“Maybe a boy of few words because verbalizing is a challenge. Then there is the matter of the animals.”
He exhaled. “So there is.”
Working his phone he searchedcrispin moman.“No address, no surprise, he’s a minor…here we go: An Adrian Moman lives on the 1200 block of Benedict, could be Mommy or Daddy. The Beverly Hills side but yeah, not far.”
He googled. “Daddy.” Showing me a thumbnail of a small, bespectacled, blow-dried man in his fifties with the smile of a carnival barker.
“Agent at CAA…it’s worth a look-see. School won’t be out for a while but if Todd’s right and the kid misses a lot, he could be home. Want to take a chance and stop by? Meet another child of privilege?”
CHAPTER
31
The house was a two-story white Georgian Revival with a black door and matching shutters. Ungated succulent garden in front, double-width driveway, a silver Mercedes taking up half.
At the front door, Milo let a bronze, lion-shaped knocker fall on solid wood.
A maid in a black-and-white lace uniform opened. “Yes?”
Milo’s badge made her step back. “Is Crispin home?”
“One min.”
The door shut for two and a half minutes before opening on a pretty blond woman in her forties wearing pink velour sweats and black-and-white checked sneakers. The pale end of blond, a smidge past gray, thick mop of it, pushed back from an unlined forehead by a rhinestone band. A scrunchy circled one wrist, a fitness watch the other.
She said, “I’m about to head for the gym. Police? Why in the world?”
Milo said, “Are you Crispin’s mom?”
“I am.” Quick glance toward the house. Trembling lips.
“Sorry to bother you but we’ve had a complaint about Crispin.”
“I see.” Unsurprised. “What’d he do? Say something inappropriate to an overly sensitive teacher or student?”
“A little more than that.”
Pink velour shoulders rose. “Meaning?”
“Our report is he threatened some other students. Is he home?”
She slid a silver nail under the rim of her watchband. Flicked leather a couple of times. “It’s complicated. You can’t just approach him like everyone.”
“Could we talk to him in front of you?”
“Who’d he supposedly threaten?”
“Could we talk inside, ma’am?”
“Don’t you need a warrant?”
“We could come back with one, ma’am. But if it turns out to be nothing, why make a big deal and have it recorded as an incident on Crispin’s record?”
“Hmm.” Freeing the nail and inspecting her cuticle, she began stepping in place. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen: You’ll talk to me first and if I approve of your approach—andif Crispin’s receptive— we can reach out to him. With sensitivity.”
“More than reasonable, Ms.—”
“Haley Moman.” Eyelash flutter. “I used to be Haley Hartford.”
