“A coward because—”
“Because God grants you your particular share of years, you go and laugh in His face? She was like that, too.” Pointing to the Monroe case. “Body like that and she wasted it on politicians and other scum. That bikini’s worth something, you know. Big money, but no one around here appreciates memorabilia. I think I’m gonna get myself a computer, list it on the Internet.”
“Did your son mention anyone with Ms. Doss?”
“Yeah, there was someone out in the car, waiting. Behind the wheel. Barnett never looked to see who it was. We look too hard, we don’t get business, right?”
“Right,” I said. “Was there anyone else here who might’ve noticed?”
“Maybe Maribel, the cleaning girl. The one who found it. She came on at eleven at night, was working till seven. Asked for night work because she had a day job over at the Best Western in Palmdale. But you guys already talked to her. She didn’t tell you much, huh?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, she was a little …”
“She was sick is what she was,” he said. “Pregnant, ready to drop. Already had a miscarriage. After she found . . . what she found, she wouldn’t stop crying, I thought we were gonna have one of those real-life video situations right out there in the parking lot—ever deliver a baby?”
I shook my head. “She end up delivering okay?”
“Yup, a boy.”
“Healthy?”
“Seems to be.”
“Any idea where can I find her?”
He crooked a thumb. “Out back, Unit Six, she’s working days now. Someone had a party last night in Six. Longhair types, Nevada plates, paid cash. Should’ve known better than to give pigs like that a room. Maribel’ll be cleaning that one for a while.”
I thanked him and headed for the door.
“Here’s a little secret,” he said.
I stopped, turned my head.
He winked. “Got the Monroe Playboy, too. Don’t keep it in the case, ’cause it’s too valuable. One price gets you all of it. Tell all your friends.”
“Will do.”
“Sure you will.”
Maribel was young, short, frail-looking, in a pink-and-white uniform that seemed incongruously proper for the pitted lot and the splintering red doors. She was gloved to the elbows. Her hair was tied back, but loose strands were sweat-glued to her forehead. A wheeled cart pulled up to Unit Six was piled with cleaning solvents and frayed towels. The trash bag slung from the side overflowed with filthy linens, empty bottles and stink. She gave the badge a bit more attention than her boss had.
“L.A.?” she said, with the faintest accent. “Why’re you coming out here?”
“The woman who killed herself. Joanne Doss—”
Her face closed up tight. “No, forget it, I don’t wanna talk about that.”
“Don’t blame you,” I said. “And I’m not interested in making you go through it again.”
Her gloves slammed onto her hips. “Then what?”
“I’d like to know anything you can remember about before. Once Ms. Doss went in the room, did she ever come out? Did she ask for food, drinks, do anything that caught your attention?”
“Nope, nothing. They went in after I got here— around midnight, I already told them that. I didn’t see them until… you know.”
“Them,” I said. “Two people.”
“Yup.”
“How long did the other person stay?”
“Don’t know,” she said. “Probably a while. I was up at the front desk, mostly, ’cause Barnett—Milton’s son— wanted to go out and party and not tell his dad.”
“But the car wasn’t there in the morning.”
“Nope.”
“Who was the other person?”
“Didn’t get a good look.”
“Tell me what you did see.”
“Not much, I never saw the face.” Her eyes filled with tears. “It was disgusting—it’s not fair bringing all this up—”
“I’m sorry, Maribel. Just tell me what you saw and we’ll be finished.”
“I don’t wanna get anyone in trouble—I don’t wanna be on TV or nothing.”
“You won’t be.”
She pulled at the finger of a glove.
Didn’t speak. Then she did.
And suddenly, everything made sense.
CHAPTER 37
JUST WOOL AGAIN.
My best blue suit, a blue-and-white-striped shirt, yellow-print tie, shiny shoes.
Dressed for court.