“Billy’s a gourmet.”
“Billy eats anything,” said Annalise Holzer. “You must really think of him as a boy. A good boy.”
When I was back on Olympic, I celled Milo, expecting voice mail because he was with Armando Vasquez.
“Canceled,” he said. “Vasquez’s D.P.D. had other plans but didn’t bother to tell me. The prelim on Michaela’s autopsy finally came in. I woulda been there but they did it earlier than scheduled. Bottom line is no sign of sexual assault, cause of death was strangulation, the stab wounds on her chest were relatively superficial. The neck wound was a puncture, pathologist can’t say what caused it. Get to Billy’s place yet?”
“Just finished with that and you’re going to feel smart. The woman upstairs is a nurse on the night shift at Santa Monica Hospital, meaning she’s gone by ten fifteen or so. Plus, she thinks L.A. ’s an exciting city, likes art, the beach, riding horses. Her tan says she’s out plenty during the day.”
“Not much supervision.”
“On top of that, Peaty came to Billy’s apartment several times. Claimed he was sent by Brad to return things Billy left at the office. Brad told us he thought Peaty wasn’t licensed to drive. Unless he lied about that, Peaty misrepresented his presence.”
“How many times is several?”
“The woman couldn’t quantify. Or wouldn’t. She said Billy lost his wallet a lot. Then she backtracked to ‘a few.’ ”
“What’s her name?”
“Annalise Holzer. She’s one of those people who gives you lots of details and ends up not telling you much. She considers Billy childlike, gracious, absolutely no problem. Some of that could be the rent-break Brad gives her. The building’s another Dowd property.”
“That so? Not on the BNB list.”
“Maybe the Dowds have another corporation or a holding company that doesn’t trace back to their names.”
“All that real estate,” he said. “These people have got to be hugely rich, and rich people get protected.”
“Holzer was protective, all right. But I wouldn’t trust her to know the details of Billy’s life.”
“Meaning Peaty coulda been a regular at Darling Billy’s. I’ve got to take a serious look at the guy. After I speak to Vasquez’s wife. That’s the change in plans. All of a sudden, I can’t have access to Armando until I talk to the missus.”
“About what?”
“P.D.’s being cryptic. It’ll probably turn out to be a stupid lawyer trick but the D.A. insists I check it out.”
“D.A.’s office has their own investigators.”
“Whom they pay. That’s why I’m figuring it for scut palmed off on me.”
“Where are you meeting the wife?”
“Right here in my office, half an hour.”
“I’m twenty minutes away.”
“Good.”
CHAPTER 29
Jacalyn Vasquez, minus three kids and makeup and jewelry, looked even younger than when I’d seen her on Sunday. Streaked hair was tied back in a somber ponytail. She wore a loose white blouse, blue jeans, and sneakers. Florid acne played havoc with her forehead and cheeks. Her eyes had regressed into sooty sockets.
A tall honey-haired woman in her twenties held Vasquez’s arm. The blonde’s locks were long and silky. She wore a tight black suit that showcased a bikini figure. A ruby stud in her left nostril fought the suit’s conservative cut. The pretty hair and tight body sparred with a monkeyish face the camera would savage.
She surveyed the tiny space and frowned. “How’re we all going to fit in here?”
Milo smiled. “And you are?”
“Brittany Chamfer, Public Defender’s Office.”
“I thought Mr. Vasquez’s attorney was Kevin Shuldiner.”
“I’m a third-year law student,” said Brittany Chamfer. “Working with the Exoneration Project.” She amplified her frown. “This is like a closet.”
“Well,” said Milo, “one less body should help. Enjoy the fresh air, Ms. Chamfer. Come on in, Ms. Vasquez.”
“My instruction was to stay with Jackie.”
“My instruction is that you enjoy the fresh air.” He stood and the chair squeaked. Silencing it with one hand, he offered the seat to Jacalyn Vasquez. “Right here, ma’am.”
Brittany Chamfer said, “I’m supposed to stay.”
“You’re not an attorney and Ms. Vasquez hasn’t been charged with anything.”
“Still.”
Milo took one big step that brought him to the doorway. Brittany Chamfer had to step back to avoid collision, and the arm she’d used to support Jacalyn Vasquez pulled free.
Vasquez looked past me. The office could’ve been miles of glacier.
Brittany Chamfer said, “I’ll have to call the office.”
Milo ushered Vasquez in, closed the door.
By the time she sat down, Jacalyn Vasquez was crying.
Milo gave her a tissue. When her eyes dried, he said, “You have something to tell me, Ms. Vasquez?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What is it, ma’am?”
“Armando was protecting us.”
“Protecting the family?”
“Uh-huh.”
“From…”
“Him.”
“Mr. Peaty?”
“The pervert.”
“You knew Mr. Peaty to be a pervert?”
Nod.
“How did you know that?”
“Everyone said.”
“Everyone in the building.”
“Yeah.”
“Like Mrs. Stadlbraun.”
“Yeah.”
“Who else?”
“Everyone.”
“Can you give me some names?”
Eyes down. “Everyone.”
“Did Mr. Peaty ever do anything perverted that you know about personally?”
“He looked.”
“At…”
Jacalyn Vasquez poked her left breast. Milo said, “He looked at you.”
“A lot.”
“He ever touch you?”
Head shake.
“His looks made you feel uncomfortable.”
“Yeah.”
“You tell Armando?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t want to make him mad.”
“Armando has a temper.”
Silence.
“So Peaty looked at you,” said Milo. “You figure that made it okay for Armando to shoot him?”
“Also the calls. That’s what I’m here to tell you.”
Milo ’s eyes narrowed. “What calls, ma’am?”
“The night. Calling, hanging up, calling, hanging up. I figured it was him.”
“Peaty?”
“Yeah.”
“Because…”
“He was a pervert.” Her eyes dipped again.
“You figured it was Mr. Peaty harassing you,” said Milo.
“Yeah.”
“Had he done that before?”
Hesitation.
“Ms. Vasquez?”
“Uh-uh.”
“He hadn’t done it before but you suspected it was him. Did Mr. Shuldiner come up with that?”
“It coulda been him!”
Milo said, “Any other reason the calls bothered you?”
“They kept hanging up.”
“They,” said Milo. Stretching the word.
Vasquez looked up, confused.
Milo said, “Maybe you were worried about a ‘they,’ Jackie.”
“Huh?”
“Armando’s old homeboys.”
“Armando don’t have no homeboys.”
“He used to, Jackie.”
Silence.
“Everyone knows he used to run with the 88s, Jackie.”
Vasquez sniffed.
“Everyone knows,” Milo repeated.
“That was, like, a long time ago,” said Vasquez. “Armando don’t bang no more.”
“Who’s they?”
“The calls. There was a bunch.”
“Any other calls last night?”