He'd gloved up. I followed as he turned a few lights on, exposing a poverty of space. First we.did an overall check of the house. Five small, shabby rooms, including a dingy lavatory. Grimy yellow walls; the window shades crazed, gray
oilcloth patched in spots by duct tape.
Colorless rental furniture.
Where the space allowed. The bungalow was filled with crisp-looking cardboard boxes, most of them sealed. Printed labels on the outside. THIS SIDE UP. FRAGILE. Scores of cartons of TV's, stereos, video gear, cameras, PC's. Cassettes, compact discs, computer discs. Glassware, silverware, small appliances. Stacks of video cartridges and Fuji film. Enough film to shoot a thousand birthday parties.
In a corner of the larger bedroom, squeezed next to an unmade queen-size mattress, stood a pile of smaller boxes. The labels claimed Sony minirecorders. Just like the one Heidi had used to tape Peake.
"The movie stuff's out in the garage," said Milo. "Dollies, booms, spotlights, crap
I couldn't identify. Tons of it, piled almost to the ceiling. Didn't see any saws, but they could be buried under all the gear. It'll take a crew to go through it."
"She was in on it," I said.
He'd moved into the bathroom, didn't answer. I heard drawers opening, went over to see him remove something from the cabinet beneath the sink.
Glossy white shoe box. Several more just like it stacked next to the pipes.
He lifted the lid. Rows of white plastic bottles nesting in Styrofoam beds. He extracted one. "Phenobarbital."
All the other bottles in that box were labeled identically. The next box yielded an assortment, and so did all the others.
Chlorpromazine, thioridazine, haloperidol, clozapine, di-azepam, alprazolam, lithium carbonate.
"Candy sampler for a junkie," said Milo. "Uppers, downers, all-arounders."
He inspected the bottom of the box. "Starkweather stamp's still on here."
"Uncut pharmaceuticals," I said. "It ups the price." Then I thought of something.
Milo was looking the other way, but I must have made a sound, because he said,
"What?"
"I should've figured it out a long time ago. The missing dog, Buddy. He was sticking in my head because I've seen him before. That day in the park, a tall man in black came by walking a Rottweiler mix. Passed right by where we were sitting with Heidi.
Heidi was aware of him. She watched him.
He was her roommate. The one she'd claimed was sleeping. Their little joke. They were playing with us right from the beginning. So much for powers of observation.
Lot of good it does us now."
"Hey," he said, recording the drug inventory in his notepad. "I'm the so-called detective, and I never noticed the dog."
"Crimmins stole him from Mrs. Leiber. Taking what he wanted. Because he could. For him, it's all about power."
He stopped writing. "No sign of any dog here," he said. "No food or bowl anywhere in the house." "Exactly."
"Heidi," he said, suddenly sounding tired. "It casts a whole new light on her story," I said. "Peake's prophecy. Peake's supposed prophecy."
His hand tightened around his pen. He stared at me. "Another scam."
"Has to be. The only evidence we ever had was Heidi's account."
" 'Bad eyes in a box.' 'Choo choo bang bang.' " "The tape, too," I said. I led him back to the larger bedroom. Pointed at the stack of Sonys. "The tape was nothing but mumbles. Unrecognizable mumbles, could've been anyone. But we know who it was."
"Crimmins."
"Dubbing the soundtrack," I said. "George Welles Orson. Like I said, he's an auteur: produces, directs, acts." He cursed violently.
"He murdered Claire," I went on, "then set Peake up as a phony oracle to spice up his story line-who knows, maybe he thought he'd be able to use it one day. Write a screenplay, sell it to Hollywood. We took it seriously-great fun, once again he's screwed the Law. Just like he did back in Florida. And Nevada. And Treadway. So when he eliminated the Beatty brothers, he did it again. Used Heidi, again. Once again, no risk; nothing he does with Peake bears any risk. No one's heard Peake talk in almost two decades-who's to say it's not his voice on the tape? The first time we met Heidi, she let us know she was going to quit the hospital. That allowed her to do you a favor by sticking around. Gave her instant credibility-personally invited by the police. From that point, no one was going to suspect anything she did with
Peake."
"Except maybe Chet."
" 'Cherchez la femme,' " I said. "Maybe Chet noticed something-something off about
Heidi. Maybe the way she related to Peake. Or he saw her steal dope from the nursing station. Or get a little handoff from Dollard. But once again, who'd pay attention to his ramblings? Heidi was free to continue as Crimmins's inside woman. She was there in the first place because Crimmins wanted her-she joined the staff right after he left. He gave her multiple assignments: work with Dollard to keep the drugs flowing, make sure Dollard didn't rip them off, and attach herself to Claire so she could report back what Claire was saying about Peake. Because he had to have discussed Peake with Claire. That was the basis of their relationship."
" 'Cherchez la femme,' "he said."The guy collects them" He looked around at the piles of contraband. "Heidi traveling with him and Peake tonight probably means she was in on the escape. Her being the inside woman would smooth the escape, wouldn't it? Yesterday, the last time we ran into her, she was walking Peake right near that service elevator. Dry run for tonight."
"Has to be. She and Crimmins needed to rehearse, because whatever the state of
Peake's psyche, he'd been cooped up for sixteen years, was unpredictable. It's also possible the timetable for the escape was sped up because you were getting too close. That same day, you asked Heidi if Peake had mentioned Wark's name, and she hesitated for a second. Probably shocked that you'd gotten on to the alias, but she stayed cool. Said it was a funny name, didn't really sound like a name. Edging us away from Wark and diverting our attention to Dollard by letting us know he'd been fired for malfeasance. Because Dollard had become a liability. He'd always been the expendable member of the dope scam. Crimmins and Heidi came up with a kill-two-birds plan: get rid of Dollard and break Peake loose. Something else: right after Heidi told us about Dollard, she returned the conversation to Wark, started asking questions. Who was he, was he actually Peake's friend? Why would she care? She was trying to find out exactly what we knew, and we didn't notice because we saw her as an ally."
"Actress," he said.
"Calm under pressure-a very cold young woman. The moment we were gone, she was probably on the phone to Crimmins. Informing him you were on to his alter ego. He decided to act."
"Cool head," he said. "Lot of good it did her head."
"Cool but also reckless," I said. "A coke conviction didn't stop her from stealing dope at Starkweather. Flirting with danger was also behind her attraction to
Crimmins. She told us she was a thrill seeker. Rock climbing, skydiving off power stations-making sure to let you know that was illegal. Think of it: telling a cop she'd committed a crime. Smiling about it. Another little game. Getting off on clanger is probably also the way she hooked up with Crimmins in the first place.
Castro told us Derrick and brother Cliff were thrill chasers, liked speed. Derrick and Heidi probably met at some kind of daredevil club."
"Going for the adrenaline rush," he said. "Then it gets old, so they move on to a different kind of high."
"Crimmins's crimes have a profit motive, but I've been saying all along that thrill's the main ingredient. Crimmins's thing is creating a twisted world and controlling it. He scripts the action, casts the players, moves them around like pawns. Gets rid of them once they've finished their scenes. For a psychopath, it would be pretty damn close to heaven. Heidi had similar motivations, but she wasn't in Crimmins's league. It was a fun ride for her, but her mistake was thinking of herself as a partner when she was just another extra. She must have been confused when Crimmins pulled off the I-Five and told her to get out."
I didn't feel like laughing, but there I was, doing it.
"What?" he said.
"Just thought of something. If Crimmins had been lucky enough to really break into
Hollywood, maybe none of this would've happened."
He took in the room and I followed his eyes. Cramped, dingy, nothing on the walls.
For Heidi and Crimmins, interior decorating had meant something else, completely.
Cruel puzzles, bloody scenes, embroidery of the mind...
"Let me sort out the escape," he said, very softly. "Double entry to Starkweather:
Crimmins enters the grounds from the back, through that hole in the fence; Heidi drives right in through the front gate, like she would any other night. She waltzes right on to C Ward, heads over to Peake's room, gets him ready. All the techs are at the weekly meeting, except Dollard, who's patrolling. Heidi lures Dollard into
Peake's room-no big challenge, all she has to do is tell him Peake is sick, or freaking out-assuming the Jesus pose again. Dollard goes in, locks the door behind him-basic procedure- goes over to check on Peake. Maybe Peake jumps him, maybe not.
In either case, Heidi gets Dollard and cuts his throat. Or she distracts Dollard and
Peake does the cutting... She makes sure the coast is clear, hustles Peake over to the staff elevator, no floor guide to tell anyone where it's going... Down to the basement, over and out."
"And Crimmins, hiding in one of the annexes, or nearby, meets up with them," I said.
"Heidi and Crimmins lead Peake out the back fence. Heidi returns and leaves the hospital the way she came in, through the front, while Crimmins and Peake escape into the foothills, where they've got a vehicle waiting that can handle the terrain.
Peake's not in great condition, but Crimmins is a climber, already knows the hills; it wouldn't be a problem dragging Peake along. Heidi as Dol-lard's cutter would also explain why the artery was only nicked, not slashed clear through. She was a strong girl without much of a conscience. But if she'd never actually cut anyone's throat before, her inexperience could've showed. It takes will to saw through someone's neck. And there's the gush factor. She would've wanted to avoid getting bloodstained, had to coordinate cutting and stepping back in time-I can see Cfimmins rehearsing her. So she wounded Dollard just deeply enough to open the jugular.
Dollard collapsed, so she thought she'd finished him off. He went into shock, lay there draining. Once again, they were lucky-no one found him soon enough to save him."
"Crimmins seems to have lots of luck."
"No sin unrewarded," I said. "That's why he keeps doing bad things."
"The nick could also mean Peake did it," he said. "Atrophied muscles from all those years in the loony bin."
"Not if he chopped up Heidi's face. Those gashes took force. What do you figure, a hatchet?"
"Patel said that, or some kind of cleaver. Yeah, you're probably right.... Heidi cut
Dollard, and Peake cut Heidi."
"Her murdering Dollard would serve another purpose: no need to hide a weapon in
Peake's room, risk discovery. Techs carry. You just proved that."
He pulled out his phone, called Ron Banks, told him about the drugs and the stolen goods, Heidi's involvement. "Yeah, looks like she was.... Listen, I'm gonna snoop around her house some more, but it's West Hollywood, so you might as well get some of your guys over here to tape it off. Tell 'em I'm here, what I look like, so there's no misunderstandings.... Thanks. Anything new over there?... Yeah, sometimes the job is boring....Yeah, I think I will. Chippie's still over there..
.. Whitworth. Michael Whitworth."
Milo started to search in earnest. The bedroom closet held blue jeans, blouses, and jackets in women's small and medium sizes, and men's black jeans, 34 waist, 35 length, black XL T-shirts, sweaters, and shirts.
"Home sweet home," he said, shining his light on the floor. Three plastic cartons full of rumpled underwear and socks sat next to a jumble of battered running shoes and several pairs of thick-soled, dirty-looking boots. In the corner were four olive-drab packages the size of seat cushions, festooned with straps. U.S. Army stencil. Next to them, scuba gear, a single set of skis, a box of amyl nitrate-poppers. Another box full of polyester hair. Four woman's wigs: long and blond; short, spiky, and blond; raven black; tomato red and curly. Three male toupees, all black, two curly, one straight. Labels inside from a theatrical makeup store on Hollywood Boulevard.
"Toys," said Milo. "When you were over at Fairway Ranch, see any good climbing spots?"
