She said, “Probably. Anything that opens the box would.”
“Okay, forget it.”
“Shit,” she said. “Now I’m feeling like I’m part of some sleazy hush-job—welcome to Murdergate. What the hell, Alex, do your best to be discreet, you know the parameters.” Her breath was a whoosh. “Two yearsold.”
Chapter
21
I searched for Sherilyn Dorsey-Komack’s home number and came up predictably empty. But her husband’s name led me to Redondo Beach Fire Station 1, one of three in that city. And that linked me to Chairman Of The Boards, a surf shop in nearby Huntington Beach owned by the couple.
Plenty of Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Yelp, and LinkedIn.
More important, open on Sunday. For another hour.
I spent a portion of that time trying to come up with a believable approach. Came up with nothing and decided to speak in generalities and hope she’d say something that would give me an opening. Not so different from what I did as a therapist. But in therapy, you’re out to help the person sitting across from you, and I’d be doing nothing but using Sherilyn Dorsey-Komack.
For a good cause. Theoretically.
At least, I rationalized, I’d be doing her no harm.
I punched numbers.
—
An adenoidal teenage male voice mumbled, “Chairman.”
“Is Sherilyn there?”
“Sher?Foryou.Don’tknow.Hold on, dude.”
Half a minute later: “This is Sher. What can I do for you.”
“My name’s Anthony Davenport, ma’am. I work with LAPD and wondered if you could spare a few minutes to talk about a victim named Victoria Saucedo.”
“Police? About the hit and run?”
Bingo.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m with Traffic Safety and we’re sorting various accidents and doing what’s called a victimology. Basically learning as much as we can to see if we can safeguard people better.”
“I respect what you do, my husband’s an EMT, but what does Vicki’s accident have to do with me?”
“We’re talking to Vicki’s friends to learn more about her. Your name came up.”
“From her parents? I knew her real well in high school and for a few years afterward, but not much since,” said Sherilyn Dorsey-Komack.
“I see. Well if you feel there’s nothing you can say—”
“All I can tell you is Vicki’s super nice, really sweet and gorgeous but not full of herself. Just the opposite, super-shy. At least when I knew her.”
“Shy with people.”
“Yup. Can’t see that mattering when a drunk plows into you, huh? Some customers just walked in, sorry, gotta go.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh sure.”
