Evidence

“So Dahlia never complained about Teddy being aggressive or violent with her?”

“Never.”

“Just grumpy with a temper.”

“Nothing whack, like any guy.”

“But you told Detective Reed he hurt her.”

“Because I believe he did.”

“You believe?”

“I can’t prove it, but…”

“You suspect.”

Nod.

“Why, Ati? This is important.”

“Did he?”

“We don’t know, Ati. Help us.”

She breathed in. Exhaled slowly. “The last time I heard from her she was going traveling with him, she said she’d be back in a few days, we’d hang out. But she never called and I never heard from her again and when I called her phone, it was disconnected and when I went to her house, no one was there.”

“Where’d she say she was traveling with Teddy?”

“Back home,” she said. “His home.”

“Sranil.”

She frowned. “My parents told me about it. It’s a weird place, full of like old-fashioned peasants. Indonesia’s modern. Sranil’s just an island that never became part of Indonesia. Teddy didn’t like it himself, was going over there to get a bunch of his money and come back here and live with Dahlia. He was already building a house. He wanted to be modern and be with any woman he wanted even if she was white, not be under his brother’s thumb.”

“Dahlia told you all that.”

“Yes.”

“Maybe she went there with Teddy and decided to stay.”

“No way,” said Ati Meneng. “That’s why I know something happened to her. She totally planned to come back. Promised me we’d hang out when she got back. But she never got back.”

“Did you report her missing?”

“She wasn’t missing, she was with him.”

“You suspected he’d hurt her.”

“I didn’t think so at the beginning. I just… I don’t know, maybe it was his brother but I was too afraid to say that. His being a sultan, who’d believe me?” Looking at Reed. “I didn’t think you’d believe any of it, period. Mostly I forgot about it, then you showed up and it was like something clicked inside my head, you know?”

Milo said, “You told Detective Reed about a Swedish girl but you didn’t use Dahlia’s name.”

“I didn’t-I wasn’t sure. It’s not like I was still thinking about it. I used to think about it. Then it stopped. Then he showed up… I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, no, you did great, Ati. We really appreciate it. Now tell us everything you know.”

“That is everything.”

“Dahlia definitely planned to return to L.A.”

“We had plans,” said Ati Meneng. “A whole day, soon as she got back. First we were going to the Barney’s warehouse sale and have lunch at this cafe at the Santa Monica Airport- that’s where the sale is. Then we were having dinner at the Ivy-not the beach, the one on Robertson. Then we were going dancing. But she never came back. And she left her car at her house and when I looked in through the window, all her stuff was still in there.”

“You went over because you were worried.”

Tears turned the black eyes to pond-stones. “I kept calling. Her cell was disconnected, she had no more Internet for IM’ing, her house was dark. My mind started running. I mean I liked him the couple of times I met him, but I didn’t really know him. And what my parents said, that started to bother me.”

“About people from Sranil.”

“Superstitious peasants. Cannibals, rituals. You know?”

“Scary,” said Milo.

“Really scary, so I stopped thinking about it. I would’ve called her family but I didn’t know how to reach them. I figured if she stayed away long enough, they’d do something.”

“Even though her parents wanted her gone.”

“She just said that,” said Ati Meneng. “It probably wasn’t even true. Families love each other. Like her sister, Dahlia said they were different but they still loved each other.”

“The serious sister.”

“Dahlia said she even thought about becoming a nun then she became an architect, built houses.”

“Speaking of houses,” said Milo. “Do you remember the address of Dahlia’s?”

“Never knew the address, Dahlia always drove me there and took me home. She liked to drive real fast, said in Germany there were roads with no speed limits, she used to go a hundred miles an hour.”

“What neighborhood was the house in?”

“Brentwood.”

“Could you find it?”

“For sure.”

Milo stood. “Let’s do it.”

“Right now?”

“Can’t think of a better time, Ati.”

CHAPTER 28

The house that evoked Ati Meneng’s “That’s it!” was a mini-colonial wedged between two much larger Mediterraneans. Twenty-minute drive from the station, nice section of Brentwood, a short walk to the Country Mart.

One symmetrical story was faced with white clapboard. Lead-pane windows were grayed by curtains and sideburned by black shutters. A red door was topped by a fanlight. The lawn was compact and trimmed, the empty driveway spotless.

Two blocks away was the vacant lot Helga Gemein had given her partners for her nonexistent residence. Milo said, “You’re sure, Ati?”

“Totally. I remember the door. I told Dahlia a red door could mean good luck in Asia. Dahlia laughed and said, ‘I don’t need luck, I’m adorable.’”

“Okay, thanks for all your help. Detective Reed will take you back.”

She turned to Reed. “You can just take me to my car. Or we could have lunch, I could call in sick.”

Reed’s voice was flat. “Whatever you want.”

Ati Meneng said, “I guess I’m hungry, they’ll probably yell at me, anyway.”

Milo ran the address. Taxes were paid by Oasis Finance Associates, an investment firm in Provo, Utah. A call there elicited the guarded admission from the controller that the owners were “non-U.S.-citizens who wish to retain their privacy.”

“Swiss or Asian?” said Milo.