Flesh And Blood

Milo said, “Did you notice any of the names?”

“No, she didn’t let me get that close – just wanted me to see the tree, and then brought it back into her room. Like she was proud of it. She said it was a genealogy program; she’d bought it and downloaded it herself.” Salander flinched. “And then when you called and asked about the computer and I realized it was gone… That’s when I started to worry.”

“That maybe someone wanted to get hold of the family data.”

“That and the fact someone had gotten into our place. Then, when I heard about Jane.” Salander bit his lip. “I started thinking: Maybe Lauren had misjudged her mother. Maybe Jane didn’t want Lauren to get too close not because she was worried about getting cut off but because it was dangerous. What if Jane really cared and Lauren was never able to see that?”

Milo stood, paced the space between the bed and the window. “Did Lauren indicate that she’d ever actually made contact with Tony Duke?”

“No,” said Salander. “All I know about is that tree thingie. But he does live in Malibu, right? That humongous place, with all the parties.”

“What else did she tell you that could help me, Andy?”

“That’s it, I promise. After that one time she spilled her guts, she pulled back – just like Jane did with her. Mostly she stayed in her room, in front of that computer.”

“Did she ever talk about other family members? Besides Tony Duke?”

Salander shook his head.

“What about girls she’d worked with?”

“Not that I recall.”

“Michelle Salazar?”

“No.”

“Shawna Yeager?”

“Uh-uh. She never talked about the past. And like I told you the first time, she didn’t have any friends. A real loner.”

“A girl and her computer,” said Milo.

Salander said, “So sad.” Then: “Now what?”

“Have you told anyone besides Mr. LeMoyne about any of this?”

“No.” A glance at LeMoyne. “And all Justin wanted was to write up a treatment and register it-” He stopped. “That could be dangerous, huh? If someone at the Guild saw it and-”

“Oh, please,” said LeMoyne. “No one in the Industry reads.”

“Still,” said Milo.

“Fine, fine,” snapped LeMoyne. “Fine.”

Milo turned to Salander. “Andy, I’ll be needing you to repeat everything you’ve told me for a formal statement.”

Salander blanched. “Why?”

“It’s the rules. We’ll do it in a couple of days. Either down at the station or somewhere more private, if you’re straight with me about sticking around. This time.”

“More private,” said Salander. “Definitely more private. Do you think we can move back to Justin’s place? I mean, if Lauren and Jane died because Lauren was Tony Duke’s daughter and I know about it-”

“That’s the point, son,” said Milo. “No one knows you know. If you’re discreet, I don’t see any imminent danger. If you’re not, I can’t promise you anything.”

Salander laughed hollowly.

“Something fu

“I was just thinking. About those times you came into The Cloisters and I served you. It’s really a great job, tending bar. You have the power to make people happy – their moods just kind of fall into your hands. Not just the booze, it’s everything – the listening. I knew you were a cop, someone told me. At first it bothered me. What an ugly world you must live in – I hoped you wouldn’t start talking, didn’t want to soak up all those negative vibes. But you never did. You just sat there and drank – you and that handsome doctor. Neither of you talked, you just drank in silence, then left. I started feeling sorry for you – no offense. Soaking up those vibes yourself. But I also felt good about helping you – not that you had a problem, but you know what I mean. I was in charge, got those beers and shots delivered right on the money and everyone was happy. And now…”

Another laugh. “I’ll be discreet, all right,” said Salander. “I’m the soul of discretion.”

Outside, I said, “No imminent danger?”

“Not if he keeps his mouth shut.”

“No grounds for protective custody?”

“That’s TV crap – LeMoyne’s world. So was my line about Salander being a material witness. The truth is, he and old Justin are free to fly off to Antigua any damn time they please.” He looked back at the Palm Court, cracked his knuckles. “I always knew it was about money, but Tony Duke’s daughter… Talk about high-stakes blackmail.”

I watched the traffic on Washington Boulevard, thinking about things Lauren had told me – that her parents hadn’t been married when she’d been conceived. That they’d “brought me up with lies.” The wall of ice between her and Lyle. The remark to Michelle about her mother “screwing up.”

How early had she sensed something wrong? What had the truth done to her?

Jane had called me in a panic after Lauren had disappeared. Knowing what Lauren was up to, suspecting the five-day absence was more than just another extended weekend. Trying to motivate the police but holding back facts that might’ve helped. Even after Lauren’s death Milo had felt Jane had been less than helpful. I thought back to any hints she might have dropped, came up with only one: “Lauren’s never gotten anything from her father, and maybe that was my fault.”

Guilty – she had to have been tormented. Yet it hadn’t led her to finally open up. Worrying about her own safety. Justifiable fear.

And maybe something else: Lies had been the poisonous glue that held this family together.

“The time line fits,” I said. “Lauren was arrested for prostitution in Reno when she was nineteen, called Lyle for bail money but he turned her down. I always wondered why she phoned him and not Jane, but maybe it was because she still cared what Jane thought. Still, stuck in jail, she might’ve turned to Jane. And maybe Jane came through. But she didn’t give Lauren any of the money she’d collected from Tony Duke because she didn’t think Lauren could handle it. Instead, she tried to reco

He nodded. “Mel being a nice guy made it easier for Lauren to believe.”

“Shortly after Lauren received the hundred thousand, she set up her investment account, went back to school, got her GED, enrolled in community college, quit working for Gretchen. Maybe all of that was part of a deal with Jane, or Lauren really wanted to get her life together. Every year after that she invested another fifty-thousand-dollar a

Milo said. “A deal. Give up the life, get rich.” His hand landed on my shoulder, and his eyes took on that sad, sympathetic droop – the look that comes over him when he delivers bad news.

“I know,” I said. “Lauren continued to freelance. Cash income, most of which she never declared and used for spending money.”

Big tips. Expensive tastes. Rapprochement with her mother or not, Lauren had remained a very angry young woman. About missing out on all those years as Tony Duke’s daughter. About the trade-offs she’d made.

What Andy Salander had called every little girl’s fantasy had become Lauren’s reality – only to twist and abort.

“Maybe it wasn’t blackmail,” I said. “Just Lauren claiming her birthright – stepping forward and upsetting the family applecart.”

“What, someone tied her up and shot her because she wanted emotional validation?” Milo’s hand got heavy, then it lifted. His eyes remained sad, and his voice got soft. “I know you want to believe something good about Lauren, but cold execution and all those other people dying says she tried to use her birthright to hit on the old man big-time. A fifty-grand-a-year allowance is one thing, a chunk of Duke Enterprises is another.”