Джонатан Келлерман - Serpentine

“Never too busy to check out leads, ma’am. No matter how yours turns out, we appreciate your taking the initiative.”

“Well,” she said, “I figured it was the least I could do, my mom said Vicki’s vanishing basically killed Vicki’s parents. The stress of not knowing. Both of them did get cancer and what I know about holistic medicine tells me stress is a giant factor in that. What struck me was the time period in your post and the fact that we’re talking L.A. According to my mom, Vicki definitely came here. Her parents heard from her a few times, then nothing.”

I said, “Do you have any idea what led her to L.A.?”

“My guess would be excitement. Delano was pretty much grapes and screw-top wine. Vicki’s mom and dad both worked for Gallo. I suppose she didn’t want to slip into that.”

She smiled. “Or as Thelma put it, ‘The girl was old enough to vote but all she wanted to do was have fun.’ ”

“Vicki was twenty-one.”

“Just.”

“Does your mom remember anything else?”

“Wish I could ask her, she’s gone, too,” said Owen. “Those quotes are just stuff that came up. Everyone’s gone except Thelma. Sometimes I think she’s just too ornery to stop breathing.”

She shrugged. “I guess if I could clear up what happened to Vicki, I’d feel a little bit heroic.”

Milo and I nodded.

“Also,” she said, “all that’s left of the family besides Thelma—and she won’t last long—is me and my daughter. The bad part of being the only child of the youngest child.”

I said, “What was Vicki’s family like?”

“Conventional, religious, no one before had just upped and left.”

“But she did stay in contact.”

“In the beginning. Thelma claims Vicki sent her a couple of postcards. ‘Dashed’ them off. Hollywood cards—the sign, Grauman’s Chinese.”

I said, “Proof of sinfulness to Thelma?”

Bella Owen laughed. “You got it. She was always fire and brimstone but Suzette’s suicide made it worse.”

Milo said, “We’ve tried to find information on Vicki and haven’t been successful. What I can tell you is she has no criminal record.”

Bella Owen’s hands relaxed. “That’s good to hear. I like to think the best of everyone so I’d like her to be just a bored girl looking for some fun—is that the Chai Zen Frothy you’re drinking? Mind if I get some? I’ve worked on some pretty tight backs all morning and it totally dehydrated me.”

Milo said, “On me,” and got to his feet.

“Oh, I couldn’t do that.”

Before the sentence was complete, he was at the counter ordering and paying.

Bella Owen looked at me. “Is that typical?”

“He’s a generous person.”

“Well, that’s a nice quality in a guy. And pretty darn rare, especially the young ones who always seem to leave their wallets home by accident. I keep telling my daughter to be pickier. Then again, she knows from her father that I’m no expert.”

Milo returned with the drink. Taller glass than his.

She said, “Oh, my, you got me the Molto, I’ll never finish it.”

“Give it the old college try.”

Giggling, she sipped through a paper straw, following the gradual drop in fluid level with vivid blue eyes that seemed to gain wattage with each millimeter.

When the glass was down by a quarter, she removed the straw, now bent and soggy. “I know it’s a good cause but these things are totally useless.”

Her phone buzzed on the table.

She snatched it up. “Hi, Auntie…you have? That’s amazing…yes, of course I believed you. Did you have trouble sending it…no, of course not, it was super-fast, sorry. That’s great, Auntie, thanks so much…I’m not saying I approve of everything anyone does including her, but…sure, I’ll tell them. Thanks again, Auntie, enjoy your snack.”

Once the connection was cut, she puffed her lips in exhalation. “Apparently the picture is proof that Victoria was ‘wanton and wild.’ She wants you to know the family did not approve…let’s take a look…okay, here it is.”

Bigger frown. Long sigh. “Sorry. Vicki’s not your girl.”

Milo said, “Let’s have a look anyway.”

Owen handed him the phone. On the screen was a color shot of a blonde in a minimal white bikini posed on an unidentifiable empty beach. Careful positioning, sharp contours, and dramatic use of light suggested a professional job.

The woman leaned on her elbows in a way that thrust her chest upward. Sleek tan skin sheathed a slim but curvy body and a quartet of coltish limbs.

Pinpoints of condensed moisture topped smooth shoulders. The illusion of passion sweat courtesy a spritz from a water bottle? Or she really had been perspiring.

If so, it wasn’t due to tension. Languid posture, clear confident eyes, and slightly parted lips revealing a hint of white teeth said this was someone who loved the camera.

Bella Owen said, “It actually is pretty racy. I can’t believe she sent this to Thelma.”

I said, “Maybe she was asserting herself to Thelma.”

“Hmm, yes, you could be right. Standing up for herself. I like that. But Thelma held on to it.”

“Maybe there’s more to Thelma than you know.”

“Hah. Anyway.”

Milo held on to the phone. Staring, processing. The moment I’d seen the model’s face my gut had tightened and from the way his jaw was working, so had his.

Not the woman we were seeking, but a familiar face.

The cheekbones.

—

Bella Owen drank a bit more before pushing her cup away. Glanced at her phone. “Need to get back, guys. Sorry it didn’t work out. Would’ve been nice.”

I said, “If you don’t mind, could you call your aunt and ask if anything’s written on the back of the photo?”

“Why? She’s not your girl.”

“She’s missing and who knows, something could come up during the investigation.”

Milo’s eyes had slid toward me. Owen didn’t notice.

“Oh. Okay, I’ll try her now.” Rapid number punches. “Auntie, sorry to bother you again…that’s why I said I’m sorry, Auntie…I understand, nutrition’s important, but so is learning about Vicki so if you still have the picture, could you see if anything’s written on the back? Yes, at their request. No problem, I’ll wait…yes, I know it’s my choice.”

Sighing and rolling her eyes, she switched to speaker.

Milo whispered, “You deserve combat pay.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

A minute passed before a constricted voice said, “Only going to say this once so pay attention, Marabella. Sterling Lawrence Studio Nine Fifty-Three Gower Street Hollywood big C small A.”

Click.

Milo had been scrawling rapidly. “Got it.”

“A professional studio,” said Bella Owen. “Vicki was a model. Or hoping to be one. Or maybe an actress.” Her eyes misted. “All that dreaming and look what happened. She’s dead, isn’t she, Lieutenant?”

“No way to know.”

“All these years?”

Milo said, “It’s not looking great but we do get surprised.”

Bella Owen said, “Appreciate your honesty. I never really knew Vicki, I just…I need to forget about it and go back to living life.”

Quick hand squeeze for each of us before she walked away.

CHAPTER 30

Milo said, “Oh, do we get surprised. Let’s walk a bit.”

We strode the strip-mall walkway, passing all kinds of opportunities to ingest calories and a gym where you could burn them off. Spandex and unspoken intensity abounded. People trying so hard to defy the passage of time.

He said, “Well, that was a game changer.” Out came the Azalea Club photo from his case. “Three blondes, probably all murdered, and the Sultan dies in his bed confessing. You ever actually see that in psychopaths? Sudden burst of guilt?”