“Did the dog react?” I said.
“Are you asking if he smelled something? Chester wasn’t a bloodhound. He was a fourteen-year-old mostly blind, deaf, senile chow mix. It was all Dad could do to get him to exercise. Anyway, Dad came home, told my mom about the van, the two of them decided something horrible had taken place, they had to persist with the police. Frankly, Galen and I thought they were overreacting. But a few weeks later, when Pete’s friend showed up dead, we started to believe them. Unfortunately, you guys didn’t.”
Petra said, “Let’s back up a bit, Dr. Stark. Who was Pete’s friend and how did he die?”
“An older guy, thirty or so. Tall, thin, long hair, unruly beard, kind of bummy. He drove a motorcycle but not a chopper. A Honda, not huge. I had a 350 in grad school and this one was definitely smaller. Noisy little contraption. He’d pick Pete up on it and they’d zoom off. My parents said his name was Roger but I can’t tell you where they got that and they never mentioned a last name. More like ‘that bum Roger.’ Or ‘Here’s Roger again on that stupid rattletrap.’ Their theory was he and Pete were selling dope around the neighborhood, doing the break-ins, as well. It wouldn’t surprise me, Roger looked like a doper. Emaciated, spacy, unsteady walk.”
Stark ruffled his crew cut. “I know it sounds as if Mom and Dad were obsessed but they weren’t. Granted, both of them are huge murder mystery fans and they’re into puzzles, but they’re also insightful and completely sane. My mother taught in the inner city for twenty years, so she’s not naive. And on top of his counseling background, my father was a military policeman in Vietnam and served as a reserve officer in Bakersfield before we moved to L.A. That made it especially irritating when the police here shined him on.”
Milo said, “Exactly what did he report?”
“You’d have to talk to him but my recollection is he reported the disappearance as well as the car being moved a week later, plus the van and the garbage bags.”
“Not the part about Pete masturbating near the girls?”
Stark colored. “No, I never mentioned that to anyone but my brother. Are you trying to say that would’ve made a difference? I can tell you it wouldn’t. The police were unresponsive.”
“What did the police tell your father?” said Petra.
“That Roger’s death was an overdose, case closed.”
“Please tell us about the death, Doctor.”
“From what I understand, the body was found in the gutter, right on Fourth, not far from Pete’s building. It happened in the middle of the night and by the time I was awake, the scene was clear.”
“How’d you find out?”
“My father heard from a neighbor who didn’t know whose corpse it was. Dad called the police for details and of course they didn’t want to give any out. Finally, he pried out the fact that it was Roger. That got him to try again to stir up interest in the girls. But whoever he talked to kept insisting there was no evidence of any crime, the girls were adults, a missing person case hadn’t been filed, and Roger’s death was ruled accidental.”
Petra hid her frown behind one hand as she wrote with the other. “After that, did Pete cause any other problems?”
“Not that I heard. But by December I had a girlfriend, wasn’t interested in anything at home. Then I went to China as a volunteer with Operation Smile, then to Cornell. This is the first time I’ve been back in ten years.”
“Have you seen Pete recently?”
“No. What’s he done?”
She stood. “When we can tell you we will, Dr. Stark. Thanks for your time.” Flashing a smile. “Maybe you can call your parents and tell them we’re paying attention.”
“That might not help. They’re strong-willed people.”
I said, “Despite their suspicions, they didn’t move from the neighborhood.”
“No way,” said Stark. “They finally owned their own home.”
“Hard to beat that,” said Milo.
“You bet, Detective. It’s all about equity.”
CHAPTER 36
Byron Stark’s narrowing of time and place made the search easy.
A coroner’s file on Roger “Kimo” Bandini was unearthed in the archives at Mission Road and the fax came through to Petra by four p.m.
White male, twenty-nine, six two, one forty. A multitude of old needle tracks, fresh puncture wounds, and a tox screen that shot back a generous amount of speed and a monumental dose of diazepam had all screamed overdose, no need to autopsy. Missing was any record of where Bandini had been buried, or even if his body had been claimed.
By five thirty, Petra had gotten a Wilshire Division detective to unearth the corresponding police file, a slim affair, most of which was a photocopy of the coroner’s findings. Sergeant J. Rahab, the coordinator at the scene, noted that an anonymous call at 3:15 a.m. had prompted the call to Fourth Street.
Embedded in Rahab’s clumsy prose was mention of a “burglar’s kit” found under Bandini’s corpse.
Searches of national databases revealed a ten-year police record and several brief incarcerations for Pete Whitbread’s friend, stretching from California to Utah: three breaking and enterings, a DUI, two arrests for possession of marijuana, three for methamphetamine, an intent-to-sell crank bust dismissed on procedural grounds the year before Bandini’s death.
Neither Peterson Whitbread nor Blaise De Paine showed up on Bandini’s buddy list, but Leland Armbruster and Lester Jordan did.
Petra said, “All of them into the Hollywood dope scene. But no cross-reference to Armbruster’s homicide file so Isaac never picked it up. Boys, we are still living in the Dark Ages.”
Milo said, “Little Petey doesn’t respect his elders. They let him in the game and end up dead.”
I re-read the coroner’s report. My breath caught and jammed up in my chest. I let air out slowly.
Milo said, “Something we missed?”
“The anonymous call was never followed up on. Someone just happening upon a body at that hour is unlikely. Wouldn’t you be curious?”
“I’d follow it up,” said Petra.
Milo said, “Bandini being a low-life crank-head, no one cared who spotted him. Why do you?”
“Bear with me,” I said. “With a passerby being unlikely, the logical assumption would be a neighbor. Bandini’s body was found one building east of Patty’s duplex. Patty wouldn’t want Tanya waking up and seeing that.”
Petra said, “And Patty would know a body was lying out on the street because…”
I said, “‘Killed a man close by.’”
Milo and Petra looked at each other.
He said, “The terrible thing.”
“Hot-shotting Bandini would qualify,” I said. “Think about it: His blood was swimming with speed and Valium. He’d been shooting crank for years but there’s no mention of downers anywhere in his jacket. Valium is a common hospital drug.”
Milo rubbed his face.
I said, “Something else Isaac’s data search wouldn’t pull up because it was classified as an accidental death.”
Petra said, “What would be Patty’s motive? And how are you suggesting it happened?”
“Unless we find De Paine and he talks, we may never know the details. My guess is he and Bandini were pressuring Patty for prescription drugs. He knew she was a nurse from when she cared for his father and now that she was his mother’s tenant, he tried to exploit that. He could’ve started off wheedling, met resistance, and turned up the pressure. The most effective way would’ve been a threat against Tanya, veiled or otherwise.”
“Patty would give in to that?”
“She might’ve, out of fear,” I said. “She could’ve developed some serious suspicions-just like the Starks.”
Petra rubbed her temples. “She wondered about the missing girls?”
“If De Paine silenced Jordan because he knew about the girls, where would Jordan have found out in the first place? Patty talking to him about his wayward son.”