Flesh And Blood

is this bullshit?”

“Just what the doctor said. Now, I’d like to ask you-”

“Missing?” said Teague. “For how long?”

“Several days.”

“From where?”

“Her apartment.”

“Where’s that? She never told me where she was bunking down.”

“Hauser Street, in L.A.”

“She used to live all over,” said Teague. “The streets. After she ran away. She got wild – which any idiot could see coming.”

“Where on the streets, sir?”

“Hell if I know. Jane used to call me up to go looking for her, I could never find her. Hauser… That where it happened?”

“She was found on the Westside,” said Milo. “Back of a furniture store on Sepulveda. Someone shot her and left her body in an alley.”

Spitting out the details matter-of-fact, watching Teague’s reaction.

Teague said, “West L.A. We used to live there, over near Rancho Park.” He began to draw himself up. Gave up and slumped. “This is shit. My life can’t be this fucked up.”

The door opened again, and the hallway light went on. A woman stepped out wearing a long blue Dodgers T- shirt and nothing else. Seeing us, she threw a protective hand over her belly, ducked back inside, reappeared seconds later wearing acid-washed jeans under the same shirt.

“Lyle? Something the matter?”

“I said go inside.”

The woman stared at us. “What’s going on?” Bleary eyes, faint southern inflection. A good deal younger than Teague – maybe thirty, with long, limp, brown hair, grainy skin, wide hips, dimpled knees. Full face distorted by confusion. Well-proportioned but forgettable features. As a child she’d probably been adorable.

“Lyle?”

Teague swiveled fast and faced her. “They’re the goddamn police. Lauren got herself murdered tonight.”

The woman’s hand slapped over her mouth. “Oh my God – Omigod!”

“Go back to bed.”

“Omigod-”

Milo extended his hand. “Detective Sturgis, ma’am.”

The woman blubbered, shivered, hugged herself. Took the hand. “Tish. Tish Teague-”

“Patricia,” corrected her husband. “Keep it down. Don’t wake up the kids.”

“The kids,” said Tish Teague, dully. “You don’t need them, do you?”

“Oh, Jesus,” said Teague. “Why the hell would he need them? Get back in and go to sleep. It doesn’t concern you. You and Lauren had nothing, you can’t do any good.”

The young woman’s lips trembled. “I’ll be here if you need me, Lyle.”

“Yeah, yeah – go, git.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Tish Teague.

“Bye, ma’am,” said Milo.

Biting her lip, she fled.

“I left Lauren’s mother for her,” said Teague, laughing. “Met her on a construction job. She was this nineteen- year-old piece of ass, drove one of the roach coaches. Now we got two kids.”

“How old are your children?” said Milo.

“Six and four.”

“Girls, boys?”

“Two girls. When you called and said something happened to my daughter, I was thinking one of them. That’s what confused me.” He shook his head. “Lauren. Didn’t see much of Lauren.”

“When’s the last time you did see her?”

“Long time,” said Teague. “Real long time. She held it against me.”

“Held what?”

“Everything. The divorce, bad luck – life. Anything shitty was my fault. She told me so. Called me up a few years ago and told me I was a selfish motherfucker who didn’t deserve to live.” Sick smile. “Because I didn’t want to stick around with that cold thing called Jane.” He hitched up his shorts. “Our marriage was crap from day one.” To me: “That was the problem, that’s what screwed Lauren up. Us. Jane and me. The whole thing – bringing Lauren to you – was a goddamn con. My wife’s idea. ’Cause she doesn’t like to face reality. Like Lauren was gonna straighten out, living in our shitty environment. She – Jane – wasn’t gonna be honest with you, she was just conning you, pal. One big happy family. That’s why I ended it. We were wasting your time and my money. Load of bullshit.”

Hands on hips again. His good eye bore into mine. My silence made his neck tendons fan.

“Why’s he have to be here?” he demanded of Milo.

“I want to solve your daughter’s murder. Dr. Delaware’s been helpful to us on a lot of cases. If it’s a big deal, I can have him wait in the car. But I’d think you’d be interested in helping us get down to brass tacks.”

Teague’s eyes brightened. “My daughter. Every time you say that I flash to Brittany and Shayla.” To me: “You haven’t changed much, you know? Got that young face – smooth. I remember your hands, man – real smooth. Nice easy life, huh?” Back to Milo: “Brass tacks, huh? Well, I can’t give you any kind of tack at all. After the divorce, I didn’t see Lauren for… must be what? Four, five years. Then she drops in one night, tells me I’m a piece of shit, Merry Christmas.”

“She visited on Christmas?”

“Deck the goddamn halls – Yeah, it was four years ago, Shayla’d been born a few months before – October. Lauren musta found out somehow, though I don’t know how. ’Cause she came by, said she wanted to see the baby, she’d never seen Brittany and she was already two, she had a right to see her sisters. A right. She brought gifts for the girls. I guess cussing me out was her Christmas present to me.”

Phil Harnsberger’s party had taken place four years ago in November. The next day Lauren had come to my office, talked about her father remarrying. No mention of her half sisters, but soon after she’d come to meet them.

Moving around to the front of the La-Z-Boy, Teague sat down on the edge. The chair rocked, and he stilled the movement by bracing his feet. “Go ahead, sit, there’s no fleas.”

We settled on the plaid couch.

“Four years ago,” said Milo. “Did she visit again?”

“Not till a year ago,” said Teague. “Christmas again, same damn thing. She just showed up with presents. We were in the middle of putting up the tree. Presents for the kids, not me and Patricia. She made that clear. Patricia never did a thing to her, so I don’t know what she had against her, but she wouldn’t give her the time of day, just blanked her out like she didn’t exist. She brought armloads of shit – toys, candy, you name it. Walked right past me and Patricia and headed for the girls. I could’ve kicked her out, but what the hell, it was Christmas. The girls didn’t know who the hell she was, but they loved those toys and candy. Patricia offered her a piece of pie, she said no, thanks, I went to get a beer, and when I came back, she was gone.”

“Any other visits?”

“No – wait, yeah. Once more, a few months after… Easter. Same thing, toys, crapola for the kids. These huge chocolate bunnies and some kids’ dresses from an expensive place in Beverly Hills – some French shit.”

“No contact since last Easter?”

“Nope.” Teague scowled. “Both times she turned the kids hyper, it took days to settle them down.” Looking to me for confirmation.

I said, “Overstimulation.”

His good eye winked. “Hey, that’s a good one.”