“Try me late in the afternoon.”
“You’re a doll,” she said. “I’ll come to you with the court reporter. Just name the place.”
“Let’s talk later.”
“Commitment-shy? Sure, whatever works, but please make it sooner rather than later.”
Billy Dowd’s address was on the south side of Beverly Hills, a short walk to Roxbury Park. Last year, I’d witnessed a shoot-out at the park that had never made the papers. This was Beverly Hills, with its aura of safety and ninety-second police response.
Lots of Spanish-style duplexes from the twenties on the block. Billy’s was pink with leaded windows, a red-clay roof, and exuberant plaster moldings. An unfenced gateway led to a tile-inlaid stairway that climbed to the second floor. The overhang created a shaded entry nook for the ground-floor unit.
The wrought-iron mailbox inside the left-hand gatepost was unmarked. I climbed to the upstairs unit and knocked on a heavy carved door. The peep-window was blocked by a wooden slat but it stayed closed as the door opened.
A brunette in a white nylon uniform dress looked at me while combing her hair. Coarse hair chopped boyish meant short brisk strokes. She was fortyish with a dangerous tan, a beakish nose, and close-set black eyes. Santa Monica Hospital name tag above her left breast: A. Holzer, R.N.
A strange man showing up unannounced didn’t perturb her.
“Can I help you?” Some kind of Teutonic accent.
“Billy Dowd lives downstairs?”
“Yes, but he’s not here.”
I showed her my police consultant I.D. Expired six months ago. Very few people are detail-oriented. A. Holzer barely glanced at it. “Police? About Billy?”
“One of Billy and his brother’s employees was involved in some trouble.”
“Oh- you wish to speak to Billy about that?”
“Actually, I’m here to see you.”
“Me? Why?”
“You look after Billy?”
“Look after?” She laughed. “He’s a grown man.”
“Physically he is,” I said.
The hand around the hairbrush turned glossy. “I don’t understand why you are asking these questions. Billy is all right?”
“He’s fine. These are routine questions. Sounds as if you like him.”
“Of course I do, Billy is very nice,” she said. “Listen, I am very tired, got off shift early this morning. I would like to sleep- ”
“Eleven-to-seven shift your usual?”
“Yes. That’s why I would like to sleep.” New smile. Frosty.
“Sounds like you deserve it. What unit do you work on?”
“Cardiac Care- ”
“Eight hours of CCU care, then all the time you spend with Billy.”
“It’s not- Billy doesn’t require- why is this important?” She placed a hand on the door.
“It probably isn’t,” I said. “But when something really bad happens, lots of questions need to be asked. About everyone who knew the victim.”
“There was a victim. Someone was hurt?”
“Someone was murdered.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Gott en Himmel- who?”
“A man named Reynold Peaty.”
Head shake. “I don’t know this person.”
“He did janitorial work at some of Brad and Billy’s buildings.” I described Peaty.
When I got to the muttonchops, she said, “Oh, him.”
“You’ve met him.”
“Not a meeting, just seeing.”
“He came here,” I said.
She plucked at her badge. Gave her hair a few more whacks.
“Ms. Holzer- ”
“Annalise Holzer.” Lower voice, soft, guarded. I half expected a rank and serial number.
I said, “Reynold Peaty came to see Billy.”
“No, no, not to see, to bring things back.”
“Things?”
“Things Billy forgets. At the office. Sometimes Mr. Dowd brings them himself, sometimes I guess he sends this man.”
“Reynold Peaty.”
“Billy didn’t kill him, that is for sure. Billy opens the windows to let flies out so he doesn’t have to hit them.”
“Gentle.”
“Gentle,” Annalise Holzer agreed. “Like a nice little boy.”
“But forgetful,” I said.
“Everyone forgets.”
“What does Billy forget?”
“The watch, the wallet. Lots of times the wallet.”
“Mr. Peaty came by and gave you the wallet?”
“No,” she said. “He tells me Billy lost the wallet and he is returning the wallet.”
“How many times did that happen?”
“A few,” she said. “I do not count.”
Lots of times the wallet. I raised an eyebrow.
Annalise Holzer said, “A few times, that’s all.”
“Those times, did Mr. Peaty go inside Billy’s apartment?”
“I don’t know.”
“You watch him.”
“Nein,” she said. “Not watching, not babysitting. Mr. Dowd asks me to help if Billy needs something.”
“Sounds like a good job.”
Shrug.
“Good salary?”
“No money, only less rent.”
“Mr. Dowd’s your landlord?”
“Very nice landlord, some of them are like…snakes.”
Milo hadn’t mentioned any Beverly Hills properties in the Dowds’ holdings.
I said, “So you get a discount on the rent in return for looking in on Billy.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“What does that involve day to day?”
“Being here,” said Annalise Holzer. “If he needs something.”
“How does Billy get around?”
“Get around?”
“Go from place to place. He doesn’t drive.”
“He does not go out much,” said Annalise Holzer. “Sometimes I take him to a movie on Sunday. Century City, I drop him off, pick him up. Mostly I rent him DVDs from the video store on Olympic near Al-mont Drive. Billy has a big flat-screen TV, better than a movie theater, no?”
“Anyone else ever drive him?”
“Mr. Dowd picks him up in the morning and brings him home. Every day they work.”
Wide circuit from Santa Monica Canyon to Beverly Hills and back to the beach city. Brad’s unpaid job.
“Is there anyone else?”
“What do you mean?”
“Taxi, car service?”
“Never do I see that.”
“So Billy doesn’t go out much.”
“Never by himself,” said Annalise Holzer. “Never do I see him go out, even to walk. I like to walk, when I ask him does he want to walk with me, he tells me, ‘Annalise, I did not like gym in school. I’m a big couch potato.’ ” She smiled. “I joke with him that he is lazy. He laughs.”
“Does he have any friends?”
“No- but he is very friendly.”
“A homebody,” I said.
The word puzzled her.
“He comes home and stays here.”
“Yes, yes, exactly. Watching the flat screen, DVDs, eating- I cook, sometimes. He likes some things…sauerbraten- special veal meat. Spaetzle, it is a kind of noodle. I cook for two, bring it downstairs.” She looked over her shoulder. The room behind her was tidy and bright. White porcelain figurines crowded the ledge of an arched, tiled mantel.
In the current market, the rent would be three, four thousand a month. Steep on a nurse’s pay.
“You live alone, Ms. Holzer?”
“Yes.”
“You’re from Germany?”
“Lichtenstein.” She pinched thumb to forefinger. “It is a teeny tiny little country between- ”
“ Austria and Switzerland,” I said.
“You know Lichtenstein?”
“I’ve heard it’s pretty. Banking, castles, Alps.”
“It is pretty, yes,” she agreed. “But I like it here better.”
“ L.A. ’s more exciting.”
“More to do, the music, the horses, the beach.”
“You ride?”
“Anything with sunshine,” she said.
“Working nights and sleeping days and doing things for Billy.”
“Work is good. Sometimes I do a double shift.”
“What are Billy’s needs?” I said.
“Very easy. If he wants takeout and it is a long time for the restaurant to deliver, I get him his dinner. There is Domino Pizza on Doheny near Olympic. Billy likes Thai food, there’s a nice place on La Cienega and Olympic. Sushi is also on Olympic. Nice place near Doheny. Very convenient, being near Olympic.”