The Murder Book

Her private office was rust-colored and small- tiny, really, with barely enough room for the bookcase and the desk and a red lacquer stand off to one side, set with a single white orchid in a blue-and-white pot. The walls perpendicular to the books were hung with watercolor landscapes- green hills above the ocean, live oaks, fields of poppies. California dreaming. The rest of the space bore family photos. Melinda Waters with a slim, tall, dark-bearded man and two mischievous-looking boys, around six and eight. Skiing, scuba diving, horseback riding, fishing. The family that plays together…

"Homicide detectives. Well, this is certainly different." Soft voice, edged with sarcasm. Under normal circumstances, she was probably the image of professionalism but a quaver at the tail end said she wasn't pretending this was routine.

"Different from what, ma'am?" said Milo.

"From what I thought I'd be doing right before lunch. Frankly, I'm confused. I'm not working on any L.A. cases at all, let alone homicide. I specialize in tenants' rights and financial-"

"Janie Ingalls," said Milo.

Melinda Waters's sigh stretched for a very long time.

She fiddled with papers and pens, closed her laptop, tamped her hair. Finally, she punched an intercom button on her phone, and said, "Hold my calls please, Inez."

Wheeling her chair back the few inches that remained between her and the law book backdrop, she said, "That's a name from a long time ago. What happened to her?"

"You don't know?"

"Well," she said, "your card says homicide, so am I safe in assuming?"

"Very safe."

Melinda Waters removed her glasses, made a fist, knuckled one eye. The glossy lips trembled. "Oh, damn. I suppose I knew it all along. But… I didn't really- damn. Poor Janie… that is so… obscene."

"Very," said Milo.

She sat up straighter, as if drawing upon a reserve of strength. Now her eyes were different- searching, analytical. "And you're here, after all this time, because…?"

"Because it remains an open case, Ms. Waters."

"Open or reopened?"

"It was never closed, officially."

"You're not saying the L.A. police have been working on this for twenty years?"

"Does that matter, ma'am?"

"No… I suppose not. I'm rambling… this is really… this takes me by total surprise. Why are you here?"

"Because you were one of the last people to see Janie Ingalls alive, but no one ever took your statement. In fact, it was only recently we learned you hadn't been a victim, yourself."

"A victim? You thought… oh, my."

"You've been hard to locate, Ms. Waters. So has your mother-"

"My mother died ten years ago," she said. "Lung cancer, back in Pe

"Sorry to hear that."

"So was I," said Waters. She picked a gold pen from several resting in a cloiso

The pen dropped and clattered to the desk. She snatched it up, placed it back in the cup.

"Ma'am, could you please tell us everything you remember about that night."

"I did try to find out where Janie was. Called her father- you've met him?"

"He's dead too, ma'am."

"How'd he die?"

"Car accident."

"Driving drunk?"

"Yes."

"No surprise there," said Waters. "What a lowlife, always plastered. He couldn't stand me, and the feeling was mutual. Probably because I knew he'd grope me if he had a chance, so I never gave him one- always made sure to meet Janie outside her building."

"He came on to you?" said Milo.

"I never gave him a chance, but his intentions were obvious- leering, undressing me mentally. Plus, I knew what he'd done to Janie."

"He abused Janie sexually?"

"Only when he was drunk," said Waters, in mocking singsong. "She never told me until shortly before she was… before I last saw her. I think what made her talk about it was she'd had a bad experience a month or so before that. She was hitching, got picked up by some deviant who took her to a hotel downtown, tied her up, had his way with her. When she first told me about it, she didn't seem very upset. Kind of blasé, really, and at first I didn't believe her because Janie was always making things up. Then she pulled up her jeans and her top and showed me the rope marks where he'd tied up her ankles and her wrists. Her neck, too. When I saw that, I said, 'Jesus, he could've strangled you.' And she just clammed up and refused to say any more about it."

"What did she tell you about the man who did this?"

"That he was young and nice-looking and drove a great car- that's why she said she went with him. But to tell the truth, she probably would've gone with anyone. A lot of the time Janie was out of it- stoned or drunk. She didn't have much in the way of inhibitions."

She removed her glasses, played with the sidepieces, glanced at the photos of her family. "Some lawyer I am, ru

"What does he do?"

"Jim's an aide to the governor. Liaison to the Highway Department. I keep my maiden name for work, but anything unsavory could still be traced back to him."

"I'll do my best, ma'am."

Waters shook her head. "That's not good enough." She stood. "I'm afraid this meeting is adjourned."

Milo crossed his legs. "Ms. Waters, all we came here for are your recollections about Janie Ingalls. No assumption was made of any criminal involvement on your part-"

"You bet your boots no assumption was made." Waters jabbed a finger. "That didn't even cross my mind, for God's sake. But what happened to Janie twenty years ago isn't my problem. Safeguarding my privacy is. Please leave."

"Ms. Waters, you know as well as I do that I can't guarantee confidentiality. That's the D.A.'s authority. I'm being honest, and I'd appreciate the same from you. If you've done nothing wrong, you have nothing to worry about. And refusing to cooperate won't shield your husband. If I wanted to complicate his life, all I'd have to do is talk to my boss and he'd make a call, and…"

He showed her his palms.

Waters slapped her hands on her hips. Her stare was cold and steady. "Why are you doing this?"

"In order to find out who murdered Janie Ingalls. You're right about one thing. It was obscene. She was tortured, burned with cigarettes, mutilat-"

"No, no, no! None of that shock treatment, give me some credit."

Milo's palms pressed together. "This has become needlessly adversarial, Ms. Waters. Just tell me what you know, and I'll do my utmost to keep you out of it. That's the best I can offer. The alternative means a bit more overtime for me and a lot more complication for you."

"You have no jurisdiction in New Mexico," said Melinda Waters. "Technically, you're trespassing."

"Technically, you're still a material witness, and last time I checked New Mexico had diplomatic relations with California."

Waters looked at her family again, sat back down, put her glasses back on, mumbled, "Shit."

The three of us sat in silence for a full minute before she said, "This isn't fair. I'm not proud of the kind of kid I was back then, and I'd like to forget it."

I said, "We've all been teenagers."

"Well, I was a rotten teenager. A total screwup and a stoner, just like Janie. That's what drew us together. Bad behavior- Jesus, I don't think a day went by when we weren't getting loaded. And… other things that give me a migraine when I think about them. But I pulled myself out of it- in fact, the process started the day after Janie and I split up."