Gone

Taking the Seville because “you’ve got leather seats.”

Beautiful day, sixty-five, sunny- if you had nothing on your mind you could pretend California was Eden.

Milo said, “Let’s do the scenic route.”

That meant Sunset to the coast highway and north through Malibu. When I approached Kanan Dume Road, I lifted my foot from the gas pedal.

“Keep going.” Slouching, but his eyes had fixed on the odometer. Imagining the trip from a killer’s perspective.

At Mulholland Highway we crossed over the Ventura County line. Sped past the beach house I’d rented with Robin years ago. The 8:15 call I’d walked out on last night had been from her. No message other than to phone. I’d tried. Not home.

The road compressed to two lanes and continued through miles of cliff-bordered state parkland and oceanfront campgrounds. At Sycamore Creek, the hills were pillowed by wet-year vegetation. Lupine and poppies and cactus played on the land-side. To the west was crashing Pacific and milkshake breakers. I spotted dolphins leaping twenty yards offshore.

“Glorious.”

Milo said, “All that green stuff, when the fires take hold it’s a barbecue. Remember a few years ago when this was charcoal?”

“Good morning to you, too.”

***

An eastward turn on Las Posas Road took us through miles of vegetable fields. Green leafy rows in some of the acreage, the rest was brown and flat and dormant. U-pick sheds and produce stands were shuttered for the off season. Combines and other metal monsters perched out past the furrows, awaiting the signal to chew and churn and inseminate. At Camarillo ’s western edge, a southerly cruise on Factory Stores Drive led us to a peach-pink village of commerce.

A hundred twenty stores divided into north and south sections. Barneys New York occupied the western tip of the southern wing, a compact, well-lit space, attractively laid out, staffed well, nearly empty.

We’d walked three steps when a spike-haired young man in all black came up to us. “Can I help you?” He had sunken cheeks and mascaraed eyes, wore a cologne full of citrus. The platinum soul patch under his lip right-angled with each syllable, like a tiny diving board.

Milo said, “You carry Stefano Ricci ties? The five-hundred-buck deals with the real gold thread?”

“No, sir, I’m afraid we- ”

“Just kidding, friend.” Fingering the skinny, wrinkled polyester thing that hung down his paunch.

The young man was still working on a smile when Milo flashed the badge. Off to one side a pair of Persian saleswomen looked us over and spoke in low tones.

“Police?”

“We’re here about a theft that occurred four days ago. A customer got her purse stolen.”

“Sure. Ms. Wasserman.”

“She’s a regular?”

“Every month like clockwork. I find her purse for her all the time. This time I guess it really did get stolen.”

“Absentminded lady?”

“I’ll say,” said the young man. “They’re beautiful pieces, you’d think she’d…I don’t want to gossip, she’s a nice lady. This time it was a snakeskin Badge-Mish. She’s got Missoni and Cavallo, vintage Judith Leiber day bags, Hermes, Chanel.”

“You’d think,” said Milo.

“I’m not putting her down, she’s a really nice person. Perfect size zero and she tries to tip the staff even though it’s not allowed. Did you find it?”

“Not yet. Those other times, where did she leave them, Mr…”

“Topher Lembell. I’m a designer so I’m always noticing details. The Badge was sweet. Anaconda, this you- better-notice-me pattern, the dye job was so good you could almost think a snake could really be mauve- ”

“Where’s Ms. Wasserman tend to leave her purses?”

“The dressing room. That’s where I always find them. You know, under a pile of clothes? This time she claimed she last saw it over there.” Pointing to a display counter in the middle of the store. Shiny things arrayed neatly under glass. Nearby was a display of last season’s men’s linen suits in earth tones, canvas shoes, straw hats, fifty- dollar T-shirts.

Milo said, “You doubt that.”

“I guess she’d know,” said Topher Lembell. “Though if she left it out in the open, you’d think someone would’ve noticed, what with it being so gorgeous. And everyone knowing about Ms. Wasserman’s forgetfulness.”

“Maybe someone did,” said Milo.

“I meant us, Officer. We had a full staff that day because it was real busy, lots of stock came in, including stuff that didn’t move at the warehouse sale and was deep-deep-discounted. The company advertised, plus preferred customers get e-mails.”

“Like Ms. Wasserman.”

“She’s definitely preferred.”

“A busy day could make it harder to notice things,” said Milo.

“You’d think so but on super-heavy days we’re super-careful. So, actually, theft rates go down. It’s the medium days that are worse, enough people so we’re outnumbered, you turn your back and someone’s boosted something.”

“Still, Ms. Wasserman’s purse did get stolen.”

Topher Lembell pouted. “No one’s perfect. My bet’s still on the dressing room. She was in and out all morning, trying on stuff, tossing it on the floor. When she’s in that mode she can create a real mess- don’t tell her I said that, okay? I’m one of her favorites. It’s like she uses me for a personal shopper.”

“Sealed lips,” said Milo. “Now would you do me a favor and look at these photos and tell me if any of these people were in the store that day?”

“Suspects?” said Topher Lembell. “This is cool. Can I tell my friends about being part of an investigation or is it a big top-secret deal?”

“Tell anyone you want. Is everyone here who was working that day?”

“We had five more people, including one of their friends from the Valley.” Eyeing the Persian women. “The others were Larissa, Christy, Andy, and Mo. They all go to college, come in weekends and on heavy days. Larissa and Christy are due in to pick up their check, I could call and see if they can come earlier. And maybe I can get Mo and Andy on the phone, they’re roomies.”

“Thanks for the help,” said Milo.

“Sure, let’s see those suspects. Like I said, I’ve got a great eye for detail.”

As Milo produced the photos, Topher Lembell studied the wrinkled necktie and the wash-and-wear shirt beneath it. “By the way, we’ve still got some good deals on last season’s goods. Lots of loose, comfy stuff.”

Milo smiled and showed him DMV head-shots of Nora Dowd and Dylan Meserve.

“He’s younger and cuter than her.”

The snaps of Cathy and Andy Gaidelas evoked, “Sorry, no. These two look kind of Wisconsin – I grew up in Kenosha. Are they really criminals?”

“How about this one?”

Lembell studied Reynold Peaty’s arrest shot and stuck out his tongue. “Ugh. The moment he stepped inside, we’d be on the lookout. Uh-uh.”

Milo said, “On a busy day, despite the extra staff, couldn’t someone blend in with the crowd?”

“If it was me in charge, never. My eyes are like lasers. On the other hand, some people…” Another glance at the saleswomen, now idling silently near a rack of designer dresses.

One of them caught Milo ’s eye and waved tentatively.

He said, “Let’s see what your colleagues have to say. And if you could make those calls to the temps right now,