Gone

Impish smile from Plaid. “Something like that, Officer.”

“How often you guys come here?”

No answer.

“Once a week for me,” said Briana Pillowlips. “For other people it’s more.”

“Same here,” said Plaid.

“Once a week.”

“More when I have time. Like I said, it’s free form.”

And free.

I said, “No rules.”

“No constrictions.”

Milo said, “There are no constrictions helping the police, either.”

An olive-ski

Milo handed out business cards. A few of the beautiful people bothered to read them.

We left them waiting on the porch, walked halfway down the block until darkness concealed us, and watched the building.

Milo said, “It’s like they’re extruded from machines.”

We waited in silence. By nine twenty-three Nora Dowd still hadn’t showed and her students began to drift away. When the young woman named Briana headed toward us, Milo said, “Karma.”

We stepped out of the shadows well in time for her to see us.

Despite that, she jumped. Gripped her purse, held on to her balance. “You scared me!”

“Sorry. Have a minute?”

Inflated lips parted. How much collagen had it taken for them to get that way? She hadn’t reached thirty, but tuck lines around her ears said she wasn’t relying on youth. “I have nothing to say and you really scared me.” She walked past us to a battered white Nissan, headed for the driver’s door, groped for her keys.

Milo followed her. “We really are sorry, it’s just that we haven’t learned much about Michaela’s murder and you seemed to know her best.”

“All I said was I knew who she was.”

“Your fellow students didn’t know her at all.”

“That’s because they’re new.”

“Freshmen?”

Curls shook. “It’s not like college- ”

“I know, free-form,” said Milo. “What’s the problem helping us, Briana?”

“There’s no problem, I just don’t know anything.” She unlocked the driver’s door.

“Is there some reason you don’t want to help?”

She looked at him. “Like what?”

“Someone told you not to help?”

“Of course not. Who would do that?”

Milo shrugged.

“No way,” she said. “I just don’t know anything and I don’t want any hassle.”

“No hassle involved. I’m just trying to solve a murder. Pretty nasty one, at that.”

Big lips trembled. “I’m really sorry. But we weren’t tight. Like I said before, she kept to herself.”

“She and Dylan.”

“Right.”

“And now she’s dead and he’s gone. Any idea where he might be?”

“Definitely not.”

“Definitely not?”

“I definitely don’t know. He could be anywhere.”

Milo edged closer, pressed his hip against the hinges of the driver’s door. “What surprises me is the lack of curiosity. All you guys. Someone you know gets killed, you’d think there’d be some interest.” He sliced air horizontally. “Zippo, no one cares. Is it something about actors?”

She frowned. “Just the opposite. You need to be curious.”

“To act.”

“To learn about our feelings.”

“Nora tells you that.”

“Anyone who knows anything tells you that.”

“Let me get this,” said Milo. “You’re curious about playing parts, but not about real life?”

“Look,” said the girl, “sure, I’d like to know. It scares me. The whole murder thing. Just talking about it. I mean, come on.”

“Come on?”

“If it happened to Michaela, it could happen to anyone.”

I said, “You see it as a random crime?”

She turned to me. “What do you mean?”

“As opposed to something that had to do with Michaela.”

“I- she was- I don’t know, maybe.”

Milo said, “Was there something about Michaela that made her a likely victim?”

“That thing she- they did. Her and Dylan. Lying.”

“Why would that put her in danger?”

“Maybe they ticked someone off.”

“Are you aware of someone that angry?”

“Nope.” Too quickly.

“No one, Briana?”

“No one. I got to go.”

“In a sec,” said Milo. “What’s your last name?”

She looked ready to cry. “Do I have to say?”

Milo tried for a soft smile. “It’s routine, Briana. Address and phone number, too.”

“Briana Szemencic.” She spelled it. “Can this be off the record?”

“Don’t worry about that. Live around here, Briana?”

“Reseda.”

“Bit of a drive.”

“I work in Santa Monica. With the traffic it’s easier to stay in the city and go back later.”

“What kind of work do you do, Briana?”

“Shitty work.” Rueful smile. “I’m an assistant at an insurance agency. I file, I get coffee, I gofer. Beaucoup excitement.”

“Hey,” said Milo, “pays the bills.”

“Barely.” She touched her lips.

“So who was pissed off about the hoax, Briana?”

Long pause. “No one that much.”

“But…”

“Nora was a little frosted.”

“How could you tell?”

“When someone asked her about it she got this real tight look and changed the subject. Can you blame her? It sucked, using the PlayHouse like that. Nora’s a private person. When Michaela never came back, I figured Nora gave her the boot.”

“Dylan came back.”

“Yeah,” she said. “That was the fu

Milo said, “Even though the hoax was mostly his idea.”

“That’s not what he said.”

“Dylan blamed it on Michaela?”

“Totally, he said she really worked on him. Nora must’ve believed him because she…like you said, he came back.”

“Does Nora like Dylan more than the other guys?”

Fragile shoulders rose and fell. Briana Szemencic gazed up the block. “I don’t think I should go there.”

“Touchy business?”

“Not my business,” said Briana. “Anyway, Nora would never hurt anyone. If you’re thinking that, you’re totally wrong.”

“Why would we be thinking that?”

“You’re asking was she mad. She was but not that type of mad.”

“Not the jealous type of mad?”

Briana didn’t answer.

Milo said, “Nora and Dylan, Dylan and Michaela. But no jealousy.”

“Nora had the hots for Dylan, okay? It’s no crime, she’s a woman.”

“Had or has?”

“I don’t know.”

“Same question, Briana.”

“Has. Okay?”

“How’d Nora feel about Dylan and Michaela hanging out?”

Briana shook her head. “She never said anything. It’s not like we were tight. Can I go now? Please?”

“Nora didn’t like Dylan and Michaela hanging but she wasn’t really pissed off about it.”

“She’d never hurt Michaela. Never, ever. You need to understand Nora, she’s…she’s kind of, really, like, she’s not, you know…she’s here.” Tapping her pretty forehead.

“Intellectual?”

Tush lips struggled to form words. Finally, she said, “That’s not what I mean, I’m talking more, like, you know, she’s intensely right brain. Intuitionalistic. That’s the point of the workshops, she shows us how to tap into ourselves, free the i

“Scene by scene,” said Milo.

“She’s not paying attention to down here.” Pointing to the asphalt.

“Reality.”

The word seemed to bother Briana Szemencic. “All the crap below the right brain, whatever you want to call it. Nora would never hurt anyone.”

“You like her.”

“She’s helped me. A lot.”

“As an actor.”

“As a person.” Sharp little lower teeth got hold of gluteal lip and held on.

I said, “Nora’s supportive.”

“Not- it’s not that. I was real shy, okay? She helped me step out of myself. Sometimes it wasn’t fun. But it helped- can I go now?”