“It’s not enough that I succeed,” he said. “You have to fail.”
“Antisocial, self-aggrandizing puffery at its finest, Big Guy.”
“One speck of DNA could’ve screwed the deal-if anyone would bother to analyze the stain. But she’s a goddamn C.I., would know how to do it right.”
“No reason to analyze DNA,” I said. “The way the bodies were posed, the obvious donor was Backer.”
“Speaking of Backer, maybe we’re talking foursome down to twosome. They all knew each other. One shot to the head, Desi’s out of the picture, they get the storage key. Leaving Doreen to deal with two armed baddies, piece of cake subduing her. Rieffen trains the little gun on her while Monte jams the big one. Then he strangles her, delivering an incredibly demeaning coup de grâce. Then they reposition the bodies.”
“They left Backer’s I.D. in place, but took Doreen’s because she’d lived with them, could be traced to them.”
“Rieffen and Monte living with a pyro, and Monte’s copping the fifty G’s says they knew about the plot. What if the foursome was a business arrangement, Alex?”
“They were all involved in the fire,” I said.
“Eliminate Backer and Doreen and the share doubles.”
“Foursome,” I said. “Two other kids were suspects in the Bellevue fire. Kathy Something, I forget the boy’s name.”
He snatched up his pad. “Kathy Vanderveldt, Dwayne Parris. Lindstrom said they turned out fine, she went to med school, he went to law school.”
“Lindstrom never actually met them, she’s relying on the previous agent’s notes. What if Kathy and Dwayne planned careers in medicine and law, but fell short? A C.I. deals with the human body but works under a physician’s supervision. A paralegal-who tells people he’s a lawyer-has to answer to an attorney.”
“Wannabes, they change their names… the Feds being their usual thorough selves miss it.” He faced his computer. “Okay, let’s see what we locals can come up with.”
He called up a series of high school reunion sites, found one that offered yearbook photos for a fee, zeroed in on Seattle. Plugging in kathy vanderveldt struck gold at Center High. After confirming that Dwayne Parris had been a member of the same class, he used his own credit card to pay for the shots and printed.
Black-and-white shots, but clear enough.
Younger versions of the two faces we’d just seen carrying groceries.
Kathy Lara Vanderveldt had smiled warmly for the camera. Member of the science club, the nature club, Future Physicians of America.
Dwayne Charles Parris had maintained a narrow-mouthed stoicism. An average-looking kid, in every way, with bushy dark hair worn low over his forehead. Varsity hockey, Model U.N., accounting club.
I said, “She’s using her middle name as her first, he’s Carlo as in Italian for Charles. Wonder where he got Scoppio.”
“Maybe it means something in Italian.”
It did.
Explosion.
Milo said, “Monte go boom.”
He kept searching, starting with kathy vanderveldt. No criminal record on file, same for Dwayne Parris, but a five-year-old account of the Vanderveldt-Rieffen family reunion was featured in The Seattle Times. Serious human interest, because a hundred fifty-three people had participated. Page-wide group photo, Kathy nowhere to be seen but a small child with the same name sat in the front row, beaming.
Milo said, “Little cousin makes it to the party but Big Kathy doesn’t, because she’s using an aka. She’s running from something bad, but no record?”
I said, “It’s possible that whatever she’s running from never made the files. As in her own lost years.”
“Another teen eco-terrorist who kept it going?”
“And whose career somehow got derailed. Doreen conned the FBI, but Lindstrom did say she’d tossed them a few bones. Minor stuff, but everything’s relative, to the Bureau minor could mean big buildings aren’t blowing up. What if Doreen’s info implicated Kathy and Dwayne seriously enough to screw up their educational goals and force them underground? Kathy and Dwayne figured out who’d betrayed them, but Doreen and Backer didn’t realize that. Years later, the four of them reconnect in L.A., agree to collaborate on a torch job. Shades of the Bellevue fire that killed Van Burghout, but now they’re getting paid serious money. Kathy and Dwayne go along with it until they figure out how to get hold of the money. After that, Backer and Doreen are history.”
“ Reunion of the nature-hiking eco-pyros,” he said. “Okay, it’s time to have a go at Gayle’s ego.”
CHAPTER 39
Special Agent Gayle Lindstrom met us at a pizza joint in Westwood Village, not far from the Federal Building. College student clientele meant oceans of cheap beer on tap, not much in the way of décor.
Milo talked, Lindstrom listened, growing steadily more tense with each revelation. When he finished, she said, “Those two. Oh, crap.”
“Kathy and Carlo are your buddies.”
“They’re names in a file.”
“You made it like they turned out sterling. She’s a doctor, he’s a lawyer, all that’s missing is an Indian chief.”
“I said that because that’s what’s in the file. There’s absolutely nothing pointing to them being criminal, let alone homicidal.”
“All you know is what you read.”
“Cut it out,” she snapped. “You don’t have to make me feel stupider than I already do.”
“If you had nothing to do with working Vanderveldt and Parris, there’s no reason for you to feel stupid-”
“You just don’t get it, do you? The first time we met, you figured out I’ve got my issues. As in having trouble ignoring obviously brain-dead decisions being made with more concern for butt-covering than the public’s welfare. I like to tell myself if I’d been in charge, 9/11 never would’ve happened. Maybe that’s self-delusional crap, maybe I need to stroke myself because the job’s turned out to be not what I had in mind. However you want to see it, I’m an outlier and what I need-what I needed-was a reprieve. When I learned you nailed the Swiss witch, I was ready to buy you dinner at Spago. Then I find out the Swiss witch had nothing to do with killing Doreen and the State Department’s on our butts because you went into that hangar without authorization. Not only haven’t you helped me, you’ve made my life more difficult.”
“Gee,” said Milo. “Here I was thinking solving murders was my job, when all along it was being your life coach.”
Lindstrom’s hands clenched.
Milo plucked pepperoni.
“ Milo, we’re the good guys, why are we going at each other?”
“Help me out, Gayle, and we’ll be sandbox buddies again.”
“What makes you think I can help you? I’m an unpopular girl with a cubicle full of old cold files and a directive to clear them or else. Which is like asking me to teach Britney nuclear physics.”
“Forget physics,” said Milo. “Let’s talk medicine. And law.”
“You want me to find out if Kathy ever enrolled, fine, I can do that. Same for Parris and law school, but what’s that going to tell you? You need physical evidence.”
“Whatever builds the case is worthwhile, Gayle. Now tell me exactly what Doreen gave the Bureau before she split.”
“Dinky stuff.”
“I like dinky, Gayle.”
“This was real minor-league, it stayed with the Forest Service. There was a chunk of disputed federal land in northern Washington State. The usual logging/farming/dune-buggying/tourism side fighting the totally leave-it-for-the-mosquitoes side. Doreen had volunteered as a tree-hugger a few months before she got nabbed hooking in Seattle. Doing field tests, whatever. What she gave up when we pressed her were two schemes. The first was her fellow volunteers tilting the odds by planting Canadian lynx hairs near tree trunks-smearing the DNA then ‘discovering’ it. Apparently, the lynx is mucho endangered, so that would’ve meant big-time land restriction. The second con involved poisoning wild horses and leaving carcasses in spots grizzly bears didn’t frequent to draw grizzlies and enlarge estimates of their habitat. See what I mean? Low-rent, the Forest Service gave even less of a crap than the Bureau, took no action. Then a senator who got tons of logging money found out and he raised a stink and an investigation ensued. No one went to jail but people lost their jobs.”