Gone

“Maybe their obvious vulnerability got a predator sniffing.”

“Someone at the school spots ’em and stalks ’em?” He gazed out the window and back at me.

I said, “Could be the same way Tori Giacomo was spotted. If her ex is right about her dating someone, you’d think that person would’ve surfaced when she went missing. Unless he had something to do with her death.”

“A good-looking predator. As in Meserve. What, he proposed a three-way to the Gaidelases and the party went bad?”

“Or he just offered to help them with their careers.”

“Yeah,” he said, “that would work.”

“On the other hand,” I said, “Reynold Peaty had plenty of opportunity to check out the flock at the PlayHouse.”

“Him…let’s see if Sean’s seen anything.” He tried Binchy’s number, scowled, clicked off. “No connection. Maybe the cell waves are upset by environmentally conscious mochalicious fumes.”

I said, “Nora’s attachment to youth is interesting.”

“Why? That just makes her like everyone else in showbiz.”

“But she has no profit motive. The school’s a make-work project, so why get picky? Unless what she really wanted was a personal dating pool.”

“Sample the studs,” he said.

“And when they get too close, Brother Brad chases them off. Or thinks he does.”

“Okay, she’s a middle-aged horn-dog. How do the Gaidelases figure in with that?”

“I don’t know, but when Susan Palmer was describing her family situation, I was struck by parallels between Cathy and Nora. Both floundered well into adulthood. Family connections got Cathy a runway gig that she couldn’t hold on to. Nora’s got her a single sitcom walk-on that went nowhere. Cathy had long-standing drug problems. Nora smokes dope to get her day going. Eventually, both women were set up in business. Cathy’s salon had been making a profit recently. Meaning it lost money for years. The Dowd family fortune has relieved Nora from any financial pressure, but bottom line, we’ve got a couple of prodigal daughters. Maybe Cathy showing up at the PlayHouse evoked something in Nora that Nora didn’t want to see.”

“Cathy’s too much like her, so she kills her? That’s a little abstract, Alex. Why would Nora even know about Cathy’s history if she turned her away?”

“What if Cathy did have a chance to audition?” I said. “Nora’s a big one for opening the soul.”

“Cathy emoted and it made Nora squirm? Fine, but I don’t see flashpoint epiphany as a motive for murder. All Nora has to do is send her and Andy away and move on to the next stud. And if uncomfortable memories are the issue, how does Michaela fit in? Or Tori Giacomo who disappeared before the Gaidelases? This feels more like a sexual thing, Alex. Just what you said: Some psychopath scopes out the herd and picks off the weak ones. Cathy may have been over the hill for a starlet, but she wasn’t a bad-looking woman. To a guy like Peaty she coulda looked downright sexy, no?”

“Peaty was caught peeping at college girls. Michaela and Tori would fit, but- ”

“Cathy wouldn’t. So maybe he’s not as limited as that oafish demeanor suggests. Or Cathy set something off- fond memories of a barroom floozy who rejected him back in Reno. Hell, maybe Cathy reminded him of his mother and he snapped. You guys still believe in the Oedipal thing?”

“It has its place.”

“No telling what goes on in the old cranio, right?” He got up and paced. “If it’s a sexual thing, there could be more victims out there. But let’s concentrate on the victims we know about. What they have in common is acting school and/or the Malibu hills.”

“One person with links to both is Meserve,” I said. “He picked Latigo for his hoax allegedly because he’d hiked up there. Nora was angry at the hoax, but instead of kicking him out, she promoted him. Maybe she wasn’t clueless after all.”

“Dylan and Nora planned the hoax together? Why?”

“The real performance game. Two failed actors writing a script. Discarding the bit players- that sounds like Hollywood.”

“Nora choreographs, Meserve acts it out.”

“Nora directs. It’s what everyone in the industry aims for.”

***

The coffeehouse got warmer and noisier as every table filled. Sleek people began milling at the entrance. Lots of peeved glances aimed our way.

Milo hooked his finger and we left. A woman muttered, “Finally.”

We drove to the station and ran into Sean Binchy exiting Milo ’s office. Binchy’s Doc Martens gleamed as shiny as his rusty, gelled hair.

“Hey, Loot. I just took a call for you.”

“I tried to call you,” said Milo. “Anything new on Peaty?”

Binchy beamed. “We can arrest him if you want. Driving without a license.”

“He has a car?”

“Red Datsun minivan, old and messed-up looking. He parks it on the street, three blocks from his apartment. Which shows intent to conceal, right? The plates are inactive, originally came from a Chrysler sedan that was supposed to be junked ten years ago. Your basic little old lady from Pasadena. Literally, Loot. And guess what, that’s exactly where Peaty drove this morning. Ten East to the 110 North, off at Arroyo Parkway, and then he took surface streets.”

“Where?”

“Apartment building on the east side of town. He pulled mops and cleaning stuff out of the van and went in there to work. I tried to call you but your cell wasn’t receiving.”

“Designer coffee messed up the air,” said Milo.

“Pardon?”

“Go back to Peaty’s tonight, Sean. See if you can get a VIN number from the van and trace it.”

“Sure,” said Binchy. “Did I do wrong by terminating the surveillance, Loot? There were a few things I needed to do back here.”

“Like what?” said Milo.

Sean shifted his weight. “Captain called me in yesterday, I’ve been wanting to tell you. He wants me to work a new case with Hal Prinski, liquor store robbery and pistol-whipping on Sepulveda. Robberies aren’t my thing but Captain says I need breadth of experience. I’m not sure what Detective Prinski will want from me. All I can say is I’ll do my best to get back to Peaty.”

“Appreciate it, Sean.”

“I’m really sorry, Loot, if it was up to me, I’d be doing nothing but your stuff. Your stuff’s interesting.” He shrugged. “That illegal car buttresses Peaty being lowlife.”

“Buttresses,” said Milo.

Binchy’s freckles receded as the skin behind them deepened. “New word a day. Tasha’s idea. She read somewhere the brain starts deteriorating after puberty- like we’re all rotting, you know? She’s into crosswords, word games, to stay mentally challenged. To me, reading the Bible’s plenty challenging.”

Milo said, “The van buttresses, Sean. If you can’t spend any more time on Peaty, don’t sweat it but let me know right away.”

“For sure. About that call, the one that just came in? It’s related to Peaty, too. Individual named Bradley Dowd. Name’s in the Michaela Brand file. He’s Peaty’s boss.”

“What’d he want?”

“Wouldn’t say, just that it might be important. He sounded real rushed, wouldn’t talk to me, only you. The number he left’s a cell, not in the file.”

“Where is it?”

“Next to your computer. Which I noticed was turned off.”

“So?”

“Well,” said Binchy, “I don’t want to tell you how to operate, but sometimes it’s better to just leave it on all the