Jonathan Kellerman - True Detectives

“How about this, then? The house he drove them to belongs to Lem Dement.”

Moe's arms folded across his chest. “You're letting info out in dribs and drabs?”

“I need you to be interested before I waste my time, Moses.”

“I'm busy. Spit it all out.”

Aaron forced himself calm. “One: Dement owns the place. Two: I have a source says Dement beats his wife. Neither of the two guys was Dement, but he does have a slew of kids. Seven to be exact, and five are sons. Boys learn how to treat women from their daddies.” Or from having no daddy. “I worked the Web, found photos of three junior Dements. The two oldest fit the build of the heavier guy I saw.”

Moe pulled out his pad. “Names?”

“Japhet and Ahab.” Aaron grinned. “Japhet is twenty-five and Ahab's twenty-eight. Ahab used to be a heavy-metal dude, goes by Ax. If you find a criminal history on either of them, I'd appreciate hearing about it.”

“Meaning you didn't turn up anything.”

“If they're bad boys, they've avoided the press. All I found were a couple of party photos with Ax trying to get his face in the shots.”

“Where were the parties?”

“Not at Riptide, if that's what you mean. I'm talking Oscars week, the Grammys, the usual post-ceremony crap-the Standard, the Design Center, Skybar, everyone stoned, pretending they want privacy but they're really out to make the tabs.”

“Any genuine celebs in the shots?” said Moe.

“You better believe it. Tom, Julia, Sean, George, the old see-and-be-seen. In one picture, Ax was trying to make it look like he was a pal of Mason Book.”

“Trying how?”

“Book's all snuggly with a hollow-cheeked supermodel and Ax is leaning in between them, a fifth wheel-what?”

Moe said, “What do you mean, what?”

“Your eyes just dropped like lead sinkers.”

“I was just thinking. Book's tall and skinny. Maybe he's the other guy you saw.”

“Sure, but there are tons of skinny guys in L.A.” Aaron stood back. “Why am I getting that Book interests you?”

“Because Rory works for Book. As a P.A.”

Aaron's jaw grew rigid. “Now who's dribbing and drabbing?”

“I just found out.”

“When? How?”

“I don't need to explain my methods.”

“Your methods…” Aaron's smile was unsettling. “You change your mind about the Peninsula then the moment I'm gone you probably went over and reinterviewed Rory's mommy. Fine, you're the man and I'm hired help grateful to be clutching your coattails. But keep with that attitude and good luck closing Caitlin.”

Swinging his car keys violently, he headed for the Porsche.

Moe said, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Aaron stopped, turned. “The point you seem to be missing is I do have confidence in you, Moses. If I didn't, I wouldn't waste time sharing info and believe me there's plenty of brain-dead morons with gold shields I wouldn't give the time of day. Caitlin's iced over, bro. You've got parts of the puzzle, I've got others. The smart thing would be to cooperate. Like that damned song you always listened to on Sesame Street. ”

“I hated Sesame Street. That was you.”

“No, no, no, Moses. Electric Company was my thing. Morgan Freeman at his best.”

“So we play share-zies,” said Moe. “Maybe I get my clearance up, either way you rake in nice dough.”

“Like that's a felony?”

“You play too loose it could be felonious. I can't afford to jeopardize the investigation.”

“Like I'm going to infect you with something? Give me a break, Moses. I worked the job, I know the drill. And the hard truth is, either way, I'm going to keep digging. As in, looking into Mason Book the moment my ass hits my desk chair. Because there's more to him than you're telling me. He bugs you and I'm going to find out why.”

“The timing is what bugs me,” said Moe. “Book's suicide attempt was exactly one week after Caitlin disappeared.”

“Really… what, a guilt reaction?”

“It's a possibility. Book's an actor and probably a long-term dope fiend, so he'd have plenty of reasons to be messed up mentally.”

“Oh, man,” said Aaron. “I've had a bad feeling about Caitlin almost from the beginning-something psycho. Now I'm visualizing big-time ugly.”

“As in?”

“As in one of those vicious gangbangs-something that went too far for them to let her leave alive. As in Book and some buddies, maybe one or more of the Dement boys, because they'd know firsthand about abusing women. Maybe Rory himself, for that matter.”

“They killed her to keep her quiet,” said Moe, “or even uglier, she died in the process.”

“Let's say Book's high when it happens, a few days later his head clears, he realizes what he's done and cuts his wrists… of course that means the guy's capable of feeling remorse.”

Same thing Sturgis had said.

Moe said, “His name pulls up four million Google hits. I spent hours, couldn't find a single useful factoid on the suicide attempt other than he was at Cedars for a week on the VIP ward.”

“Special Imp,” said Aaron.

“You've been there?”

Big smile. “Not as a patient, but I've visited. Top floor, city view, nice carpets, private security out in the hall. Not that it means better medical care. In fact, I hear sometimes you don't want to be a celeb in a hospital.”

“Why not?”

“People like that, never hear the word no , everyone's afraid of them. Normal patient squawks about getting woken up middle of the night to check vitals, staff says, ‘Roll over anyway’ VIP patient squawks, staff backs off. The case I was involved in was two years ago, grandson of a gazillionaire goes in for minor knee surgery, ends up with no legs. I'm not going to tell you it was Cedars or any other place in specific. But trust me, special treatment runs both ways.”

“Who's your contact at Special Imp?”

Aaron shook his head. “Don't have one, they're tighter than the Pentagon. But this is good, something's shaping up.” Risking a hand on his brother's shoulder. “Co-op-er-a-tion, Big Bird would be proud.”

Moe twitched but didn't yank the hand off. “What we've got is mutual interest. Now tell me everything you know.”

“What makes you think I haven't?”

Moe's turn to smile.

“Fine,” said Aaron, “but I really did give you the crux. Don't waste your time searching for other disapperances of Riptide clients because there aren't any. There was a couple named Rensselaer, shortly after Caitlin dropped off the earth. Turns out they were on a fugitive run from a check-kite thing, got found. The only other tidbit that could possibly interest you is Lem Dement's got a big spread in Malibu, sixty-plus acres, used to be a summer camp. Rumor has it he's building his own church there.”

“How close to Pepperdine?”

“Ten miles north, which would put it farther from Riptide, so I don't see anything profound there.”

“With a big spread, be easy to hide a body.”

Aaron nodded. How did I miss that? Must be sleep deprivation.

“What else?” said Moe.

“That's it, cross my heart. How about we continue to do our separate things, either of us gets something interesting, we confer.”

“I'll do the calling,” said Moses. “From my personal cell.”

Aaron smiled. “Got a phobia of cooties?”

“Got a phobia of being associated with something that could go extralegal.”

“I already told you-”

“You going back inside to be with Mom?”

“Just to say good-bye.”

“Say it for me.” Moe strode to his unmarked, got in, drove out of the courtyard.

When he was gone, Aaron felt like the only man in the universe.