Demanding the death penalty.
Now both murderers of his daughter were gone. Would he find comfort in that?
Had he played a role in it?
No, that was trite and illogical. Revenge was a dish best eaten cold, but eight years between deaths was arctic. Milo was right. Damaged boys like Turner and Duchay did attract violence. In a sense, what had happened was the predictable termination of two wasted lives.
Three.
I checked my overnight bag, packed the toothbrush I’d forgotten, and put the house in relative order. Logging onto a weather site, I learned I’d be arriving tomorrow in the midst of a snowstorm.
Low: fifteen, high: twenty-nine. I pictured white skies and sidewalks, the flicker of Manhattan lights in our window as Allison and I holed up in a nice warm suite with butler service.
Why had Rand called me?
The phone rang. Allison said, “Thank God, I caught you. Alex, you won’t believe this.”
Strain in her voice. My first thought was something had happened to her grandmother.
“What’s up?”
“Gram’s friend, the one who was coming from St. Louis, suffered a stroke this morning. We just got the call. Gram’s taking it hard. Alex, I’m so sorry, but I can’t leave her.”
“Of course not.”
“She’ll be fine, I know she will, she always is- is your ticket refundable? I’ve already called the hotel and canceled. I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, sounding calm. No act, I was relieved that I wouldn’t be going. What did that say about me?
“… despite the situation, I’m going to try to get out of the two-week extension, Alex. One week, tops, then I’ll call my cousin Wesley and ask him to do a shift. He’s a chem prof at Barnard on sabbatical in Boston, so his hours are flexible. It’s only fair, right?”
“Right.”
She paused for a breath. “You’re not too upset?”
“I’d love to see you but things happen.”
“They do… it’s freezing, anyway.”
“Fifteen to twenty-nine in New York.”
“You looked it up,” she said. “You were all prepared to go. Boo hoo.”
“Boo hoo hoo,” I said.
“The suite had a fireplace. Dammit.”
“When you come back we’ll light mine.”
“In seventy-degree weather?”
“I’ll buy some ice and sprinkle it around.”
She laughed. “That’s some picture… I’ll get back as soon as I can. One week, tops… uh oh, there’s Gram calling me again, what now? She wants more tea… sorry, Alex, talk to you tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.”
“Are you all right?”
“Sure. Why?”
“You sound a little distracted.”
“Just disappointed,” I lied. “Everything will work out.”
“Nothing like optimism,” she said. “With all you see, how do you manage that?”
Allison had been widowed in her twenties. Her basic disposition was a good deal sunnier than mine. But I was a better faker.
“It’s a good way to live,” I said.
“Oh, yeah.”
CHAPTER 13
Monday night, I reached Milo at his house. It was just after ten and his voice was thick with scotch and fatigue.
“It’s one a.m. in New York, dude.”
“I’m still on Pacific Standard.”
“What happened?”
“Allison’s grandmother needed her.” I filled him in.
“Sorry about that. What’s on your mind?”
“Just checking in,” I said.
“On Duchay? Turns out weekends at the construction site are for cleanup, but the supervisor said he’d never met Duchay. So either the story was bogus or Duchay was confused. Other than that, zippo to report. My working theory was that Duchay hooked up with some C.Y.A. bad guy buddy in order to do something bad. They got into conflict and the buddy did him.”
“What makes you think he was planning anything?”
“Because eight years in lockup is a Ph.D. in bad. The reason I figured a buddy was because Duchay’s pattern was criminal collaboration.”
“One crime’s a pattern?”
“When it’s a crime like his. And you need to consider this, Alex: The plan may have involved you. As in target.”
“Some theory,” I said.
“Step back and try to be objective,” he said. “A convicted thrill murderer phones you out of the blue, says he wants to talk about his crime but won’t give details. If it was really some confession-absolution deal, why wait eight years? He could’ve written you a letter. And why you? He had spiritual advisers- do-gooders who’d love to grant him absolution. The whole thing smells, Alex. He lured you out.”
“Why would he want to hurt me?”
“Because you were part of the system that sent him away for eight years. And his knife wounds say it wasn’t a vacation. Nine sticks, Alex, and three had gone deep. There were scars on his liver and one of his kidneys.”
Margaret Sieff- the woman Rand had called “Gram”- had been clear about my allegiance.
Randolph’s laywer said you weren’t necessarily on our side.
Maybe she’d transmitted that to Rand. Or Lauritz Montez had. He’d seen me as a prosecution tool, had gone along with Sydney Weider’s petition to keep me away from the boys.
Milo said, “Does your silence indicate I’m making sense?”
“Anything’s possible,” I said. “But he didn’t sound hostile over the phone.”
“I know, just troubled.”
“Back when I evaluated him there was no hostility, Milo. He was meek, cooperative. Unlike Troy, he never tried to manipulate me.”
“He had eight years to stew, Alex. And don’t forget: He cooperated and still got sent to hell. You know what C.Y.A.’s like. No more status offenders and mischief makers. This year there were six murders in the system.”
“Liver scars,” I said.
“Even with that, most people would think Duchay got off easy for what he did. But try telling that to the guy who went through it. I’m thinking one very bitter twenty-one-year-old ex-con. Maybe he had plans to pay lots of people back and you were first on the list.”
“Why do you have doubts about him hooking up with a prison buddy?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said it was your working theory.”
“Lord, I’m being parsed,” he said. “No, I haven’t abandoned the basic premise. I just haven’t come up with any buddies Duchay met in lockup yet. C.Y.A guy I spoke to said he had no gang affiliations, was ‘socially isolated.’ ”
“Any disciplinary problems on his record?”
“Quiet, compliant.”
“Good behavior,” I said.
“Yada yada.”
“So what’s next?”
“Talk to people who knew him, try to get a fix on his movements that day. I had Sean hit every store on Westwood for three blocks north of Pico to see if anyone spotted Duchay lurking around. Nada. Same for the Westside Pavilion, so if he went in there, he didn’t make an impression. Tomorrow morning I visit Reverend and Mrs. Andrew Daney.”
“Reverend and Reverend,” I said. “They were both studying to be ministers.”
“Whatever. I talked to her- Cherish, there’s a name for you. She sounded pretty broken up. All those good intentions blown to bits.”
“Why’d you take the case on, big guy?”
“Why not?”
“You don’t care much for the victim.”
“Who I like or don’t like has nothing to do with it,” he said. “And I am deeply hurt by your intimations to the contrary.”
“Yada freaking yada,” I said. “Seriously, you can pick and choose. Why this one?”
“I picked it to make sure you’re not in continuing danger.”
“I appreciate that but- ”
“A simple thanks will suffice.”
“Thanks.”