Jonathan Kellerman - Evidence

Holman said, “Given the advantage of hindsight, it’s clear Des’s work product was nil.” Smirking. “In terms of architecture.”

Cohen said, “Our attorneys had someone go through the office computers. Des did a lot of gazing at pornography as well as surfing through some disturbing websites. Which brings us to the fire.”

Milo said, “Arson websites?”

“Eco-terrorist websites. Congratulatory photographs of vandalized luxury housing and animal research labs, chat strings of people who believe the ends justifies the means.”

“We’ll need those office computers.”

“Sorry, we need them,” said Marjorie Holman. “Our attorney has instructed us to place all the furniture and equipment in storage, so we can show that Helga clearly abandoned the office.”

Criminal trumps civil, but Milo didn’t push it. “Those websites-”

“Were sent to Helga. We had no idea the two of them had any relationship beyond the firm. On the contrary, Helga claimed not to even like Des.”

“Even though she hired him?”

Cohen said, “Helga was good at putting things-and people-in boxes.”

“Acceptable professionally,” said Milo. “Unacceptable personally.”

Holman said, “There was no ‘personally.’ The woman is coldblooded. As was her version of green.”

Cohen said, “The unfortunate truth is, a strong misanthropic streak exists within the green community. But it’s a minority view and Helga seemed to take it to the extreme.”

“Plagues and wars.”

Holman said, “Des sent her j-pegs of burned-out buildings and she sent him LOLs and happy faces. Singing the praises of ‘selective pyrotechnics’ as a tool of ‘biological cleansing.’”

Milo had her repeat that, scribbled in his pad.

Cohen said, “What was surprising was Des mirroring Helga’s point of view. He had seemed so sociable and humanistic. Talked about his niece, wanting to build a better world for her.”

Holman said, “She’s capable of anything, probably killed Des simply because she felt like it. Or maybe he was supposed to burn down that house, chickened out, and she executed him for disloyalty to the fatherland, whatever.”

Milo said, “Who’s your attorney?”

Holman said, “Manny-Emmanuel Forbush.”

Cohen said, “Forbush, Ziskin and Shapiro. Here’s their number.”

“Thank you, sir. What else?”

Holman said, “That’s not enough?”

“It’s a good start, Ms. Holman-”

“Then get going with it. Run that bitch into the ground and do the world a favor.” Making progress on the booze slur. She drank, spilled gin on her lap. Cohen handed her a tissue. She ignored him, drank some more.

Milo said, “Any idea where Helga is, ma’am?”

“For all I know, she’s back in Shwitzerland.”

“Why Switzerland?”

“Because that’s where she’s from.”

“Thought she was Austrian.”

“She was born in Austria but the family moved to Spritz-Shwitzlerland, her father owns a bank there. Manny found that out easily enough.”

“Do you have the bank’s name?”

“Why would I?”

Judah Cohen said, “GGI-Alter Privatbank, Zurich. The address is a postfach -a post office box.”

Holman stared at him. “You should go on Jee-epardy.”

Milo said, “A bank with no office?”

“I’m sure there’s an office,” said Cohen, “but perhaps they’re all about investing, have no interest in walk-ins. Apparently, it’s not unusual in Zurich, according to Emmanuel Forbush. He’s sent several certified letters but no answer so far, feels a civil suit will take years to unravel, we need to be patient. If we choose to persist.”

Holman said, “Oh, we choose , all right.”

Cohen didn’t answer.

Milo said, “Years to unravel unless Helga can be tied in to a criminal case.”

Holman said, “She is a criminal, catch the bitch before she braids her hair and puts on lederhosen and disappears into the land of cuckoos and chocolate.”

Milo stood.

Marjorie Holman said, “Exactly. Time to get a move on.”

Judah Cohen said, “Good luck.”

Emanuel Forbush, Esq.’s, baritone boomed through the car speakers.

“I’ve been expecting your call. Guess you want the computers.”

“That would be helpful, sir.”

“No problem, Lieutenant, pick them up at your convenience. Of course, we will be keeping copies of every single word of data. Don’t imagine you’ll mind, without our coming forward you’d be in the dark.”

“Sitting on evidence in a criminal case could have caused problems, Mr. Forbush.”

“If you ever found out.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mr. Forbush.”

“No, no, I’m not-I just want to make sure our civil case is preserved.”

“You really think a civil suit’s worth the effort, sir?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“It just doesn’t sound as if the stakes are that high for all the trouble.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to be the judge of that.”

“I suppose you will, sir.”

“Lieutenant,” said Forbush, “I don’t want to get off on a bad foot with you. Sorry if I came on too strong.”

“No problem, Mr. Forbush. I’ll send a detective for those computers today.”

“Great. So how’s Marjie doing?”

“I just watched her down two stiff drinks and my guess is they weren’t her first this morning.”

Forbush tsk-tsked. “That’s always been an issue for Marjie, poor kid.”

“You’re friends?”

“Ned and I go way back, we used to play squash. Hell of an athlete, damn tragedy. Marjie’s had a lot to deal with, a victory would be good for her. That’s why I took on the case.”

“Friend in need,” said Milo.

“The only kind that counts,” said Forbush.

Milo hung up. Laughed. “One of Ned’s old squash buddies. Should’ve asked him about the current décor of Washington Boulevard no-tells. He took on the case to keep the sheets hot, Cohen’s along for the ride, they squeeze out a settlement, it’s found money for him. So now I’ve got dead ends in Sranil and in Zurich.”

I said, “Maybe you’re in luck and Helga’s still in L.A. Or was, this morning.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s a good-looking, well-built woman in her thirties with Nordic features. Cover that bald dome with a platinum wig-something that flaps in the breeze-and all a witness would focus on would be blond, blond, blond.”

“Amy Thal’s jogger,” he said. “Yeah, she does have that Valkyrie thing going on.”

“Not Swedish,” I said. “Swiss. What if Reed’s source was almost there?”

“Seen one European, seen ’ em all. Including the girl Teddy supposedly offed.” He rubbed his face. “His vic was Helga’s sister, or a close friend. She comes to L.A. to get revenge, starts a shell firm for cover, looks for Teddy. Tries to find his local address by having Doreen-who she met through Backer, maybe on some anarchist chat line-comb through Masterson’s files.”

“Her primary goal was to kill Teddy, but she found out he was out of her reach in Sranil, either hiding in the palace or dead. So she settles for burning down his house. Pays Backer and Fredd fifty thousand to do the job.”

“Not much bang for all that buck, Alex.”

“If she banked on Teddy being dead, messing with his sutma would’ve been emotionally appealing. The sultan’s religious, so the thought of his brother dangling in perpetual purgatory would be unsettling.”

“You fuck with my family, I fuck with yours? With Backer and Fredd gone, Helga cases out the place herself, decides on a do-it-yourself?”