does amaze me. Living in the same city with them, believing they know something, and letting it go.'
'Maybe his work keeps him going. He fills his days with good deeds.'
'Food to the poor, huh?'
'Could be I'm a chump, but he impressed me as a good guy, Milo. Trying to deal with his loss by finding some higher meaning. The only thing that bothered me was a picture he had hanging up in the kitchen over the sink. A Bible print- Dinah being abducted by Shechem. He was staring at it as he washed the dishes. I looked up the story when I got home. It's in the book of Genesis. Dinah was Jacob's daughter; Shechem was a Canaanite prince who kidnapped her and raped her. Two of her brothers took revenge by slaughtering him and his whole village.'
'Nice image for a man of the cloth to meditate on.'
'I don't want to light any fires under him. I know what revenge can do.'
He lowered his eyes and looked at me.
'So what's the theoretical scenario here? She took a nature hike on Friday night, ended up at Lowell's place the day before the party, and got invited in?'
'Not unless she was a serious hiker. We're talking several miles up to the top of Topanga. But maybe she was hitchhiking and got picked up. And maybe the party started early- or it was informal. People drifting in at all hours.' I held up the clipping. 'This makes it sound like a loose scene rather than some formal bash.'
'All those big shots and people are just wandering in?'
'You remember how things were back in the seventies. Peace, love, people playing at social equality. Best said that was one of the reasons the sheriffs didn't take Karen's disappearance seriously. Times were casual, kids on the road, everyone into free-and-easy.'
He looked out at the baseball diamond and the rolling lawns beyond. 'I spent the seventies grinding away in college, then shooting at guys in black pajamas, but I take your word for it.'
'I was a grind too,' I said. 'But I remember hitchhikers thicker than gulls on PCH. Best says Karen was a good girl, but she'd been away from home for almost half a year, and kids can change fast when they taste freedom. Plus, she wanted to be an actress. What if she was thumbing- or just taking a short walk up the canyon, unwinding after work. And a person with a famous face pulled alongside her- in a stretch limo. Telling her there's a hot party up the hill, lots of other showbiz types, hop in. Would an aspiring actress turn that down?'
'Guess it's plausible,' he said. 'If the partying started early. But even then, all you've really got is a dream and a missing girl.'
'A girl who called home every week and then stopped. And was never heard from again.'
