“The teacher and the thug.”
“She said Degussa flirted with her shamelessly, and Flora just sat there and took it. She also said Degussa ate funny—all hunched over his food, like someone was going to steal it.”
“Prison etiquette,” I said. “She ever see Flora with Van Dyne?”
“Nope. Either it wasn’t on her shift, or ol’ Brian didn’t make an impression. Extra kudos to you for the Marina lead. I found an address there for Bennett Hacker.”
“Thought he lived on Franklin.”
“As of seven months ago he’s got two addresses, apartment on Franklin, condo on Marina Way. Maybe his weekend getaway.”
“Guess what paid for it,” I said. “I wonder how much kickback he got from Sentries.”
“Total billing was over a million and a quarter during the sixteen-month period, so there’d be enough for everyone. Larsen and Mary could have shot him and Degussa a third and still ended up comfy.”
“Maybe that’s what they used Gull’s phony billings for.”
“That’s Zevonsky’s job to iron out. I’m concentrating on four homicides, meaning when Bennett Hacker leaves the parole office today, he gets tailed. I found a nice, unobtrusive car in the department pool, plan to be downtown in half an hour. Binchy’ll be in radio contact. Wanna come along, maybe take pictures if my hands aren’t free?”
I said, “Smile and say cheese.”
*
“Nice and unobtrusive” was a dark gray Volvo station wagon with black-tinted windows and an I LOVE L.A. bumper sticker. The interior smelled of tobacco and incense. On the passenger seat was a Polaroid camera and five film cartridges. I placed them on my lap.
“Hot wheels.”
“Confiscated from a drug dealer,” he said. “Peppier than it looks, he installed a turbocharger.”
“Drug dealers drive station wagons?”
“Life’s full of surprises,” he said. “This one was a junior at the U., selling ecstacy to his frat brothers. Daddy’s a surgeon, Mommy’s a judge. It used to be her car.”
As he drove toward downtown, I filled him in on my encounter with Kelly and Sheila Quick.
“The high-achieving kid,” he said. “Quick called her home to help out.”
“He knows he’s in trouble, and he wants his family out of the way. And he needs someone to take care of Sheila.”
“Another stash at Eileen Paxton’s house?”
“When I mentioned that, Kelly clammed up.”
At the next red light, he scanned his notepad for Paxton’s numbers and punched in her office. He got her on the phone, talked very little, did plenty of listening, hung up and clicked his teeth together.
“Sheila and Kelly were indeed supposed to show up at her place tonight, but Kelly just called, said there’d been a change of plans, wouldn’t specify what they were. Paxton tried arguing with Kelly but Kelly hung up and when Paxton called back, the car phone was switched off. Paxton says Kelly was always stubborn. Says her sister’s deteriorating psychologically, she’s never seen her this bad. She was just about to call me. Sheila look that bad to you?”
“Pretty fragile,” I said. “Everything she thought she had is slipping away. Sean wondered if he should put a Be-on-the-Lookout on the van.”
“Sean’s been watching too much TV. Sheila and Kelly aren’t suspects, they’re a couple of scared women. With good reason. A BOLO would put them in the cross hairs, and hell if I’m gonna do that.”
He got on the 405, transferred to the 10 East. Two exits later: “Wonder if the Quicks have passports.”
“Family escape?” I said. “If Jerry’s got enough money saved up, could be.”
“Makes me feel sorry for him,” he said. “Until I think about all those impaled bodies. For all we know he flew somewhere already and is having wifey and daughter meet him. Or he just cruised across the border to Mexico.”
“Wifey and daughter and Angie Paul?” I said.
He clicked his tongue. “Yeah, there would be that little problem . . . I’ll have Sean check with the airports and the border patrol, then do another look-see at Angie’s place.”
He switched to the fast lane, made the call to Binchy at seventy miles per. “Sean, I’ve got a few tasks for you—really? Think so? Okay, yeah, sure, give it to me.” To me: “Could you copy this down?”