Jonathan Kellerman - Flesh And Blood

“She realized that her parents had set her up to rebel. Tried to use you as a weapon against her, but you hadn’t gotten sucked into their game, you had integrity – You’re sure I can’t get you a drink?”

My throat had gone dry. “A Coke would be fine.”

He laughed. “The soft stuff? Recovering juice fiend?”

“No, it’s just a bit early for me.”

“Trust me, it’s never too early. But all right, one cola-bean juice, coming up pronto. Lemon or lime?”

“Lime.”

He hurried into the kitchen, returned with a tall drink on ice and a glass of white wine for himself. Settling back down, he rested one elbow on a knee, placed his chin in a cupped palm, stared into my eyes.

I said, “So Lauren felt her mother was trying to control her but she didn’t say how.”

“And the next day she was going about her business with nary a mention of mama. Truth is, I don’t think Mrs. A looms large in her life. She’s been on her own for years. And that’s absolutely all I can tell you about her family dynamics, so drink up.” He drew out the pocket watch.

“Your friend,” I said.

He flinched. “Yes.”

“Does Lauren have any friends I could talk to?”

“No.”

“No one at all?”

“Not a one. She doesn’t date, nor does she chum around with the girls. We’re both social isolates, Doctor. Yet another tie that binds.”

“The night owl and the morning lark,” I said.

“Makes for a cozy little aviary – this is absolutely the best living arrangement I’ve ever had. Lauren’s a living doll and I simply insist that she be okay. Now, if you’d like, I can pour that drink into Styrofoam and you can take it to go-”

As charming a dismissal as I’d encountered. Placing the drink on a side table, I stood. “Just a few more questions. Mrs. A said Lauren didn’t pack a suitcase.”

“I told her that,” he said. “I know every item in Lauren’s wardrobe – She has luscious things. After I moved in I organized her closet. She owns two pieces of luggage – a pair of vintage Samsonites we picked up for a prayer at the Santa Monica flea market – and they’re both here. So is her backpack from school. And her books. So she must be planning to return.”

He began to sip wine, stopped himself. “That isn’t good, is it? Running off without luggage.”

“Not unless Lauren’s the impulsive type.”

“Impulsive as in meet someone hot and fly off to Cuernavaca? That would be nice.” He sounded doubtful.

“But unlikely.”

“Well,” said Salander. “I just don’t think that’s Lo – If she’d fallen in love, I’d have known. She was a creature of routine: got up, jogged, went to class, studied, went to sleep, got up and did the same thing all over again. To tell the truth, she was a bit of a grind.”

“Strict routine except for occasional weekends away.”

“Except for.”

“She’s in between quarters at school,” I said. “What’s she been doing with her vacation?”

“Going to work.”

“The research job.”

“A grind,” he said. “She’d spend every spare moment studying if I didn’t drag her out to do some antiquing.”

“Must have paid off,” I said. “Mrs. A said she got straight A’s.”

“Lo was so proud of that. Showed me her transcript. I thought it was adorable.”

“What was?”

“A grown woman, all excited like a little kid – She’s studying psychology, wants to be a therapist herself. You must have been a good influence.” Staring at me again. “You haven’t touched your drink, is it okay?”

I picked up the Coke and drank. “Terrific.”

“That’s Mexican lime, not Bearss lime. More bite.”

More cola flowed down my gullet. “Does the research job pay the bills?”

“Maybe some of it, but Lo also has investments.”

“Investments?”

“Some kind of nest egg she put away from when she worked full-time. She told me she can coast for a few more years before she has to hit the boards again. I give her a lot of credit, giving up something so lucrative for the sake of her studies.”

“The boards?”

“The runway – modeling,” he said. “Nothing Vogue -coverish or anything like that. She worked the Fashion Mart scene since she was eighteen. Made good money but said she detested being a brainless face and body – Now, Doctor, I’m sorry to be ill-mannered, but my appointment – it’s someone who… hurt me. I’ve been building my courage and finally I’m ready to face him and move on. Please.”

He indicated the door and led me out.

I said, “Thanks very much for your time. If you don’t mind, I’m going to have a look at Lauren’s car out back. What kind is it?”

“Gray Mazda Miata. Don’t steal it.” Nervous laugh.

I crossed my heart. “No joyrides today.”

Louder laughter. We shook hands again.

“I’m not going to worry,” he said. “There’s no reason to worry.”

“I’m sure there isn’t.”

“Watch,” he said. “I’ll be sitting here, worrying myself sick, and Lo will come waltzing through this door and I’ll scold her for putting all of us through this.”

He walked me out into the hall, looked toward the staircase. Chewed his lip. “You’re a good listener – Any time you want a career switch, I can get you a job at The Cloisters.”

I grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He laughed. “No, you won’t. For a whole list of reasons.”

Out in back was a carport that fronted the alley. The Miata was the only car parked there, several years old, lots of nicks and dents, coated with days of dust, locked, its oatmeal-colored canvas top set snugly. Campus parking sticker on the rear bumper, Thomas Guide map book in the driver’s door pocket, pair of sunglasses on the center console, just below the gearshift. Nothing else.

I returned to the Seville, trying to organize what I’d learned from Salander.

No friends, no dates. A grind.

Rooming with a gay man said Lauren prized companionship, wasn’t looking for sex.

Because she was still getting paid for it?

Working the Fashion Mart runway since eighteen. Maybe she really had done some modeling, or perhaps it was just a cover for selling her body in another way.

Weekends by herself. One in Malibu, other times unspecified. Keeping it vague to cover her trail as she met up with clients?

The night owl and the morning lark. If she wanted privacy, Salander was a perfect roommate. Still, the guy was perceptive. If Lauren had been working at her old profession, wouldn’t he have caught on?

Maybe he had and chose not to tell me. My gut told me he’d been forthcoming, but you never knew…

I thought of what he’d told me about Lauren’s income. Investments. From her working days. Enough to coast for a few years.

I do great with tips.

Good clothes but otherwise living frugally. Before Salander had moved in, she’d had virtually no furniture. That and the old car said she knew how to make do.

Budgeting but spending on luscious things in her closet.

Dressing for the job?

I wondered about the lunch with her mother, Lauren returning dazed and upset, complaining about Jane trying to control her. But that had been two or three months ago – no reason it would lead her to vanish now.

Vanish. Despite my reassurances to Salander, I was thinking worst-case scenario.

Seven days, no luggage, no car, no explanation.

Maybe Lauren would waltz in any minute. Straight-A student returned from a research trip – some professor asking her to attend an out-of-town meeting or convention, deliver a paper… She’d flown somewhere – that could explain no car. But it didn’t solve the problem of wardrobe, and why hadn’t she let anyone know?