out against Kristal.”
“I don’t want to say more,” said Daney. “Because I’m scared and not ashamed to admit it.”
“Scared of Malley?” said Milo.
“A lot of people depend on me, Detective. That’s why I don’t skydive or ride a motorcycle or go mountain climbing.”
“Miss all that?”
“Not anymore,” said Daney. “Now, I really need to get going- ”
I said, “It’s a whole new way of looking at it, Milo.” To Daney: “Did Malley know Troy and Rand before the murder?”
“I wouldn’t know,” said Daney.
“Lara went to the mall frequently and so did the boys. So there’d be opportunity for Barnett to see them, as well.” I turned back to Milo: “They hung out at that arcade. Maybe Malley was into video games, too. Being an unsophisticated guy.”
Both of us stared at Daney.
He said, “It’s possible.”
Milo said, “Troy and Rand
“Troy definitely didn’t,” said Daney. “I wasn’t talking much to Rand, he was pretty nonverbal back then. Right, Doctor?”
“You bet,” I said. “But I always got the feeling he was holding back.”
“Defensive,” he said. “Yes, I sensed the same thing.”
“Frustrating.”
“I tried to open him up,” said Daney, “but not being a psychologist, I didn’t want to step into uncharted territory. In the end, it didn’t matter because the case got settled optimally. Or so I thought.”
“What do you mean?” said Milo.
“Look what happened to Troy. And to Rand.”
“I hear what you’re saying, Rev. About Rand not being perceptive. But if he really knew Malley had some culpability, would he hold on to it for eight years?”
“Maybe,” said Daney, “he was confused.” He stood quickly. “I’m sorry, this is getting way too complicated and there’s nothing more I can tell you. If it ends up helping you, great. But please keep my name out of it.”
He ran his hands over his shirt, as if brushing off dirt.
Milo got up and faced him, used his height to advantage. “Absolutely, sir. I wouldn’t lose too much sleep because, to be honest, I don’t see any way of pursuing any of this.”
Daney stared up at him.
Milo said, “Like you said, too speculative.”
Daney nodded. “Good luck.” He pivoted and began to walk away.
“I mean the only time it would ever be relevant,” said Milo, “is if we got solid, physical evidence on Malley and put him behind bars. Then we’d ask you to give a deposition.”
Daney stopped. Weak smile. “If that happened, Detective, I’d be happy to do my part.”
CHAPTER 37
Milo watched as the white Jeep drove away. “Wish there was a shower nearby.”
He took an evidence bag out of his attache case, gloved up, sealed Daney’s coffee cup, and slipped it in. Into a second bag went the half-eaten pink doughnut.
I said, “He snarfed that right before he graced us with his reluctant insights on eye color. His appetite peaked because he was aroused by the game.”
“Letting us know the cowboy wasn’t Kristal’s daddy. Thinking he’s being subtle.”
“It was a dual thrill: He gets to be the hero of the story, granting you vital information. And he heightens the focus on Malley.”
“All that frighty-dighty about mean old Barnett, but right off he’s telling us Malley’s antisocial, covered his tracks.”
“That could’ve been more than a diversion strategy,” I said. “Attributing his own behavior to Malley, consciously or otherwise.”
“He’s covered some tracks of his own.”
“The lies didn’t start with his seminary application. The image he pushes is Fun Guy with a Sensitive, Spiritual Side. While you were ordering he told me he was a well-behaved kid, brought up in the church. Be interesting to know what his childhood was really like.”
He stashed the bags in the case. “Time for some serious digging. Be nice if it’s more productive than my research on Malley. Can’t find any insurance policies on Lara or Kristal, the cowboy seems to be using his real name and social security number, has no arrest record, no military record, no real estate ownership. I was able to trace his birth records to Alamogordo, New Mexico, but the local law doesn’t remember him and there are no Malleys living there now. Maybe I’m missing something, there are all these new computer tricks the department doesn’t have…”
He snatched his phone from the table, punched in a number, and asked for Sue Kramer.
Two seconds later: “Nancy Drew? It’s Joe Hardy. Listen, I don’t know what your schedule’s like but… did it? Excellent… listen, Sue, all those things you private hotshots can do that I can’t… the high-tech stuff… yeah, exactly, I need a couple guys looked into… him and also the spiritual adviser- Daney… let’s just say he’s become interesting… the usual and anything else you can think of… sooner’s better than later, I’ll pay you personally… no, no, send me a full bill… I mean it, Sue… okay, fine, but send something… thanks, have a nice day, hope the winds are good.”
Clicking off, he said, “Her B.H. surveillance just ended. She spotted the Korean widow going into the apartment, found the lady praying at some kind of shrine, crying how much she loved hubby, why’d he have to go kill himself. So the suicide stands and Sue’ll start digging tomorrow when she gets back from a little R and R.”
“The winds,” I said. “Sailing?” Thinking about his brief fling as a P.I., during a suspension from LAPD. The rise in income. The plague of tedium. When the department took him back, he had raced home like a trained pigeon.
“Sailing on her new boat,” he said. “Over the bounding main.”
“Ever miss private enterprise?”
“The lack of red tape and paramilitary rigidity? The chance to make serious money? Why the hell would I miss that?” He stared at his phone, clicked it shut. “That comment Daney made about my sounding pretty confident. What was that, a taunt?”
“Or fishing for information. Or both,” I said. “He was clearly fishing when he steered the conversation to the topic of pay booths. Your line about being able to trace pay calls made his eyes jump.”
“Yeah, I noticed that.”
“Rand called me from a pay booth but Daney would have no way of knowing that unless he was there.”
His eyes compressed to surgical incisions. “Daney was with Rand the day he died.”
“Or nearby, watching Rand make the call,” I said. “Which got me thinking: What if he made up the story about the black truck to divert attention from the fact that it was
“Off at one of his nonprofit gigs.” He passed his phone from hand to hand. Tapped the table. Rubbed his face.
Finally, he said, “Daney did Rand, not Malley.”
“The only reason we focused on Malley is because Daney pointed us in that direction.”
“That and Malley’s mother-in-law said he was a scumbag dope dealer who was rough on Lara.”
“A scumbag dope dealer with no arrest record or known aliases who uses his own social security number,” I said. “Who registers his guns legally. In a sense, Nina Balquin was a character reference for Malley. She hates his
