Salander turned silent. “I guess I know, now, what she meant.”
“Ding,” said LeMoyne, miming a bell ring.
Milo said, “So Jane wrote a letter to Duke, and he just started sending her money.”
“Jane wouldn’t give Lo the details—that was part of the frustration. Jane got drunk and spilled out the whole story, then she just curled up and wouldn’t tell Lauren any more.”
“Can you blame her?” said LeMoyne. “The girl was a hooker. The mother had a golden goose farting into her hand and knew that if Duke found out he had a hooker kid, that would screw the deal. He’s Mr. Wholesome Tits and Ass, a daughter who earned her living on her knees would be bad PR.” Smiling at Milo: “Right?”
“Good story line.”
“It’s my job.” Chuckling, LeMoyne returned to the script.
“So Jane tried to hold Lauren back,” I said. “But Lauren wouldn’t be held back. Made contact with the Dukes and went to see them in Malibu.”
Salander said, “She never gave me the details, but she did say thank God for her computer—she used it to research the Dukes, didn’t need her mother or anyone else ’cause she had technology on her side. She even showed it to me—had this cute little family tree thingie in there— this actual little tree full of apples with people’s names on them.”
Milo said, “Did you notice any of the names?”
“No, she didn’t let me get that close—just wanted me to see the tree, and then brought it back into her room. Like she was proud of it. She said it was a genealogy program; she’d bought it and downloaded it herself.” Salander flinched. “And then when you called and asked about the computer and I realized it was gone . . . That’s when I started to worry.”
“That maybe someone wanted to get hold of the family data.”
“That and the fact someone had gotten into our place. Then, when I heard about Jane.” Salander bit his lip. “I started thinking: Maybe Lauren had misjudged her mother. Maybe Jane didn’t want Lauren to get too close not because she was worried about getting cut off but because it was dangerous. What if Jane really cared and Lauren was never able to see that?”
Milo stood, paced the space between the bed and the window. “Did Lauren indicate that she’d ever actually made contact with Tony Duke?”
“No,” said Salander. “All I know about is that tree thingie. But he does live in Malibu, right? That humongous place, with all the parties.”
“What else did she tell you that could help me, Andy?”
“That’s it, I promise. After that one time she spilled her guts, she pulled back—just like Jane did with her. Mostly she stayed in her room, in front of that computer.”
“Did she ever talk about other family members? Besides Tony Duke?”
Salander shook his head.
“What about girls she’d worked with?”
“Not that I recall.”
“Michelle Salazar?”
“No.”
“Shawna Yeager?”
“Uh-uh. She never talked about the past. And like I told you the first time, she didn’t have any friends. A real loner.”
“A girl and her computer,” said Milo.
Salander said, “So sad.” Then: “Now what?”
“Have you told anyone besides Mr. LeMoyne about any of this?”
“No.” A glance at LeMoyne. “And all Justin wanted was to write up a treatment and register it—” He stopped. “That could be dangerous, huh? If someone at the Guild saw it and—”
“Oh, please,” said LeMoyne. “No one in the Industry reads.”
“Still,” said Milo.
“Fine, fine,” snapped LeMoyne. “Fine.”
Milo turned to Salander. “Andy, I’ll be needing you to repeat everything you’ve told me for a formal statement.”
Salander blanched. “Why?”
“It’s the rules. We’ll do it in a couple of days. Either down at the station or somewhere more private, if you’re straight with me about sticking around. This time.”
“More private,” said Salander. “Definitely more private. Do you think we can move back to Justin’s place? I mean, if Lauren and Jane died because Lauren was Tony Duke’s daughter and I know about it—”
“That’s the point, son,” said Milo. “No one knows you know. If you’re discreet, I don’t see any imminent danger. If you’re not, I can’t promise you anything.”