“Why would—maybe someone was casing the neighborhood, knew she was out. Did they take anything?”
“No, they just left the note. Detective Sturgis is looking into it, but we need to keep it quiet. To avoid publicity that might hurt Lucy and give Shwandt a retrial.”
“Hurt her how?”
“If the story gets out, someone could do some checking and find out about her seventy-two hours at Woodbridge.”
“Oh. Yeah, I see what you mean. That would be terrible.”
“In the meantime, we’re trying to find a safe place for her to stay. Your brother’s still out of town, and we wondered if you could put her up in Palo Alto.”
“That’s okay with Lucy?”
“She’s a bit nervous about meeting you, but you’d be doing her a great favor.”
“Then, sure. But she doesn’t even need to come up here. The company’s got lots of vacant properties in L.A. Most are low-income, but some are pretty nice. . . . I think there’s a really good one in Brentwood, totally furnished. I was planning to fly down tonight anyway; let me check—unless you think she should leave town.”
“No,” I said. “A secure place down here would be fine.”
“I could stay with her, if that’ll help. I couldn’t stick with her every moment, but I’d be home most nights.”
“Sounds good. Thanks, Ken.”
“Sure, no problem. Glad to be useful.”
Milo called at three-thirty to say he was on the way over. He arrived just after four.
“Got her over at the Ramada on Beverly Drive and Pico, registered under my name.” He gave me the room and the phone number.
“She okay by herself?”
“Seems to be. I gave her all the usual precautions, though I can’t see how anyone could possibly find her there.”
“After spending more time with her, any new thoughts about her credibility?”
“She seems goddamn credible, nothing shaky or flaky. If she’s lying, she’s either totally nuts or a stone psychopath, and I can’t believe I’m that gullible.”
“It’s not a matter of gullible. All of us are like locks. No matter how strong the bolt, there’s always a key out there that opens it.”
“So what’re you saying? I’m a sucker for her? You think she’s lying?”
“I think she’s a very confused young woman. The dream, now this. I’m having trouble sorting out reality, so I imagine it’s pretty tough for her.”
“You only answered one question.”
“Do I think you’re a sucker for her? I’d term it emotionally susceptible, and, yeah, you sure are. Do I think it’s bad? No. She needs help and you’re providing it. Like you said, the worst that can happen is you get snookered. Any more discussion about your being gay?”
“Nope, it didn’t come up.” He looked burdened.
“What?” I said.
“What’s the other stuff you said you wanted to talk to me about?”
“The Karen Best scenario looks a little less theoretical. I was over at the Sand Dollar yesterday and happened to get served by a waitress named Doris Reingold. She was on Best’s list—been working there all this time. She told me Gwen Shea recruited staffers regularly for nighttime catering gigs. Karen’s name didn’t come up—there was no way to work it into the conversation. But Best did say Karen was friendly with the Sheas. It’s logical they’d have thrown some work her way. So maybe she worked the Sanctum party.”
“Why didn’t the private eye find any of this out?”
“Maybe he was incompetent and didn’t ask the right questions. The staff kept catering gigs quiet. The Dollar’s owner didn’t approve.”
He pushed back from the table and stretched his legs. “You just happened to get served by her, huh?”
“Scout’s honor.”
“And you just happened to be eating there.”
“Place has a great view,” I said.
He looked at the glass doors. “Like you need to go somewhere for that.”
“I didn’t turn any rocks over,” I said. “Doris thinks I’m just a friendly guy who tips big. And it’s at least thought-provoking, isn’t it? Karen fits the girl in Lucy’s dream, she disappears the night before the party. Big bash like that could have taken a couple of days to set up. Maybe she went up early. If the Sheas hired her and something happened to her, that would be a fine reason for them to act evasive with her father. Throw in Trafficant and his disappearance, and it’s a little more than random numbers, wouldn’t you say?”