Джонатан Келлерман - Serpentine

“Me, too,” he said. “Didn’t figure it was worth mentioning.” He swabbed his face again. “It’s like a sauna in here, let’s get the hell out.”

The temperature felt fine to me. I said, “Sure. Want the magazine?”

“You carry it, I might drop it.”

CHAPTER 32

Deirdre Seeger was slumped in the backseat of the Impala, head down, mouth open, snoring.

People under stress do that, the body trying to recoup energy. Victims and suspects. Experienced detectives know that the guiltier the suspect, the easier the slumber.

Milo retrieved his attaché case from the front passenger seat. Moving the shotgun gingerly, even though the safety was on. Good habits pay off.

Popping the case, he took the magazine from me and laid it atop the blue file folder, shut the case, and placed it horizontally on the front seat. Leaving the door open, he motioned me away from the car, strode to the taped walkway, and crooked a thumb at the house.

“Looks like a bona fide burglary but maybe not if they were looking for Seeger’s source material.”

“That would be my bet.”

“Who would know I talked to Deirdre about Seeger? No one I can think of. Or am I missing something? I could understand if I’d said something to Val Des Barres. She phones her brothers, they dispatch someone. Or she handles it herself via Sabino, guy’s got a record, busting a door and rooting around wouldn’t be a leap.”

I said, “Actually, you did talk to one person about Seeger and a missing woman from the mansion. Someone with police experience who’d know to make a break-in look real.”

“Who—” He went pale. “Galoway? That was…four, five days ago.”

“Four.”

“Plenty of time to plan. Shit. ”

He stomped away, paced, returned, mopping his face repeatedly. “Bad-guy detective? That’s a nightmare scenario…goddammit. Anyone else I blabbed to and forgot about?”

“Nope.”

“Galoway,” he said. “Mr. Helpful.”

I said, “Pseudo-helpful. He’s the one who directed us to Des Barres, which could’ve been a distraction from focusing on Dorothy Martha Maude, whoever.”

“He knows her?”

“Be worth finding out. The timing works. Galoway caught the case shortly after Seeger retired, and we know they talked. He made sure to let us know Seeger was incompetent and had learned nothing. Another misdirection. Now we know Seeger had stayed curious and found the article. That was you, what would your next step be?”

“Call the new guy…the Harley…Jesus. So Dorothy’s alive and well and evil?”

“Keep turning the prism,” I said, “and there’s no real evidence she died. Burnt-up body, no DNA back then, quick cremation. If so, who got immolated in the Cadillac? Likely another woman who lived at the mansion. We know of two others who went missing, but there could be more. And one more thing: Martha Maude grew up in a rural area, being comfortable on a horse doesn’t seem a giant step.”

“Mommy’s a psychopath.” His big chest heaved and swelled. “Just what Ellie needs to boost her mental health.”

He walked away, paced past two houses and returned. “I need time to clear my head and make sense out of this, Alex. Meanwhile, let’s get Deidre out of here and in a safe place.”

He turned grim. “You think her being with Ellie is safe?”

I said, “What’s the alternative? A random motel? Boudreaux seems to know what he’s doing.”

“Yeah, he’s solid, I’ll tell him what he needs to know.” Wolfish, tooth-baring smile. “Guess the only alternative would be my place. Or yours, but who knows if she likes dogs?”

—

The shotgun and the attaché case rode in front. Deirdre Seeger and I shared the backseat.

I said, “Everything okay?”

Her look said, What a stupid question.

Milo drove more slowly than usual. No one spoke all the way to Hollywood.

When he drove north on Western, Deirdre said, “This is a lousy neighborhood.”

Milo held up a wait and see finger and drove faster.

“Slow down. I get carsick.”

“Yes. Ma’am.”

Extruding the words like a machine. If she heard the tension, she didn’t let on.

When he turned off Los Feliz into the luxury enclave, she said, “Big houses but surrounded by a lousy neighborhood. You’re sure it’s safe?”

“Movie stars live here.”

“ They’re not exactly good citizens.” A beat. “Which ones?”

“Not sure about now but back in the day Rudolph Valentino had a mansion not far from here. And Cecil B. DeMille built a bunch of houses.”

“I liked The Ten Commandments. ” Folding her arms across her chest, she relapsed into silence.

—

When we were a block away, Milo texted Mel Boudreaux. We pulled up to find Boudreaux waiting in the doorway, filling most of the space. He wore a tight black T-shirt, black cargo pants, black sneakers, sidearm again displayed in a black mesh holster.

Deirdre Seeger said, “Him? He’s…bl—big. That’s a good thing. I guess.”

“He’s extremely well trained.”

“If you say so.”

Milo carried her bags and I followed with Deirdre. During the brief walk to the house, her elbow bumped my arm several times. Balance problems or one of those people with hazy concepts of personal space.

Boudreaux said, “Ma’am, welcome. We’re going to take care of you.”

“Hope so.”

He stepped aside revealing Ellie standing behind him, wan and round-shouldered in a shapeless black dress. Something different: bright-red lipstick applied too generously. As if she’d felt faded and decided at the last minute to risk color.

Deirdre beelined to her, arms stretched wide for a hug. Ellie was surprised but she allowed herself to be clasped, finally laced a loose arm around Deirdre’s back.

Satisfied by the reciprocation, Deirdre drew back, held on to Ellie’s arms and studied her. “You poor thing. My late husband cared so much about your poor mother. He did everything in his power to solve what happened to her.”

Ellie said, “Thank you, Mrs. Seeger.”

“Call me Didi. And thank you, dear. For offering me the sanctuary of your lovely home.” Edgy glance at Boudreaux. “And protection.”

She turned back to Ellie. “I’m sure we’ll have lots to talk about. Now where do I bunk?”

Boudreaux said, “Upstairs, ma’am, I’ll show you.”

Deirdre smiled at Ellie. “I’m not picky, anyplace to rest my weary head.” Bending as if burdened, she followed Boudreaux up the stairs with surprising speed.

Ellie smiled feebly.

Milo said, “Thanks for doing this.”

“Sure,” she said, sounding anything but. “I didn’t think to ask you about the break-in. Was that due to me?”

“No.”

“No? Definitely not?”

“Ellie, even if it turns out to have something to do with the investigation, that’s not your responsibility.”

“Well,” she said, “it kind of is. I’m the one who initiated the process.”

“You did and it was your prerogative. But you did nothing other survivors haven’t attempted.”

“But you didn’t want—”

Milo waved that off. “I want to now. ”

“You’re sure?”

“Couldn’t be surer,” he said. “My job boils down to chasing the truth. If that sounds corny and phony, can’t help it.”

She said nothing.

“Think of yourself as a flint in darkness, Ellie. You helped light a spark, it caught, and the fire’s raging.”

“So if I changed my mind—”

“Irrelevant. With or without you, I’m gonna take it as far as I can.”

Tic of tension in his jaw. All the years we’d worked together, I got the implication.