Private Eyes

places, let’s go see some.”

I said, “Assuming you’re right, do you think she’ll come back?”

“Yeah, probably. She didn’t take much with her. But who knows?”

“So what’s next? More placebo?”

“Not more. The placebo hasn’t started yet. When I scoped out the room it was for real. Trying to get a feel for her. As if it were a crime scene. And you know, even with all the bloody rooms I’ve been in, that place ranks up there on the Freaky Scale. It felt… empty. Bad vibes. I saw jungles in Asia that made me feel like that. Dead silent, but you knew something was going on beneath the surface.”

He shook his head. “Listen to me. Vibes. I sound like some New Age asshole.”

“No,” I said. “I felt it, too. Yesterday, when I was here, the house reminded me of an empty hotel.”

He rolled his eyes, flashed a Halloween mask grimace, clawed his hands, and scraped at the air.

“The Rrrich Motel,” he said in a Lugosi accent. “They check in, but they don’t check out.”

I laughed. Totally tasteless. But it felt cruelly good. Like the jokes that flew around at staff meetings back in my hospital days.

He said, “I figure the best thing to do is give it a couple of days of my time. Chances are she’ll be back by then. The alternative is for me to quit right now, but all that would do is spook both the kid and Ramp and send them rushing to someone else. At least with me they won’t get ripped off. Might as well be my seventy an hour.”

“Meant to ask you about that,” I said. “You told me fifty.”

“It was fifty. Then I drove up and saw the house. Now that I’ve seen more of the interior, I’m sorry I didn’t make it ninety.”

“Sliding scale?”

“Absolutely. Share the wealth. Half an hour in this place and I’m ready to vote socialist.”

“Maybe Gina felt the same way,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“You saw how few clothes she had. And the sitting room. The way she redecorated. Ordering from a catalogue. Maybe she just wanted out.”

“Or maybe it’s just reverse snobbery, Alex. Like owning expensive art and storing it upstairs.”

I was about to tell him about the Cassatt in Ursula Cunningham-Gabney’s office but was interrupted by Melissa, returning with two glasses. At her heels were Madeleine and two stocky Hispanic women in their thirties who came up to the Frenchwoman’s shoulder, one with long plaited hair, the other with a short shag cut. If they’d removed their white uniforms for the evening, they’d put them back on. Along with fresh makeup. They looked hyper-alert and wary, travelers passing through Customs at a hostile port.

“This is Detective Sturgis,” Melissa said, handing us the Cokes. “He’s here to figure out what happened to Mother. Detective, meet Madeleine de Couer, Lupe Ortega, and Rebecca Maldonado.”

Milo said, “Ladies.”

Madeleine folded her arms across her bosom and nodded. The other two women stared.

Melissa said, “We’re waiting for Sabino- the gardener. He lives in Pasadena. It shouldn’t take long.” To us: “They were waiting in their rooms. I couldn’t see any reason why they shouldn’t be able to come out. Or even why you shouldn’t get started right now. I already asked them-”

The doorbell cut her short.

She said, “One sec,” and ran down the stairs. I watched her from the top of the landing, followed her descent to the front door. Before she got there, Ramp was opening it. Sabino Hernandez walked in, trailed by his five sons. All six men had on short-sleeved sports shirts and slacks and stood at parade rest. One wore a bolo tie; a couple had on sparkling white guayaberas. They began glancing around- awestruck by circumstances or the scale of the house. I wondered how many times, after all these years, they’d actually been inside.

***

We assembled in the front room. Milo standing, note pad and pen out, everyone else sitting on the edges of the overstuffed chairs. Nine years had turned Hernandez into a very old man- white-haired, hunched, and loose-jawed. His hands had a permanent tremor. He looked too frail for physical labor. His sons, transformed from boys to men by the same stretch of time, surrounded him like stakeposts protecting an ailing tree.

Milo asked his questions, told them to search their memories very carefully. Got wet eyes from the women, bright stares from the men.

The only new development was an eyewitness account of Gina’s departure. Two of the Hernandez sons had been working in the front of the house at the time Gina Ramp had driven out. One of them, Guillermo, had been pruning a tree near the driveway and had actually seen her drive by. Seen her clearly, because he’d been standing to the right of the right-hand drive Rolls-Royce, and the tinted window had been rolled down.

The seNora hadn’t been smiling or frowning- just a serious look.

Both hands on the steering wheel.

Driving very slowly.

She hadn’t noticed him or said goodbye.

That was a little unusual- the seNora was usually very friendly. But no, she hadn’t looked frightened or upset. Not angry, either. Something else- he searched for the word in English. Conferred with his brother. Hernandez Senior looked straight ahead, seemed cut off from the proceedings.

Thinking, said Guillermo. She looked as if she’d been thinking about something.

“Any idea what?” Milo asked.

Guillermo shook his head.

Milo addressed the question to all of them.

Blank faces.

One of the Hispanic maids began crying again.

Madeleine prodded her and stared straight ahead.

Milo asked the Frenchwoman if she had something to add.

She said Madame was a wonderful person.

Non. She had no idea where Madame had gone.

Non, Madame hadn’t taken anything with her other than her purse. Her Judith Leiber black calfskin purse. The only one she owned. Madame didn’t like a lot of different things but what she had was excellent. Madame was… trEs classique.

More tears from Lupe and Rebecca.

The Hernandezes shifted in their seats.

Lost looks from all of them. Ramp stared at his knuckles. Even Melissa seemed drained of fight.

Milo probed gently, then more insistently. Doing as deft a job as I’d ever seen.

Coming up with nothing.

A tangible sense of helplessness settled over the room.

During the course of Milo’s questions, no pecking order had emerged, no one stepping forth to speak for the group.

Once upon a time it had been different.

Looks like Jacob’s a good friend.

He takes care of everything.

Dutchy had never been replaced.

Now this.

As if the big house were being assaulted by destiny, allowed to crumble, piece by piece.

17