Jonathan Kellerman - Evidence

“Rieffen and Monte are veterans at that.” Milo described the turret murders in greater detail.

Wimmers said, “Please tell me your guy was shot with a.22 revolver or maybe an automatic and the shells were collected.”

Milo nodded.

“Your bullet clean enough for analysis?”

“Coroner says frags but they can be put back together, so maybe.”

“Who’s making the call to the gun lab, you or me?”

“Be my guest, Irv.”

Wimmers phoned Ballistics, arranged for the comparison asap. “They said forty-eight hours, I got ’em down to twenty-four.” Two giant hands rubbed together. “This is starting to taste even better than my bird.”

There’s a sixth sense, a high-definition sensitivity to threat, experienced by soldiers in combat, veteran cops, and a certain class of cold-blooded psychopath.

Milo ’s approach to Lara Rieffen was subtle, faking good cheer as she exited her county car in the crypt lot. She went along with the chitchat, synched with his loose, slow gait, but I was reading her eyes, bet she had a different rhythm in mind.

Milo probably figured it out, but he kept up the performance as the three of us entered the northern half of the coroner’s complex. Where the wet-work gets done.

Once inside, he used the barest touch of thumb on arm to direct Rieffen toward the empty room Dave McClellan had provided. The trajectory took her toward her cubicle, no reason for her to resist or suspect but her mouth tightened and she pushed ahead of Milo. He caught up and when they reached the open door, took hold of her elbow and stopped the parade.

“I could use a few minutes of your time, Lara.”

Stiff smile. “For what, Lieutenant?”

“Go over the Borodi scene a bit. I need to nail down a few details before I finish my report.”

“You’ve closed the case?”

“I wish, just the opposite. It’s actually looking real bad for a close, but I’ve got a new assignment from the brass, need to move on.”

Blue eyes blinked. “Oh. That must be frustrating.”

“Part of the job. So just a few secs, okay?” Propelling her inside before she could answer.

Two chairs facing one, a table to the side where Milo ’s jacket was bunched up. Kathy Vanderveldt aka Lara Rieffen sat where she was supposed to.

No one-way for observation, no space or practical way to work Gayle Lindstrom in and Milo had informed the S.A.

Appetizer goes down smooth, you can share the entrée, Gayle .

I sat down next to Milo. Lara Rieffen watched me. More concerned with my presence than Milo ’s.

He said, “Doc’s along for the ride.” Snapping his attaché case open, he spent some time behind the lid, fumbling, like an inept magician scrounging for a prop.

Lara Rieffen wanted to look bored, but her body wouldn’t go along. She tried to will herself loose, ended up with something contrived and edgy, what a yoga novice might achieve the first few times on the mat.

Milo kept shuffling papers. Rieffen checked her watch. I said, “Busy day?”

“Always. Before I took the job, I had no idea.”

“Where’d you work before here?”

“Labs,” she said. “Nothing forensic, medical settings.”

“Always been into science, huh?”

“Always.”

Milo said, “Sorry, it’s a mess in here, bear with me.” He clicked his tongue. Lara Rieffen started to relax-the real deal. Put at ease by his incompetence.

“Take your time, Lieutenant. I want to be part of the solution, not the problem.”

“Thanks, Lara. I wish everyone felt that way.

“Okay, here we go.” Instead of drawing out papers, he snapped the case shut, placed it on the floor. Smiled at Rieffen and kept observing her with that lazy, hooded look he produces when the mood’s right.

Her lips turned up. More sickly confusion than anything related to glee.

“What do you need to know, Lieutenant?”

“Well, for starts, let’s talk about Monte.”

Lara Rieffen’s head retracted. Pretty blue eyes shot to the door. Milo crossed his legs and put his hands behind his head. Try to bolt, go ahead, you’re mine, I’m not worried .

Lara Rieffen said, “Monte?” as if trying out a foreign word. “As in Carlo. As in Scoppio.” No answer.

“As in Dwayne Parris.” Rieffen shook her head. “As in boom , Lara.”

Rieffen crossed her own legs. Smiled weakly and exhaled. “Thank God.”

“For what, Lara?”

“He terrifies me, says if I ever think about leaving him he’ll cut me up, dump the pieces where they’ll never be found.”

Milo winced. “That’s heavy-duty.”

“Super-heavy-duty, Lieutenant, but if you’re asking about him, you probably know that.”

Angling for info. When that didn’t work, she scrunched her eyes, worked at pushing out tears. Produced a couple of sorry-looking droplets.

Milo ’s big, thick fingers rested atop hers. “Finally,” she said. “Someone who can help me.”

“Protect and serve, Lara. Okay, let’s get the details so we can nail this bastard good.”

Lara Rieffen’s technique was classic con: a mix of understatement, distraction, and outright lies. Painting Dwayne Parris/Monte Scoppio as ultimate evil, herself as submissive victim, all the while trying to pry out what Milo knew.

He fly-fished her, dangling error as bait then withdrawing, puncturing minor falsehoods with good nature while ignoring the whoppers.

Setting the hook.

“So… when exactly did you meet Monte?”

“Couple of years ago.”

“Really? Hmm.” Another mumbling foray into the attaché case. “Um, I could be wrong here, but I think I had a notation here… unfortunately, I can’t seem to find it… never mind.”

“What kind of notation, Lieutenant?”

“We’ve been talking to people about Monte. Doing background, you know? Someone claimed you and he knew each other way back-in high school.”

“Not really.”

“It’s not true?” More rummaging. “Ah, here it is Center High, class of-”

“Oh, that. Technically it’s true, but Center was huge, we hung in different crowds.”

“So you knew who he was-”

“Barely. We met up years later and even that was nothing intense.”

“Couple of years ago.”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“I was backpacking with some friends in Oregon. He was at the same campsite. I didn’t recognize him but he recognized me. He can be charming, I’d just broken up with a boyfriend, guess I was vulnerable.”

“Ah.” Scrawl. “Well that clears that up… Would you like something to drink, Lara?”

“So… it was Monte who ran into Des Backer and Doreen in Venice -I’m guessing a Sunday.”

“Definitely a Sunday, Lieutenant. Monte went to skate. He’s into that.”

“You’re not.”

“I bike. That’s what I was doing when he was skating the path and saw them.”

“What were Des and Doreen doing?”

“Monte never mentioned. He just came back and told me he’d met up with someone else from Center.”

“By that time, did you know he was violent?”

“Not really. I mean I knew he had a bad temper but he hadn’t touched me, not yet.”

“Later, that changed.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Want another tissue, Lara?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay… so Monte told you he’d run into Des and Doreen. How did he feel about that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Was he happy? Surprised? Upset?”

“Definitely upset. He blamed them for something but wouldn’t say what, I still don’t know. Something from his past, when he talked about it he’d get furious.”