Much has been made of geographical profiling—criminals remaining within acomfort zone. Like any theory, sometimes it pans out, sometimes it doesn’t andyou get killers prowling the interstate or venturing far from home so they canestablish a comfort zone far from prying eyes.
With any alleged rules about human behavior, you’re lucky if you do betterthan chance. But the four-minute drive from Peaty’s apartment to MichaelaBrand’s place on Holt was hard to ignore.
Her building was a mint-green fifties dingbat. The front was an open carportset behind oil-specked concrete. Six parking slots, unoccupied but for a dustybrown Dodge minivan. The facade was spanned by two olive-green diamonds.Speckles in the stucco caught afternoon light. Way too giddy.
A bank of key-lock mailboxes set into the wall just south of the parkingarea bore no names, only unit numbers. No manager designation. Michaela’scompartment was shut tight. Milo squintedthrough the slot. “Lots of stuff inside.”
Her apartment was at the back. Louvre windows as old as the building were aburglar’s dream. The glass slats were folded shut but green curtains had beenleft slightly parted. Dark inside, but the outlines of furniture were clear.
Milo began knocking on doors.
 
The only tenant at home was a woman in her twenties wearing a stiff,brandy-colored wig and a calf-length denim jumper over a white, long-sleevedsweater. The wig made me wonder about chemotherapy, but she was buxom and hergray eyes were clear. The same kind of lightly freckled complexion MichaelaBrand had been blessed with. Open face tightened by surprise.
I saw the side curls and yarmulke on the squirming blond boy she was holdingand got it: Some Orthodox Jewish women covered their natural hair out ofmodesty.
The badge made her press her son to her chest. “Yes?”
The boy’s arms and feet shot out simultaneously and she nearly lost hergrip. He looked to be three or so. Stocky and sturdy, twisting and turning,emitting little growly noises.
“Calm down, Gershie Yoel!”
The boy waved a fist. “Hero hero Yehudah ! Fall the elephant!”
He squirmed some more and she gave up and set him down. He rocked on hisfeet and growled some more. Eyed us and said, “Fall!”
“Gershie Yoel, go in the kitchen and take a cookie—but only one. And don’twake up the babies!”
“Hero-hero! Yehudah HaMa kawbee gonna spear you bad Greek!”
“Go now, good boy, or no cookie!”
“Grr!” Gershie Yoel ran off, past walls covered with bookshelves. Books onevery table and the couch. Any remaining space was filled with playpens andtoys and packages of disposable diapers.
The boy’s shouts diminished.
“He’s still celebrating the holidays,” said the young woman.
“Hanukkah?” said Milo.
She smiled. “Yes. He thinks he’s Yehudah—Judah Maccabee. That’s a big heroin the Hannukah story. The elephant is from a story about one of his brothers—”She stopped, blushed. “What can I do for you?”
“We’re here about one of your neighbors, Mrs….”
“Winograd. Shayndie Winograd.”
Milo had her spell it and wrote it down.
She said, “You need my name?”
“Just for the record, ma’am.”
“Which neighbors, the punk rockers?”
“Which punk rockers are those?”
She pointed to an upstairs unit two doors down. “Over there, Unit Four.Three of them, they think they’re musicians. My husband tells me they’re punkrockers, I don’t know from such things.” She held her ears.
“Noise problem?” said Milo.
“There was before,” said Shayndie Winograd. “Everyone complained to theowner and it’s been okay…excuse me a second, I need to check on the babies,please come in.”
We cleared books from a brown corduroy couch. Leatherette-bound volumesgold-embossed with Hebrew titles.
Shayndie Winograd returned. “Still sleeping, boruch —thank God.”
“How many babies?” said Milo.
“Twins,” she said. “Seven months ago.”
“Mazeltov,” said Milo. “Three’s a lot tohandle.”
Shayndie Winograd smiled. “Three would be easy. I’ve got six, five areschool-age. Gershie Yoel should be in school but he was coughing this morningand I thought maybe he had a cold. Then, wouldn’t you know, he got miraculouslybetter.”
Milo said, “The Lord works in mysteriousways.”
Her smile widened. “Maybe I should have you talk to him about honesty…so isthe problem the punk rockers?”
“This is about Ms. Brand, the tenant in Unit Three.”
“The model?” said Shayndie Winograd.
“She modeled?”
“I call her that because she looks like a model. Pretty, very skinny? What’sthe problem?”
“Unfortunately, ma’am, she was murdered last night.”
Shayndie Winograd’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my God—oh, no.” She reachedback for an armchair, removed a toy truck, and sat down. “Who did it?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out, Mrs. Winograd.”
“Maybe her boyfriend?”
“Who’s that?”
“Another skinny one.”
Out of Milo’s attaché came Dylan Meserve’sbook shot from the hoax.
Winograd glanced at the photo. “That’s him. He was arrested? He’s acriminal?”
“He and Ms. Brand were involved in a situation. It was in the papers.”
“We don’t read the papers. What kind of situation?”
Milo gave her a summary of the phonyabduction.
She said, “Why would they do such a thing?”
“It seems to have been a publicity stunt.”
Shayndie Winograd’s stare was blank.
“To help their acting careers,” said Milo.
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s hard to understand, ma’am. They thought the attention might help themget noticed in Hollywood.So why would you think Mr. Meserve would hurt Ms. Brand?”
“Sometimes they screamed at each other.”
“You heard it up here on the second floor?”
“It was loud.”
“What did they scream about?”
Shayndie Winograd shook her head. “I didn’t hear the words, just the noise.”
“Were these fights frequent?”
“Is he a bad person? Dangerous?”
“You’re not in any danger, ma’am. How often did he and Ms. Brand scream ateach other?”
“I don’t know—he didn’t live here, he just came over.”
“How often?”
“Once in a while.”
“When’s the last time you saw him?”
She thought. “Weeks.”
“When’s the last time they had an argument?”
“Even longer…I’d say a month, maybe more?” She shrugged. “I’m sorry. I trynot to notice things.”
“Not wanting to pry,” said Milo.
“I don’t want nahrish —foolish things in my life.”
“So Mr. Meserve hasn’t been here for a few weeks.”
&............