Rage (40 page)

“That
and Malley’s mother-in-law said he was a scumbag dope dealer who was rough on
Lara.”

“A
scumbag dope dealer with no arrest record or known aliases who uses his own
social security number,” I said. “Who registers his guns legally. In a sense,
Nina Balquin was a character reference for Malley. She hates his guts but she’s
never suspected him of murdering Lara.”

He
slipped the phone in his pocket. Ungloved and grabbed a bear claw and chewed,
spewing crumbs. “There’s still the eye color issue. Malley had to know he
wasn’t Kristal’s daddy.”

“Maybe
Daney’s right about him being too unsophisticated to figure it out. But even if
he did know, unless we find something psychopathic in his background, it’s a
long stretch to killing a toddler.”

“Unlike
Daney, who we know to be an
extremely
bad boy.”

I
nodded. “It’s also possible Malley knew about Kristal’s paternity and didn’t
care.”

He
put down the bear claw. “Guy has no problem raising someone else’s kid? That’s
a stretch of another kind.”

“The
Malleys had fertility problems for years. Lara eventually got pregnant but what
if the fertility problem was Barnett’s and he came to accept the idea of a
surrogate?”

“He
let some other guy go to stud with Lara?”

“Or
Lara slept with someone and got pregnant and Barnett accepted it. If Balquin’s
dope suspicions are on-target, Lara and Barnett could’ve gotten into some
alternative behaviors. Promiscuity, swinger parties. Or just plain old
infidelity.”

“She
gets knocked up at an orgy and Barnett says keep it? That’s pretty damn
tolerant, Alex.”

“You’re
probably right. But in any event, now that we know the truth about Daney’s
character, we can’t ignore him for Rand. He hasn’t been directing us to Malley
out of civic obligation.”

He
gave the bear claw another try. Grimaced and put it aside.

I
drank coffee. It sloshed in my stomach. Burned like drain cleaner when my
thoughts uncoiled. “Daney fed us another tidbit he shouldn’t know about. Malley
riding the rodeo. He claims Sydney Weider told him and maybe she did. But I
read all the court documents and it never came up. In fact, my sense was Weider
wasn’t paying any sort of attention to the Malleys. Daney’s playing us, Milo.
And screwing up, in typical psychopath fashion, because he’s too clever for his
own good.”

“Daney
did Rand,” he said, looking off into the distance. “No reason why it doesn’t
fit.”

“Something
else: Whether or not the boys knew Lara or Barnett is an open question. But one
of them sure knew Daney. Troy was a budding psychopath. Daney’s the
fully-developed version. Put them together and there’s no question who’d pull
the strings.”

“Daney
got Troy to do Kristal?”

“And
now he’ll help you ‘solve’ the case.”

“Man,”
he said, “you are full of evil thoughts.”

“So
I’ve been told.”

He
said, “Guess it’s like those firebugs who return to the scene and rescue
people. Or one of those Munchausen mommies racing to resuscitate their kids.”

“It
fits Daney’s act,” I said. “Image is important to him. Outwardly, he’s a man of
faith, a tireless youth worker, caretaker of downtrodden teens. While you were
ordering, he spun off a bunch of psychobabble, told me he and Cherish chose
adolescents to foster because no one else wanted them. If I didn’t know better,
I’d have bought it. Meanwhile, he’s cheating the government, seducing minors,
and impregnating them intentionally. Getting off on having the pregnancies
terminated and trying to snag a share of the fees.”

“What
a prince . . . at least when the DNA match comes through, we’ve
got him for kiddie rape on Valerie Quezada.” He shook his head. “One
reinterview and
he’s
our new Hitler. What does that say for Cherish’s
guilt or innocence?”

“Don’t
know. Their relationship’s a big question mark.”

“I
can buy Daney as a scumbag,” he said. “But speaking of questions marks, what
was his motive to have Kristal murdered?”

“Kristal
survived,” I said.

“Survived
what?”

“Survived
period. Daney has a thing about his progeny living and breathing.”

“Daney
was Kristal’s daddy? Where’d that come from?”

“More
of the ugly in here.” I tapped my forehead. “Think about it: Daney’s kick is
playing God. Generating life and terminating it. We know his sexual exploits
went beyond teenage wards— Sydney Weider. Why not other married women? And why
not play the pregnancy game with them, too? Your remark about a prenatal serial
killer was on-target. And serials need increasing amounts of stimulation.”

“From
fetus to full-term victim,” he said.

“There
are mothers like that,” I said. “Get pregnant repeatedly but can’t tolerate
parenthood. Fathers, too. How many cases have we heard where the boyfriend or
daddy shook the baby too hard. We always assume it’s an impulsive thing, poor
anger control. But maybe not. It sure happens with primates. Chimp moms defend
their babies from aggressive daddies all the time.”

“I
create, I destroy . . . except that seducing vulnerable teens is
one thing, Alex. Getting a married woman pregnant means a whole lot of
carelessness on all accounts.”

“Hole
in the condom, or some other trick. Beth Scoggins thinks Daney drugged her.
Maybe he did that routinely. And in a sense, married women would be
easier
targets than teenage girls. Because convincing them to terminate would be a
cinch. Until Daney met up with a married woman who resisted. Because
she’d
been yearning to have a baby for a long time.”

“Lara,”
he said.

“Daney’s
got brown eyes. He’d like us to think he’s Mr. Observant, but he didn’t chance
upon the genetic angle.”

“And
now he’s throwing it in my face with all that phony reluctance. Oh, man.”

I
reached over and tapped his attaché case. “Long as you’re at it, I’d suggest a
few other DNA tests.”

* * *

We
took the 101 to the 5 South, headed for the Mission Street exit. Milo drove way
too fast, seemed distracted. “If Malley’s innocent, why wouldn’t he talk to
me?”

“The
system failed him, he’s a burnout . . . I don’t know. The same
logic could be twisted in his favor: If he was hiding something would he want
to get you suspicious?”

“I
guess,” he said. “But I’m still not comfortable dropping him. Even if Daney
does turn out to be Kristal’s daddy.”

“Hey,”
I said, “an open mind’s a terrible thing to waste.”

He
laughed. Gripped the wheel and fed more gas, glanced back at the case on the
backseat. “All of a sudden there’re all these possibilities. I have a
confession: If Daney did everything you think he did, I have encountered a
level of bad that creeps me out.”

“So
you’re human.”

“Only
on alternate days.” He took another look back at the case. The unmarked stayed
in lane. “Either way,” he said, “the motive for Rand’s the same, covering up
the truth about Kristal. But there’s still the problem of how Rand found out.
And the fact that Kristal was nearly two, talk about your late-term abortion.
If Daney has this psycho lust to destroy his own sperm, why would he wait that
long?”

“Maybe
he kept working on Lara to terminate. She got angry, refused, broke off their
relationship. Daney had to step aside but he couldn’t accept losing. He kept
fantasizing. Plotting. Found a thirteen-year-old he could hire to kill.”

“Lara
shopping at the mall, the boys hanging at the arcade.”

“Another
possibility,” I said, “is that Lara’s relationship with Barnett grew
progressively rockier and she decided to leave him. Because she had her own
fantasies.”

“Hooking
ol’ Drew.”

“The
guy who’d come through biologically. But putting pressure on Drew would’ve been
a fatal error.”

“He
puts a hit on the kid. Does Lara, too.”

“Or
she really was a suicide. She had an inkling of why Kristal had been killed,
couldn’t come forward because it would have implicated her. Her depression
deepened and she killed herself.”

“Head-shot
in a car?” he said. “Same as Rand? To me that says they were both murdered by
the same person.”

“Or
whoever shot Rand imitated Lara’s suicide.”

He
knuckled his temple, made an abrupt lane change, put on more speed. “Daney’s
character notwithstanding, Malley’s the one with the guns and it was one of
those that killed Lara. And he’s also got a thing for other guys’ wives.”

He
slapped the dashboard. “How ‘bout this for a screenplay: The Malleys weren’t
the only ones swinging. They met Drew and Cherish at a swap party. Drew and
Lara parted ways but Malley and Cherish are still doing it.”

I
considered that. “It might help explain Barnett accepting Lara’s pregnancy. If
it was the product of a group scene, the threat would be depersonalized.”

“It
takes a village,” he said. “Whatever the case, no way I’m scratching the cowboy
off my list.”

* * *

We
parked in the coroner’s lot and entered the north building. Milo talked to Dave
O’Reilly, a thin, red-faced, white-haired man with a keen, searching intellect,
and asked for Kristal Malley’s tissue samples and Valerie Quezada’s aborted
fetus.

“You
just dropped Quezada off,” said O’Reilly. “Something come up?”

“You
don’t want to know.”

“I’m
sure I don’t. Okay, I’ll call down and have them put it in a refrigerator bag
and a Styrofoam biohazard box.”

“All
official,” said Milo. “I like that.”

“I
like tall, skinny brunettes with big natural boobs.”

* * *

We
returned to the car. Milo put the box in the trunk, along with the attaché
case, and started up the engine. A white coroner’s van pulled around from the
back of the building and cruised through the lot before turning toward Mission.

He
said, “Wonder what police work was like in the rubber hose days.”

“You
and Daney alone in a room?”

“Me
and anyone I damn well
want
alone in a room.” He bared his teeth. “Think
Daney was telling the truth about knowing Weider before the murder?”

“Why
would he lie?”

“Puffing
up his chest, more hero-of-the-story crap,” he said. “Making like he’s got
big-time contacts at the P.D., masterminded the whole defense.”

“Easy
enough to check out,” I said. “And if he was telling the truth about working
with inner-city teens, I’d be interested in one particular delinquent other
than Troy.”

“Nestor
Almedeira.”

“And
the dedicated lawyer who stood up for his rights.”

* * *

Not
that easy to check out.

We
sat in the coroner’s lot and Milo phoned the Public Defender’s Office. Several
transfers later, he ended up with a supervisor. I watched as amiability morphed
to wheedling, then deteriorated to veiled threats. He hung up growling.

“All
I want is what would be in a normal court record if Nestor wasn’t a juvenile
and the file wasn’t sealed. I can get it eventually if I fool around long
enough at the Hall of Records, but it’s gonna take time. Stonewalling bastards.
They hate cops and everything else that’s good and true.”

“Try
Lauritz Montez,” I said.

“He
likes cops?”

“He’s
vulnerable and weak-willed.”

The
call to Montez’s Beverly Hills office was answered by a tape.

I
took the phone, punched 411, and asked for the number of Dr. Chang’s dental
office on Alvarado. There’s nothing more effective with a doctor’s staff than
having a doctorate. I had Anita Moss on the line within seconds.

“How
may I help you, Doctor?”

“Ms.
Moss, I was with Detective Sturgis the other day— ”

“
With
him? You’re not a cop?”

“I’m
a psychologist. I consult to the police— ”

“I’m
sorry, I’m busy— ”

“Just
one question and I’ll be out of your way: Which attorney represented Nestor on
the manslaughter charge?”

“Why?”

“It
could be important. We’ll find out anyway, but you could make things easier.”

“Okay,
okay. A blond lady,” she said. “With a funny name— Sydney something.”

“Sydney
Weider.”

“She
put a lot of pressure on my mom to attend every hearing, even though my mom
wasn’t in good health. She ordered her to sit where the judge could see her,
and cry a lot. Told my mom she’d have to take the stand when it came time for
Nestor to be sentenced and lie about what a good son Nestor was and then cry a
whole bunch more. Coaching her as if Mom was stupid. As if Mom wasn’t crying all
the time, anyway.”