Jonathan Kellerman: Victims

I said, “Vita enjoyed giving you a hard time.”

“Don’t know if she enjoyed it, but she sure did it.”

“Did you try to evict her?”

Belleveaux laughed. “No grounds, that’s the way the law works. To get evicted, a tenant’s just about got to…” He stopped short. “I was going to say they’ve got to kill someone. Oh, man, this is terrible.”

I said, “Seven years, eight months.”

“I bought the building four years five months ago, she came with it. I thought that meant good, long-term stable tenant. Then I learned different. Basically, she thought she owned it and I was her janitor.”

“Entitled,” I said.

“That’s a nice word for it,” he said.

“Cranky lady.”

“Okay,” he said, “I’ll come out and say it: She was a miserable specimen, didn’t have a good word for anyone. It’s like she had bile in her veins instead of blood. My guess is you’re not going to have too many people crying. Disgusted, yes, scared, yes. But not crying.”

“Disgusted by…”

“What happened to her.” Belleveaux’s eyes clamped shut again. The lids twitched. “Man, no one deserves that.”

“But no one’s going to mourn.”

“Maybe she’s got some family who’ll mourn,” he said. “But no one who had anything to do with her is going to say they miss her. I’m not stating that for a fact, I’m just guessing, but I’d put money on my guess. You want to see what I mean, go over to Bijou, it’s a coffee shop on Robertson. She ate there from time to time, made their lives miserable. Same for the Feldmans, the downstairs tenants. Nice young couple, they’ve been here a year, are ready to move ’cause of her.”

“Neighbors’ dispute.”

“No dispute, she harassed them. They’re on the bottom floor, she’s on top but she’s the one complaining about footsteps. Actually made me come up to her place to listen a bunch of times, all I heard was her bitching, she’s saying, ‘See, hear that, Stan? They’re clomping around like barbarians.’ Then she lies down puts her ear to the carpet, makes me do it. That position, maybe I pick up a little sound but nothing serious. But I lie, tell her I’ll talk to them. Just to keep her out of my hair, you know? I did nothing about it, she dropped it. The next time, it’s something else-they fill the trash bins too high, they park their cars wrong, she thinks they snuck in a cat and it’s a no-pet building. What happened was there was a stray cat came to the back door, looked like it was starving, they gave it some milk. Which is the human thing to do, right? Now the Feldmans are going to leave for sure and I’ll have both units vacant. Should’ve put my pension money in gold bars or something.”

Milo said, “Sounds like Vita was a little paranoid.”

“That’s a word for it,” said Belleveaux. “But it was more like she wanted attention and being mean was a way to get it.”

“She have any friends?”

“None I ever saw.”

“And you live across the street.”

“Part of the problem. She knew where to find me. Here I was thinking the building would be perfect, convenient, no need to drive. Next time I buy, it’s in another state. Not that there’ll be a next time. Market was up, I’d sell everything.”

“What can you tell us about her daily routine?”

“From what I saw she kept to herself, didn’t go out much.”

“Except for meals.”

“Once in a while she’d walk over to Bijou. I know because I’ve been there myself, saw her a couple times. Cheap and good, I’d be there more but the wife’s into cooking, takes lessons, likes to try stuff out. Now it’s French, that’s why I’m not skinny like I used to be.”

Milo said, “Vita eat anywhere else besides Bijou?”

“Mostly what I saw was takeout,” said Belleveaux. “From the boxes she’d throw out in the garbage. I know because she’d miss, I’d have to pick them up. The automated trucks they use nowadays, it’s not in the can, it stays there and I don’t want rats.”

“What kind of takeout?”

“What I saw was pizza boxes. So I guess she liked pizza.”

“From where?”

“Where? I don’t know-I think Domino’s, they’re the ones in the blue hats, right? Maybe other places, I don’t know. It’s not like I was checking out her eating habits through the drapes. The less I had to do with her, the better.”

“Did she get pizza delivered last night?”

“Wouldn’t know,” said Belleveaux. “I was at Staples, watching the Lakers take one from Utah. Went with my boys, they’re both master sergeants in the army, had leave the same week, we did a basketball thing and later we went to Philippe’s for some grub.” He touched his belt buckle. “Overdid it with the French dip, but how many times do you get to go out with your kids, do guy stuff, everyone’s being a grown-up? Got home late, slept late till seven, got her message on the machine, why didn’t I come yesterday after the first call, the toilet’s busted, it’s her right to have a functional toilet, all the fixtures are old and cheap and lousy, if I’m not going to replace them the least I can do is repair them in a timely manner, I’d best be there no later than eight a.m. or she’s filing a complaint.”

Milo said, “What time did she call you?”

“I didn’t check.”

“Message still on the machine?”

“Nah, I erased it.”

“Can you narrow it down?”

“Hmm,” said Belleveaux. “Well, I left for the game around four, stopped by at the Soos’ apartment to look at an electrical outlet, so it had to be after that.”

“What time did you get home?”

“Close to midnight. Drove Anthony and Dmitri to where they parked their rental car in the Union Station lot, Anthony drove Dmitri to the airport then he drove himself to Fort Irwin.”

“When you got home were Vita Berlin’s lights on?”

“Let’s see… can’t rightly say. She paid her own electric, what she did with her lights was her own business.”

“Where can we find the Feldmans?”

“They’re good kids, still don’t know about this.”

“Why’s that?”

“Probably at work, they’re doctors-resident doctors. He’s at Cedars, she’s somewhere else, maybe the U., I’m not sure.”

“First names?”

“David and Sondra with an o. Trust me, they had nothing to do with this.”

“Doctors,” said Milo. Thinking: surgical cut.

Stanleigh Belleveaux said, “Exactly. Respectable.”

By the time we left Belleveaux’s house a crime lab van was parked outside the tape. Two techs, both young men, were inside the apartment. Their kits rested out on the landing. The body remained in place.

Milo said, “Lance, Kenny.”

“Lieutenant,” said the taller man. L. Sakura on his tag. “This sure is disgusting.”

K. Flores didn’t react.

Milo said, “Keeps life interesting. Don’t let me stop you.”

Flores said, “How far do you want us to take this?”

“As far as you need to.”

“What I mean, Lieutenant, is there’s no sign of disruption in the room, it all seems centered on the body. Obviously we’ll print and look for fibers but do you see any reason to luminol?”

Sakura said, “Looks way too clean even for someone doing a mop-up. No bleach smell, either. We’ll check the drains, call in a forensic plumber if the fixtures give us a problem, but we don’t see much chance for significant blood evidence.”

“Other than her blood,” said Flores. “Which is probably the small spots on the towel. Even there, whoever did this was super-careful. Probably dabbed as he went and took whatever he used with him.”

“This is a freak,” said Sakura.