Jonathan Kellerman - Breakdown

Sad.

I’ll bet your story’s even sadder.

Well into tragic. Do you have a referral?

The name that comes to mind is Clint Bostrum. He’s retired LAPD, did mostly traffic. Now he does aerials for real estate transactions, not sure if that includes IR. Would you like me to talk to him for you?

That would be great. Thanks Liz.

If it does turn out bad, please let me know. Been going to way too many meetings and I’m itching to get out of the office to do some digging. I can get authorized easily, they call me in to supervise because the new postdoc is still getting his hands wet. So to speak.

Ten minutes later:

Hi, Alex. Clint does IR. Here’s his number.

One ring before a clipped, smoker’s voice said, “This is Clint.”

“Alex Delaware. I was referred to you by Liz Wilkinson.”

“I’ve heard of you vaguely. You sometimes work with Sturgis, right?”

“Right.”

“He’s not on this? Dead bodies are his thing.”

“It’s his case but my guess,” I said. “I want to have something substantial before I get the department involved.”

“And the department’s too cheap to give up copter time without serious grounds for a warrant?”

“Haven’t asked them.”

Clint Bostrum said, “Even if Sturgis put in a request, it would be a hassle, so you’re smart. I did twenty-five years in the air for the department. Movie star wants a shot of her kid’s birthday party, it just might happen. Joe Average? Not so much. Give me the coordinates.”

“I’ve got an address.”

“Fine, I can get the coordinates with the address. Let’s talk money. My usual is eleven hundred bucks an hour, two-hour minimum, two-hundred-buck upcharge for infrared. Liz said you’re a stand-up guy and I figure anyone who’d pay out of his own pocket has to be crazy or supermoral. So I’ll cut it to seven hundred bucks, total. If you don’t ride along. I’ve got a mounted camera I can operate while flying, don’t want the liability of a passenger.”

“That’s fine.”

“Also, don’t tell anyone what I’m charging.”

“I really appreciate it, Clint.”

“Get hold of the money as soon as we hang up, I’ll give you my PayPal account. Should take a few days to clear but I’m already at the airport so I’ll go out on a limb and fly tonight. Nothing to do, anyway, and my girlfriend’s playing bridge at some nerd club I can’t stand. Now, tell me exactly what you’re looking for. Also, how late you stay up. I’m going to know one way or the other soon after I go up, you might as well, also.”

Robin went to bed and I spent the next few hours examining the photos I’d taken, consulting the Internet, managing to get a friend on the phone who confirmed my suspicions.

I was putting it all together when Clint Bostrum called just before midnight.

“You’ve definitely got two hot spots, there, couple of nice little red blotches, I’ll email you the images. Can’t say it’s human but I’d put money on something rotting.”

“Thanks, Clint.”

“Anytime, Dr. Alex, long as you pay. This is a lot more fun than shooting McMansions.”

Deputy D.A. John Nguyen said, “I’m still going to Hawaii.”

Milo said, “You’re not impressed?”

“I’m impressed. I also think it’s going to take time to get all the details in place and while the state doesn’t really carry out the death penalty, Shannon believes in it and she’ll kill me if I cancel. Keep me posted as I sun and sip Mai Tais.”

“You will issue the warrant.”

Nguyen fingered a signed Dodger baseball he used for a paperweight. “Sure, why not, seeing as our civilian volunteer here found bodies and pretty pictures of plants.” To me: “You actually paid out of pocket for a copter? Hope you don’t expect reimbursement.”

Milo said, “I’m working on that.”

“Yeah, well,” said Nguyen, “good luck. Alex, how certain is your botanist buddy that both...” He consulted his notes. “...meadow saffron and... monkshood are growing there?”

“A hundred percent,” I said.

“From photos.”

“He’s a full professor of botany at the U.”

“Fine... what about the other stuff... lily of the valley, foxglove, larkspur, and purple nightshade. All poisonous?”

“Every one,” I said. “A little pocket poison garden.”

Nguyen shuddered. “And this was missed. Twice.”

“Easy to miss with that first wall.”

“What’s behind the second wall?”

Milo said, “Neighbor’s property, hedge-fund whiz.”

“He’s actually closer to it than DePauw.”

“It’s a twelve-foot wall and all the bad stuff’s on her land, John.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Nguyen. “I’m just anticipating. Okay, I’ll write up the warrant and get it to a good judge. But I’m still leaving today.”

We were in his office in the giant downtown egg-crate known as the Clara Shortridge Foltz Criminal Justice Center. Nguyen had recently merited a promotion, meaning a bit more square footage and a sidelong view of smog. Lots of unpacked boxes on the floor, only a laptop and the baseball atop his city-issue desk.

Milo said, “We’ll get out of here so you can do your thing.”

“One more thing. In terms of executing the search, your suspects are still in Italy, right?”

“Rome,” said Milo. “The Hassler Hotel.”

“Probably a big suite,” said Nguyen. “Damn them to hell. The problem I see is if you bring in the bone-crew and DePauw hears about it, she could stay overseas, end up somewhere extradition’s a problem.”

“Where’s that?” I asked.

“Mostly places you don’t want to go — Afghanistan, Somalia,” said Milo. “But also some decent ones like Andorra, or an island in Micronesia. Or Montenegro, where they’re building a big yacht harbor. That’s not far from Italy.”

“You’ve researched it,” said John.

“We had a case last year, drug schmuck ended up in the Maldives, went on Instagram and flipped us off. But even without getting exotic, people with resources can burrow in mainstream Europe and get away with it. It’s something we need to be proactive about.”

I said, “A few factors weigh in our favor. It’s a sparsely traveled neighborhood with lots of distance between the properties and no direct visual access from any of the neighbors.”

“Including the hedge-fund whiz?”

“He’s got six acres. I suppose if he decided to trek to the back and climb a ladder—”

Milo said, “He’s in South Korea, cutting deals.”

“Go Samsung,” said Nguyen. “How do we keep it low-profile?”

I said, “Service vehicles to go in and out — cleaning service and gardeners. Easy to use that for cover.”

Milo said, “We find out their schedules, make sure we avoid them, slap some fake signs on a coupla vans.”

“Use the absolute minimum of people — your basic skeleton crew,” said Nguyen. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve got no sense of propriety... you really paid out of pocket, Alex?”

“No big deal,” I said.

“Private practice going well, huh? Sorry, I’ve just been thinking about my college days, everyone else partying, I’m grinding. So now, I’m a glorious civil servant. Maybe it’s time for a change.”

“I’d miss you, John,” said Milo. “Meanwhile, think pension after retirement.”

“Are you?”

“Hell, no.”

Nguyen tossed the ball up and caught it. “What about going in at night?”

“Service vehicles don’t, John. It could attract more attention.”

“True... be careful, we can’t afford any screwups. Because the only real thing you have is something buried out there and if it does turn out to be human and is ruled inadmissible, I’m screwed.”