Mancusi’s apartment expressionless, took notes as Milo summarized, tugging at a pale blue brocade tie that didn’t need adjustment. Thick dark hair starting to gray prematurely was sprayed in place. His suit was navy, tailored, spotless. Paper booties protected spit-polished loafers.
When Milo finished, he said, “Let me frame this in my head: You’re figuring Bright, Heubel, whichever you want to call him, has been here before, knows the back’s usually unlocked. Or he picks the lock, because he knows how to do that. Same deal for getting access to Mancusi’s apartment. Once in, does his thing. On his way out, he encounters the neighbor, pretends to be looking for Mancusi, makes his getaway… sounds logical.”
“But?”
“I’m thinking there could be another possibility, Loo. After Mancusi ditched the he-she, he met up with Bright and they returned here together.”
Milo scratched the side of his nose. “Could be. Though Mancusi might’ve been wary of him.”
Raul said, “If Bright and Mancusi were
“However Bright gained access, we’ve got a pretty good fix on the time frame. We saw Mancusi leave Gordito’s around two forty-five, the neighbor saw Fake Mom here at six thirty. Almost four hours is time enough to do his thing, clean himself up.”
“He stashes his tools in that big leather purse the neighbor described, slips out in broad daylight. No sweat because he’s got a great cover.”
Biro closed his pad. “Dowdy drag, except for the scarf. Lots of blood back there but I didn’t see any impact spatter. How about you?”
Milo shook his head.
“So I’m thinking Mancusi was likely dead when he got cut up, Loo. Bright could’ve used the scarf to choke him out, got himself a passive corpse to dissect.”
“For Shonsky, he used the scarf as a prop. Stabbed her to death. For all his victims we know of, the weapon was a knife. But he mixes it up identity-wise, so maybe he likes variety in his methods, too.”
I said, “A stealth strangulation for Mancusi makes sense. Tony was a heavy man, making him harder to subdue. And wary, because he knew or suspected what Bright was capable of.”
Biro said, “Sneak up behind, get the scarf around the neck, avoid a violent struggle. Keeping it quiet at three, four a.m.”
He fooled with his tie again. “First Mama, now the son. He’s got something against this family?”
“If only it was that simple, Raul.”
“The psycho do-gooder thing, huh? In his mind, he’s helping out, then he snaps?”
I said, “The do-gooder thing is a power play. He was a cruel kid, killed his own sister for big-time financial gain, developed a taste for playing God.”
“Making the rules,” said Biro. “He picks the who and the when and the how. But Mancusi got done because Bright was worried he’d talk.”
Milo said, “That’s how we see it.”
“Serving it up on that plate. That’s a whole different universe of bad.”
Milo lit another cigarillo. Inhaled for a long time and blew smoke at the sky. “If he followed me when I was trailing Tony, saw me put Tasha in the car, that coulda been Tony’s death warrant. Because Bright knew Tasha was at the party when Tony griped about his mother, figured too close for comfort.”
I said, “If Bright was watching Tony, he’d already been thinking about snipping loose ends.”
He grunted.
Biro said, “How we dividing the chores?”
“Mancusi’s yours, the rest is my headache.”
“You have any problems with this expanding?”
“To what?”
Another tug at the tie. “This many bodies over all these years, a suspect that psycho. Someone suggests a task force, I really don’t see how we can stop it.”
Milo said, “We take it wherever it goes, Raul.”
Biro said, “Meanwhile, we work with what we’ve got. Starting with finding the he-she. You want me to get Vice over to Gordito’s tonight?”
“Let me cover that, you concentrate on this.”
Biro flipped through his pad. “So we know whodunit and maybe at least part of whydunit and howdunit. Now all we have to do is find this altruist.”
A slow smile brightened his unlined face. “Rich old lady. Maybe I should start visiting some of those women’s clubs – bridge, bingo, high tea, whatever.”
“Bygone generation, Raul.”
“Actually, Loo, they still do the tea bit out in Pasadena and San Marino.”
“You grew up there?”
“Nope, East L.A. ” said Biro. “My mother cleaned rooms at the Huntington.”
A crime scene tech emerged from the apartment in full hazmat suiting, unmasked, wiped sweat from his face. “Got the bathroom dark enough to luminol, Detectives. Lots of swipe marks and someone used granulated cleanser. But there’s a whole lot of hemoglobin left. Tub, floor, sink, oodles in the shower.”
“Oodles,” said Milo.
“That’s a technical term,” said the tech. “This one’s something, huh? Got a spare smoke?”
At three thirty p.m. we left the scene and cruised by Gordito’s. Two rangy hookers, not even close to feminine, sat nibbling and drinking and gabbing. A trio of construction workers occupied a nearby table, everyone minding their own business.
Milo said, “Drive a little and circle back, we’ll keep trying for a while. Once Tasha finds out Tony got sliced she’s a sure rabbit.”
His cell beeped. “What’s up, Sean?… Any resemblance?… Better than nothing, zip a copy over to Raul Biro… The smart one, worked with Petra… Yeah, him. Anything else? Good, get over to the house and be in charge while the techies do their thing… I don’t care about that, Sean, if any of those chrome mavens have a problem, tell ’em to call me. Now read
He listened for several minutes, worked his jaws, clicked off.
“Got a two-year-old DMV shot on Nicholas Heubel. Unfortunately, the photo shows him with a full gray beard and a shaved head and the address he listed is a P.O.B. in Brentwood that he only rented the month he applied for the lease on the house. He gave three references: Ansel D. Bright, San Francisco, Roland Korvutz, New York, and a Mel Dabson, here in L.A. ”
I said, “Establish a fake identify and back yourself up with your real name.”
“Clever boy, huh? The leasing company says Bright’s reference was ‘glowing.’ And the number they reached him at traces back to a prepaid cell. Korvutz never responded to the request. Unlike this Dabson character, who said he’d known Heubel for years, Nicky was upright, honest, and dependable. Two out of three plus twenty-four grand in cash was enough to close the deal.”
I said, “Where in L.A. does Dabson live?”
He checked his notes. “Altair Terrace, zip code looks like… not too far from here, in the Hollywood Hills.”
I said, “Wonder if you can see the sign from there.”
I made several passes up and down Highland, drove over to Santa Monica where transsexual and male hookers share the stroll with varying degrees of harmony.
Milo looked for Tasha while he worked the phone. Trying for background on
No such individual.
I said, “Could be another alter ego.”
He ran AutoTracks and criminal searches using
