Compulsion

“Across the street in the lot,” said Sean. “Couple of uniforms saw me drive in, had all sorts of fun. It’s an experience. Everyone stares.”

I said, “I’m sure it caught Kat Shonsky’s eye.”

Binchy said, “A lot of girls would trust someone with wheels like that.”

Milo said, “Okay, Sean, you get to be stared at all the way to the motor lab. I’ll call and set up the paperwork.”

Binchy grinned and rotated an imaginary steering wheel. “Anything else, Loot?”

“That’s enough for the time being.”

“Guess I opened a can of worms, huh? Calling you in the first place.”

“It was obviously a can that needed to be opened, Sean.”

“When you put it that way,” said Binchy. “Weird, huh?”

“Without weird, life would be boring, Sean.”

“Speaking of which, if I could possibly get in a position where I could return to Homicide, do you think that would be a good idea?”

“I think you should make yourself happy.”

“So… you’re not opposed to it.”

“Why would I be?”

Binchy nodded and left.

“Maybe he’s got a future,” I said.

“What makes you say that?”

“Opening worm cans all by himself.”

I drove home, walked Blanche, ate pizza with Robin, checked my e-mail.

Lots of urgent communication: six bogus stock tips, an offer to lengthen my penis, ads for two different kinds of organic Viagra, and Jason Blasco at DarkVisions.net wanting to know if I’d learned anything more about the Bright- Tranh murders and informing me he’d found pictures of one of the heads Jeffrey Dahmer had kept in his fridge (“totally real don’t ask me where i recieved it”).

At the bottom was a message from Sheriff George Cardenas:

Dr. Delaware, doesn’t look as if Ansell Bright ever owned property in California under that name or “Dale.” His last known car registration was the year his parents died and his address was their home in San Francisco. I’ll try to send you a jpg of his DMV photo tomorrow. The house was sold for $980,000 shortly after Mrs. Bright died and has changed hands twice. I managed to find the person who bought it the first time. The transaction was handled by agents and the buyer never met Ansell. He did confirm that Ansell was the seller, so we can assume Ansell got a nice chunk of money. Maybe he moved out of state to get more bang for his buck.

I haven’t been able to access Social Security records without a warrant but maybe LAPD has more clout. The only other thing I could think of is what Mrs. Wembley said about Leonora telling her Ansell fed the homeless. I looked up various groups in San Francisco, talked to a few people but no one remembers Ansell or Dale Bright.

Best,

George Cardenas

Nine hundred eighty thousand was a serious motive. Well over a million if Ansell Bright’s parents had left stocks, bonds, cash, or other real estate.

Tony Mancusi was set to become a millionaire as soon as his mother’s will cleared.

That level of incentive, paying a hit man would be a terrific investment, if you put aside petty distractions like human decency.

How did Kat Shonsky’s murder fit?

I worked that every way I could think of, concluded it didn’t. If the same killer had gotten her, the motive had to be personal.

Young woman with hostile tendencies confronts a cross-dresser with a much darker secret than choice of wardrobe.

That brought me back to Tony Mancusi’s effeminate mannerisms. Donald Bragen’s description of Bright as “fluttering” over the phone.

Dale, an androgynous name.

A contract killer with a thing for chic French dresses meeting likeminded individuals and drumming up business?

Overtones…

If Tony led a secret life, surveillance of his apartment might eventually bear fruit. Finding Dale nine years after his sister’s murder would be a lot tougher.

I got back on the computer, searched for soup kitchens and missions in L.A.

Fifteen minutes later, I’d printed three pages. Nice to know the city wasn’t all about ego and tax brackets. I made a few calls. Most offices were closed until morning. The people I spoke to had never heard of Ansell or Dale Bright.

Just as I was about to pack it in, a new e-mail arrived.

Dr. Delaware, George again. I got back from a false raccoon call at Mavis’s and that made me think about animal shelters. Leonora said Dale was cruel to animals but faked like he wasn’t so wouldn’t that be a perfect split personality thing? Anyway, I did find a group where he volunteered. Paws and Claws, the person in charge at the Berkeley branch remembers Bright because she used to work with him back when she was a volunteer. She said one day he just stopped coming in and when she called him the number was d.c.’d. She recalls this clearly as nine years ago, right after Easter, because someone dropped off abandoned bunnies and Bright took good care of them, then a few days later he went awol. That makes it a month before Leonora and Vicki Tranh were killed, so maybe he left to plan the crime. Or Mavis is wrong and he’s just a normal guy who got tired of cleaning up animal crap. If you’re interested, the informant’s name is Shantee Moloney. Her number is 415…

Shantee Moloney said, “Whoa. That Mayberry cop said you might be calling but that was fast.”

I said, “I appreciate your talking to me.”

“I’ve gotta be honest, I’m not a big police person, when I was a student at Cal, law enforcement was tear gas and billy clubs. But I guess if Dale did something that bad – you really think he did? ’Cause part of me says that’s impossible. Dale was so devoted and nonviolent.”

“But,” I said.

“But what?”

“Part of you…”

“Oh,” said Shantee Moloney. “It was just strange the way he dropped out of sight without telling anyone.”

“What was Dale like?”

“Devoted. Like I said. He said he was a vegan, didn’t even wear leather.”

“He said?”

“I really have no basis for doubting him.”

“But you doubt him anyway.”

“What are you, a mind reader?”

“Just a mere mortal trying to get some facts,” I said. “Did Dale do something that made you wonder about his credibility?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m not sure it’s even true.”

I waited.