"Maybe we should go back further-grad school, the years before she moved to L.A. I can try talking to someone at Case Western."
"Sure, but tomorrow you'll have a chance at something better. Her parents are arriving on the red-eye tonight. I have a date with them at eight A.M. down at the morgue. No need for them to view the body, tried to talk them out of it, but they insisted. After all that fun, I'll try to sit down with them. I'll give you a call where and when. Probably be late afternoon."
Several young officers walked by. He watched them for a while, stared at the roof of the Seville, flicked dirt off the vinyl. "Reviewing Richard's file was sobering. Not as much of a file as I remembered. The only people I spoke to were Richard's landlady and parents and the staff at the restaurant where he worked. No listings in the 'Known Associates' column. Sound familiar? I made another try at locating the film outfit that Richard might've auditioned for-Thin Line. Still can't find a trace of them. You'd think even a rinky-dink outfit would make a mark somewhere."
"Something about the movie bothers you?"
"They've got carpenters on movie sets, right? All sorts of tools, including saws."
"Plenty of knives in restaurants, too."
"Maybe I'll go back there."
"One possible angle on Thin Line," I said. "Even fly-by-nights need equipment. A small outfit would be likely to rent rather than own. Why not check some of the leasing companies?"
"Very good," he said. "Thank you, sir." He laughed. "Any other case I wouldn't consider the film thing half a lead. But these two-you don't wanna blame the victim, Alex, but the least they could've done is relate to someone."
I wanted another look at Claire's resume, so the two of us crossed over to the station and walked upstairs to the detectives' room. Milo retrieved the box of material he'd taken from Claire's house. He hadn't booked it into the evidence room, meaning he'd planned some review himself. He left to get a cup of coffee while I searched.
I found the resume near the middle, neatly typed and stapled. The Wite-Out in the "Marital Status" slot was a chalky lozenge. She'd been born in Pittsburgh, lived there through college before moving to Cleveland to attend Case Western.
Thousands of miles from Richard Dada's Arizona childhood, little chance of a connection there.
I scrounged until I found the first study she'd published- the student research that had impressed Myron Theobold.
Solo author, just as he'd said, but at the bottom of the first page, in very small print, were acknowledgments and thanks: "To the Case Western Graduate Fund for supplies and data analysis; to my parents, Ernestine and Robert Ray Argent, for their unwavering support throughout my education; and to my dissertation chairman, Professor Harry I. Racano, for his thoughtful guidance."
One P.M. in L.A. was four in Cleveland. Using Milo's phone, I dialed 216 Information. None of the other detectives paid notice to a civilian using city equipment. Scrawling the number for Case Western's psychology department, I called and asked for Professor Racano.
The woman at the other end said, "I'm sorry, but there's no one here by that name."
"He used to be on the faculty."
"Let me check our faculty directory." Several moments passed. "No, I'm sorry, sir, not in the current directory or the emeritus list."
"Is there anyone around who worked in the department ten years ago?"
Silence. "Hold on, please."
Another five minutes before another woman said, "May I ask what this is about?"
"I'm calling from the Los Angeles Police Department." Literally. "Unfortunately, one of your alumnae, Dr. Claire Argent, was murdered, and we're trying to locate anyone who might have known her back in Cleveland."
"Oh," she said. "Murdered… My God, that's terrible… Argent. No, I've only been here six years, she must have been before my time-how terrible, let me check." I heard paper shuffling. "Yes, here she is, on the alumni roster. And she was Professor Racano's student?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Well, I'm sorry to tell you Professor Racano's deceased as well. Died right after I came on. Cancer. Nice man. Very supportive of his students."
Racano's tolerance of Claire's solo launch suggested an easygoing nature.
"Is there anyone who might have known Dr. Argent, Ms…?"
"Mrs. Bausch. Hmm, I'm afraid there aren't too many people in the building right now. There's a big symposium going on over at the main auditorium, one of our professors just won a prize. I can ask around and get back to you."
"I'd appreciate that." I gave her Milo's name. Just as I put the phone down, it rang. Milo was nowhere in sight so I took the call. "Detective Sturgis's desk."
A familiar voice said, "I'd like to leave a message for Detective Sturgis."
"Heidi? It's Dr. Delaware."
"Oh… hi-listen, I'm sorry I couldn't get anything out of Peake today."
"Don't worry about it."
"It didn't help my credibility with Swig, either. After you were gone he called me into his office and made me go over the whole thing again: what Peake said, when he said it, was I sure I heard right."
"Sorry for the hassle."
"It would've sure been nice to be able to prove it… Anyway, I just wanted to call to let Detective Sturgis know I've decided to leave Starkweather in a couple of weeks, but if there's anything else he needs, he can call me."
"Thanks, Heidi. I'll tell him."
"So," she said, "you actually work there? Right at the police station?"
"No. I just happen to be here today."
"Sounds interesting. Meanwhile, I'll keep trying with Peake, maybe something will come up."
"Don't put yourself in any jeopardy."
"What, from Ardis? You saw his condition. Not exactly dangerous. Not that I let my guard down-do you think Claire did?"
"Don't know," I said.
"I keep thinking about her. What happened to her. It seems so strange that anything could touch her."
"What do you mean?"
"She seemed like one of those people-caught up in their own worlds. Like she was happy being alone. Didn't need anyone else."
Chapter 15
I called home before leaving the station. Robin was out, and all that awaited me was paperwork-final reports on custody cases that had already been decided. I told my own voice on the message machine that I'd be back by five.
Talking to myself.
Put a cell phone in a psychotic's hand and he could fake normalcy.
The encounter with Ardis Peake had stayed with me.
Monster.
Hard to connect that mute, emaciated husk with someone capable of destroying an entire family.
What better endorsement for Mr. Swig's highly structured system?
What turns a human being into that?
I'd given Milo the short-version lecture and he'd been gracious enough not to complain. But I had no real answers; no one did.
I wondered what questions had led Claire to Starkweather. And Peake. She'd gravitated to him shortly after taking the job. Why, of all the madmen, had he been the one whose pathology had drawn her in?
The other thing that troubled me was Peake's assault on the eyes of the little Ardullo girl. Had I been too hasty minimizing his gibbering at Heidi?
Or perhaps it was simple: Claire had learned about the eyes and discussed it with him. Had it elicited something in him- guilt, excitement, a horrible nostalgia?
Bad eyes in a box. Was the box a coffin? Peake's imagery of the dead child. Reliving the crime and feeding off the memory, the way lust killers did?
It all hinged on learning more about Claire, and so far her ghost had avoided capture.
No entanglements, no known associates. Not much impact on her world.
Ardis Peake, on the other hand, had been a star in his day.
I drove to Westwood and used the computers at the U's research library to look up the Ardullo massacre. The murders had been covered nationally for one week. The periodicals index offered half a page of citations, and I went looking for microfiche.