Chuck-o said, “That’s fascinating, Lloyd.”
I regained eye contact. “Is there somewhere we could talk?”
“About what?”
I shot him a conspiratorial look. People like to be let in on secrets but he said, “Sorry, I got customers.”
“How about another round on me? Fill ’em up, then give me a couple of minutes of your time.”
“This is about Ree?”
“This is about Ree cutting town. I’d like to know that she and the baby are safe.”
I waited.
He said, “She split? When?”
“Last couple of days.”
“Well, I’m sure she had a reason.”
I didn’t answer.
He said, “Why wouldn’t she be okay?”
“There’s been a complication.”
“Like what?”
I shook my head. He faced the barflies. “Merry Christmas, this here is Santa Claus, he lost weight and he’s here for your drinking pleasure.”
Lloyd said, “Santa’s a doctor?”
A voice from the end of the bar said, “Adeste fidelis — what kind of doctor?”
The woman next to him raised her glass. “Gotta be Dr. Feelgood.”
Lloyd said, “Hear, hear,” tried to fist-pump again and lost his balance, nearly toppling from his stool.
I caught him, set him right.
He said, “Meeting you, my good man, is my lucky day!”
Chuck-o wiped his hands on a soggy towel, stepped through a half door that freed him from the confines of the bar, and pointed to the bandstand. Taking a seat behind his drum kit, he lifted his sticks and ran off a silent paradiddle on his knees before motioning me to the piano bench.
One of the barflies said, “You gonna play a sola, Chuck-o?”
“Not today.” Waiting until everyone was back drinking in earnest, he shifted both drumsticks to his right hand. “Let’s hear it for substance abuse. Never got into it myself. Not even on the road.”
“Teetotaler?”
“Moderate, one cocktail before I go to bed. That’s why I own my businesses. Including the land we’re sitting on.”
“Congrats.”
“So what’s the complication?”
“Like I said, Ree cut town. I was hoping someone here could tell me why.”
“Someone?”
“Maybe Winky or Boris.”
“You know Winky and Boris?”
“I was told they were close to Ree.”
“We’re all close. Like I said, we go way back.”
“High school,” I said.
“Junior high, actually. For me and Boris. You didn’t answer me about the complication. What, Connie’s taking her back to court? Yeah, Ree figured she’d do that, said Connie never took no for an answer.”
“No chance of that. Connie’s dead.”
“What?”
“Murdered,” I said. “Last night. The police are wondering if the court case had something to do with it. I’ve told them Ree’s not a violent person, but—”
“Violent? Hell, no. Ree’s got to be the most un-violent chick I ever knew. Connie’s dead? And you’re asking about Ree because — oh, man, you can’t be serious—”
“Doesn’t matter what I think, Chuck-o. The cops always begin with people close to the victim. And someone related who’s had serious conflict—”
“Oh, no, man, no possible way.”
“I went to Ree’s place before I came here. Figured I’d tell her about Connie. That’s when I found out she’d split. Cleaned out her apartment and stuck her landlady with unpaid rent.”
“Geez,” he said. “Maybe it was, you know, stress — all the shit she went through. Maybe she needs to breathe.”
“Maybe. But on the surface, it doesn’t look good.”
“Oh, man.” He used his free hand to skitter a roll on his tom-tom.
The same barfly said, “Hey, you are doin’ a sola—”
“Shut the fuck up!”
The man’s jaw dropped.
No one else looked back.
Chuck-o Blatt said, “Murdered? This is psycho.”
I said, “If you have any way to reach Ree, you’d be doing her a favor by telling her to check in. She can do it through me.”
He studied me. “You’re sure you’re who you say you are? I mean a card can be bogused.”
Same thing Dee Martolo had said. Suspicion born of the digital age.
I said, “Got a computer?”
“Why?”
“Go on the med school webpage, plug my name in, and see if the photo matches.”
“Fine, fine, sorry … I’m just freaked out. So how do you know what the police are thinking?”
“Sometimes I work with them.”
“Like what?”
“Consultant. But it’s common sense, a woman dies, has a sister who hates her and splits. You’d think the same way.”
“It wasn’t a matter of hate … okay, it was, but Connie deserved it. And trust me, man, Ree’s like … a … cloud. One of those soft clouds, you know?”
“As opposed to Connie.”
“Even back in high school Connie was … she was a lot older than us. When we were still in junior high, she was in college, doing her fancy college thing. But even before that she had that … that superior thing. I’m better than you, go screw yourself.”
“Arrogant.”
“Everyone couldn’t stand her.” His eyes got big. “Oh, man. I should probably not diss her too heavy, give you ideas about me.” He smiled. “Connie bit it last night? Last night I was with my sons. Cleaning up the place in Sun Valley, had some party idiots rent it for an engagement, they trashed everything. I had to list the damage for insurance, then we cleaned up. Took like till six in the morning.”
He stood. “Not that I need an alibi, right?”
“Right.”
“But maybe Ree does.”
“It would sure help, Chuck-o.”
“Yeah, well, Ree’ll be fine, don’t you worry, man.”
I said, “How can I get in contact with Winky and Boris?”
“Why?”
“Ree mentioned them.”
“She mentioned me, too?”
“Of course,” I lied. “She talked about all of you. What good friends you were.”
“So you want to talk to Zebe, too.”
“I want to talk to anyone who can help me find Ree.”
“I got your card. Something comes up, I’ll let you know.”
“Appreciate it.”
As I turned to leave, Lloyd said, “Another round, Dr. Claus?”
I smiled, put cash on the bar.
Chuck-o Blatt counted. “This is just enough for what they already had.”
Lloyd put his palms together prayerfully. “Another libation, good sir? For the sake of the righteous?”
Chuck-o said, “Don’t push it, he ain’t God.”
CHAPTER 22
Black in the car, check the phone. One message: Robin.
She said, “No spaghetti, the place closed down.”
“I’m out early, anyway, see you in thirty.”
“Does early mean no luck finding her?”
“Not much.”
“You going to tell Milo you looked for her?”
“He’ll find out anyway, so yes.”
“Things are getting complicated, darling.”
“Life’s little challenges.”
“Love your outlook,” she said. “Okay, I’ll cook spaghetti.”
Before I began the drive home, I sat parked near Virgo Virgo, working the iPhone and trying to locate William Melandrano and/or Bernard Chamberlain.
A W. Melandrano the right age lived nearby in North Hollywood, but no address or phone numbers were given and 411 had nothing to add. Four Bernard Chamberlains. A man living in Hollywood seemed the most likely. That address was close to Ree’s apartment.
A couple of button pushes could instantly tell Milo if either man had a criminal history. The best I could do was try a website that trafficked in mug shots, one of those mean-spirited celebrations of other people’s misfortunes, custom-tailored for an increasingly mean-spirited world.