Джонатан Келлерман - Serpentine

Milo said, “Sure.” No giveaway in his tone. All these years and sometimes I still can’t tell when he’s lying.

Val Des Barres said, “I have to tell you, this is a lot to take in.” Hefting the soda can. “I need something stronger.”

She left and came back with a tumbler half filled with something amber, sat back down and took a long sip. Eyes clear and searching above the rim of the glass. “Ah, that’s better. I’d offer you guys some but I know on duty you can’t.”

“Appreciate the intention,” said Milo.

Val Des Barres grinned. “I’ll cope for all of us.”

She drained the glass. Placed it on a gilded-mirror coffee table. “I’m still a little shaky. The more I think about this, the weirder it gets. But I don’t want you to think I’m a lush, so that will have to do.”

Milo said, “Whatever you need, ma’am. Frankly, love to join you.”

“You’re not saying the death occurred here.”

“No, ma’am. Up the road.”

“How far?”

“Two miles or so.”

“Mulholland’s a long road,” she said. “It can get pretty dark up here, that’s why the neighborhood got so concerned about the break-ins.”

“You were ten,” I said, “but never heard anything about it.”

“I was a highly sheltered ten. And ten back then wasn’t like ten today. Kids have the internet, they’re slammed with all sorts of bad news constantly. It’s way tougher being a child nowadays. That’s why I write books for children. Do you guys have any kids?”

Dual head shakes.

She said, “Me neither. Married young but it didn’t work out. The books don’t make any money but I do get to hear nice things from parents and sometimes the kids themselves. It helps me deal with my guilt.”

“About what?”

“This,” she said, sweeping an arm in a circle. “Living the way I do without earning it.”

“Your father left you the house.”

“He left it to all three of us but my brothers are dolls and they let me live here. They’re back east, one’s an attorney, one’s a surgeon. I was planning to be a psychologist, got a B.A. in psych. But when it comes to math I’ve got some learning disabilities and when I found out all the statistics I’d have to take I said forget it. I was always pretty good with writing and drawing. So.” Shrug. “I’ve made a couple of movies, too. From my books.”

Milo said, “Writing and drawing. You illustrate everything?”

“I do.”

“Impressive.”

“It would be more impressive if I didn’t fund everything.”

“Still sounds major to me.”

“Kind of you to say so,” said Val Des Barres. “All one can do is try. Two miles up, huh?”

“We’re not sure of the exact spot and probably won’t be.”

“Either way,” she said, “anytime I go into town I pass right by. Sad. Ellie told me she was a little girl, has no memory of her mother. I was fortunate, have lovely memories.”

She stood and fluffed her hair. “I’ve got so much to be thankful for. Going to get some writing done, no need for more of this.”

Pinging the tumbler with a fingernail. The sound resonated in the cavernous space.

CHAPTER 13

Milo took out his pad. “We’d like to talk to your brothers. Could you give me their numbers?”

Val Des Barres said, “Sure,” and recited clearly. “Just spoke to Tony. His birthday. I sang him ‘Happy Birthday.’ Say hi to both of them.”

We got up. Before Milo took a step, she’d taken his hand in both of hers. “Good luck helping Ellie. She seemed so wounded.”

Dropping the hand, she headed for the stairs. As if beckoned, Sabino appeared. He opened the door, walked us out and to the Impala. The unmarked’s data screen seemed to fascinate him.

“Very nice computer.”

“Does the trick,” said Milo. “Been working here long?”

“Twenty-four years.”

“Nice place.”

Sabino’s hand rose to his heart and stayed there. “Lucky.”

—

We rolled down the cobbled drive, passing the team of gardeners, now paused for food and drink beneath one of the pines.

Milo said, “Think Miss Val could have alcohol issues?”

I said, “If she does she’s not hiding it. Why?”

“She gets stressed, heads straight for the bourbon. She seems too good to be true. Painting a rosy picture of Daddy but it couldn’t have been easy losing Mommy and then he goes all Sultan on her.”

“She admitted she might be in denial.”

“So?”

“There are no ironclad rules but I’ve found it’s the tightly buttoned-up ones who have the most issues.”

“You liked her.”

“Nothing unlikable about her, so far. The main thing is she gave off no tells I picked up. Including when she said she didn’t recognize Dorothy. Did you catch something I didn’t?”

“Nah. So some people are just well adjusted even when shit happens.”

I smiled. “Most people are. The planet keeps spinning.”

A few moments later he said, “What about the way she reacted to our coming in under false pretenses? Wouldn’t most people get at least a little peeved? Couldn’t everything we just saw be an act?”

“Like I said, no rules. But I’m not ready to establish a surtax on nice.”

“Nice makes me fidget. What’s that say about me?”

“Nice guy with a tough job.”

“Ha.”

I said, “Maybe it’s your year for nice. First Ellie, then Val.”

“Wonderful,” he said. “Who did I piss off?”

—

He drove until he reached the place Du Galoway had guessed to be near the death-spot. Pulled over sharply and stared out at the haze and returned to the road.

I said, “Lonely place to end up.”

“Poor Dottie,” he said, shifting into gear. “Val didn’t recognize her but she didn’t say impossible. So what Galoway figured from the Caddy makes sense. Good-looking woman escapes a bad marriage, comes to L.A., hooks up with Professor Scalpel and joins his fan club. Whatever his daughter’s level of insight, I’m not buying her image of Daddy as a great guy who just happens to collect women like stamps. To me that says Des Barres had no problem depersonalizing women. And we know where that can lead.”

“Something began at the house and finished on the road.”

“The only other thing that comes to mind is Stan Barker stalked her to L.A., found out how she was living, and got enraged. But then why would she end up in Des Barres’s car? If, on the other hand, Des Barres was involved, it makes sense. Do her in the house, store the body until it’s safe and drive her away. Or it did happen on the road: Invite her for a late-night drive, pull over, shoot her, reposition her behind the wheel. Release the hand brake, torch the car, and you’re done. No big deal walking back to the house in the dark. And a guy that rich, sacrificing a Caddy wouldn’t be a big deal.”

I said, “If he had good insurance, there’d be no loss at all.”

“There you go. The house is huge, Alex. All sorts of places to get away with stuff. Maybe there’s a basement with thick walls. Plus those outbuildings. Toss in all that acreage and you’ve got plenty of kill-spots and hidey-holes. A gun goes off far from the action, who’s gonna know?”

“And with the women coming in and out, one of them not returning wouldn’t be an issue.”

“So you’re with me on this. Good. I don’t like when you get that skeptical look on your face.”

I said, “When’s the last time that happened?”

“No idea, I’ve repressed the memory.”

He glanced at his Timex. “Let’s get back and see what the Des Barres’s sons have to say about life back in the good old days.”

He set up in my kitchen, fortified by leftover Genoa salami, pepperoncini, tomato slices, and onions, all on slabs of sourdough he’d sawed off savagely.