He cursed under his breath. “Playboy Mansion gal goes on a rampage because of stuff that happened years ago? Sophie I could maybe see—hell hath no fury. Though even that’s a stretch, going to all that trouble with the cigarettes. But a woman sawing off Martha’s arms, wrapping her body, and stashing it in a deep-freeze? Then abducting and bludgeoning her daughter? All because of one supposed meeting where she supposedly ran her finger across her throat? Yeah, I know, Heck made sure to let us know Tiana carries a knife. But that could be another diversion. And bottom line, he and Bel Geddes were planning a monster civil suit payoff, so he remains on the Scumbag List.”
“Good point.”
“But?”he said.
“No buts.”
“Great. Hate that word. Even worse than I hate ‘if.’ ”
He turned and typed, brought up the DMV database.
“Here we go, Tiana Rhea Crown, forty-three years old, blond, blue, five-eight, one thirty-three. Guess she can’t be eliminated on size alone…drives a…five-year-old Toyota Camry, which isnotwhat we just saw. But just to be professionally meticulous, let’s see what NCIC has to say about her criminal past.”
Click click. He sat back, smiling. “Not a word. Blameless as a yearling romping in the meadows. That sound like someone who could slaughter three innocent women?”
I said, “Where’s her current address?”
“Why?”
“Maybe she’ll have something interesting to say about Heck.”
“Sure, why not. Yeah, good point…fine, once I get through Heck’s damn data and can take over from Moe watching Heck, I’ll send him out to interview her, maybe his muscles will help establish rapport.”
He returned to the DMV data. His smile faded.
“What?”
“She still lists the house in San Marino as her address. Guess that could be nostalgia, denial, whatever. Or she just never bothered to update it.”
“Or,” I said, “she doesn’t want to be found.”
Putting into words what he’d thought of. He was rubbing his face when Carla Bonair came to the open door.
“Hey, Loo.” She reached in and handed him a zip drive. “Mr. Heck’s phone records.”
“That was quick, thanks. Anything interesting?”
“Didn’t study it,” she said, rolling her eyes, “but couldn’t avoid noticing some of it. Guy’s got problems.”
“Criminal problems?”
“Not that I spotted at first glance. But hormonal problems, for sure.”
Milo loaded the zip drive and logged on. Frame after frame of porn filled the screen, a never-ending fleshy grid.
Bonair said, “Hope the captain doesn’t walk in right now.”
He laughed. He scrolled. Kept scrolling. “Jesus, how much does he have?”
“He could open his own porn site,” said Bonair. “Those guys don’t sue for copyright infringement, right? Or maybe they do. Not my world.”
She smiled, saluted, and left.
Milo returned to his desktop, speeding through page after page of thumbnails. “Nothing personal or illegal, so far.” He laughed. “Can you imagine if I’d asked Sean to do this?”
“Grounds for a harassment lawsuit.”
“Thank God the kid’s true and blue…okay, I’m gonna save these for later, and start examining the calls. No sense hanging around, Alex. Don’t want to turn you into an innocent bystander.”
