Chapter 22
Chapter
Pam Buttons raced down the stairs ahead of us. When we got to the station door, she sighed and said, “Margarita time,” and speed-walked north on Butler.
We returned to Milo’s office, where he looked up Lynne Gutierrez, found several women with the name, winnowed the list to the right one, saved and printed and stashed everything in his attaché case.
“Time for Mr. Le Gallee, hopefully he’ll know more.”
We exited the station, crossed the street to staff lot, got in the Impala, and drove to a place we couldn’t enter.
—
Safe Place occupied a corner lot in a quiet residential neighborhood.
No signage on or near the two-story Spanish house painted generic beige.
The stucco was impeccable, the front door arched and hand-hewn, the entry presaged by a low wrought-iron fence and gate at the sidewalk followed by a lush green lawn.
A row of healthy succulents lined up like toy soldiers against the house’s frontage.
The kind of place three wealthy families would’ve approved of fifty years ago. Grandfathered in back when zoning was more plastic. Still, keeping up appearances continued to matter. When you’re housing people easy to stigmatize, it pays to be discreet.
We arrived on time, had been sitting in the car for five minutes with no sign of David Le Gallee.
Milo texted. We’re here.
Ping. Right out.
Cupping the nape of his neck with both hands, Milo craned forward, set off audible crackles, and winced. He hooked a thumb at the house. “Ms. Buttons clearly doesn’t want me in there.”
“You could call her dad and have him recommend it.”
He laughed. “Something tells me he’d groan. Unfortunately, at this point the strings are hers to pull. With the little I’ve got so far, no grounds for any type of warrant, suspect or victim. Think she’s hiding something or just being protective?”
I said, “Hard to say. I did find her description of Lynne’s room interesting.”
“Stacks of magazines,” he said. “Like mother, like daughter, until maybe the relationship took a bad turn? So far Lynne’s the only person ever seen entering Martha’s house and she’s been conveniently gone since soon after Mama got cut up.
So despite Buttons claiming she’s pure as milk, I’m sniffing eau de suspect—okay, here he is. ”
The arched door had opened and a man stepped out. Spotting us, he waved and came forward.
David Le Gallee was forty or so and compact. Five-six, one fifty, with a head shaved clean and an angular face so free of extra flesh it looked carved out of modeling clay. He wore tiny oblong eyeglasses, a black mock-turtle, jeans, and white tennis shoes.
We were out of the car before he reached us. Milo made the introductions.
Le Gallee said, “Police and a psychologist, yes, Pam filled me in.”
“She warned you, huh?”
Le Gallee laughed. “She’s like that, detail-oriented. Which is great for us, she inherited a mess and turned it around. Did an incredible job. Lynne being gone has really gotten to her. To all of us. It’s the first time I can recall anything like this happening and I’ve been here eight years.”
I said, “During that time, did you ever meet Lynne’s mom?”
“Never. Which isn’t common but it does happen.”
We looked at him.
He said, “Sorry, don’t mean to be vague. The sad truth is, sometimes Safe serves as a repository.”
I said, “Families abandoning children who don’t fit the mold.”
“Adult children, we don’t deal with anyone under twenty-five.
But it’s best not to judge. Getting old and having to worry about your own health plus a dependent adult can be a nightmare.
Most of our residents are here because their parents have grown infirm or have died.
Twenty-five’s the minimum age but some are considerably older when they come here.
In many cases, it’s siblings who set up the move. Some stay in touch, others don’t.”
I said, “Martha Matthias never visited.”
“I’m sure she had her reasons,” said Le Gallee. “Maybe the fact that Lynne could visit her satisfied both of them.”
“There were no problems due to Lynne’s visits.”
“Just the opposite, Doctor. Lynne left happy and returned the same way. That’s why the thought of her harming her mother is totally preposterous. She’s the last person to be violent.”
“No behavioral issues.”
“None. We screen for that.”
Milo said, “How long has Lynne been living here?”
“I can’t answer that, Lieutenant. Not because I don’t want to but part of the mess Pam walked into was a whole bunch of missing records.”
“How’d that happen?”
“The former director was well meaning but totally disorganized and kept putting off the conversion from paper to computer. Finally it started three years ago, with techs we brought in working backward from the most recent records. But when they got to something like six, seven years ago, everything was gone. I wouldn’t put it down to anything suspicious, just carelessness. ”
“Who’s this genius?”
“A guy named Barbour Spears. He moved to Maryland and got a job with the federal government.”
Milo said, “Is that a punch line?”
Le Gallee laughed. “Wish it was, but nope, he got hired by some sort of oversight committee.”
I said, “You have no idea at all when Lynne arrived?”
“What I can tell you,” said Le Gallee, “is she was well established by the time I got here eight years ago. All the current residents were.”
“No one new has come in?”
Le Gallee shifted his feet. “I know it sounds strange but did Pam tell you how this place started?”
“Three wealthy families funded it.”
“Three wealthy families with developmentally disabled kids, all of whom ended up dying at places that turned out to be less than great. So they got together and established Safe Place.”
I said, “The mandate’s always been the children of the affluent?”
David Le Gallee removed his glasses, peered through the lenses, and restored them to the bridge of an avian nose.
“We’re not supposed to talk about that. But yes, with exceptions made for the occasional police and fire family, we’re here for long-term, affluent residents.
From what I understand the exception’s because Mr. DuBuque’s grandfather was a fire captain. ”
“The exceptions are your charity cases?”
“When pension money is available, it’s tapped.”
Milo said, “You know what Lynne’s mother did, right.”
“Pam said she was some sort of cop.”
“Did Lynne ever talk about that?”
“Oh, never,” said Le Gallee. “Lynne doesn’t talk much, period, due to her speech impediment. She doesn’t lisp or stutter, she’s just extremely indistinct. Once you get used to her, you can get the gist, but she’s shy to begin with so there’s not a lot of conversation.”
I said, “How does she make her needs known?”
“Her needs are pretty simple, Doctor, and they’re taken care of in advance.
When she does want something that hasn’t been provided, she points.
And smiles. She smiles a lot. I don’t want to make like she’s mute, not at all.
But prolonged conversations are out of the question. She’s a very sweet woman.”
“Did she talk about her mother at all?”
“Just that she was going to visit her—she called her Mama,” said Le Gallee. “And she’d give that smile. It was obvious that seeing Mama was something she looked forward to. There’s simply no way Lynne’s capable of harming anyone, let alone her mother.”
“It’s nearly a mile from here to her mother’s house. No safety concerns about her walking by herself?”
“Typically,” said Le Gallee, “residents who do want to leave are accompanied in the beginning and once they can clearly demonstrate they’re okay, they go it alone. Honestly, it doesn’t happen often, for the most part residents don’t want to leave.”
“Lynne was the exception.”
“I believe Lynne and one other person have taken outings. Neither of them are severely disabled. She can read a few words, do simple addition, is okay with personal grooming.”
“She was described as having a stiff walk.”
“Well, that’s true. She’s knock-kneed and has developed arthritis.”
“Pam described her as a neat-freak,” said Milo.
“Oh, definitely,” said David Le Gallee. “I was in the air force for thirteen years, servicing fighter jets. I like neat.”
I said, “Pam also said she’s a collector.”
“Not in the sense of constantly acquiring. Whatever she has was assembled well before I got here.”
Milo said, “She holds on to the same stuff.”
“Exactly. Like a little museum. She plays with her things. Setting them up, arranging them. Taking care of them. She has a little whisk broom, you’d be challenged to find a speck of dust on her treasures.”
“Meticulous.”
“Oh yes.”
“Did she do any crafts?”
“No, she was happy to be with her treasures. Lynne was—is a happy woman, in general. A lot more content than some so-called normals I’ve known.
I tell my own kids that—I’ve got two. Appreciate what you’ve got and make the most of it.
Speaking of which, I need to pick my kids up from their mother’s in a few. Anything else?”
Milo said, “Nothing right now, thanks for your time.”
Le Gallee’s face tightened. “This is a terrible situation. We’re not na?ve, we know what it means when someone vanishes and time goes on. It’s an overall safe neighborhood. But things happen.”
I said, “Did she ever walk at night?”
“No, never. Of course not.”
Meaning the dog had been alerted to someone else.
Milo said, “Thanks, sir. Anything else?”
“I hope to God I’m wrong but I’m not feeling great about this.” He threw up his hands, said, “Good luck,” and walked to a lime-green Prius.
As he pulled away, Milo copied down the tag.
I said, “He twangs your antennae?”
“Everyone who’s too nice does.”
—
We sat in the car while he did a first-line check.
In the eyes of the criminal justice system, David Le Gallee didn’t exist.
Milo said, “First Winchell, now him. Too damn many solid citizens.” He hooked a thumb at Safe Place. “What do you think? Bizarre, no?”
I said, “I’m sure there are others like it.”
“Repositories for the rich we never hear about.”
“And a few regular folk from police and fire.”
“Ergo Martha…wonder why she couldn’t handle one kid.”
“Couldn’t,” I said, “or didn’t want to.”
“Ditching her daughter so she could live her best life and create a hoarder’s palace?” He shook his head. “You never know about people.”
I said, “Martha transferred out of a successful career in Homicide. That says her stress level had been high for a while. She welcomed Lynne for brief visits, maybe all she could take.”
“Happy-time sleepovers with Mom,” he said. “If Buttons and Le Gallee are being straight with us and not keeping it safe for Safe Place. You notice that even while reciting the party line, he wasn’t crazy about Lynne walking by herself. What do you think of the policy?”
“I wouldn’t have authorized it.”
“I think it’s downright nuts. Like an unfenced pool, right? All it takes is once.”
I said, “Despite her problems, Lynne’s a legal adult, so if she insisted, there’d be no way to stop her.”
“Why’d you ask about her doing crafts?”
“Crafts involve tools.”
“Oh. Like a jigsaw. Man, the way your mind works.”
“On the other hand, Le Gallee said she’d developed arthritis. If that included her arms, it’s doubtful she could’ve pulled off dismemberment.”
“Too stiff to saw? Maybe, but if we find her with a bloody blade, so much for that excuse.” He grunted. “Le Gallee was right about one thing. One way or the other, this ain’t gonna turn out well.”
—
Nearing Olympic Boulevard, he began changing lanes serially without apparent purpose. I closed my eyes and spent the time thinking. Ended up with serious doubts about Lynne Gutierrez as a viable suspect.
I was about to tell him that when his phone pinged.
He said, “Mind checking it out?”
Text from Basia Lopatinski. Final report. I read it out loud. Not much new.
Martha Matthias’s cause of death had been manual strangulation, her dismemberment postmortem and cleanly accomplished by a serrated instrument.
The blood recovered from the bathroom was all hers.
DNA from the futon featured a small amount of her and multiple samples consistent with a female offspring.
He said, “So we’ve verified the sleepovers. Now all I’ve got to do is find Lynne.”
I said, “The more I think about it the less I see her as a murderer. We were led in that direction by Hawkins’s description of a mentally ill woman lurching down the street.
But a developmentally delayed woman everyone describes as gentle choking her mother out then cleanly severing both her arms just doesn’t fit.
Let alone wrapping the corpse in plastic and managing to haul it to a deep-freeze in the garage. ”
“If not her, who?”
“A psychopath with serious body strength and at least a rudimentary knowledge of anatomy. That doesn’t mean a doctor or a butcher. I’m sure there are plenty of charming YouTube instructional videos on quick and easy amputation.”
“Still,” he said, “she just happens to disappear right after the murder?”
I said nothing.
He said, “You see her as a victim like Buttons did?”
“Unfortunately for her, I do.”
“Mother and daughter,” he said. “You know I’m an atheist when it comes to coincidence.”
I said, “Daughter may have been murdered because she could direct you to Mother.”
“The bad guy is someone Lynne knows. She blabbed about Mama’s cash-stash and led him to it.”
“Could be. But how would she meet anyone?”
“On a walk to Mama’s,” he said. “And that means she might not be a victim but has lammed with him. I know Buttons and Le Gallee say she’s harmless and you agree. But I’m not giving up the comfort of cynicism yet.”
Another stretch of silence.
He switched a couple more lanes and said, “Whatever the case, the same damn conclusion: Gotta find her.”