Some cookies? Coffee, tea, soda?”
“No, thanks,” said Milo.
Margaret Wheeling said, “Dr. U murdered. I still can’t believe it. You have any idea who did it?”
“Unfortunately, we don’t. Cheryl Wannamaker told us about a patient who gave Dr. U a hassle.”
“That small thing? Why would anyone kill over something like that?”
“Tell us about it.”
“It was stupid,” said Wheeling. “One of those stupid things. Dr. U keeps the temp low in the scan room. For the machines. This idiot got all huffy because we didn’t have blankets. Because the linen service hadn’t delivered that morning, not our fault. I tried to explain to him but he got abusive.”
“Abusive, how?”
“Cursing me out, saying I was stupid. Like it’s my fault the service screwed up.”
“What’d you do?”
“Called Dr. U,” she said. “She makes decisions, I just follow directions.”
“Then what happened?”
“He started in with her. I’m cold, you should have a blanket. A grown man but he acted like a spoiled kid. She told him to calm down, it’s not the end of the world, we’ll do the procedure quickly and get you out of here. He called her the same names he called me. That was it for Dr. U. She went up to him, told him off. Not loud, but firm.”
“What’d she say?”
“That his behavior was out of line and he needed to leave. Now.”
I said, “No second chance.”
“He had his chance,” said Wheeling. “We had a waiting room full of scans, who needed him? The idiot probably thought her being a woman he could intimidate her. It was a little chilly, sure, but it’s not like he didn’t have insulation.”
“What do you mean?”
“Plenty of body fat. And obviously he wasn’t screwed on too tight because he came in wearing a heavy coat and it wasn’t cold outside, just the opposite. Not that at first he looked like a weirdo. That being the case I’d have called security from the beginning. He seemed okay. Real quiet. Then it was just like he… came apart.”
“Do you call security a lot?”
“When I need to. We get all types.”
“But this guy set off no warning bells.”
“I guess I should’ve noticed that crazy coat, but I’m not looking at them, I’m checking the machines.”
“He came apart.”
“Went from normal to ticked off like that.” Snapping her fingers.
“Scary,” I said. “But Dr. Usfel handled it.”
“She’s tough, went to med school in Guadalajara, Mexico, told me she saw things there you wouldn’t see in the States. You don’t really think that guy had anything to do with it? I mean how would he find her? And this was like two months ago. And he never came back.”
I said, “What else can you tell us about him?”
“Just what I told you. White, normal-looking, thirty, thirty-five.”
“Clean-shaven?”
“Yup.”
“Hair?”
“Brown. Short. Pretty neat appearance, actually. Except for that crazy coat, we’re talking heavy-duty winter wear, one of those shearlings.”
“What color?”
“Some kind of brown. I think.”
“Any distinguishing marks? Like scars, tattoos, unusual features?”
She thought. “No, he looked like a regular person.”
“To get scanned he’d need paperwork. Did you see his?”
“We don’t see paperwork, the front desk handles all that. They come in with a day-chart that has an I.D. number, not even a name.”
I said, “What procedure was he sent for?”
“Who remembers?”
I gave her time.
She shook her head. “I’m not sure I even looked.”
Milo said, “How about you sit down with an artist and help produce a drawing?”
“You’re saying it was him?”
“No, ma’am, but we’ve got to nail down every detail we can if we’re gonna solve Dr. Usfel’s murder.”
“My name wouldn’t be on it, right?” she said. “The drawing?”
“Of course not.”
“Really, you’d be wasting your time. All I’d tell an artist is what I just told you.”
“Would you be willing to give it a try? To help us out?”
“I can totally keep myself out of it?”
“Absolutely.”
She crossed a leg, scratched a bare ankle. “You really think it’s important?”
“Honestly, Ms. Wheeling, we don’t know. But unless you can tell us of some other person Dr. U had problems with, we’ve got to follow up.”
“What kind of person would go kill someone over a small thing?”
“Not a normal person.”
“That’s for sure… an artist? I don’t know.”
Milo said, “Back when Don was in law enforcement, I’ll bet he appreciated any help he could get.”
“I suppose,” said Margaret Wheeling. “Okay, I’ll try. But you’re wasting your time, he just looked like a regular person.”
CHAPTER
22
Wheeling’s door closed behind us and we headed for the unmarked.
Milo said, “Heavyset guy in a shearling. Usfel pissed him off royally, no doubt Vita did, too.” He frowned. “And somehow nice Mr. Quigg managed to get on his bad side.”
I said, “His confrontation with Usfel was a brief onetimer that took on huge proportions in his mind only. So his brushes with the others wouldn’t need to be dramatic.”
“Touchy fellow.”
“Leading to increased element of surprise.” We got in the car. I said, “One thing different about Usfel is he tied her up. Maybe because he’d seen her in action, knew she was tough enough to be a threat.”
“Not so tough that she didn’t give in easily, Alex. There was no sign of struggle in that bedroom.”
“He could have controlled her with a gun. She probably expected to be raped, figured on negotiating her life, had no idea what he was really after.”
“If he used a gun on Usfel, he could’ve done the same for the others. Knock knock, pizza delivery, here’s my little steel friend. Vita being drunk would have made his job easier. And a guy like Quigg wouldn’t have fought back. Okay, let’s put a face on this choirboy.”
He called Alex Shimoff, a Hollenbeck detective with serious artistic talent whom he’d used before. When Shimoff’s cell and home lines didn’t pick up, he left a message and tried Petra Connor at Hollywood Division. Same story.
He turned on the engine. “I don’t get my blankie, I gut you. There’s a reasonable motive.”
