We sat in the car, in front of Michaela’s building.
I said, “Dylan Meserve cleared out of his place weeks ago. The neighborheard him and Michaela arguing and Michaela told me she hated him.”
“Maybe he came and got her,” said Milo.
“Took her on another adventure.”
“What about Mr. Sex Criminal Peaty? Maybe he snatched both of them.”
“If Peaty did abduct anyone, he didn’t take them to his place,” I said. “Noway to keep that from Mrs. Stadlbraun and the other tenants.”
“Too small to entertain.”
“Still, he’s the one with the record.”
“And he’s weird. So now I’ve got two high-priority bins.”
 
As we drove away, he said, “Coffee would prop my eyelids.”
I stopped at a place on Santa Monica near Bundy. Scrawled the possibilities as I sawthem on a napkin and slid it across the table as Miloreturned from making some calls.
1. Dylan Meserve abducts and murders Michaela, then flees.
2. Reynold Peaty abducts and murders Michaela and Dylan.
3. Reynold Peaty abducts and murders Michaela and Dylan’s disappearance is acoincidence.
4. None of the above.
“It’s that last one I love.” Milo waved forthe waitress, ordered pecan pie à la mode. Finishing most of the wedge in threegulps, he nibbled the rest with excruciating care, as if that provedself-restraint.
“I called Michaela’s mother again, it was all about her, big time woe-is-me.Too sick to come out to claim the body. The way she was gasping I figure it’sprobably true.”
I summarized Michaela’s account of her childhood.
“Ugly duckling?” he said. “Every gorgeous girl says that…what that Jewishlady said, the lifestyle issue, maybe she had a point.”
“Michaela got caught up in the Hollywoodthing.”
“You know what that does to the ninety-nine-point-nine percent who fall ontheir asses. The question is, did it snag her or was it just one of thosebad-luck deals.”
“Like running into Peaty.”
He ate the last bit of pie, wiped his mouth, put way too much money on thetable, and extricated himself from the booth. “Back to the salt mine. Lots ofboring stuff to do.”
Boring was his code word for I need to be alone. I drove him to the stationand went home.
That evening Michaela’s murder was the lead story on every local broadcast,blow-dried news readers half smiling as they intoned about the “shocking crime”and exhumed mock-solemn memories of Michaela and Dylan’s “publicity stunt.”
Dylan was cited as “a person of interest, not a suspect.” The implicationwas clear, as it always is when the police phrase it that way. I knew Milo hadn’t given them the quote. Probably some publicrelations officer, issuing yet another boilerplate release.
Next morning’s paper ran a page-three story with five times the ink spacethe hoax had merited, graced by two pictures of Michaela: a sultry, airbrushedhead-shot taken by a photographer who churned them out for Hollywood hopefuls,and her LAPD booking photo. I wondered if either or both would resurface in thetabloids or on the Internet.
One way to get famous is to die the wrong way.
I didn’t hear from Milo that day, figuredthe tips would be pouring in and he’d either learn a lot or nothing. I filledmy time polishing up reports, thought about getting a dog, took a new referralfrom an attorney named Erica Weiss.
Weiss had filed suit against a Santa Monica psychologist named Patrick Hauser for molestingthree female patients who’d attended his encounter groups. Chances were itwould settle and there’d be no court appearance. I negotiated a high hourly feeand felt pretty good about the deal.
I looked up Hauser’s office address. Santa Monica and Seventh. Allison also practiced in Santa Monica, a few miles away on Montana. I wondered if she knew Hauser,thought about calling her. Figured she might see it as an excuse to get in touchand decided against it.
At a quarter to six, when she was likely to be between patients, I changedmy mind. Her private line was still on speed dial.
“Hi, it’s me.”
“Hi,” she said. “How’ve you been?”
“Fine. You?”
“Fine…I was about to say, ‘How’ve you been, handsome.’ Got to watch thoselittle slips.”
“All compliments will be received with gratitude, oh Gorgeous One.”
“Listen to this smarmy mutual admiration society.”
“If I’m lyin’, I’m flyin’.”
Silence.
I said, “I’m actually calling on a professional matter, Ali. Do you know anesteemed colleague named Patrick Hauser?”
“I’ve seen him at a few meetings. Why?”
I told her.
She said, “I guess I’m not surprised. Rumor has it he drinks. An encountergroup, huh? That does surprise me.”
“Why?”
“He seems more the corporate consultant type. How many patients are wetalking about?”
“Three.”
“That’s pretty damning.”
“Hauser claims it’s a group delusion. There’s no physical evidence, so itboils down to a he said/they said. The State Board’s been sitting on it formonths, still hasn’t handed down a disposition. The women got impatient andcontacted a lawyer.”
“All three have one lawyer?”
“They’re framing it as a mini–class action, hoping others will hear about itand come forward.”
“How’d they find out they’d had similar experiences with Hauser?”
“They hung around after session, went for drinks, it came out.”
“Not too smart of Hauser to put them in the same room.”
“Fondling patients is no act of genius.”
“So you think he did it.”
“I’m open-minded but all three were seeing Hauser for mild depression,nothing delusional.”
“Like I said, he’s known to imbibe. That’s all I can tell you.”
“Thanks…so how’s it been?”
“Life in general?” she said. “It’s been okay.”
“Want to join me for dinner?”
Where had that come from?
She didn’t answer.
I said, “Sorry. Rewind the tape.”
“No,” she said. “I’m thinking about the offer. When did you mean?”
“I’m open. Including tonight.”
“Hmm…I’ll be free in an hour, have to eat anyway. Where?”
“You name it.”
“How about that steak place?” she said. “The one where we met the firsttime.”
 
I asked for a booth away from the mahogany bar with its low-pitched alkiechatter and sports on TV. By the time Allison showed up ten minutes later, I’dfinished my Chivas, was working on my second glass of water.
The restaurant was dim and she stood there for a few seconds letting hereyes adjust. Her long, black hair swung free and her ivory face was serious. Ithought I saw tension around the shoulders.
She stepped forward, revealed color. An orange pantsuit hugged her trimlittle body. Tangerine-orange. With that hair of hers, Halloween Costumecould’ve be............