Open Season (Alex Delaware #40)

Chapter 22

Chapter

22

Monday at ten a.m., Milo called.

“Morning, Doctor Professor. Come up with any overnight insight?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither but something different just happened. Remember that party website Marissa and O’Brien both contacted?”

“BeThere.com. They answered your email?”

“They phoned,” he said. “Actually, she did. Nice lady at a call center in Bangalore, India. She told me they’re instructed never to answer unless it’s a paying client—as in people throwing fancy parties. Company’s business model is they supply bodies for events all over the world and take a per-head cut. She decided to contact me because two of her brothers are Bangalore cops and she wants them to be proud of her. Turns out the last party Marissa and O’Brien attended had nothing to do with music or fashion. Opening at an art gallery on Melrose. I looked it up. Some rich guy’s kid who thinks he’s an artist.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “A five-year-old could do better.”

“I was thinking Blanche could do better. Anyway, doesn’t look like Boykins—or Jay Sterling for that matter—has any connection to that night…hold on, someone’s beeping in.”

He came back moments later. “That was Buck Buxby. Too late to catch him but he left a message to call. Probably wants an update. So that’s it, the art gallery, which is basically a dead end.”

“Did she tell you who signed in first?”

“She gave me the exact times, hold on…O’Brien logged in a little over six hours before Marissa. Why?”

I said, “Trying to get a feel for how it came together. My bet is O’Brien got himself on the list then told Marissa it was exclusive—him being a producer and all that. Then he told her he’d pre-cleared her but she still needed to apply online.”

“She’s thinking it’s hoo-hah, makes it all the more attractive.”

“All part of the grooming.”

“Asshole. Well, he won’t be missed and no one seems to be building a monument to Mr. Parmenter, but poor Whitney Killeen’s tugging at my heart. I reached the Sheriff’s detective who first worked her case. He’s an assistant chief in Goleta now, and just like Flores said, he couldn’t care less.”

“Any reaction to the bullet match?”

“A grunt,” he said. “Then he took another call. Moving on, Petra and Raul got a few more sightings of Mr. Hoodie slouching around O’Brien’s neighborhood and one person claims he was carrying a long package. But no leads to his identity.”

I said, “Parmenter’s shot in Hollywood, Whitney in Ventura County, then back to Hollywood for O’Brien. Our bad guy travels but his home base could still be in that area.”

“Petra agrees, she’ll check parking tickets in and around that night and Raul will talk to attendants at pay lots. I spoke to Whitney’s boss at the accounting firm. Said she was a private person, all business, couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt her. The only contact he had with Ventura was a brief phone call.”

“Was the boss aware of the conflict with Sterling?”

“Nope, all he knew was Whitney had a kid because she kept a photo on her desk. I also phoned the company Sterling works for in New York and lucked out with a very helpful executive secretary who informed me Sterling had moved back to L.A. couple of months ago.”

I said, “Two years go by, case goes cold, no more need for the golden alibi.”

“Interesting, no? According to the secretary they moved Sterling to New York ’cause they wanted him closer to Europe. Now they’re back to concentrating on Asia so the West Coast makes more sense.”

“Did she sound credible?”

“You never know for sure but my gut says yes. Because when I mentioned Sterling, she said, ‘Oh, him. He doesn’t work here anymore,’ as if that was just fine. Clearly not Mr. Popular, so don’t think she’d cover for him.”

“What did she know about Sterling and Whitney?”

“There was some kind of custody dispute and Sterling bad-mouthed Whitney a coupla times—no details, just an unfit mother. She wasn’t even aware Whitney had died, assumed Sterling had won in court and got the kid. She also said Jarrod was cute but extremely quiet. Which would fit going through trauma, right?”

“Definitely,” I said. “Sterling brought a two-year-old to work?”

“Sometimes, along with a babysitter. I asked John Nguyen if there was any way to get into Sterling’s finances to look for interesting withdrawals. Wanna guess what he told me?”

“Get corollary evidence first.”

“That plus why am I messing with a Ventura case. I explained but he wasn’t impressed. Same deal with getting a money dig on Boykins. So I’m stuck with two potential conspirators I can’t do a damn thing about. As to who contracted the hit on O’Brien, I’m still leaning toward Boykins. Alternatively, if you’re right about O’Brien O.D.’ing another woman, someone else coulda hired a caped avenger. But Moe checked again and nothing like that’s showed up. Bottom line, I’m nowhere.”

My brain churned.

“Alex?”

I said, “There might be something.”

“What?”

“It’s complicated.”

“ Ugly word. What? ”

“I found another O’Brien victim.” I gave him the basics of Vicki Saucedo’s death, citing no names or places.

He said, “How long have you known this?”

“Just found out.”

“Who’s your source?”

“That’s what’s complicated.”

“Dumped at a hospital,” he said. “Some doctor bud of yours who doesn’t want to get involved.”

Ace detective.

As I considered my answer, he said, “Jesus, Alex. Would it help if I swore on a stack of Bibles not to screw them over?”

“Knowing more isn’t going to help you.”

“Why not?”

I said, “The info was secondhand and nothing about the case suggests anyone who’d contract a hit.”

“Because?”

“The main thing is we know O’Brien was responsible for at least two O.D.’s so there could be more.”

He said, “You didn’t answer the question. What, this victim’s family is a bunch of pacifist vegan saints?”

“Can’t say more.”

“You can but you won’t.”

“Trust me on this.”

“So far that’s worked out,” he said. “But.”

I laughed.

He said, “I guess that could be construed as humorous. So what do we have here…Moe couldn’t find anything but you did. Meaning the case never got logged as criminal. Meaning a civil lawsuit. Big bucks, non-disclosure. Gotta be malpractice. What, they didn’t treat her fast enough or some other screwup?”

Gold badge earned.

I said, “You’re going to nose around.”

“Would it help me find who shot O’Brien and, more important, Whitney?”

“Not that I can see.”

“If that changes, you’ll let me know.”

“Of course.”

“Even if it causes problems for your doc buddy?…Hold on, it’s Buxby again.”

This time he was off the line for several minutes.

“He didn’t want an update, he found something. Now I have to decide if I should tell you about it, seeing as it’ll put you way short in the equity department.”

“Whatever works for you.”

“Oh my,” he said. “ Soooo Zen. Guess that helps with your real job. Okay, I’ll blink first. Buck went looking for the lyrics to that rap Parmenter posted online. Here’s the interesting part: ‘You gotta Keitch? Gonna pick yo peach. Gonna bend her over slip her the snake. Gonna be more than she can take.’ Who said romance was dead?”

“Direct threat to Keisha Boykins.”

“Damn thing was posted a month before Parmenter got shot, talk about firming up a motive. If this isn’t enough for a bank warrant on Boykins, I don’t know what is. And if I can figure out who Boykins hired, everything else will fall into place. So tell your doc pal not to worry. At least for the time being.”