Jonathan Kellerman - The Web

Another weeping child passed through.

"Guess I should do a few," said Pam, "but Ben's so good. I hate inflicting pain."

Cheryl was sweeping the entry to the big house, but when we walked in she stopped.

"Dr. Bill said give you this." She handed me a scrap of yellow, lined paper. Moreland's writing:

Det. Milo Sturgis called 11 A.M., Aruk time.

West Hollywood exchange. Milo's home number.

"That's one in the morning, L.A. time," said Robin. "Wonder what it could be."

"You know what a night owl he is. Probably something to do with the house and he's trying to catch us at a good time."

Mention of the house tightened her face. She looked at her watch. "It's two-thirty there, now. Should we wait?"

"If he was up an hour and a half ago, he probably still is."

Cheryl stood there, as if trying to follow the conversation. When I turned to her, she blushed and began sweeping.

"Is it all right to use the phone for long distance?"

She looked puzzled. "There's a phone in your room."

"Is Dr. Bill around?"

She thought. "Yes."

"Where?"

"In his lab."

We went back to the run to pick up Spike. He and KiKo stopped their play immediately and he ran to Robin. The monkey shinnied up a low branch, then let go and landed feather light on my shoulder. A small dry hand cupped the back of my neck. He'd been shampooed recently- something with almonds. But his fur also gave off a faint hint of zoo.

We left with both animals. Robin said, "I'd like to freshen up."

"I'll go ask Moreland about using the phone."

She turned back toward the house; KiKo jumped off and joined her and Spike. I walked down to the outbuildings and knocked on Moreland's office door.

He said, "Come in," but the door was locked and I had to wait for him to open it.

"Sorry," he said. "How was your swim?"

"Terrific."

He was holding a pencil stub and looked distracted. His office was the same size as the one he'd given me, but with pale green walls and no furniture other than a cheap metal desk and chair. Papers, loose and bound, carpeted half the floor. The desk was blanketed too, though I did notice one high stack that had been squared neatly and placed in the center. Journal reprints. The top one, an article I'd written ten years ago on treating childhood phobias. My name underlined in red.

The door to the lab was open. Tables, beakers, flasks, test tubes in racks, a centrifuge, a balance scale, equipment I couldn't identify. Next to the scale was a tall jar full of the gray-brown pellets he'd used to feed the insects. A smaller container of some sort of brownish liquid sat beside it.

"So," he said, taking off his glasses. His tone was strained; I'd interrupted something.

"I wanted to check if it was okay to use the phone for long distance."

He laughed. "Returning Detective Sturgis's call? Of course. There was no need to ask. Give him my best. He's a pleasant fellow."

Robin sat there caressing her two hairy pals as I dialed. The phone rang twice and a cranky deep voice grunted, "Sturgis."

"Hi, it's me. Still up?"

"Alex." Milo's voice lightened. I hadn't thought much about his missing us.

"Yeah, wide awake," he said, reverting to a grumble. "So how's Bali Hoo?"

"Sunny and clear. Want to hop over and join us?"

"I don't tan, I parboil."

"Thought you were Black Irish."

"That's temperament, not complexion. So, you pretty much settled in?"

"Very nicely. Just got back from diving in a gorgeous coral reef."

"Yo, Jacques. There really is a Garden of Eden, huh?"

"My fig leaf says yes. What are you doing up past your bedtime, sonny boy?"

"Working double shifts and building up the overtime. Reason I called is the guy who's handling your house has a couple of questions. Seems the crown and floor moldings Robin told him to order have been discontinued. He can get something similar, a little wider, or go for her exact specifications and have it custom milled. The difference is a couple of thou and he wants authorization. Also, the cost of your alarm is going to be a little higher than estimated. Something about having to connect up with a power line that's outside the basic contractual area. Probably another grand. It's never below estimate, is it? Anyway, ask the lovely Ms. C. what she wants to do, get back to me, and I'll forward the message."

"I'll put her on right now."

I handed over the receiver. Robin said, "Hi!" and KiKo's eyes widened. As she began to speak the monkey stuck his head closer to the phone and began talking along in a wordless chittering singsong.

"What? Oh… no, it's a monkey, Milo… a monkey. As in barrel of… No, he hasn't replaced Spikey, we still love him… No, they're getting along fine, as a matter of fact… That's it in terms of mammals… What?… No, just some bugs… Bugs. Insects, spiders… tarantulas. Dr. Moreland does research on them… What's up, detective?"

She talked to him about the construction, then ended with more small talk and returned the phone to me. "I'm putting these guys outside again, then running a bath. Love it if you'd join me when you're through."

She left.

"Bugs," said Milo. "Eden has bugs."

"God created them, too. What day was it?"

"His bad-joke day. Exactly what kind of research does this guy do?"

"Nutrition. Predatory behavior."

"He sounded a little spacey when I talked to him."

"How so?"

"Taking the message, but somewhere else."

"He thought you were a pleasant fellow."

"That proves he was somewhere else."

I laughed. "What kind of things are you working on?"

"You really want to know?"

"Intensely."

"Four armed robberies, one with hostages in a meat locker and a near fatality. One drive-by of a drug dealer slash rap artist that we probably won't solve, aw shucks, and the beauty that's been keeping me up late: sixteen-year-old girl out in the Palisades shot her father to death while he sat on the can. She claims long-time molestation, but the mother says no way and she's been divorced from the old man for years, no love lost. The kid has a history of naughty behavior, and Daddy had promised her a brand-new Range Rover for her birthday if she passed all her classes. She flunked, he said no go, and friends say she got mighty pissed."

"Any evidence of molestation?"

"Nope, and friends say she was a big fan of those two little shits with shotguns from Beverly Hills. She's got dead eyes, Alex, so who knows what was done to her. But that's not my concern, right now. She retained a mouthy lawyer with dead Daddy's dough… but enough, Ishmael. You set sail to escape all this barbarism."

"True," I said, "but allow me to raise your cynicism quotient even higher. Even Eden has its problems."

I told him about AnneMarie Valdos's murder.

He didn't answer.

"You still there?"

"Cracking her bones to eat the marrow?"

"That's Moreland's hypothesis."

"You go to Paradise and outdo me in the grossness department?"

"According to Moreland, cannibalism's pretty common across cultures. Ever come across it?"

"He an expert on that, too? Tell me, is there some huge guy stomping around the estate with a bad haircut and bolts in his neck? Marrow… no, thanks, dear, I'll pass on that breakfast steak and stick with the veggie plate."

"Funny you should say that. Moreland's a vegetarian. His daughter says he saw things after the Korean War that made him never want to be cruel again."

"How sensitive. And no, I haven't personally come across any bad guy gourmets. But there are a few years left to retirement, so now I've got something to live for."

"How's Rick?"