"It has to do with some work I'm doing for the police department."
"The police? You?"
I told her about the case, leaving out the gory details. She had met Milo before - they'd hit it off marvelously - but hadn't been aware of the extent of our friendship.
"He's a nice boy. You should find him a nice woman like you found for yourself." She smiled at Robin and handed her another brownie.
"I don't think that would work, Olivia. He's gay."
It didn't stop her, only slowed her down. "So? Find him a nice young man."
"He's got one."
"Good. Forgive me, Robin, I tend to run off at the mouth. It's all those hours I spend with clients listening and nodding and saying uh - huh. Then I get home and you can imagine the depth of conversational interplay I get with Prince Albert. Anyway, Alex, these questions about La Casa, Milo asked you to ask them?"
"Not exactly. I'm following my own leads."
She looked at Robin.
"Philip Marlowe here?"
Robin gave her a helpless look.
"Is this dangerous, Alex?"
"No. I just want to look into a few things."
"You be careful, you understand?" She squeezed my bicep. She had a grip like a bouncer. "Make sure he's careful, darling."
"I try, Olivia. I can't control him."
"I know. These psychologists, they get so used to being in a position of authority they can't take advice.
Let me tell you about this handsome fellow. I first met him when he was an intern assigned for three weeks to D.P.S.S. to teach him what life was like for people without money. He started out as a wise guy but I could tell he was special. He was the smartest thing on two feet. And he had compassion. His big problem was he was too hard on himself, he drove himself. He was doing twice as much work as anyone else and he thought he was doing nothing. I wasn't surprised when he took off like a missile, the fancy title and the books and all that. But I was worried he was going to burn himself out."
"You were right, Olivia," I admitted.
"I thought he went to the Himalayas, or something," she laughed, continuing to address Robin. "To get frozen so he could come back and appreciate California. Have more, both of you."
"I'm stuffed." Robin touched her flat tummy.
"You're probably right - keep the figure, if you have it. Me, I started out like a barrel, nothing to maintain. Tell me darling, do you love him?"
Robin looked at me. She put her arm around my neck.
"I do."
"Fine, I pronounce you husband and wife. Who cares what he says?"
She got up and went to the oven, peering through the glass window.
"Still a few more minutes. I think the figs take longer to bake."
"Olivia, about La Casa de los Ninos?"
She sighed and her bosom sighed along with her. "Okay. You're obviously serious about playing policeman." She sat down. "After you called I went into my old files and pulled out what I could find. You want coffee?"
"Please," said Robin.
"I'll have some too."
She came back with three steaming mugs, cream and sugar on a porcelain tray upon which had been silkscreened a panorama of Yellowstone Park.
"This is delicious, Olivia," Robin said, sipping.
"Kona. From Hawaii. This dress is from there, too. My younger son, Gabriel, he's there. He's in import - export. Does very well."
"Olivia - "
"Yes, yes, okay. La Casa de los Ninos. The Children's Home. Started in 1974 by the Reverend Augustus McCaffrey, as a place of refuge for children with no home. That's right off the brochure."
"Do you have the brochure with you?"
"No, it's at the office. You want me to mail you a copy?"
"Don't bother. What kind of kids stay there?"
"Abused and neglected children, orphans, some status offenders - you know runaways. They used to pull them in jail or the CYA but those places got too crowded with fourteen - year - old murderers and rapists and robbers, so now they try to find foster placement for them or a place like La Casa. In general these institutions get the kids nobody wants, the ones they can't find foster placement or adoptive homes for. Lots of them have physical and psychological problems - spastic, blind, deaf, retarded. Or they're too old to be attractive adoptees. There are also the children of women in prison - mostly junkies and alcoholics. We tried to place them with individual families, but often nobody wanted them. To sum up, dear: chronic wards of the Dependency Court."
"How's a place like that funded?"
"Alex, the way the state and federal systems are set up, an operator can pull in over a thousand dollars a month per child if he knows how to bill it right. Kids with disabilities bring in more - you get paid for all the special services. On top of that I hear McCaffrey's terrific at bringing in private donations. He's got connections - the land the place is on is an example. Twenty acres in Malibu, used to belong to the government. They interned the Japanese there during World War II. Then it was used as a labor camp for first offenders - embezzlers, politicians, that type. He got the county to give it to him on long - term lease. Ninety nine years with token rent."
"He must be a good talker."
"He is. A good old boy. Used to be a missionary down in Mexico. I hear he ran a similar place there."
"Why'd he move back up?"
"Who knows? Maybe he got tired of not drinking the water? Maybe he longed for Kentucky Fried Chicken - although I hear they've got it down there now."
"What about the place? Is it a good one?"
"None of those places is Utopia, Alex. The ideal would be a little house in suburbia with a picket fence around it, gingham curtains and a green lawn, Mommy and Daddy and Rover the Dog. The reality is that there are over seventeen thousand kids on the Dependency Court docket in L.A. county alone. Seventeen thousand unwanted children! And they're piling into the system faster than they can be - here's a terrible word - processed."
"That's unbelievable," said Robin. She had a troubled look on her face.
"We've turned into a society of child - haters, darling. More and more abuse and neglect. People have kids and then change their minds. Parents don't want to take responsibility for them so they shunt them over to the government - how's that from an old Socialist, Alex? And abortion - I hope this doesn't offend you, because I'm for liberation as much if not more than the next woman. I was screaming for equal pay before Gloria Steinem went through puberty. But let's face it, this wholesale abortion we've got is just another form of birth control, another way out for people to avoid their responsibility. And it's killing kids, at least in some sense, isn't it? Maybe it's better than having them and then trying to get rid of them - I don't know." She wiped the sweat from her forehead and dabbed at her upper lip with a paper napkin. "Excuse me, that was a tedious polemic."
She stood up and smoothed down her dress.
"Let me check the strudel."
She came back with a steaming platter. "Blow on it, it's hot." Robin and I looked at each other.
"You look so serious, I ruined your appetite with my polemic, didn't I?"
"No, Olivia." I took a slab of strudel and ate a bite. "It's delicious and I agree with you."
Robin looked grave. We'd discussed the abortion issue many times, never resolving anything.
"In answer to your question, is it a good place, I can only say that we had no complaints when I was with D.P.S.S. They offer the basics, it looked clean, the area is certainly nice - most of those kids never saw a mountain except on TV. They bus the kids to the public schools when they have special needs. Otherwise they've got in - house teaching. I doubt if anyone helps them with their homework - it's certainly not "Father Knows Best" over there, but McCaffrey keeps the place up, pushes for lots of community involvement. That means public exposure. Why do you want to know so much about it, you think that kid's death was suspicious?" "No. There's no reason to suspect anything." I thought about her question. "I guess I'm just fishing."