Once I’m roused, I’m restless for hours.
As Robin slept, I prowled the house. Ended up in my office and composed amental list. Switched to a written list.
First thing tomorrow I’d contact Erica Weiss and tell her about Hauser. Moreammunition for her civil suit. If Hauser’s control was that loose, mountinglegal problems might not stop him from harassing me. Or getting litigioushimself.
This whole mess could cost me. I tried to convince myself it was the priceof doing business.
Must be nice to be that serene.
Replaying the scene at the restaurant, I wondered how Hauser had lasted thislong as a therapist. Maybe the smart thing would be filing a preemptive suitagainst him. Officers Hendricks and Minette had appeared to see things my way,so a police report would help. But you never knew.
Milo would know what to do but he had otherthings on his mind.
So did I.
My offer to Robin spilling out like Pentothal chatter. If she said yes,would that constitute a happy ending?
So many what-ifs.
 
--- oOo ---
 
Milo said, “I was just about to call you.”
“Kismet.”
“You don’t want this type of kismet.” He told me why.
I said, “I’ll be right over.”
 
The note I left on the nightstand read:
Dear R, Had to go out, a bit of the ugly stuff. Stay as long as you’d like.If you have to go, let’s talk tomorrow.
I dressed quietly, tiptoed to the bed, and kissed her cheek. She stirred,reached up with one arm, let it drop as she rolled over.
Girl fragrance mixed with the smell of sex. I took one last look at her andleft.
 
Reynold Peaty’s corpse had been wrapped in translucent plastic, tied withstout twine, and loaded onto the right-hand stretcher in the white coroner’svan. The vehicle remained parked in front of Peaty’s apartment building, reardoors open. Bolted metal racks secured the body and the empty stretcher to itsleft.
Busy nights in L.A.,double occupancy transport was a good idea.
Flanking the coroner’s van were four black-and-whites, roof lights pulsing.Terse recitations from dispatch operators sparked the night but no one waslistening.
Lots of uniforms standing around trying to look official. Miloand Sean Binchy conferred near the farthest cop car. Milotalked and Binchy listened. For the first time since I’d known the youngdetective, he looked upset.
Over the phone, Milo told me the shootinghad taken place an hour ago. But the suspect was just being taken down thestairs of Peaty’s building.
Young Hispanic guy, heavily built, broad skull helmeted by dark stubble.Escorted by two huge, gym-rat patrolmen who diminished him.
I’d seen him before, when I’d driven past the building last Sunday.
Father of the young family heading for church. Wife and three chubby littlekids. Stiff gray suit that looked out of place.
Kids having kids.
He’d aimed hard eyes my way as I stopped in front of the building. No viewof his eyes now. His arms were cuffed behind him and his head hung low.
Barefoot, wearing a black XXXXL T-shirt that nearly reached his knees, saggygray sweatpants that threatened to slip off his hips, and a big gold fist on achain that swung over the shirt’s snarling pit bull BaaadBoyz logo.
Someone had forgotten to remove the bling. Milowent over and rectified the situation and the iron-pumper cops seemed abashed.The suspect looked up as Milo fiddled, heavylids tenting. When Milo got the chain off, thekid smiled and said something. Milo smiledback. He checked behind the kid’s ears. Waved the cops on and handed thenecklace to an evidence tech who bagged it.
As the uniforms got the shooter into one of the idling cruisers and droveaway, Mrs. Ertha Stadlbraun stepped out of her ground-floor flat and walked tothe sidewalk. Standing just right of the taped perimeter, she shivered andhugged herself. Her dressing gown was custard-yellow and quilted. Fuzzy whitemules encased her feet and yellow rollers turned her hair into whitetortellini. Shiny bright skin; some kind of night cream.
She shivered again and tightened her arms. Tenants stared out of windows. Sodid a few residents of the dingbat next door.
Milo beckoned me over. His face was sweaty.Sean Binchy stayed behind, not doing much of anything. When I got there, hesaid, “Doctor,” and chewed his lip.
Milo said, “Hot town, summer in the city.”
“In February.”
“That’s why we live here.”
I told him about seeing the suspect before. Described the kid’s demeanor.
He said, “That fits.”
A coroner’s attendant slammed the van’s doors shut, got in, drove away.
I said, “How close is his apartment to Peaty’s?”
“Two doors down. His name’s Armando Vasquez, he’s got a sealed juvenile ganghistory, claims to be a steadily working, church-going married man for the pastfour years. Has a landscaping gig with a company that maintains some of the bigB.H. properties north of Sunset. He used to just mow grass but this year helearned to trim trees. He’s pretty proud of that.”
“How old is he?”
“Twenty-one. Wife’s nineteen, three kids under five. For the most part theystayed asleep while I tried to chat with their daddy. One time the oldesttoddled in. I let Vasquez kiss the kid. Kid smiled at me.” He sighed. “Vasquezhas no adult sheet, so maybe he’s telling the truth about finding God. Theneighbors I’ve spoken to so far say the kids can be noisy but the familydoesn’t cause problems. No one liked Peaty. Apparently, everyone in thebuilding’s been jabbering about him, since we met with Stadlbraun.”
He glanced at the old woman. Still hugging herself, staring out at thedarkened street. She seemed to be fighting for composure.
I said, “She spread the word Peaty was dangerous.”
Milo nodded. “The ol’ gossip mill waschugging along. Before Vasquez dummied up, he told me Peaty always rubbed himthe wrong way.”
“Prior conflict?”
“No fights, just lots of tension. Vasquez didn’t like Peaty living so close.The term he used was ‘fuckin’ crazy dude.’ After he said that, he startedmoving his head back and forth and up and down. I said, ‘What’re you doing,Armando?’ He says, ‘Crossing myself. You got me cuffed so I’m doing it thisway.’”
“Did Peaty ever bother his wife?”
“He stared at her, which is consistent with what everyone else says.‘Fuckin’ crazy stare.’ Unfortunately for Vasquez, it’s not justification forblowing Peaty’s brains out.”
Sean Binchy came over, still looking uneasy. “Need me for anything more,Loot?”
“No, go home. Relax.”
Binchy flinched. “Thanks. Hey, Doc. Bye.”
Milo said, “You did fine, Sean.”
“Whatever.”
When he left, I said, “What’s bothering him?”
“The lad has an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. He worked a robberycase all day, got off at eleven, and decided on his own to watch Peaty. Hestarted here, didn’t see Peaty’s minivan, went out for a burger at atwenty-four-hour spot, got back just after midnight and spotted the van a blockup that way.”
He pointed east. “He was looking for a watch spot in the alley when he heardthe three shots. Peaty caught all of ’em full-faced. You wouldn’t figure thatphysiog could get any uglier but…”
“Sean’s feeling guilty about not being here.”
“About the burger. About nothing. No way he could’ve prevented it.”
“Did he arrest Vasquez?”
“He called for backup then went up the stairs. Peaty’s body was out on thewalkway between the apartments. At that point, Sean waited for the blues and they went door to door. When they got to Vasquez’s apartment, Vasquez was sittingon his couch watching TV, the gun’s right next to him and so are the wife and the oldest kid. Vasquez puts up his hands and says, ‘I killed his ass, do yourthing.’ The wife starts bawlin’, the kid stays real quiet.”
“How’d it happen?” I said.
“When I got to specifics, Vasquez got laryngitis. My sense is he’s beenstewing on Peaty for a while, started bubbling over when ol’ Ertha told himabout my visit. For some reason, tonight he got tired of doing nothing, sawPeaty come home, and went out to tell him to stay away from Mrs. Vasquez. Asthey say in the papers, a confrontation ensued. Vasquez claims Peaty made amove on him, he needed to defend himself, boom boom boom.”
“Vasquez went out there armed.”
“There is that minor detail,” he said. “Maybe some lawyer will try to twistit as evidence Vasquez was scared of Peaty.”
“Alcohol or dope involved?” I said.
“Vasquez admits to four beers and that fits with the empties in his trashbasket. With his body weight that might or might not be relevant, depends whatthe bloodwork turns up. Now let’s see if the techies are through with Peaty’sdomicile.”
 
A room and a half bath, both tiny and putrid.
Fetid mélange of old cheese, charred tobacco, body gas, garlic, oregano.
An empty, grease-stained pizza box sat open on the metal-frame double bed.Crumbs dandruffed rumpled sheets the color of wet newsprint and green bedcoversprinted with a repeating pattern of top hats and bowlers. Several, large,unpleasant stains on the sheets. Wads of dirty laundry filled most of the floorspace. A waist-high stack of Old Milwaukee six-packs and the bed filled whatwas left. Fingerprint dust everywhere. That seemed unnecessary—the body hadfallen outside—but you never knew about lawyers’ creativity.
Milo kicked his way through the jumble andapproached a wooden packing crate that served as a bed stand. Cluttering thetop were oily takeout menus, balled-up tissues, crushed empty beer cans—Icounted fourteen—a gallon bottle of Tyger fortified wine two-thirds empty, aneconomy-sized flask of Pepto-Bismol.
The only real furniture other than the bed was a ragged three-drawer dresserthat supported a nineteen-inch TV and a VCR large enough to be quaint.Rabbit-ear antenna.
I said, “No cable box,” and opened a dresser drawer. “His entertainmentneeds were simple.”
Inside were boxed videotapes, stacked like books in a horizontal shelf. Loudcolors. Lots of X’s. Not-So Legal Temptresses, Volumes 1 through 11.ShowerTeen, Upskirt Adventures, X-Ray Journey, Voyeur’s Village.
The bottom two drawers held clothing that looked no fresher than the mess onthe floor. Under a tangle of T-shirts, Milofound an envelope with $600 in cash and a small plastic box marked Sewing Kit,filled with five tightly round joints.
The half bath was a cubicle in the corner. My nose had accommodated tobedroom stench but this was a new challenge. The shower was fiberglass, barelybig enough for a woman, let alone a man of Peaty’s bulk. Originally beige, nowbrown, with a blackish-green crop of something flourishing at the drain. Astreaked, spotted mirror was glued to the wall over the sink; no medicinecabinet. On the floor next to the cracked, grimy toilet was a small wicker box.Inside was an assortment of antacids and OTC analgesics, a toothbrush thatlooked as if it hadn’t been used in a while, an amber pharmacy bottlecontaining two Vicodin pills. ............