“Stupidity,” he told her. “They’ve got a description of a murder
suspect–someone who may or may not have murdered this Herbert
character-and they thought it bore a resemblance to yours truly.”
She put her hand to her mouth.
He laughed. “Not even close, Steph. Last time I was that thin was
back in high school.” To me: “Can we get to work now?”
“I’ve never stopped,” I said. “Do you have any information on Vicki
Bottomley?”
Huenengarth waved a hand at Milo. “Tell him.”
“We’ve done phone traces from her home to the Jones house and Chip’s
office.”
“We?” said Huenengarth. ø “Him,” said Milo. “Federal warrant. Next
week he sprouts a fucking pair of wings.”
“Find anything?” I said.
Milo shook his head. “No calls. And none of Bottomley’s neighbors
have seen Cindy or Chip around, so if there is a link, it’s pretty damn
hidden. My intuition is she’s got nothing to do with it. She’s
certainly not the main poisoner. Once the chips fall, we’ll see if she
fits in, anywhere.”
“So where do we go now?”
Milo looked at Huenengarth. Huenengarth looked at me and held his hand
out toward the couch.
“Been sitting all day,” I said.
He frowned and touched his tie. Stared at everyone else.
Milo said, Any more federal doublespeak and I’m outa here.
All right,” said Huenengarth. “First, I want to reiterate my demand of
total discretion–total cooperation from both of you. No
improvisation. I mean it.”
“In return for what?” I said.
“Probably enough technical support to bust Cindy. Because I’ve got
federal warrants on Chuck Jones, and with a two-minute phone call I can
include Junior and everything he owns in the deal. We’re talking
audio, video, home, place of business–they go bowling, I can have
someone peeking from behind the pins. Give me two hours alone in their
house and I can rig it with peep-toys you wouldn’t believe. Got a
camera that goes right in their TV so when they’re watching it, it’s
watching them. I can toss the house for insulin or whatever crap
you’re looking for and they’ll never know it. All you have to do is
keep your mouths shut.”
“Cassie’s room is the one that needs to be rigged,” I said. And the
bathroom connecting it to the master bedroom.”
“Tile walls in the bathroom?”
“Tile walls and one window.”
“No problem-whatever toys I don’t have at hand, I can have delivered in
twenty-four hours.”
Milo said, “Your tax dollars busy at work.”
Huenengarth frowned. “Sometimes they are.”
I wondered if he knew what a joke was. Stephanie didn’t care if he
did; her expression said he danced on water.
“I’ve got a meeting scheduled at the house tomorrow night,” I said. “I’ll try to change it to the hospital. Can you have your equipment
ready by then?”
“Probably. If not, it will be soon after–a day or two. But can you
assure me the house will be totally empty? I’m ready to pounce on
Daddy, I can’t afford any screw-ups.”
I said to Stephanie, “Why don’t you call Chip and Cindy in for a
meeting? Tell them something came up on the lab tests, you need to
examine Cassie and then speak with them. Once they get there, make
sure they stay for a long” time,” she said. “I’ll keep them waiting,
tell them the labs got lost or something.
Action, camera,” said Huenengarth.
“How come you can get Chip included in the warrant?” I asked him. “Is
he involved in his father’s financial dealings?”
No answer.
I said, “I thought we were being frank.”
“He’s a sleaze, too, Huenengarth said, irritated.
“The fifty parcels he owns? Is that really one of Chuck’s deals?”
He shook his head. “The land deal’s for shit–Chuck’s too smart for
that. Junior’s a loser, can’t hold on to a dollar. Gone through
plenty of Daddy’s already.”
“What’s he spending it on besides land?” I said. “His life-style’s
pretty ordinary.
“Sure, on the surface it is. But that’s just part of the image: Mr.
Self-made. It’s a crock. That dinky junior college he teaches at pays
him twenty-four thousand a year-think you can buy a house in Watts on