“Don’t see how it could be of any use. These are older, genteel women.”
“Like I said, just to be thorough, Dave. If it’s a problem giving it to me, I can check with Detective Sturgis and if he thinks it’s worth it, he’ll get back to you.”
Dave Le Gallee said, “No, that’s okay, I’ll email it to you. Feels a little less…official.”
—
The file came through moments later. Single-page document, names, addresses, phone numbers.
For the most part, Safe Place volunteers listed private homes in Hancock Park, Pacific Palisades, and Beverly Hills. A scatter came from Pasadena and its rich cousin, San Marino, where Darren and Tiana Alberts had once lived like monarchs.
The address Tiana had given Safe Place was a steep drop from that. Multi-unit on South Holt Avenue. A map search put it just west of La Cienega and far enough south to be within earshot of the 10 freeway. An image search brought up a pale-pink, fifties stucco box with a deeper-pink bow tie decorating the façade. Someone’s notion of whimsical, now just sad.
I forwarded everything to Milo, expecting a quick callback. It took him until five p.m. to connect.
“So she definitely worked with Lynne. Unbelievable.”
“Worked well with Lynne, according to Le Gallee. Especially helpful during exercise classes. Quote unquote ‘super strong.’ ”
“Muscles, tools, didn’t like Martha…it still feels crazy but in a creepy not an impossible way. Unbelievable. Thanks. Reason you didn’t hear from me sooner was Villalobos and I were getting eye-strain all day looking at crappy video. Just as we were about to call it a day, we caught a break. Of sorts. Actually, he picked it up. Front view of what we think is the same SUV driving away from the direction of that alley then heading west. The image is still too blurry to get tags but the car’s definitely a Toyota Highlander, dark blue. And once BryceMeyers got a good look at the front, he narrowed it to six to ten years old.”
“If Tiana had another set of wheels in addition to the Aston, it could’ve been hers all that time.”
“Doubtful, Alex, she’s never registered it. Given her financial circumstances, my bet is she picked it up cheap from a private party. Let me call Heck and see if he ever saw her in one.”
Six minutes later:
“Nope, all he ever saw was the Aston and a limo service back in the good old days and after everyone collapsed, she Ubered. The limo thing got the idiot going. Fun times in the back, heh heh. Guy’s obsessed. Anyway, I’m planning a drive-by at the place on Holt, later. Let you know what comes up.”
“What time?”
“No need, Alex, it’ll probably be a dud.”
“Same question.”
“Late. Ten-ish.”
“Pick me up or should I meet you there?”
“What’s with all the gung-ho?”
“The Zeigarnik effect.”
“Oh, that.”
A bit of psychology I’d described to him years ago: Tension due to unfinished business leads to increased mental focus. A feeling I like.
“You’re all Zeigarnicked, huh?”
“Primed to go.”
Chapter
39
He picked me up at ten fourteen.
I’d left Robin snuggly under the bedcovers, smiling and close to sleep. We’d spent the past four hours together. A bit of good food, a lot of romance, and that wonderful sense of serenity that follows. Then she asked about the case.
