'Remember anything about the handwriting?' asked Milo.
'It was typed.'
'What about the paper?'
She shook her head.
'The only paper I was looking at was green. Fifty-dollar bills. Two packages of fifty each. I counted it twice.'
'I bet you did. Did you ever stop counting long enough to wonder why someone wanted you off the ward that night?'
'Of course I did. But I forced myself to stop wondering.'
Milo turned to Mainwaring.
'What would you call that, Guy? Repression? Denial?'
'I was greedy,' said Vann. 'Okay? I saw dollar signs and blocked everything else out. Turned my brain off. Is that what you want to hear?'
'What I want to hear is the truth.'
'Which is exactly what I've been giving you.'
'Right,' said Milo, and busied himself with note taking. She shrugged and asked if she could smoke.
'No. When did you decide to switch your brain back to on:
'After Jamey was arrested for murder. I realised then that I'd got myself into something big. I got scared - really scared. I handled it by insulting myself calm.'
'What?'
'I kept telling myself I was an idiot to let anxiety get in the way of good fortune. Over and over, like hypnosis, until I calmed down. I wanted the second five thousand, felt I deserved it.'
'Sure, why not? Honest wages for an honest night's work.'
'Now look here,' said Mainwaring. 'You - '
'It's all right, Guy,' said Vann. 'He can't make it any worse than it is.'
Milo crooked a thumb at Mainwaring.
How long have you and he had a thing going?'
'Almost a year. Next Tuesday's our anniversary.'
'Happy anniversary. Marriage plans?'
She and the psychiatrist exchanged meaningful looks. His eyes were wet.
'There were.'
'Then why all the pissing and moaning about poverty? Soon you would have been a doctor's wife. Until then he could have loaned you money.'
'Guy's as broke as I am.' She scanned the shabby room. 'Do you think he'd be living like this if he weren't?'
Milo turned to Mainwaring.
'That true? And don't bullshit me, I can check out your finances in an afternoon.'
'Go ahead. There's nothing to check. I'm bloody busted.'
'Bad investments?'
The psychiatrist smiled bitterly.
'The worst. A rotten marriage.'
'His wife's an evil bitch,' spat Andrea Vann. 'Cleaned out their joint accounts, attached his earnings, took the children and every stick of furniture, and rented a twelve room mansion in Redondo Beach - five thousand dollars
a month plus utilities. Then she filed a deposition full of vicious lies, claimed he was an unfit father, and had his visitation cut off. He has to undergo a full psychiatric evaluation in order to see his children!'
'Had,' corrected Mainwaring. 'The matter's moot now, Andy.'
She turned on him.
'Don't be so goddamned defeatist, Guy! We've messed things up, but we haven't killed anyone!'
He withered under the heat of her words, gnawed at a knuckle, and stared at the carpet.
'Let's get back on track,' said Milo. 'You say the second five thousand came a week later.'
'Five days,' she said. 'Same as the other two times you asked. The story won't change in the retelling because it's true.'
'And Guy, here, knew nothing about it.'
'Absolutely nothing. I didn't want to get him involved, didn't want to jeopardise his custody fight. My plan was to put away the money for a nest egg, so that we could start fresh. I was going to surprise him with it after we were married.'
'The Mustang part of that nest egg?'
She hung her head.
'How much did it cost?'
'Two thousand down, the rest on payments.'
Milo pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to her.
'This your loan contract?'
'Yes. How did - '
'You registered it in your own name but told the dealer you were Pat Demeter. Gave a Barstow address. How many of those payments did you plan on making?'
She looked up defiantly, eyes the colour and heat of mulled cider.
'All right, Sergeant, you've made your point. I'm a lying bimbo with the ethics of a - '
'Who's Pat Demeter?'
'My ex-husband! A snake. Beat me and stole every penny I owned and shoveled it up his nose. Tried to turn
me into a coke whore and threatened to maim Sean when I refused. I'm not telling you this to get your sympathy, Sergeant. But don't waste any on him either. When they come to him to collect for that car, it won't even start to make up for what he did to me!'
'Demeter's your married name?' asked Milo dispassionately.
'Yes. The first thing I did after the divorce was change my name back. Didn't want anything to remind me of that scum.'
'Where's your son?'
She stared at him hatefully.
'You're a sweet soul, aren't you, Sergeant Sturgis?'
'Where is he?'
'With my parents.'
'Where with your parents?'
'In Visalia - yes, I know you can get the address. They're good people. Don't drag them into this.'
' Why'd you send him away?'
'I was scared.'
'Because Cadmus had been arrested.'
'No. There's more if you'd just let me get it out!'
'Go on.'
She caught her breath.
'It was after the second payoff arrived. Whoever brought it got into the apartment again. Through the new lock - a dead bolt, supposed to be burglarproof. They put the money on the lid of the toilet bowl, left the door wide open. It felt . . . contemptuous. As if someone wanted to let me know how expendable I was. I drove straight to Sean's school, picked him up and took him to a friend's, went back to the apartment, and packed - '
'By yourself?'
'Yes. There wasn't much.' She waited for another question.
'Keep going,' said Milo.
'I waited until after dark to put the stuff in the car. Just as I was about to drive away, these two guys appeared out of nowhere, on both sides of the car, yanking on the door
