Toward the beach? Malibu?
He was ten blocks ahead of me, and it took several traffic violations for me to catch up. I stayed two car lengths behind in the neighboring lane and tried to watch him. He kept both hands on the wheel; his lips were moving and his head was bobbing. Either a hands-off cell phone or singing to himself. My guess was the latter: he looked utterly at peace.
He drove to Long’s Drugstore in Santa Monica, stayed inside for ten minutes, emerged with a big bag of something, got back on Wilshire and drove to Broadway and Seventh, where he pulled up in front of a narrow, white-clapboard Victorian, once a three-story house, now THE PACIFIC FAITH APOSTOLIC CHURCH. One of the few old ones that had survived the Northridge quake. The white boards were freshly painted, and a crisp picket fence boxed off the church’s yard. Sandboxes and swings and slides and monkey bars. Three dozen munchkins, mostly brown-skinned and dark-haired, scooted and jumped and shouted and squatted in the sand. Three young women wearing braided hair and long, pale dresses watched from the sidelines. A rainbow-lettered banner across the fence announced FAITH PRESCHOOL, SPRING REGISTRATION STILL OPEN.
Dr. Benjamin Dugger parked at the curb, walked through the picket gate, and entered the church. If he was burdened with sin, the bounce in his stride didn’t say so. He remained inside for fifteen minutes, emerged minus the bag from the drugstore.
Back to Wilshire. His next stop was a fish-and-chips place near Fourteenth Street, where he came out with another bag, smaller and grease-spotted. Lunch was enjoyed on a bench at Christine Reed Park, behind the tennis courts, where I watched from the Seville as he shoved french fries and something breaded into his mouth, drank from a can of Coke, and shared leftovers with the pigeons. A quarter of an hour later he was back on Wilshire, heading east this time, staying in one lane, sticking to the speed limit.
He entered Westwood Village, parked in a pay lot on Gayley, and entered a multiplex theater. Two comedies, a spy thriller, a historical romance. Showtimes said he’d chosen either one of the comedies or the romance.
What a sinister fellow.
I drove home.
At three, deciding I should stick to what I knew, I phoned the Abbot house. The robot voice answered and, feeling grateful when neither Jane’s nor Mel’s broke in, I hung up.
At 4:43, Milo called. “The pay phone’s in a gas station. Nearby are a gym, an insurance agency, and a cafe. No one remembers Lauren. The owner of the station doesn’t recall any frequent callers. It’s a busy place, lots of traffic, for him to notice someone they would Ve had to set up office in the booth. I also dropped in on a bunch of motels and showed Lauren’s picture around. Zero. I’m back at my desk, figured I’d check out snippy Professor de Maartens. Who, as it turns out, lives in Venice. Want to tag along?”I debated whether to tell him I’d followed Benjamin Dugger. By now, the tail seemed ludicrous. No reason to share.
“Sure,” I said. “The charm of my company?”
“Just the opposite. You pissed him off once—maybe that can be harnessed.”
13
SIMON DE MAARTENS lived on Third Street, north of Rose. The beach was a short walk west. Crossing Rose brought you into gang territory.
The block was filled with tiny houses, some divided. Intermittent bright spots—fresh paint, brand-new skylights, flower beds, staked saplings—said gentrification had arrived. De Maartens’s abode was a brown-stucco, side-by-side duplex with a gray lawn, curling tar-paper roof, and flaking woodwork. The blue VW van in its driveway was patched and primered. Its rear bumper sagged, and so did the independent wealth hypothesis.
“Doesn’t look as if he’s been seduced by externals,” said Milo. “Life of the mind and all that?”
“Could be.” I realized the same could be said of Benjamin Dugger: Newport and Brentwood offices but a frayed lapel.
Not exactly the high rollers I’d conjured when imagining Lauren spirited away to some casbah.
He switched off the engine. “How about I do the talking, and work you in as needed?”