Gone

Ventura?”

“It might be related to an L.A. crime, ma’am.”

Wasserman’s piscine eyes glowed. “Some sort of big-time crime ring? Figures.”

“Why’s that?”

“Someone who recognizes a Badgley Mischka is clearly a pro.” She waved away the photos. “Think you’ll ever find my little beauty?”

“Hard to say.”

“In other words, no. Okay, that’s life, it was a year old, anyway. But should a miracle come down from above, the one thing I ask is that you only return it if it’s in perfect shape. If it’s not, just donate it to some police charity and let me know so I can write it off. Here today, gone tomorrow, right, Lieutenant?”

“Good attitude, ma’am.”

“My husband thinks I’m pathologically insouciant, but guess who looks forward to getting up in the morning and who doesn’t? Anyway, there wasn’t much cash in there, maybe eight, nine hundred dollars and I put a stop on the magic plastic.”

“Had anyone tried to use the cards?”

“Thank God, no. My AmEx Black’s limitless. The phone’s no big deal, either, it was time for an upgrade. Now, let me tell you about that guy who was checking me out. He was already there when I pulled into the lot, so he wasn’t stalking me or anything like that. What probably happened is he was casing the lot for a pigeon- that’s the right term, isn’t it?- and he saw me as a perfect little dove.”

“Because of the purse.”

“The purse, my clothes, my demeanor.” Bony hands traversed bony flanks. “I was dolled out, guys. Even when hunting le grande bargainne, I refuse to dress down.”

“How was this person checking you out?” said Milo.

“Looking at me. Right through his car window.”

“His window was rolled up?”

“All the way. And it was tinted, so I couldn’t get a good look. But I’m sure he had his eye on me.” Curled lashes danced. “I’m not flattering myself, Lieutenant. Believe me, he was looking.”

“What do you remember about him?”

“Caucasian. I couldn’t make out details but the way he was turned I had a full view of his face.” A red-nailed finger touched a collagen lip. “By Caucasian, I mean light skinned. I suppose he could’ve been a pale Latino or some kind of Asian. Not black, that I can tell you for sure.”

“He stayed in the car the whole time?”

“And continued to watch me. I just know he was following me with his eyes.”

“Was the engine idling?”

“Hmm…no, I don’t think so…no, definitely not.”

“Everything you saw was through the glass.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t just what I saw, it was what I felt. You know, that itchy tingle you get on the back of your neck when someone’s watching you?”

“Sure,” said Milo.

“I’m glad you understand because my husband doesn’t. He’s convinced I’m flattering myself.”

“Husbands,” said Milo, grinning.

Wasserman’s return smile tested the outer limits of her skeletal face.

“Could there have been more than one person in the car, Ms. Wasserman?”

“I suppose so, but the feeling I got was one person.”

“The feeling.”

“There was just a…solitary flavor to him.” She touched a concave abdomen. “I trust this.”

“Is there anything else you can say about him?”

“At first, I just figured it for guy behavior- checking out the goods. After the Badge got stolen was when I started thinking he could’ve been up to no good. Was the phone used?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Where’d they call? Outer Mongolia or some crazy place?”

“ L.A. ”

“Well,” said Angeline Wasserman, “that shows a lack of creativity. Maybe I was wrong.”

“About what?”

“Him being some high-level crime guy and not just a crook.”

“High level because he knew what a Badge was,” said Milo.

“The whole image- being at Barneys, driving a Rover.”

“A Range Rover?”

“A real pretty one, shiny and new-y.”

“What color?”

“Silver, mine’s anthracite. That’s why it didn’t bother me at first, his looking at me. Both of us with Rovers, parked near each other? Kind of a twinsie karma, you know?”

CHAPTER 33

A new stack of rugs arrived. Angeline Wasserman inspected a fringe. “These knots are tangled.”

Milo muttered, “Story of my life.”

If she heard him, she didn’t indicate. “Darius, are these the best you’ve got?”

***

Driving to Butler Avenue, I said, “AmEx Black, never used.”

“I know, same as with the Gaidelases. But do you see them tooling around in a Range Rover that just happens to match Nora Dowd’s?”

No need to answer.

When we arrived at the station, Milo demanded his messages from the new receptionist, a terrified bald man in his forties named Tom, who said, “There’s nothing new, Lieutenant, I promise.”

I followed Milo ’s chuffy climb up the stairs. When we reached his office, he unpacked his attache, placed the autopsy file next to his computer, and requested a BOLO on the Range Rover, all before sitting down.

“How about this, Alex: Nora and Meserve have an 805 love nest and those brochures were a diversion. I’m thinking something on the beach because what’s a rich girl without a beach house? Could be right there in Camarillo, or farther north- Oxnard Harbor, Ventura, Carpinteria, Mussel Shoals, Santa Barbara, or points beyond.”

I said, “Could be points south, too. Maybe Meserve didn’t know Latigo because he’d hiked there.”

“Nora’s a Malibu gal,” he said. “Has a rural hideaway tucked in the mountains.”

“Something registered to her individually, not part of the BNB partnership.”

“Easy enough to find out what she pays property tax on.” He flipped the computer on. The screen flashed blue, then black, sparked a couple of times, and died. Several attempts to reboot were greeted by silence.

He said, “Expelling profanities is a waste of oxygen. Let me borrow someone else’s terminal.”

I used the time to leave another message for Robin. Read through Michaela’s autopsy findings again.

Playing with veins and arteries.

The PlayHouse.

Nora tiring of theatrical abstractions. Meeting Dylan Meserve and discovering common interests.