“Where is the file?”
“Probably storage,” he said. “They moved everything a few years ago, lots of stuff managed to fall off the truck. Not my problem. Shouldn’t be yours, either. This is a dead one.”
Mavis Wembley hadn’t mentioned Jose Castro. I found her number in my notes.
It was nearly ten p.m. I bet on her being a night owl.
She picked up on the first ring. “Cutie! Have you solved anything?”
“Far from it. But I have learned that Leonora was married-”
“To Jose. You talked to Bragen, right? That fool fixed on Jose even before setting eyes on him because you- know-why.”
“Why?”
“Jose was a Mexican. There was lots of loose talk about it being a Mexican murder – all this gossip about drugs, gangs.”
“Any reason for that?”
“Back then we were a downright racist town. Most of the people are Mexican now, so no one opens a mouth except some of the older cowboys when they come into town and have a few too many. My second husband was half Mexican and you should’ve seen the looks I got. Jose was a nice young fellow.”
“Younger than Leonora.”
“In his twenties. Handsome, too.”
“You never thought he was responsible?”
“Nicest young man you’d ever meet, Doctor. Muscles out to here. After they broke up, Leonora said she still liked him as a friend, it just didn’t work out as a marriage. You want to know my opinion? They were
“Leonora would do that for a friend?”
“That’s the kind of person she was. And Jose did get his papers, Leonora told me, she was all thrilled about it. Shortly after that, they broke up and Jose moved down south, somewhere, and it didn’t seem to trouble her. Besides, what motive would Jose have to hurt her? Neither of them had any money to speak of. Unlike Leonora’s family. Who had plenty. I’m telling you the brother’s where to look. Bragen probably said I was a meddling old nut but anytime he wants to have an IQ contest, I’m ready.”
I laughed.
She said, “You think I’m kidding?”
CHAPTER 16
At noon the following day, I met Milo up in the hills above the Sepulveda Pass.
Vacant lot, a mile or so above the spot where Kat Shonsky’s car had been found. Two K-9 handlers worked the brush between a pair of sleek, contemporary stilt-houses, running a chocolate Lab and a border collie.
Sharp-eyed dogs, beautifully groomed. Both with a thing for dead flesh.
Milo said, “In answer to your unasked question, this is one of the few open, unfenced spots around here. Which means nothing, she could be in Alhambra. But early this morning we gave a pack of tracking dogs a whiff of her clothing and ran them all over the neighborhood. Zilch for the first hour, then one of them raced up here and got somewhat excited.”
“Somewhat?”
“He changed his mind and got distracted. Happens more than you think. Still, better to be careful. So now it’s the cadaver mutts.”
“Who owns the property?”
“It’s shared by the two neighboring houses. Couple of sisters married to lawyers, they’ve got plans to build a joint swimming pool. Currently cruising together in South America for the last two weeks.”
“There’s your happy family,” I said.
“Not so happy if Lassie and Rin Tin Tin find something with maggots in it.” His skin sagged and his clothes were distorted beyond wrinkles, as if he’d wrestled with an intruder.
I said, “All-nighter?”
“Coma-time watching Tony’s place, went over to Kat’s apartment at seven a.m. Place looked like Martha Stewart had just filmed there.”
“Mom’s artful hand.”
“I called for techies anyway. No evidence of any violence or struggle but one thing Mom didn’t find was a Baggie of weed at the bottom of a tampon box. No credit card receipts, which would fit with ol’ Monica cutting her off. No phone records or tax returns, either, but Kat didn’t keep paper around, period. Not a single book in the place and the only magazines were old copies of
“Sounds like a lonely girl.”
He yawned. “Anyway, I got the blouse.”
We returned to watching the dogs. The retriever was circling the lot with the intensity of a sprinter training for the big race. It stopped. Resumed circling. The border collie had lost interest and its handler led it back to the K-9 car.
“Dog’s life,” said Milo. “If nothing happens soon, I’m on my way to the boutique where Kat worked. Someone’s got to know something about her personal life.”
I said, “I’ve been thinking about the Ojo Negro killings. Leonora Bright was murdered only eight days after her father died. Her stepmother was terminally ill, making the sibs heirs sooner rather than later. A boilerplate will would split everything fifty-fifty with reversion to the survivor. Leonora was in her thirties, so there’s a good chance she never wrote a will of her own.”
“Scary brother gets rid of her to make sure she never sees a lawyer.”
“It’s a motive. And not that different from the one we’ve suggested for Tony Mancusi: Kill Mom before she changes
“There’s a specialty hit man out there fixing inheritance problems and both Ansell and Tony just happened to find him?”
I said, “I know it sounds remote but think about stolen black cars and costumes.”
“Theatrical traveling hit man… can’t dismiss it, but before I get historical, I need to focus on the here and now. If we can find some kind of link between Tony and Ansell, I might start breathing hard.”
“Donald Bragen thought Ansell was incapable of that level of violence because he sounded effeminate over the phone.”
“And Tony vamps. Okay, a theatrically gay specialty hit man. Bragen look into Ansell beyond his vocal qualities?”
“He didn’t even know Ansell’s real name because Ansell called himself Dale. And alibied himself for the time of the murder – working. Bragen accepted it.”
“Oh, Lord.”
“Sheriff Cardenas said he’d look into Ansell’s background. I ran a basic search last night, got no hits on that name. The Dale Brights I found were a fourteen-year-old girl who plays field hockey at a prep school in Florida, a sixty-year-old female insurance agent in Ohio, and a Nebraska churchman and farmer who wrote a book about wheat and died in 1876.”
“My bet’s on the girl… okay, let’s make sure we’ve buttoned down everything-”
He stopped midsentence.
The retriever sat down.
Stayed.
