I’ll ask her. Thanks. Bye.”
I found “the packet” in the middle of the mail stack. Courier-delivered envelope, the return address, RTD Properties. Folded into a sheet of RTD stationery was a check written on RTD business account IV. Fifteen thousand dollars. A typed note:
Mr. D. thanks you for your time. He trusts this will cover everything to date.
Terri, Accounting
I’ll be in touch.
Not likely. I knew severance pay when I saw it.
I couldn’t talk to Milo, so I called Petra to let her know my impressions of Donny Salcido Mate. She was at her desk, courteous enough, but she sounded busy and I asked her if it was a bad time.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I just have to run over to Hollywood Pres in a few minutes, start some paper on a new one. Boy meets girl, boy beds girl, boy kills girl, then tries to kill himself. Guy’s hooked up to life support, some people can’t do anything right. What’s up?”
I summarized my bedside chat with Donny.
She said, “Is this guy dangerous?”
“If he doesn’t get medicated, maybe. I can’t promise you he didn’t kill his father, but I wouldn’t bet on it.”
I explained my reasoning.
She said, “Makes sense. I’ll pass it on, see if Milo wants me to hold him on anything…. Listen, I know I’m a pest about Billy, but kid care isn’t my thing, I’m the youngest in my family. Tomorrow when I see him, I was thinking of bringing him some books. Anything in particular you’d suggest?”
“He’s always liked history.”
“I’ve already gotten him plenty of history books. I thought fiction might be a nice switch—maybe the
classics? Do you see him as able to handle Les Mis-erablest Or The Count of Monte Cristo, something like that?”
“Sure,” I said. “Either.”
“Good, I wasn’t sure. Because of the themes— abandonment, poverty. You don’t think it’s too close to home?”
“No, he’ll be fine with it, Petra. I can see books like that appealing to his moral core.”
“He’s sure got one of those, doesn’t he?” she said. “I’m still trying to figure out where it came from.”
“If you knew, you could sell it.”
“And do something else for a living.”
“Such as? “I said.
She laughed. “Such as nothing. I love my job.”
Saturday morning I awoke thinking about Eric as a murderer. It stayed on my mind during the breakfast that Robin and I shared out near the pond. Then I looked around, saw how beautiful the world was and wondered if I was just letting my imagination run wild because I couldn’t stand nice. After all, not a shred of evidence pointed to the boy—or his mother—even talking to Mate.
Mate’s records might shed some light on that. And I was certain that records existed, because Mate had regarded his work as historically significant, would have wanted every detail recorded for posterity.
Milo had guessed Roy Haiselden had them, and he might be right. Now that he had Richard as a suspect, and Haiselden’s motive for disappearing had become clear, he was unlikely to pursue the attorney.
No criminal charges had been lodged against Haiselden yet, but domestic violence and child-abuse allegations meant that other detectives would be looking
for him, meaning someone might get a warrant. But the Breckenham civil suit had been filed in Baldwin Park, sheriffs jurisdiction. My only sheriffs contact was Ron Banks, a downtown homicide investigator and Petra Connor’s boyfriend. I’d met him once, not exactly foundation for a favor.
After we cleaned up, Robin and I went shopping for groceries, then walked in the hills with the pooch. Then she retired for a nap and I went into my office, ignited the computer and gave the Internet another try. Nothing new on Mate except for a couple of cybergossips in a right-to-die chat room exercising their constitutional right to be paranoid.
Am I being too imaginative, wondered whiteknight, to suggest that following the death of Dr. Mate further attempts are being made to silence those with the courage to face off against The Powers That Be?
Not at all, responded funnigirl. I’ve heard the police from various cities have gotten together to create a task-force on euthanasia. The plan is to kill people then make it look as if the right-to-die folks are behind it. Shades of Grassy Knoll.