The Murder Book

"Bill came upon the scene once the poor girl was dead, saw what had been done to her."

"Was Caroline with him?"

He hesitated. "Yes. They were together at the party. She was allowed to be at the party because he was supervising her."

"Supervising?"

"Keeping an eye on her. Her brothers paid him for that."

"Drug pusher baby-sitting the strange little sister?" I said.

Bert nodded.

I said, "So she tagged along with Burns, followed her brothers and their pals to the neighboring estate, came upon the kill spot. The killers saw them, had to be worried they'd unravel. Caroline, because her psychiatric history made her unreliable, Burns because he was a junkie. But instead of eliminating Caroline, they hospitalized her. Probably because even though the Cossacks had participated in murder, they couldn't quite bring themselves to murder their sister. They would've killed Burns, but he disappeared into the ghetto, and being rich white kids, they had no easy way to find him. Burns was scared, tried to make a big score, took too many risks and got arrested, made quick bail thanks to LAPD co

"A-plus, Alex. As always."

"But something doesn't make sense, Bert. Why would Burns put himself in terrible jeopardy by wangling a job at Achievement House? Why in the world would he risk his life?"

Bert smiled. "Irrational, wasn't it? That's what I mean about human beings being hard to categorize."

"Why'd he do it, Bert?"

"Very simple, Alex. He loved her. Still does."

"Present tense?" I said. "They're still together? Where is she?"

"They're very much together. And you've met her."

He brought me back into the house. The front room was empty and the push door remained shut. Bert held it open, and I stepped into a corn yellow bedroom not much bigger than a closet.

Tiny bathroom off to one side. In the sleeping area were two single beds placed side by side, each made up with thin, white spreads. A stuffed bear sat atop a low dresser painted hospital green. The wheelchair was positioned at the foot of the nearer bed, and the man who called himself Bill remained seated, the nearly empty Snapple bottle in one hand, the other grasped by the pudgy, white fingers of a heavyset woman wearing an oversize, royal blue T-shirt and gray sweatpants.

Her downturned eyes were aimed at the bedspread, and my appearance didn't cause them to shift. She had a pasty, acne-scarred face- raw bread dough, pocked by airholes- and her flat nose nearly touched her upper lip. Faded brown hair striped with silver was tied back in a stub of a ponytail.

Aimee, the cook at the Celestial Café. She'd prepared my crepes, doubled my portion without charging me extra, remained virtually mute.

Just as I'd finished my meal, Bert had come in. Nice coincidence; now I knew it had been anything but.

Marian Purveyance had owned the café until Aimee Baker took over.

He gives people things.

I said, "Didn't know you were a restaurateur, Dr. Harrison."

Bert flushed nearly as purple as his jumpsuit. "I used to fancy myself an investor, bought up a few local properties."

"Including the land this house stands on," I said. "You even transplanted agaves."

He kicked one foot with the other. "That was years ago. You'd be amazed at the appreciation."

"If you ever sold anything."

"Well… the time has to be right."

"Sure," I said, and I found myself throwing my arms around the old man.

Aimee turned, and said, "You're nice."

Bill said, "Which one you talking about, baby?"

"Both," she said. "Everyone's nice. The whole world is nice."

CHAPTER 39

Detective III Craig Bosc whimpered. Vomit flecked his well-formed lips.

Milo said, "I'll be right back. Don't think of leaving, lad."

Bosc watched with panic as Milo collected the homemade videos and the dope and left. Milo brought the stash out to the rental Polaris, locked them in the trunk, and moved the car directly in front of Bosc's house. When he returned, the former auto cop hadn't budged.

He undid the leg restraint and hauled Bosc to his feet. Pressed his gun in the small of Bosc's back, making sure not to grow overconfident of his own dominance. Bosc was a fool, and he'd lost more than a bit of self-confidence, but he was also an athlete, young and strong and desperate. When he took hold of Bosc's arm he felt iron musculature.

"Now what?" said Bosc.

"Now, we take a ride."

Bosc's body grew limp and Milo had to struggle to maintain his grip. Maybe a ploy… no, Bosc was really frightened. He'd passed wind and the stench filled the room and Milo eased him back on the couch, let him sit. Putting on the stone face, but he felt ashamed. What had he sunk to?

"Come on," Bosc pleaded. "I told you everything. Just let it be."

"What do you take me for, Craig?"

"I take you for smart. You're supposed to be smart," said Bosc.

"Exactly."

"You can't be serious, this is crazy." Genuine terror enflamed Bosc's eyes. Imagining the worst, because he, himself, was sorely lacking in the conscience department, and if the tables were turned…

The truth was Milo hadn't come up with a clear idea of what to do with the idiot. But that was no reason to allay Bosc's fears.

In a creepy, regretful voice, he said, "There's really no choice, Craig."

"Jesus," said Bosc. "We're both on the same team- look: We're both… outsiders."

"That so?"

"You know what I mean, man. You're on the outside because… you know. And I don't judge you for that, live and let live. Even when other guys put you down, I stood up for you. Said, look at the dude's solve rate, who the fuck cares what he does when he's- I kept telling them it's the job that counts. And you do your job, man. I respect that. There's been talk of promoting you, you've got a future, man, so don't blow it, no way you can get away with this. Why would you want to get involved in shit like this?"

"You've involved me," said Milo.

"Come on, what did I really do? Followed a few orders and played some head games? Okay, it was wrong, sucked, granted, sorry, but no big deal, it was all just to- even that whole HIV rumor shit, man. And that wasn't my idea. I was against that. But all of it was just to- you know."

"To get me focused."

"Exact-"

"Well, I'm nice and focused, now, Craig. Get up." Milo backed up the command with a wave of the 9mm. Wondering what he'd do if Bosc complied because walking the guy outside to the rental car, even that short distance, would be risky in full daylight. Even in L.A., where a block was likely to be as devoid of people as one of Schwi

"Please," said Bosc. "Don't do this, we're both-"

"Outsiders, yeah, yeah. How are you an outsider, Craig?"

"I'm artistic. Into different stuff than the typical morons in the department."

"Cinematography?" said Milo.

"Drama- acting. I was in a rock video a few years back. The Zombie Na