By eight fifty-three p.m., we were parked four blocks west of the PlayHouse.As we headed to the school on foot, Milo’sbulk slanted forward, as if marching into a blizzard.
Scoping out streets and driveways and alleys for Michaela Brand’s littleblack Honda.
The alert for the car had been expanded statewide. Miloand I had cruised these same streets just a few days ago, no reason to looknow.
The ability to put logic aside sometimes makes for a great detective.
We got to the building at five after nine, found people milling.
Dim porch light allowed me to count as we neared the front steps. Eightfemales, five males. Each one slim, young, gorgeous.
Milo muttered, “Mutants,” as he bounded upthe stairs. Thirteen pairs of eyes turned to watch. A few of the women shrankback.
The men occupied a narrow height range: six to six two. Broad, squareshoulders, narrow hips, angular faces that seemed curiously static. The womenvaried more in stature but their body shape was uniform: long legs, flatbellies, wasp waists, high-tucked butts, high puffy bosoms.
Manicured hands gripped plastic bottles of water and cell phones. Widehungry eyes questioned our presence. Milostepped into the middle of the porch and the acting students cleared space. Thelight played up every crease, pit and pucker and pore. He looked heavier andolder than ever.
“Evening, folks.”
Dubious stares, general confusion, smirks and side glances of the kind yousee in middle-school cafeterias.
One of the young men said, “What’s up,” with practiced slur.
Brando in On the Waterfront ? Or was that ancient history?
“Crime’s up, friend.” Milo moved the badgeso that it caught light.
Someone said, “Whoa.” Snickers petered to silence.
Milo checked his Timex. “Wasn’t classsupposed to start ten minutes ago?”
“Coach not here,” said another Adonis. He jiggled the front door handle.
“Waiting for Nora,” said Milo.
“Better than Godot.”
“Hopefully, unlike him, she’ll show up.” Milo’swolf-grin caused a reflexive tooth-bare from the young man. The guy threw backhis head and a sheet of dark hair billowed, then flapped back in place.
“Nora late a lot?”
Shrug.
“Sometimes,” said a young woman with curly yellow hair and lips so bulbousthey resembled tiny buttocks. That and blue saucer eyes gave her a stunnedmien. Inflatable doll barely come to life.
“Well,” said Milo, “this gives us time to chat.”
Swigs from water bottles. Flips of cell phone covers nursed forth a seriesof electronic mouse-squeaks.
Milo said, “I assume you guys heard aboutMichaela Brand.”
Silence. A nod, then two. Then ten.
“Anybody has something to say, it would be much appreciated.”
A car drove west. Several of the acting students followed its diminishingtaillights, grateful for distraction.
“Anything, people?”
Slow head shakes.
“Nothing at all?”
“Everyone’s freaked out,” said a dark, pointy-chinned girl with coyote eyes.Deep sigh. Her breasts rose and fell as a unit.
“I saw her a couple of times but didn’t know her,” said a man with a shavedhead and bone structure so pronounced he seemed carved out of ivory.
“That’s ’cause you just started, Juaquin,” said the pillowly-lipped,curly-haired girl.
“That’s what I’m saying, Brandy.”
“Briana.”
“Whatever.”
“You knew her, Briana?” said Milo.
“Just from here. We didn’t hang out.”
“Any of you know Michaela outside of here?” said Milo.
Head shakes.
“She was, like, quiet,” said a redheaded woman.
“What about Dylan Meserve?”
Silence. Notable edginess.
“None of you knew Dylan?”
“They were friends,” said the redhead. “Her and him.”
“Any of you see Dylan recently?”
The red-haired girl pulled a watch out of her purse and squinted at it.
“Nine sixteen,” said Milo. “Nora generallythis late?”
“Sometimes,” said Curly Blonde.
Someone else said, “Nora’s Nora.”
Silence.
Milo said, “What’s on the agenda tonight?”
“There is no agenda,” said the hair-flipper. He wore a plaid flannel shirttailored tight to his V-frame, faded jeans, clean, crisp hiking boots that hadnever encountered mud.
“Nothing’s planned?” said Milo.
“It’s free-form.”
“Improv?”
Impish smile from Plaid. “Something like that, Officer.”
“How often you guys come here?”
No answer.
“Once a week for me,” said Briana Pillowlips. “For other people it’s more.”
“Same here,” said Plaid.
“Once a week.”
“More when I have time. Like I said, it’s free form.”
And free.
I said, “No rules.”
“No constrictions.”
Milo said, “There are no constrictionshelping the police, either.”
An olive-skinned guy with a face that managed to be reptilian and handsomesaid, “No one knows anything.”
Milo handed out business cards. A few ofthe beautiful people bothered to read them.
We left them waiting on the porch, walked halfway down the block untildarkness concealed us, and watched the building.
Milo said, “It’s like they’re extruded frommachines.”
We waited in silence. By nine twenty-three Nora Dowd still hadn’t showed andher students began to drift away. When the young woman named Briana headedtoward us, Milo said, “Karma.”
We stepped out of the shadows well in time for her to see us.
Despite that, she jumped. Gripped her purse, held on to her balance. “Youscared me!”
“Sorry. Have a minute?”
Inflated lips parted. How much collagen had it taken for them to get thatway? She hadn’t reached thirty, but tuck lines around her ears said she wasn’trelying on youth. “I have nothing to say and you really scared me.” She walkedpast us to a battered white Nissan, headed for the driver’s door, groped forher keys.
Milo followed her. “We really are sorry,it’s just that we haven’t learned much about Michaela’s murder and you seemedto know her best.”
“All I said was I knew who she was.”
“Your fellow students didn’t know her at all.”
“That’s because they’re new.”
“Freshmen?”
Curls shook. “It’s not like college—”
“I know, free-form,” said Milo. “What’s theproblem helping us, Briana?”
“There’s no problem, I just don’t know anything.” She unlocked the driver’sdoor.
“Is there some reason you don’t want to help?”
She looked at him. “Like what?”
“Someone told you not to help?”
“Of course not. Who would do that?”
Milo shrugged.
“No way,” she said. “I just don’t know anything and I don’t want anyhassle.”
“No hassle involved. I’m just trying to solve a murder. Pretty nasty one, atthat.”
Big lips trembled. “I’m really sorry. But we weren’t tight. Like I saidbefore, she kept to herself.”
“She and Dylan.”
“Right.”
“And now she’s dead and he’s gone. Any idea where he might be?”
“Definitely not.”
“Definitely not?”
“I definitely don’t know. He could be anywhere.”
Milo edged closer, pressed his hip againstthe hinges of the driver’s door. “What surprises me is the lack of curiosity.All you guys. Someone you know gets killed, you’d think there’d be someinterest.” He sliced air horizontally. “Zippo, no one cares. Is it somethingabout actors?”
She frowned. “Just the opposite. You need to be curious.”
“To act.”
“To learn about our feelings.”
“Nora tells you that.”
“Anyone who knows anything tells you that.”
“Let me get this,” said Milo. “You’recurious about playing parts, but not about real life?”
“Look,” said the girl, “sure, I’d like to know. It scares me. The wholemurder thing. Just talking about it. I mean, come on.”
“Come on?”
“If it happened to Michaela, it could happen to anyone.”
I said, “You see it as a random crime?”
She turned to me. “What do you mean?”
“As opposed to something that had to do with Michaela.”
“I—she was—I don’t know, maybe.”
Milo said, “Was there something aboutMichaela that made her a likely victim?”
“That thing she—they did. Her and Dylan. Lying.”
“Why would that put her in danger?”
“Maybe they ticked someone off.”
“Are you aware of someone that angry?”
“Nope.” Too quickly.
“No one, Briana?”
“No one. I got to go.”
“In a sec,” said Milo. “What’s your lastname?”
She looked ready to cry. “Do I have to say?”
Milo tried for a soft smile. “It’s routine,Briana. Address and phone number, too.”
“Briana Szemencic.” She spelled it. “Can this be off the record?”
“Don’t worry about that. Live around here, Briana?”
“Reseda.”
“Bit of a drive.”
“I work in Santa Monica.With the traffic it’s easier to stay in the city and go back later.”
“What kind of work do you do, Briana?”
“Shitty work.” Rueful smile. “I’m an assistant at an insurance agency. Ifile, I get coffee, I gofer. Beaucoup excitement.”
“Hey,” said Milo, “pays the bills.”
“Barely.” She touched her lips.
“So who was pissed off about the hoax, Briana?”
Long pause. “No one that much.”
“But…”
“Nora was a little frosted.”
“How could you tell?”
“When someone asked her about it she got this real tight look and changedthe subject. Can you blame her? It sucked, using the PlayHouse like that.Nora’s a private person. When Michaela never came back, I figured Nora gave herthe boot.”
“Dylan came back.”
“Yeah,” she said. “That was the funny thing. She wasn’t mad at Dylan, kepttreating him nice.”
Milo said, “Even though the hoax was mostlyhis idea.”
“That’s not what he said.”
“Dylan blamed it on Michaela?”
“Totally, he said she really worked on him. Nora must’ve believed himbecause she…like you said, he came back.”
“Does Nora like Dylan more than the other guys?”
Fragile shoulders rose and fell. Briana Szemencic gazed up the block. “Idon’t think I should go there.”
“Touchy business?”
