Fueled by adrenaline, detective room coffee, and a vending-machine roast beef sandwich that made him grumble about “turf that didn’t deserve surf,” Milo started with Brianna.
The girl, looking older than nineteen, eyes already running to crow’s-feet, kept her eyes on the table.
“Hi, Bri. Me, again. And this is Alex.”
“Uh-huh.”
We sat down, crowding her. “Tell us about Tristram and Quinn, Bri.”
“Don’t know ’em.”
“Actually, you do, Bri.”
“I don’t.”
Milo showed her pictures. “Tristram Wydette and Quinn Glover, hot guys, I can see the attraction. Hot rich guys, Tristram drives that Jaguar, Quinn’s got that yellow Hummer. They tip well for lap dances?”
The girl barely glanced at the images. “I still don’t know ’em.”
“Actually, you still do, Bri.”
He gave her a few seconds to reconsider. When she remained mute and sullen, he scooted even closer. She looked over her shoulder, searching for room to escape. Saw blank wall and exhaled.
“Bri, we already know a lot, so you might as well help yourself. Let’s start with you and Selma meeting Tristram and Quinn at the Hungry Lion, then partying together for months. We’ve got their credit card records, so we know when they started coming in, how much money they spent on you. We’ve got other sources, so we also know about the promises they made.”
Pausing to give her a chance.
Bri Blevins shook her head.
“Promises of amazing stuff,” he went on. “Like taking you guys on a private jet to Aspen. And all you had to do was be nice.”
He let the last word sink in. The taut flesh sheathing Bri Blevins’s scapulae turned rosy, bottoming the love-devotion message in rose.
She still had the capacity to blush.
Milo said, “We don’t care about that kind of nice, Bri. The only nice that interests us is a favor you did for them on a certain night. Something you worked out with Gilberto Chavez. Know who that is?”
“No.” Emphatic.
“He’s a Spanish guy you paid to buy dry ice, out in Van Nuys.”
False eyelashes quaked. The blush across her chest seeped out as if liposuctioned. “Remember that, Bri?”
No answer.
“Different kind of ice from what you’re used to,” said Milo. “We found that nice little chunk of meth in your purse. Selma said you’re the one always bought, she just shared.”
“That’s a lie!”
“Your word against Selma’s, Bri, and Selma’s being helpful. But honestly, Bri, the dope’s no big deal, I couldn’t care less about that kind of ice. What I do care about is dry ice. ’Cause that was used for something bad, Bri. You know what I’m talking about.”
The girl blinked, crossed her arms across her torso, and dropped her head. “Uh-uh.”
“Actually, you do, Bri. And unfortunately for you and Selma, you also knew the dry ice was going to be used for something really bad. And guess how we know that?”
Shrug.
“We know because Selma told us, Bri. How else would we know? You buy ice for some rich dudes, no problem. You buy ice knowing it’s going to be used to kill someone, big problem, that’s called accomplices before the fact. According to the law, that’s the same as committing murder.”
Bri Blevins looked up, tried to match his stare. Couldn’t handle five seconds before she dropped her head to the table.
“Selma’s already cooperating, Bri, and that’s buying her a lot of goodwill. She may be your homegirl, Bri, but she’s smart enough to realize that a life sentence for murder changes everything.”
The girl’s head shook from side to side. I’d heard moans like hers on the cancer ward.
Milo said, “It doesn’t need to be bad, Bri. You’ve got one chance to tell us your side. After that, it’s Selma being smart and you being stupid and ending up in the same situation as Tristram and Quinn. Up to you.”
The head shaking rotated in a strange way, morphing to a nod.
“They’re bad,” she said.
“Tristram and Quinn.”
“Yeah. Not the good kind of bad.”
CHAPTER
34
We’ve been partying like… months,” said Brianna Blevins.
“Where’d you meet them?”
“They came into the Lion, paid for lap dances, bought champagne, got into the VIP room.”
“After that, then you started partying.”
“Yeah.”
“They party with anything besides meth?”
“Single malt,” she said. “They always had bottles of it.”
“Booze and ice,” said Milo. “Then there was a different kind of ice.”
Brianna Blevins grinned.
“Something funny, Bri?”
Her smile died. “Not, it’s just… when they asked us to buy it we’re like a different ice? Selma said it. Being funny.”
“Did Tristram and Quinn laugh?”
“Um… uh-huh, they laughed all the time.”
“Coupla happy guys.”
“Why not? They had everything.”
“What’s everything, Bri?”
“Money, cars, they could do what they want. They’re hot.”
“And on top of all that, they had you and Selma for partying.”
The girl’s eyes drooped as her face turned ancient. “We knew we were like… a game, you know? They were going to Stamford College, said they’d take us but we knew that was bullshit.”
“Stanford University in Palo Alto?”
“I guess.”
“Tristram and Quinn promised to bring you and Selma to college.”
She snorted. “Set us up in our own apartment. To be their mistresses. They liked that word. Mistresses. Like how kings and princes do it.”
“Two fresh princes from Bel Air, huh?”
“Guess so.”
“Did you believe the private-jet promise?”
“Probably not.”
“But maybe a little at first,” said Milo. “You were hoping.”
“We thought it would be cool.” Tears rolled down the girl’s cheeks, tracked through thick foundation. “We were just a game. They showed us pictures. Of the place—Q’s place, it’s his family owns it. Up in the mountains, they walk out of the house, go skiing.”
“Q being Quinn Glover.”
“Uh-huh. Place was fiercely huge, they got a movie theater. We’re like that would be cool. But no way, we knew they were lying.”
“Same for the promise to set you up at Stanford.”
“Stamford they’ll meet girls like them, we’re like stuck in a stupid apartment, can’t dance, they’re like you’re our mistresses. No friggin’ way.”
“You’re a smart girl, Bri.”
“Not so smart. I’m here.”
“Maybe we can clear that up. Let’s talk about the day you paid Gilberto Chavez to buy dry ice.”
“We didn’t know him, we just found him.”
“Where?”
“Walking on Saticoy. They said go there, there’s always Mexicans need money.”
“Selma take offense at that?”
“Huh? Why?”
“Selma’s Mexican.”
“Half, only her dad. She don’t know him.” She wiggled her fingers. “Could I have a smoke?”
“Not yet, Bri, but I can get you something to drink.”
“Um… diet orange?”
“If we’ve got it. Second choice?”
“Diet Sprite.”
He left the room. I smiled at her. She said, “I could really use a smoke. Is it like no smoking all the time?”
“He can be flexible.”
“Oh.”
Milo returned with a can of Diet 7UP, popped the tab. She sipped.
Milo said, “You found Gilberto Chavez walking on Saticoy.”
“They surprised us. Tris and Q. We were gonna go to work then they called. They’re like call in sick, we’ll party all day. We’re like no way, we’ll get in deep shit with Leandro—that’s who owns it. They’re like fuck Leandro, we’ll pay you boo-koo more than Leandro’s gonna pay you, you say you got the flu, Leandro’s gonna be cool ’cause you’re the hottest dancers in the place.”