Another hour of zero and I was gone.
Before going to bed, I tried to reach Milo, got only voice mail. At eight the following morning I tried him again. He answered his desk phone.
“Sturgis.”
“Morning.”
“Got your messages, was just about to call. If it’s progress you’re after, you picked the wrong detective.”
“I’ve got some new info.”
“About Ree?”
“Maybe.”
“This point I’ll take anything. Go.”
I told him.
I heard a drawer opening. Slamming shut. “Hold on.” The click click of typing. “Nothing on this Fallows kid, she may have acted out seven years ago but she’s been clean ever since.”
“She still has a penchant for lying,” I said. “Heard about the Sykes case from her uncle but tried to steer me away from him.”
“Maybe she regretted opening her mouth to that other bailiff, didn’t want Unkie to find out and hassle her about it.”
“The case was public record, Nebe’s free to say what he wants.”
“Still,” he said, “there’s the law and there’s the unwritten rule: Keep your mouth shut.”
“Maybe, but what gets me is Fallows keeps exhibiting the same type of clumsy deviousness as when she set up her teacher. Manipulative scheming mixed with stupidity. Like claiming Wattlesburg passed my message to her when I could easily verify that.”
“Sure, but no reason for her to think you’d check up on her.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “But when we did connect she really had nothing to offer and it was clear she’d fibbed originally about a job search. I checked her out because she twanged my antenna, Milo. All she had to do was keep her mouth shut. Not doing so is classic mediocre psychopath.”
“Mediocre?” he said. “What do the good ones do?”
“Run for office.”
He laughed. “Okay, you convinced me, little Miss Kiara has personality issues. Now how do I connect that to the murder of two people we have no evidence she ever laid eyes on?”
“She may never have met Connie and Ree but I’ll bet she heard plenty about them from Hank Nebe. He’s a cranky sort, I can imagine him coming home from court, jaded and disgusted. Maybe she got the same from Aunt Willa, who’s worked family court for years. For both Nebes, observing parents at their worst would’ve made it easy to conclude that people like that were unfit to rear kids. For some reason it came to a head with Sykes Versus Sykes and the family decided they could do a better job.”
“They stole the kid? Aw, c’mon.”
“Hank Nebe did a late-night run for diapers, last night.”
Silence.
He said, “Disapproval leads to multiple murder and kidnapping? Jesus, Alex. And why Melandrano and Chamberlain?”
“The scenario fits perfectly with Melandrano and Chamberlain being targeted. Your motive’s been correct all along: clearing the deck of competitors. And both of them were named in court as potential fathers. Hank Nebe would know that. He might also be aware of the threat Connie posed to his boss. Because Medea Wright didn’t speak to Maestro directly, she left a message. And unlike some judges, Nancy’s not big on answering her phone. Every time I’ve tried to reach her, Nebe’s on the other end.”
“Bailiff going the extra mile for the boss … it’s crazy, Alex. And how does Kiara figure in?”
“She’s part of the family unit. They’re pooling pathology. And maybe that’s why she quit her job: Willa and Hank work full-time. They’d need someone to care for a sixteen-month-old. But they couldn’t exactly advertise for an au pair.”
“Reforming the system,” he said, “one dead person at a time. This is totally out of left field — farther, out on the street a mile from the centerfield bleachers.”
“I know it sounds wild, but Nebe’s pushing sixty, Willa’s way past childbearing age, and he bought diapers last night. Maybe I’m dead wrong and they’ve got a daughter or son with a baby but nothing like that showed up on their vacation photos. Just the two of them and Kiara.”
“Kiara could have her own baby.”
“She could and maybe the nastiest thing you’ll find in their house is the diaper pail. Only one way to know.”
“Ph.D. surveillance ace,” he said. “You went out on your own, huh? Don’t be insulted but are you sure Nebe didn’t spot you?”
“If he had, he would’ve cut his shopping trip short.”
“Beer, cereal, diapers,” he said. “Something for everyone. All right, stay put.”
Ninety minutes later, he was at my door, ignoring Blanche when she trotted out for the usual greeting.
Nothing in his hands. He held them pressed to his sides. His eyes were active and bright. “Just talked to the detective who arrested Fallows for the hoax. He barely remembered the case other than ‘Oh, yeah, that kid was tricky.’ No file because it ended up as a juvey case and juvey records are confidential. I also found Rosen, the reporter who wrote the story in the Star. His first comment was ‘Not exactly the Manson family.’ ”
“So nothing,” I said.
“On the contrary, he remembered little Kiara quite vividly. Spooky kid, absolutely no remorse, uncommunicative, maybe a little depressed, in his opinion probably a sociopath. He interviewed her, did research on her background, but the case settled so he never wrote any of it up.”
“What’s her background?”
“Druggie parents, neglect, abuse. Daddy spent more time incarcerated than at home, Mommy brought home random men, some of whom took a liking to Kiara. Of course most of this came from Kiara, no complaints were ever filed. But I did locate her father’s criminal history. Roger Walter Fallows, confirmed lowlife. Even with that, two older brothers turned out okay, both joined the military and stayed in.”
“How serious of a criminal was Dad?”
“Drunk and disorderly, batteries, assaults, minor-league drug sales. He fancied himself an outlaw biker but was never in a club. A week after his final parole he and Kiara’s mom were out riding near Pomona and he crashed his chopper into a freeway divider. According to what Kiara told Rosen, the brothers never came home for the funerals and that made her feel deserted. She got sent to a group home. Then a tougher one, after she kept escaping.”
“Then she got arrested and Uncle Hank and Aunt Willa stepped in.”
“Guess they needed some motivation.”
“I can see Nebe distancing himself from a criminal relative, but Willa’s more social, maybe she convinced him to step up. Do they have any children of their own?”
“Nope. Same for Kiara. I know, I know. Diapers.” He began pacing the living room, stopped and bent and rubbed Blanche’s knobby head. She smiled with vindication, nuzzled his trouser cuff.
He said, “God help me, you come up with what sounds like Twilight Zone stuff and it starts to make sense. But two boxes of Pampers? Not exactly grounds for a warrant — my tummy hurts, got grub?”
Not waiting for the inevitable answer, he made the inevitable trek.
Moments later, inhaling slices of dry salami dipped in the mayonnaise jar, he said, “If you’re right, I wonder where they buried Ree.”
CHAPTER 37
Rather than face the notion of Ree’s interment, Milo opted for half a box of cookies. I let him create chocolate dust for a while, then said, “Let’s get hold of the Nebes’ work schedules.”
“Why?”
I told him.
He called D.D.A. John Nguyen’s secretary, who didn’t have access to court personnel records but thought she knew someone who did. That source, a clerk in Human Resources, had retired but her replacement was easygoing and Milo got the data.