Mystery_ An Alex Delaware Novel Part 27

"Whatever she got went into her box, I never saw it."

"Mystery woman," said Milo.

"You could make it sound like that in retrospect. To me she was a dream tenant. Minded her own business, paid half a year in advance, never threw a party, never even played music that I could hear."

"She have a car?"

"BMW-the smallest model. Silver. It had a rental sticker on the b.u.mper." Haldeman brightened. "Here's something: It came from the Budget place in Beverly Hills, maybe that'll help you."

"Appreciated, Mr. Haldeman. Is the Beemer still in her garage?"

"Oh, no, she cleared out. Not just the car, everything."

"When?"

"Sometime during my last visit to Italy, which lasted four days-three weeks ago. Janice wasn't happy about the rent situation and I came home resolved to collect or else, knocked on Tara's door and when she didn't answer, I let myself in with my key. Place was empty." His lips parted. "Was she dead by then?"

"No, sir."

"So she did rip me off."

"Place is still empty?" said Milo.

"Completely," said Haldeman. "Feel free to see for yourselves."

*ilo took the master key from Erno Haldeman's giant mitt, slipped his own paw into a rubber glove, and turned the doork.n.o.b.

Blank white s.p.a.ce. The smell of fresh latex pigment.

"You've painted?"

"Don't worry, there was nothing worth preserving. Not a speck in the closet and she took every bit of furniture-here, I'll show you."

Milo held him back. "I'd like your permission to send a crime scene team over to dust for fingerprints and other evidence."

"You're saying she was killed here?"

"We know she wasn't."

"Then what's the point?"

"We want to identify any visitors she had."

"I told you, there weren't any besides the old guy."

"But if you saw her once a week that was a lot."

Haldeman scratched the top of his hairless dome. "Are we talking an invasive process?"

"No, sir. And the crew will do their best to clean up."

"That's unpleasantly ambiguous, Lieutenant."

"It'll be fine."

"But if they find something creepy, they'll do damage."

"I don't see that, sir."

"No good deed goes unpunished, huh?"

Milo's favorite credo. He remained impa.s.sive. "It'll take a day, Mr. Haldeman, and then we'll be out of your way."

"Do I have a choice?"

"You do."

"But if I refuse you'll get a warrant or whatever paper's involved and the end result will be the same except you'll be p.i.s.sed off that I delayed you so the floorboards will end up being pried off."

"Not unless there's some reason you're aware of that we should pry them."

Haldeman gaped. "Good Lord, no."

"Then I don't see a problem. There'll be some dusting, perhaps some spraying with chemicals. But all of it comes out readily and I'll take special care to ensure you get your property back exactly as we found it."

"Man, you take life seriously."

"Kind of an occupational hazard, sir."

"Guess it is. All right, go ahead. Just let me know when your crew plans to show up. I want to make sure to be here."

"Will do, sir. Thank you."

Haldeman smiled. "All this civic cooperation and you're not going to tell me who killed her."

"We don't know, sir."

Haldeman studied him. "I think you're telling me the truth. Tsk, tsk. The agony of uncertainty." His grin was wide, sudden, playful but malevolent. "I make my living off it."

The young, male clerk at the Beverly Hills Budget Rent A Car office wasn't impressed by the badge. Or the request. "We've got four silver 1 series."

"This one would've been rented long-term, maybe as long as a year and a half, two years ago, possibly by a man named Markham Suss."

The clerk typed. "I've got a Markham Industries renting a 1 series twenty-two months ago."

"For who?"

"Just says Markham Industries. And it got returned...five days ago."

"By who?"

"I'd a.s.sume Markham Industries. Says here it was dropped off after hours with none of the required paperwork. There was a month to go on the agreement and no damage, so we let it ride. If there was damage, we'd pursue to recover."

Milo said, "Markham Industries went out of business before the car was rented."

"Okay," said the clerk. "So that's why you're here."

"What do you mean?"

"It was used for something illegal, right? We get that all the time. People coming into Beverly Hills for their rentals thinking it's going to make them look respectable when they do something illegal."

"Like what?"

"Drugs, mostly. Last year, these guys come in from Compton, think they're pulling off some big con 'cause they're wearing suits. We're real careful about our screening."

Not careful enough to check on Markham Industries. Or maybe Mark Suss had kept a corporate account going after dissolving his company.

Milo said, "What kind of background did you do on Markham Industries?"

The clerk typed some more, peered at his computer.

When the revolution comes, machines will talk to machines and people's vocal cords will atrophy.

"Doesn't say much, guess they checked out okay. We don't rent without proper doc.u.mentation...looks like it was initially a two-week rental, then they renewed for a month...then three...then another three then-whoa, after that was a whole year-that's super-long for us." He scanned the fine print. "Looks like they asked for the long-term preferred rate, looks like they got it...whoa, they got it retroactive, big rebate for the first six months."

"How was payment made?"

"Corporate Amex."

"Signed by who?"

"Says here M. Suss."

"Card number, please."

"I'm not sure I can do that."

Milo leaned forward. "Trust me, you can."

The clerk deliberated.

Milo said, "M. Suss is dead, therefore he has no right to confidentiality."

The clerk's fingernail pinged his keyboard. "It's your responsibility."

Milo copied the number. "Anyone else co-sign the lease?"

"Um...doesn't appear to be."

"If Mr. Suss was renting the car for someone else would you need the driver's signature?"

"Not for the rent part if he was the only one paying. We would need a valid driver's license for the operator's part."

"Do you have one on file?"

"Hold on."

Crossing the reception area to a bank of steel cabinets, he opened and shut several drawers, finally stood away, examining a piece of paper smiling. "Not bad."

New Mexico license photo.

Tiara Melisse Grundy, five four, 105, brown and brown.

Long, dark, lank hair, no discernible makeup. But the lovely face above the white scooped neckline matched the girl who'd sold herself as Mystery.

She'd told SukRose the truth about her physical stats but had lied about her age: The DOB put her at one month shy of thirty.

Needing to be twenty-four because Leona Suss was being psychically cloned.

Even minimally groomed and wearing the borderline-sullen expression that comes from standing hours in line, Tiara Grundy looked young and fresh enough to pull it off.

Milo said, "Why'd you smile?"

"Guy renting for his chick."

"You get a lot of that?"

"Enough," said the clerk. "Costs a lot more than just leasing from a leasing company but they can go short-term and there's no down payment."

"We talking married guys?"

Smirk. "We don't ask about their home situation."

We left the office with Milo muttering, "Tiara Grundy," as if he'd identified a new species.

I said, "Mark Suss eased in with a two-week rental, she built up his trust, he stretched it to a month, kept stretching, finally sprang for a full year. At that point, a conventional lease would've been cheaper but this was easier to hide, so he asked for a rebate."

"Mr. Operator."