Jonathan Kellerman - Compulsion

“How long has she been at this address?”

“Fifteen months.” She stubbed out her cigarette, watched the diminishing trail of smoke.

“In terms of guarding-”

“She kept me out of her private life.”

“Don’t be offended, ma’am, but do you think she was hiding something?”

“Could be, Lieutenant. If she was dating someone high-caliber I have no doubt she’d be showing him off just to show me I’m wrong.”

“Wrong about what?”

“She’s a gorgeous girl, I keep telling her she needs to elevate herself, run in a different circle. Royal and I are members of the Riviera Country Club. There are socials all the time. When I call Katrina to inform her of an event, she laughs and then her mood turns ugly.”

“She prefers doing things her own way.”

Her eyes shifted toward the front door. “I just know she’s going to run out of cash and come waltzing in any minute.”

“Do you have a recent photo we could keep?”

Reaching for a new cigarette, she marched across the living room, turned a corner. Muffled voices filtered back. Inflections that suggested tension.

She returned alone, carrying the cold cigarette in one hand, a three-by-five glossy in the other.

“This is about four years old, but Katrina hasn’t aged appreciatively.” Touching her own cheek. “Good genes. It was taken at a cousin’s wedding. Katrina served as a bridesmaid. After much complaining about the dress.”

Pretty girl with a heart-shaped face wearing a big-shouldered sateen gown the color of mortified flesh. Ill-fitting cap sleeves rode too high on smooth arms. A high, square bodice kept its promise to flatter no one. Katrina Shonsky’s fair hair was upswept and tasseled by curls that resembled brass sausages. Her lips were shaped into something resembling a smile but the rest of her face radiated disdain.

“So,” said Milo, “you’re pretty confident she’s off on one of her trips but you reported her missing just to be safe.”

“I know she didn’t travel far, because she didn’t take her passport.”

“You’ve been to her apartment?”

“Talked my way past the landlord and went through the entire place. Straightened up, while I was there, Lord knows the dump needed it. Her passport was right in a dresser drawer. If she took clothes, she didn’t take many, Lieutenant. But Katrina’s capable of hopping off with nothing but her purse and a credit card.”

“Do you co-sign for her card?”

“I do not. No more of that, Katrina abused my credit limit. She now has a Visa with a one-thousand-dollar-a-month maximum and is expected to pay her own bills. And I have to say for the most part, she’s done so.” Crossing her fingers.

“No passport, no clothes,” said Milo. “Doesn’t sound like much of a vacation.”

“Some of those places she goes to,” said Monica Hedges, “all you need is a bikini and a wineglass. It’s also possible she used her employee discount for a wardrobe.”

“She works in fashion?”

“She sells clothing at La Femme Boutique in Brentwood. Overpriced tacky, if you ask me. I told her I could probably get her a position at Harari or one of the places on Rodeo through Royal. He was in garment manufacturing. Owned a huge company that did contract work for some pretty big couture names.”

She played with her unlit cigarette, reached for a white onyx lighter. Milo got there first.

“Katrina’s job,” she said, between puffs, “is a dead-end position. Like every other job she’s held. If you ask me, down deep she thinks she deserves no better because she lacks formal education. She dropped out of high school, finally got her GED, did a semester at Santa Monica Community. The plan was to finish two years and transfer to a UC. Instead she dropped out and worked selling shoes at Fred Segal. They fired her for poor work habits. I told her to make lemonade out of lemons and return to SMC, all she needed was one and a half more years. No go.”

I said, “Sounds like Katrina’s a bit of a rebel.”

“A bit?” Raspy laughter. “Gentlemen, I love my daughter dearly but I do believe that she thinks bucking me is the key to her identity. She was always a difficult child. Colicky baby – face cute as a button but screaming twenty-four hours a day. When that finally ended, she began walking early, was into everything. She always hated school. Even though she’s smart. She can sing, but wouldn’t go out for chorus. Has a lovely figure, could’ve gone out for cheerleading.” She sighed. “Maybe eventually she’ll mature.”

Milo said, “Let’s go back to that night. Katrina went out clubbing with two friends. Beth Holloway and…”

“Rianna something foreign.”

“Which club did they go to?”

“Some dive in West L.A., more like a barn than a bona fide nightclub.”

“You’ve been there?”

“I went over yesterday and talked to some monstrous men – bouncers. Ugly industrial area off Pico – one of those side streets. I also talked to the manager. No one was helpful. They said the place was packed, they have no memory of Katrina or any other specific individual, and there are no security cameras on the premises. Isn’t that stupid, Lieutenant?”

“Not the way I’d run things,” said Milo. “What’s the name of the club?”

“The Light My Fire.”

“As in the song.”

“Pardon?”

“Do you have phone numbers for Beth and Rianna?”

“No, but I can tell you where to find them both. Beth said she sells jewelry at a place near La Femme and Rianna works the cosmetics counter at Barneys.”

“Do you have the name of the jewelry store?”

“Somewhere near Katrina’s work – San Vicente near Barrington. I’d be concerned if this was anyone but Katrina. Even with it being Katrina, I’m getting a bit nervous. What will you do for me, Lieutenant?”

Milo said, “What’s the longest she’s ever been gone?”

“Ten days. Hawaii – she visited all the islands, never called once, came back with the deepest tan I’ve ever seen, you’d think she was a Mexican or something. Another time she spent nine days in Cozumel, some sort of discount special.”

“So this is within her usual pattern.”

“Does that mean you won’t do anything?”

“No, I’ll look into it, ma’am. Did Beth Holloway say how Katrina happened to be separated from her friends?”

“She did after I asked twice. The plan was for Rianna to be the designated driver but they went in Katrina’s car because this Rianna girl’s car was broken. Rianna and Beth got picked up by two men and asked Katrina if it was okay for them to go their separate ways. They claim Katrina was fine with that. That’s the last time they saw her.”

“You have doubts that Katrina was fine with the change?”

“My daughter does not take well to disappointment, Lieutenant. Low frustration tolerance her teachers called it. What concerns me is that she decided to do them one better by meeting a man herself. Then ran off to God-knows-where.”

“Without her passport.”

“If you’re out for fun, you can find it anywhere,” said Monica Hedges. Relaxing her posture for a second, as if reminiscing.

Milo said, “Rianna being the designated driver meant Katrina was drinking that night.”

“And Katrina loves her Long Island Iced Teas. Which is a hodgepodge cocktail, just a kitchen-sink mess that does God-knows-what to your brain. I always tell her stick with the classics, they won’t pollute your mind. Martini or Manhattan, never on the rocks. That way you know how much you’re getting. But try telling Katrina that. To her, anything with fruit liquor and a kick is a Martini.”

“Has she been known to overindulge?”