Jonathan Kellerman - Bad Love

"Having her breakfast," she said. "The dregs still haven't solidified, so my guess is this is from this morning."

I nodded. "That's why I thought she was home. But if she was eating out here and he surprised her, wouldn't the house be open? Look how sealed up it looks. And why didn't anyone hear her scream?"

Holding up a finger, she slung her purse over her shoulder and went to the garage. She and Steen came out a few minutes later. He was holding a metal tape measure and a camera, listening to her and nodding.

She took something out of her purse. Surgical gloves. After shaking them out, she donned them and tried a rear door. It opened. She stuck her head inside for a moment, then drew it back.

Another conference with Steen.

Back to me.

"What's in there?" I said.

"Total mess," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"Another body?"

"Not that I can see so far… Look, doctor, it's going to take a long time to get things sorted out here. Why don't you just try to relax until Detective Sturgis gets here? Sorry you can't sit on these chairs, but if you don't mind the grass, get yourself a place over on that side." Indicating the south end of the yard. "I already checked it for footprints and it's okay- ah, look, there's another sea lion. It's real pretty up here, isn't it?"

• • •

Milo made it by five forty-eight. I'd staked out a position in a corner of the yard, and he walked straight to it after talking to Grayson.

"Robin was still out when I checked," he said. "Her truck and her purse were gone and so was the dog, and she'd written down something on the fridge pad about salad, so she probably went shopping. I saw absolutely nothing wrong. Don't worry."

"Maybe she should stay with you."

"Why?"

"I'm not safe to be around."

He looked at me. "Okay, sure, if it helps your peace of mind. But we'll keep you safe."

• • •

He put a hand on my shoulder for a moment, then entered the garage and stayed there for twenty minutes or so. The coroner had come and gone and so had the body, and the technicians were still working, dusting and peeking and making casts. I watched them until Milo came out.

"Let's go," he said.

"Where?"

"Out of here."

"They don't need me anymore?"

"Did you tell Sally everything you know?"

"Yup."

"Then let's go."

We left, passing the garage. Steen was on his knees by a chalk body outline, talking into a tape recorder. Sarah Grayson was standing near him, writing in a notepad. She saw me and waved, then returned to her work.

"Nice lady," I said, as we walked away.

"She was one of Central Juvey's best investigators, used to be married to one of the watch commanders- real asshole, mean drunk. Rumor had it he was rough on her and the kids."

"Physically rough?"

He shrugged. "I never saw bruises, but he had a vicious temper. Finally, they got divorced, and a couple of months later he came over to her place, raising a ruckus, and ended up shooting himself in the foot and losing a toe." Smile. "Whole big investigation. Afterward, Sally moved up here and the asshole retired on disability and packed out to Idaho."

"In the foot," I said. "Not exactly a marksman."

He smiled again. "Actually, he was a crack shot, had once been a range instructor. A lot of people found it hard to believe he'd done it to himself, but you know how it is with chronic alcohol abuse. All that loss of muscle control. No telling."

We reached the street. Santa Barbara police cars were parked at the curb, sandwiching the Seville. Neighbors were pressing up against the crime scene tape, and a TV van was driving up. I looked in vain for Milo's Fiat or an unmarked.

"Where's your car?"

"Back in L.A. I took a chopper."

"To where?"

"The airport."

"How'd you get here from there?"

"Santa Barb uniform picked me up."

"Status," I said. "Hoo-hah."

"Yeah," he said. "Sally used to live in Mar Vista. I was the detective on her ex's toe job."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh. Now you drive me. Let's split before the press leeches start sucking."

• • •

I headed down Cabrillo. He said, "Are you too wiped out or grossed out to eat?"

"I haven't eaten since breakfast. I can probably hold something down, or at least watch you."

"Voyeur- this looks okay, pull in." He pointed to a small seafood place tucked next to one of the beach motels. Inside was a scattering of oilcloth-draped tables with abalone-shell ashtrays, sawdust floors, netted walls, a live bar, and a self-order counter. The special of the day was salmon and chips. Both Milo and I ordered it, took a number, and sat down at a window table. We tried to look through the traffic at the water. A young waitress inquired if we wanted anything to drink, brought us two beers, and left us alone.

I called Robin again, using a phone at the back, next to a cigarette machine. Still out. When I got back to the table, Milo was wiping foam from his upper lip.

"Katarina was pregnant," he said. "Coroner actually found the fetus hanging out of her."

"God," I said, remembering the mess and the bloated abdomen. "How far along was she?"

"Five to six months. Coroner could tell it was a boy."

I tried to push aside my revulsion. "Harrison said she never married and she lived alone. Who could the father have been?"

"Probably some med student with a Mensa membership. SDI stands for Seminal Depository and Inventory."

"A sperm bank?"

"This particular one claims to screen its donors for both brains and brawn."

"Designer babies," I said. "Yeah, I can see Katarina going for something like that. Artificial insemination would give her total control over the child rearing, no emotional entanglements… At five months she'd probably be showing. That's why the killer concentrated on her belly- focused his anger there. Wiping out de Bosch's line."

He frowned.

I said, "Maybe the sperm bank's card was chosen for the message for that same reason. The way it was pinned under the murder weapon was deliberate- setting the scene. It's all a big ritual for him."

The waitress brought the food. A look at our faces erased the smile on hers.

I said, "He's trying to obliterate everything associated with de Bosch. And once again, he used a weapon he found on hand. Turning the victim against herself- insult and injury. Trying to reverse what he thinks was done to him. But he must have brought another weapon with him, to intimidate her."

"His fists could have been all he needed for that. Lots of bruises around her eyes."

"Did he hit her hard enough to knock her out?"

"Hard to tell without an autopsy, but Sally said the coroner didn't think so."

"If she was conscious, why didn't anyone hear her scream?"

"Sometimes people don't scream," he said. "Lots of times they freeze and can't get a sound out. Or the head blows could have stunned her. Even if she did scream, it might not have helped. Neighbors on both sides are away, and the ocean blocks out lots of sound to begin with."

"What about other neighbors? Didn't anyone see someone enter the property?"

"No one's come forward yet. Sally and Steen are gonna do a door-to-door canvass."

"Sally said the house was a mess. Did she mean poor housekeeping or a toss?"

"A toss. There was overturned furniture, ripped upholstery."

"Rage," I said. "Or he could have been looking for old school records. Something that might incriminate him."

"Getting rid of the evidence? He's been bumping off people for years, why start covering now?"

"Maybe he's getting more nervous."

"My experience is just the opposite," he said. "Killers acquire a taste for it, enjoy it more and more and get careless."

"Hope he did get careless and you find something in there."