“Small guy,” he added, “but incredibly feisty. Finally we got him quiet enough to untie his feet. Didn’t want a heart attack or anything.” He shook his head. “Her father- shit!”
“Where does he say bodies are buried?” said Petra.
“We didn’t ask. We figured him for a loony-tunes starfucker-we get them from time to time, all the Hollywood types with second homes up here. Tabloid reporters, too. We’ve been preparing ourselves for problems with Ramsey.”
“Had any?”
“Not till now. Maybe no one knows he’s got a weekend place here yet.”
“Does Ramsey come up here much?”
“I’ve never seen him, but maybe he comes up at night. Lots of the Hollywood types do. Flying up at night to Santa B in copters or private planes, or they just limo straight up from L.A. The whole thing with them is not to be spotted. It’s like a game, you know? I’m famous, but you can’t see me. They never come into town to shop, have people doing things for them. And with the size of these properties, it’s not like they’ve got real neighbors.”
Petra took in the surroundings. Long stretches of ten-foot wall on both sides. Through Ramsey’s gate was a winding stone motor path flanked by palms. The guy loved palms.
“Who takes care of Ramsey’s house when he’s not here?” she said.
Forbes shrugged. “Probably a cleaning crew. There is a regular gardening crew, comes here Tuesday and, I think, Saturday.” Forbes touched an eyelash, scratched the side of his nose. “Ramsey’s also got a gofer, comes up to check out the house. I ran into him on patrol a couple of days ago.”
“Greg Balch?” said Petra.
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
The other deputy had turned his back to the cruiser. Shorter, darker than Forbes, thick arms crossing a barrel chest. Another buff-boy. Department must have a good gym.
“Switching cars,” said Petra.
“Yeah, a Lexus. Still parked behind the house. At first it looked funny, but he had the keys, a letter from Ramsey authorizing him to drive all his cars.”
Thumping noises sounded from the patrol car. Dr. Boehlinger, kicking the window.
“Why don’t you let him out?” said Petra.
“You wanna take custody of him?”
“I want to talk to him.”
It took a long time to calm Boehlinger down. He was wearing a gray Washington U. sweatshirt, baggy gray tweed wool trousers, probably from an old suit, and white sneakers. Flecks of spit whitened the corners of his mouth, wisps of hair flew at random angles, and his goatee looked grizzled.
Finally, thirty seconds of silence earned him unlocked cuffs. The moment his hands were free, he brandished fists at the deputies. “You stupid fucking imbeciles!”
Forbes and the shorter man-Beckel-ignored him. Before uncuffing him, they’d held the little man at arm’s length as he shouted and kicked-a cartoon situation. Now they headed back to their cruiser, conferring with Ron, as Petra ushered Boehlinger to her car.
“Idiots!” Boehlinger shouted. He coughed, spit phlegm into the dirt, started to rant again. Petra tightened her grip on his shoulder. He was shaking like a lapdog, still frothing at the mouth. “Brain-damaged idio-”
“Please, Doctor!”
“Don’t please me, young la-”
Propelling him faster, Petra talked into his ear. “Dr. Boehlinger, I know you’ve been through hell, but if you don’t settle down, we’ll be forced to let them arrest you.”
Boehlinger said, “ You’re an idiot, too! That butcher walks free, bodies pile up, and you threaten me! Goddamn all of you, I’ll have you all collecting welfare-”
“Bodies where?” said Petra.
“In there!” Boehlinger jabbed toward the gate. “Behind the pond-there must be a God! I came to get into the house, go through the butcher’s papers, some evidence of what he did to Lisa, but I saw a hell-uva lot more than I bargained for-”
“What kind of evidence were you looking for, Doctor?”
“Anything,” Boehlinger said quickly.
“What made you think Ramsey’d left any evidence behind?”
“I didn’t think! I hoped! Lord knows you people haven’t done a damn thing! I dip into my own pocket, and you don’t have the brains and the decency to follow-”
“Dr. Boehlinger,” Petra said firmly. “What evidence were you hoping to find here?”
Silence. Boehlinger’s watery blue eyes lowered. “I didn’t have a.. clear concept. But what could it hurt? This is the place he beat my Lisa. What’s to say he didn’t write notes to himself-or something Lisa wrote- Stop interrupting my train of thought, young lady, the point is, I went to find something to break the window-”
“The shovel.”
“No, no, no! I chose the shovel after I saw it! I was looking for a chisel to pry the lock. I’m good with tools.”
The last sentence a pathetic boast. Look, Mom, I’m useful. Sulfurous breath blew out from between Boehlinger’s lips. His eyes were frightened. Maybe he hadn’t been the best father in the world, but Lisa’s death had ripped him up. Such a small man.
Petra said, “You switched from the chisel to the shovel after.. ”
“After I saw the grave. Behind that pond of his.”
“A grave? How can you be-”
“Put your money on it,” said Boehlinger. “Fresh excavation, about six feet long. Far side of the pond. Plants trampled, plants missing. I’ve been here before. After the wedding, the bastard was trying to impress me. I have an eye for detail, saw the difference right away.”
“Is the pond plumbed?” said Petra. “Maybe there’d been a repair-”
“And maybe Charles Manson’s the pope-designate. Don’t be stupid, young lady! I’ve assisted at autopsies, seen my share of crime-scene photos. I know what a grave looks like.”
Ron came back, saying, “Looks like you’re off the hook for now, Doctor.” Boehlinger huffed.
Forbes waved from the cruiser and Petra went over.
“Okay, he’s yours. Hope you’re taking him straight back to L.A.”
“We will eventually,” said Petra.
“Eventually?”
“We’re in a bit of a bind, Deputy. He claims he saw a fresh grave on the Ramsey property, but we have no jurisdiction, can’t step onto the property to check.”
“A grave? You’re taking his bull seriously?”
“Given the details of our case, we can’t afford to ignore it.”
“Oh, come on. Burying someone right here?”
Petra shrugged.
“Oh, man.” Forbes turned, and said “Gary?” to Beckel, who was sitting in the car writing an incident report. The shorter deputy had a broad, stoic face and a meaty chin. Forbes filled him in. Beckel said, “What, some kind of serial killer or something?”
“It’ll probably turn out to be nothing,” said Petra. “On the other hand, if something did occur, it’s your jurisdiction.”
“We can’t just go in there,” said Forbes. “No warrant.”
“You’ve already been in there. Because of Dr. Boehlinger’s trespassing-obvious criminal behavior gave you clear grounds for entry. Once on the premises you apprehended a suspect, then noticed something amiss. Fresh excavation.”
“Oh, come on,” said Forbes. “You’re putting our nu- Putting us in a position.”
“Okay,” said Petra. “But I’ll have to write this up for my boss, and you can bet the first thing Boehlinger’s going to do when he gets back is contact the media. He’s already played that game.”
Forbes cursed under his breath.
Beckel said, “Let’s call it in, Chick.”
