Mystery_ An Alex Delaware Novel Part 3

I said, "She told you she'd been flaked on?"

"Uh-uh," said Mutter, "but she kept looking at her watch and the whole time no one showed up. Why would someone flake on someone that cla.s.s and hot?"

"The watch," I said. "Pretty sparkly."

"Oh, man, total bling. She okay?"

"Did she give you her name?"

"Uh-uh."

"Did she pay her tab with a credit card?"

"Uh-uh, cash." He pinched his upper lip. Grubby nails were bitten raw.

"How many drinks did she order?"

"Just two. Hendrick's Martini, twist, aw-lihvs aw-lihvs on the side-also one of those little onions. Only we didn't have Hendrick's so I asked her if Gilbey's was okay and she said on the side-also one of those little onions. Only we didn't have Hendrick's so I asked her if Gilbey's was okay and she said Cuhtainly Cuhtainly." He repeated the word, pumping up the drawl. "Why are you guys asking about her?"

"She had a misfortune, Neil," said Milo.

"Like a robbery?" said Mutter. "Oh, man, that watch? How about her sungla.s.ses? She put on these sungla.s.ses and I figured they were rhinestones but maybe they were diamonds, too."

I said, "You knew the watch had real diamonds because..."

"I-because I just figured. I mean it looked cla.s.s and she was cla.s.s." Looking from me to Milo. "I didn't figure her for rhinestones." Shrug. "But maybe the sungla.s.ses were."

Milo said, "Sounds like you paid a lot of attention to the watch."

The color left Mutter's face.

"No, I'm just saying."

"Saying what, Neil?"

"She kept checking it and it kept flas.h.i.+ng, you know? Also, it was the only bling she had. Except the sungla.s.ses."

"No rings, no earrings."

"Uh-uh, not that I saw."

"How late did she stay at the Fauborg?"

"Maybe another half hour." Mutter turned to me. "I mean after you and your lady left."

I said, "You're sure no one showed up to join her."

"Totally."

"When did your s.h.i.+ft end?"

"Ten." Mutter frowned. "Sherree-the bartender-got paid to stay later, like till twelve, but they didn't want to pay me for longer than till ten."

I said, "I left around nine thirty so if she left half an hour later, that would be ten."

"Guess so."

"That means you and she walked out around the same time."

"Uh-uh, she left before me," said Mutter. "My s.h.i.+ft ended at ten but then I had to change out of that stupid jacket and clean the tables, then I had to walk to my car, which was like three blocks away in a city lot because the place had no parking."

"What street you park on?" said Milo.

"Same street as the hotel but down near Wils.h.i.+re."

"Crescent Drive."

"Yeah."

"You have a parking stub?"

"Why would I?"

"You didn't see her when you left?"

"Nope."

"Where'd you go after you got your car?"

"Where?"

"Where was your next stop, Neil."

"There was no stop," said Mutter. "I drove here."

"What time did you get home?"

"Around...probably ten forty. Tasha was up watching TV."

"What was she watching?"

"Teen Cribs." He lowered his voice, smiled. "Lame, but she likes it. Sometimes I watch with her 'cause I can't crash until she and Brenda are finished with the couch." He lowered his voice, smiled. "Lame, but she likes it. Sometimes I watch with her 'cause I can't crash until she and Brenda are finished with the couch."

"Kinda inconvenient, Neil."

"I only pay two hundred a month. I don't find a real job soon, I'm gonna have to head back to Omaha. What happened to Princess?"

"For someone without a steady job, a diamond watch could solve a lotta problems."

Mutter's eyes bugged. "Oh, no, no way, no way, no way. That's not the person I am, even when I worked for Mickey D I didn't take an extra sesame seed, just what we got with the employee discount. Uh-uh, no way."

He crossed himself. Protest had firmed and deepened his voice. His chin seemed stronger, too, as if proclaiming his innocence had triggered a burst of testosterone.

Shaking his head, he said, "Uh-uh, no way and I don't know why you're saying that, why would you say that?"

"You were among the last people to see her."

"You can check my stuff, there's no watch or nothing. You can put me on a lie-detector, whatever."

I said, "Did you notice anyone else at the bar who looked shady?"

"Buncha old people," he said. "And you guys."

Milo and I remained silent.

"This is psycho," said Mutter. "I served her two drinks, she tipped me twenty bucks and she left."

I said, "Did she give you any details about herself?"

"Nothing. That was the thing thing."

"The thing?"

"She was like super-nice and sometimes when people are like that it's 'cause they want you to pay attention so they can talk about themselves. Not so much at Mickey D's, people come in and out real fast. But at Marie Callender's I was always hearing stories when I served the pie. But she was just nice to be nice."

"She didn't want attention," I said, remembering the theatrical posing.

"It kind of makes sense if she's someone famous. Not like stupid-famous-like brats on Teen Cribs Teen Cribs, got their own house, Game Boys, rides."

"A different kind of famous."

"Like a princess but n.o.body knows her unless she wants, you know?" said Mutter. "First time I saw her, that's what I thought. She's probably famous but I don't know enough." Smiling. "She was nice and really hot. Hope she gets her watch back."

*e left Mutter sitting on the sofa bed and drinking his Big Gulp.

Milo slipped behind the wheel of the unmarked. "Unless Tasha's lying for him, the time frame clears him."

"He was good for one thing," I said. "Her accent. So maybe it will come down to a waylaid tourist."

"Let's see what Big Brother has to say about recent entries of young, cute U.K. citizens."

He put in a call to "Ralph" at Homeland Security, got a voice-mail litany that necessitated six b.u.t.ton-pushes, finally left a vague message about "the British invasion."

I said, "They've got that kind of data at their fingertips?"

"So they claim. All part of the war on terrorism-'scuse me, the alleged struggle with alleged man-made disasters. Now let's work on my disaster."

At West L.A. station, we climbed the stairs and pa.s.sed the big detective room. Milo's closet-sized office is well away from the other D's, at the end of a narrow hall housing sad, bright interview rooms where lives change.

Closet-sized allotment; he claims the privacy makes it worthwhile. Grow up in a large family, you appreciate any kind of s.p.a.ce.

His lone-wolf status began years ago, when he was the only openly gay detective in the department, and continued as part of a deal cut with a previous police chief, a man with a media-friendly demeanor and slippery ethics. Working a long-cold murder case handed Milo enough info to ruin the boss. The barter got the chief honorable retirement with full pension and earned Milo promotion to lieutenant, with continuation as a detective and none of the desk work that went with the rank.

The new chief, brutal and statistics-driven, learned that Milo's close rate was the highest in the department and chose not to fix the unbroken.

When he closes the door to the office, it starts to feel like a coffin but I'm getting used to that. I've been slightly claustrophobic since childhood, a souvenir of hiding from an enraged, alcoholic father in coal bins, crawl s.p.a.ces, and such. Working with Milo has been therapeutic on many levels.

I wedged into a corner as he wheeled his desk chair inches from my face, swung long legs onto the desk, loosened his tie and suppressed a belch. A sudden reach for a pen knocked a pile of papers to the floor. On top was a memo from Parker Center marked Urgent Urgent. When I moved to pick up the sheaf, he said, "Don't bother, it's all trash."

He pulled a panatela out of a desk drawer, unwrapped, bit off the end and spit it into the wastebasket. "Any additional wisdom?"

I said, "Mr. Walkie-Talkie intrigues me. Not a friendly sort. And his being gone doesn't mean much, he could've ducked somewhere."

"Bodyguard turns on his charge?"

"Or his charge was the person she was waiting for and he'd slipped away to attend to the boss. Someone she was eager to be with from the way she kept looking at her watch. Someone she was intimate with."

"Girl in designer duds and a diamond watch wouldn't hang with Joe Sixpack. Some rich guy confident enough to keep her waiting."

"And Black Suit could've chauffeured the two of them-his clothes would fit a driver, too. Or he followed them in a separate vehicle. At some point, the date went really bad and the two of them shot her. Or the plan all along was to kill her. Either way, finding him might help and I got a good look at him."

"Lots of private muscle in town, but sure, why not."

Booting up, he searched, printed a list of L.A. security firms, made a few calls, got nowhere. Plenty of companies left to contact, but he swung his feet back to the floor. "Wanna see the crime scene?"

On the way out, he picked up the fallen papers, checked the urgent message, tossed everything.

"Chief's office keeps bugging me to attend ComStat meetings. I've dodged most of them, including the one today, but just in case they bust me, let's take separate cars."

He drove me home, where I picked up the Seville and followed him back to Sunset. We sped west and after a brief ride north on PCH, he hooked east and climbed toward the northwestern edge of the Palisades.

He turned onto a street lined with stilt-houses defying geology. The residences thinned, vanished as the road narrowed to chasm-hugging ribbon furling the green mountainside. The sky was clear. The world was as bright and pretty as a child's drawing.

It took a while for him to stop. I parked behind him and we crossed the road.

He stretched, loosened his tie. "Nothing like country air."

I said, "The ride from your office was thirty-eight minutes, allowing for the stop at my place. Beverly Hills is farther east, so even with less traffic at night, we're talking about that much time. If Mutter was accurate about her leaving the Fauborg around ten and the time of death was closer to midnight than two, she was done quickly. That could indicate a premeditated abduction and execution. If, on the other hand, the TOD's closer to two, the killer had plenty of time to be with her and we could be looking at something drawn-out and s.a.d.i.s.tic. Any ligature marks or evidence she was restrained?"