'Hmm.' He grunted and raised his hand, never averting his eyes from the pieces on the board.
'Nice to see you again, Al.'
'Hmm.'
'He's a real schizo id Olivia confided to Robin, 'but he's dynamite in bed.'
She ushered us into the kitchen. The room was the same as it had been when the house had been built forty years ago: yellow tile with maroon borders, narrow porcelain sink, window sills filled with potted plants. The refrigerator and stove were vintage Ken more. A ceramic sign hung over the doorway leading out to the service porch: How Can You Soar Like An Eagle When You're Surrounded by Turkeys?
Olivia saw me looking at it.
'My going - away present when I left D.P.S.S. To myself from myself.' She brought over a plate of brownies, still warm.
'Here, have some before I eat them. Look at this - I'm growing obese.' She patted her rear.
'More to love,' I told her and she pinched my cheek.
'Mmm. These are great,' Robin said.
'A woman with taste. Here, sit down.'
We pulled up chairs around the kitchen table, the plate set down before us. Olivia checked the oven and then she joined us. 'In about ten minutes you'll have strudel. Apples, raisins and figs. The latter an improvisation for Albert.' She crooked a thumb toward the living room. 'The system gets clogged, from time to time. Now then you want to know about Casa de los Ninos. Not that it's any of my business, but could you tell me why?'
'It has to do with some work I'm doing for the police department.'
'The police? You?'
I told her about the case, leaving out the gory details. She had met Milo before - they'd hit it off marvelously - but hadn't been aware of the extent of our friendship.
'He's a nice boy. You should find him a nice woman like you found for yourself.' She smiled at Robin and handed her another brownie.
'I don't think that would work, Olivia. He's gay.'
It didn't stop her, only slowed her down. 'So? Find him a nice young man.'
'He's got one.'
'Good. Forgive me, Robin, I tend to run off at the mouth. It's all those hours I spend with clients listening and nodding and saying uh - huh. Then I get home and you can imagine the depth of conversational interplay I get with Prince Albert. Anyway, Alex, these questions about La Casa, Milo asked you to ask them?'
'Not exactly. I'm following my own leads.'
She looked at Robin.
'Philip Marlowe here?'
Robin gave her a helpless look.
'Is this dangerous, Alex?'
'No. I just want to look into a few things.'
'You be careful, you understand?' She squeezed my bicep. She had a grip like a bouncer. 'Make sure he's careful, darling.'
'I try, Olivia. I can't control him.'
'I know. These psychologists, they get so used to being in a position of authority they can't take advice.
Let me tell you about this handsome fellow. I first met him when he was an intern assigned for three weeks to D.P.S.S. to teach him what life was like for people without money. He started out as a wise guy but I could tell he was special. He was the smartest thing on two feet. And he had compassion. His big problem was he was too hard on himself, he drove himself. He was doing twice as much work as anyone else and he thought he was doing nothing. I wasn't surprised when he took off like a missile, the fancy title and the books and all that. But I was worried he was going to burn himself out.'
'You were right, Olivia,' I admitted.
'I thought he went to the Himalayas, or something,' she laughed, continuing to address Robin. 'To get frozen so he could come back and appreciate California. Have more, both of you.'
'I'm stuffed.' Robin touched her flat tummy.
'You're probably right - keep the figure, if you have it. Me, I started out like a barrel, nothing to maintain. Tell me darling, do you love him?'
Robin looked at me. She put her arm around my neck.
'I do.'
'Fine, I pronounce you husband and wife. Who cares what he says?'
She got up and went to the oven, peering through the glass window.
'Still a few more minutes. I think the figs take longer to bake.'
'Olivia, about La Casa de los Ninos?'
She sighed and her bosom sighed along with her. 'Okay. You're obviously serious about playing policeman.' She sat down. 'After you called I went into my old files and pulled out what I could find. You want coffee?'
'Please,' said Robin.
'I'll have some too.'
She came back with three steaming mugs, cream and sugar on a porcelain tray upon which had been silkscreened a panorama of Yellowstone Park.
'This is delicious, Olivia,' Robin said, sipping.
'Kona. From Hawaii. This dress is from there, too. My younger son, Gabriel, he's there. He's in import - export. Does very well.'
'Olivia - '
'Yes, yes, okay. La Casa de los Ninos. The Children's Home. Started in 1974 by the Reverend Augustus McCaffrey, as a place of refuge for children with no home. That's right off the brochure.'
'Do you have the brochure with you?'
'No, it's at the office. You want me to mail you a copy?'
'Don't bother. What kind of kids stay there?'
'Abused and neglected children, orphans, some status offenders - you know runaways. They used to pull them in jail or the CYA but those places got too crowded with fourteen - year - old murderers and rapists and robbers, so now they try to find foster placement for them or a place like La Casa. In general these institutions get the kids nobody wants, the ones they can't find foster placement or adoptive homes for. Lots of them have physical and psychological problems - spastic, blind, deaf, retarded. Or they're too old to be attractive adoptees. There are also the children of women in prison - mostly junkies and alcoholics. We tried to place them with individual families, but often nobody wanted them. To sum up, dear: chronic wards of the Dependency Court.'
'How's a place like that funded?'
'Alex, the way the state and federal systems are set up, an operator can pull in over a thousand dollars a month per child if he knows how to bill it right. Kids with disabilities bring in more - you get paid for all the special services. On top of that I hear McCaffrey's terrific at bringing in private donations. He's got connections - the land the place is on is an example. Twenty acres in Malibu, used to belong to the government. They interned the Japanese there during World War II. Then it was used as a labor camp for first offenders - embezzlers, politicians, that type. He got the county to give it to him on long - term lease. Ninety nine years with token rent.'
'He must be a good talker.'
'He is. A good old boy. Used to be a missionary down in Mexico. I hear he ran a similar place there.'
'Why'd he move back up?'
'Who knows? Maybe he got tired of not drinking the water? Maybe he longed for Kentucky Fried Chicken - although I hear they've got it down there now.'
'What about the place? Is it a good one?'
'None of those places is Utopia, Alex. The ideal would be a little house in suburbia with a picket fence around it, gingham curtains and a green lawn, Mommy and Daddy and Rover the Dog. The reality is that there are over seventeen thousand kids on the Dependency Court docket in L.A. county alone. Seventeen thousand unwanted children! And they're piling into the system faster than they can be - here's a terrible word - processed.'
