Stargill would have a hell of a time getting hold of that property. With no will, the state takes most of it and Claire’s parents get the rest. Stargill’s not off the suspect list completely; I still have to nose around about any bad investments he might have. But he’s been kicked down several notches.
“Item Two: no other prop company reports being bilked by Mr. Wark or Thin Line, so maybe he wasn’t out for a big-time equipment rip-off, just wanted to supply his own shoot, decided to keep the gear when they were through. No progress finding Wark.
The Blood Walk script has definitely not been registered with any of the guilds, no one’s heard of Thin Line, and there’s no evidence the film was ever released. I contacted film-developing labs, because if there was ever footage it might’ve been processed somewhere. Nada. At the B. of A. in Panorama City, no dice over the phone,
I have to come in, present a warrant to get a look at the Thin Line account.”
“Busy day,” I said.
“With zippo to show for it. I’m thinking this whole movie angle is a distraction.
Especially with Item Three: the clerk from State Parole called me, God bless her.
Turns out a Starkweather inmate was released, seven months ago. A guy named Wendell
Pelley. Three weeks before Claire went to work there. It’s a narrow window, but
Pelley could’ve learned about Claire from some buddy still in there. Or Claire actually had contact with him. Think about it: her official start date was three weeks after Pelley got released, but what’s to say she didn’t go to Starkweather before then? To take a look, see if it was right for her. Let’s say she runs into
Pelley by accident-he’s about to be sprung, so they make him a trusty-a tour guide, like Hatterson. She’s coming there to help people, and here’s a success story. It could be appealing to her, right?”
“Sure,” I said, “but seven months ago means Pelley was released one month after
Richard Dada’s murder.”
“So someone else did Dada. That’s always been a possibility.”
His tone said not to push it. “What’s Pelley’s background?” I said.
“White male, forty-six, got committed twenty-one years ago for shooting his girlfriend and her three little kids up in the Sierras-gold country. Apparently
Pelley was trying to do some mining, brought the rest of them along to be one happy family, got drunk, convinced himself they were trying to rob his claim, and went berserk. Diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia, drug and booze history, too wacky for trial.”
“Why’d they let him out?”
“Staff recommendation from Starkweather is all State Parole had.”
“Swig approved the release,” I said. “So he held back plenty.”
“Shmuck. Never liked him. Gonna look into his background, but right now Pelley’s whereabouts are my main concern.”
“He’s on the run?” I said. “Released inmates are supposed to get counseling and random drug tests.”
“Funny thing ’bout that, isn’t it? Pelley was bunking in a halfway house near
MacArthur Park. The operators haven’t seen him for a month. They claim they notified his parole officer right away. I tried to reach the P.O., no callback yet.”
“Whom would the parole officer be obligated to notify?”
“The local police. Ramparts Division. They can’t find any record of notification.
The system, huh? ”
“Would Swig be notified?”
“Maybe. If so, it’s something else he held back on. Not that he’s any use to us at this point. Pelley wouldn’t be likely to run back to Starkweather.”
“So what’s next?” I said. “A statewide alert?”
“Nah,” he said. “That’s for TV Officially, Pelley hasn’t done anything bad yet, so no way does State Parole or anyone else want to get the press on it, panic the public. If Ramparts does get notified, all it means is Pelley’s face and stats go up on a bulletin board in the station, maybe if the desk’s feeling real cooperative they issue photo memos for the squad car dashboards. Meaning if Pelley acts up publicly and a uniform gets there in time, he’s busted. But if he doesn’t cause problems, he can probably fade into the woodwork.”