Evidence

Ati Meneng said, “You found her?”

“Would that surprise you?”

“I just didn’t think it would ever happen.”

“Why’s that?”

“People like that,” said Ati Meneng. “They get away with things.”

“People like who?”

Silence.

Milo said, “People like Prince Teddy?”

Long, slow nod. “I didn’t know who he was. Later, I found out.”

“How did Dahlia meet him?”

“I don’t know.”

Milo said, “Dahlia was your friend but you don’t know?”

“I don’t know exactly. That’s why I talked to you-to him-in the first place. Because I do care, she was my friend.”

“Tell me what you do know, Ati.”

“My parents can’t find out,” she said. “They think all my temp jobs were secretarial.”

“They won’t, I promise.” Silence.

Milo said, “You did some other things besides secretarial.”

“I wasn’t getting any secretarial jobs so I registered at a website, okay? Asian Dolls. It’s not what it sounds, they just linked visiting businessmen with presentable young ladies suitable to be taken to social events.”

That sounded like a direct quote.

Milo said, “Helping them feel at home.”

“Mostly it was Japanese guys,” said Ati Meneng. “When Japanese girls were available, they got first dibs, but when they weren’t it opened up to all the girls. They were mostly nice. The guys, I mean. Older.”

“Mostly.”

“I never had problems, it was totally a positive experience for me. It was an honest business, the woman who ran it, Mae Fukuda, died a few years ago, her kids didn’t want to keep it going. Some of those other businesses are sleazy. That’s why I’m at the consulate, totally bored.”

“Asian Dolls,” said Milo. “That wouldn’t seem to include Dahlia.”

“Dahlia didn’t need to work, she had tons of money.” Gazing at the floor. “Okay, I know how I met her. A party. After that, we started to hang out. She got me into some cool places.”

“What kind of cool places?”

“VIP rooms at clubs, private parties-like at the Playboy Mansion, we went to three separate parties at the Playboy Mansion, it was incredible. Hef wasn’t there, he let them use his house to raise money for charity. We got to swim in the Grotto.”

“Where’d you meet Dahlia?”

“A club in Chinatown.”

“Which one?”

“Madame Chiang’s.”

Milo said, “ Hill Street, in the big mall, right? Big restaurant downstairs, upstairs banquet room.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Great dim sum at lunch, it closed down a few years ago.”

“If you say so.”

“So how’d you come to be there, Ati?”

“It was a business party, jewelry. I went with a businessman from Cambodia. He gave me a gold chain to keep. Mostly he talked to other jewelers and I could do what I wanted.”

“Who else was at the party?”

“Jewelry guys. Armenians, Israelis, Chinese, Persians. Some white guys. The speaker was a white guy. From the mayor’s office, or something like that, welcoming the jewelry business to L.A. ”

“What brought Dahlia there?”

“She was with one of the white guys. He sold watches.”

“Remember his name?”

“Never knew it,” said Ati Meneng. “Older, white hair, fat. Swedish, like her.”

“Dahlia told you she was Swedish?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Actually, she was Swiss.”

Huge black eyes expanded to cartoon proportions. “Yeah, that’s what it was. You probably think I’m stupid.”

“It’s an easy mistake to make,” said Milo. “Dahlia didn’t like to talk about it. Being Swiss.”

“Why not?”

“She said it was a boring place to live, that’s why she sometimes said she was from other places.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t remember. Maybe Sweden-maybe that’s where I got it. She only told me about being Swiss after we hung out for a while. The guy she was with that night, she said she knew him from back home, he was a big watch dealer, knew her father because her father collected watches, had hundreds of them in little boxes that kept moving to keep them winded. She was at the party to do him a favor. The watch guy.”

“Being his arm candy.”

“We all were. The men were really into business, the girls were mostly left alone and a whole bunch of us ended up at the bar. That’s where I met Dahlia. We were both getting drinks and hers was weird, bright blue. I said something about it looking like dishwashing liquid. She laughed. We started talking, before she left, she said, ‘It’s been fun, let’s hang,’ and she gave me her number.”

“You guys hit it off,” said Milo.

“Easy with Dahlia,” said Ati Meneng. “She was pure sunshine. Even though she was rich she was cool about it, I didn’t even know until we’d hung out awhile.”

“How’d you find out?”

“I mean I kind of suspected it because she didn’t have a job and she drove a Porsche Boxster, really cool little red one. When I found out for sure was when she took me to her house. Real nice and all done up. She said her parents bought it for her ’cause they hated her.”

“Interesting way to show hatred,” said Milo.

“I’m sure they didn’t really hate her, she just meant they needed space from each other.”

“She had problems with them.”

“She didn’t like to talk about it, just said they were all religious and stuff. They sent her to Catholic schools, she kept running away, taking trains to Germany and France, going to clubs, meeting guys. She never went to college, like her sister did, and that made them mad. She just liked to ski and swim and travel on trains and hang out. When she told them she wanted to see Hollywood, they were happy to see her go, bought her a house. To her that meant Stay away as long as you want.”

“How’d she feel about that?”

“She laughed about it. That was Dahlia. She used to say maturity was highly overrated.”

“How long were you guys friends?”

“Half a year? Maybe a little longer? We actually didn’t hang out that much because I had to work. Sometimes Dahlia would call, mostly she’d wait until I called and if she was free, we’d hang out. She had platinum cards, was real generous, but I didn’t take advantage. Being with her gave me a chance to dress up. Be my best, you know?” Her eyes welled.

“What else did she tell you about her family?”

“That’s it.”