“It also fits me and half a million women in the LA area.”
“As you might imagine, this is a sensitive case and I’m limited in what I can tell you, but I can say that we have several significant leads that suggest Rose’s mother is, or has been, a student at CSULA.”
“And your eyewitness saw this woman carrying a covered basket near the Angels Flight landing?”
Because I didn’t want the monastery connection revealed, I had intimated that the sighting had taken place at Angels Flight, without actually saying it. Cops and the media have a strange symbiotic relationship: they use us to try and get a good story, and we try to use them to get the story we want.
“The sighting didn’t take place there, but we have a witness that offered a description of a young, heavy Hispanic woman in her late teens or early twenties. Our witness talked with this woman and said she was well spoken and didn’t have any discernible accent.”
I could hear Sylvia scratching away. “So you have more than one witness?”
“We’re talking to several people now that are assisting us in this case.”
By the sounds of it, Sylvia was continuing to scribble down all of my double-talk, but I wasn’t sure if she was buying it or was even planning on using it.
“Has your newspaper ever done a piece on the Safely Surrendered Baby Law? It’s what most people call the California Safe Haven Law.”
“Not that I remember. What is it?”
“It’s a law that allows any newborn to be dropped off at a hospital or a fire station with no questions asked. The mother doesn’t have to give her name or be fearful of any kind of punishment.”
I told her about Lisbet and her work to get the law on the books. I also mentioned her tie-in with Rose, and the Garden of Angels. That was the hook Sylvia needed. Having the makings of a human interest piece, as well as a public service feature, made her much more enthusiastic about the story. We talked for fifteen minutes, and I played up the bullet points I’d written down on my notepad, trying to spin the story of Rose and her mother as I wanted it written.
“I’d like to run this as our lead story this Friday,” Sylvia said, “but I can’t do that without pictures. I am going to need a close-up shot of Rose’s grave, and a big background shot of the Garden of Angels.”
“That would be just the thing for the story.”
“I know it would, which is why the story will have to wait. I have a hard enough time getting one of our staff photographers to do a shoot in downtown LA. No way will I be able to get one of them to agree to go out to the desert without at least a week’s notice.”
I found myself saying, “What if I was able to get you some pictures? I’ll be going to the cemetery today on police business and I am pretty good with a digital camera.”
“That sounds perfect!”
“I can probably even e-mail them to you tonight. Will that work?”
“That sounds great.”
“Will I need to do the shoot in black and white?”
“No, color is fine. Our photo editor has software that converts color shots into black and white.”
Now that she had a new lead story for the next edition, Sylvia went back to asking me questions. After grilling me for another ten minutes, she finally seemed satisfied.
“Friday’s issue is sounding a whole lot better,” she said. “I think I’ll make the safe haven story a sidebar to the death of Rose.”
“I’m sure Ms. Keane will like that,” I said and then gave her Lisbet’s numbers.
Sylvia asked for my cell number in case she had more questions. “Looks like we’ll both be working late,” she said.
“There’s no rest for the wicked.”
She seemed to think that was funny.
Because of my wanting to get the story planted, I had to pay the piper and drive out to the desert. The change in my plans prompted a call to Gump and Martinez. I told them something had come up with my other homicide, and that I wouldn’t be meeting with them that morning as planned. Both men were fine with that; to their thinking I was the third wheel, and a necessary evil at that. We talked for a few minutes about the Klein murder. The case was stalled, but both detectives were following up on potential leads in the investigation, although neither sounded hopeful. I told them I would call later that afternoon.
Moments after we finished up, the phone started ringing. “Gideon,” I said.
“You sound busy,” Lisbet said. “Should I call back later?”
“No, now is fine.”
“I’m not sure if it is.”
I didn’t like the sound of that, or the obvious strain in her voice. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m upset and I don’t want to be, but I am. I just got off the phone with Sylvia Espinosa.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have given out your number without your permission. I just assumed…”
“I’m not upset about you giving out my number. I am about the only person I know who doesn’t have an unlisted number. What I don’t like is being used. You sold me as part of your story.”
“Wait a second. I gave out your name so you could talk about the Safe Haven law.”
“And you wrapped it in Rose’s body.”
Even to my own ears my answer sounded hard and angry: “I didn’t do that. Rose’s mother did that.”
“Sylvia said you were driving out to the cemetery today to take pictures.”
“That’s right. I’m working the case.”
“Are you working it for Rose or for yourself?”
“I’m working it to bring a murderer to justice.”
“You played that reporter. You didn’t want a story about Rose so much as you wanted one about her mother.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“I don’t remember being deputized as part of your posse.”
“You’re not part of my posse. You’re the Good Samaritan in an awful story, because without you Rose wouldn’t exist for most people. They would just look away. No one wants to deal with throwaway babies. That kind of death is just too ugly.”
“And I don’t want to make it any less so.”
“My job is to find Rose’s mother. I am sorry you don’t like that.”
“I respect your job. I understand the need for it. I just don’t understand you getting any joy from it.”
“Putting bad people behind bars is one of the great perks of being a cop.”
“Do you really think Rose’s mother is a bad person?”
“I do.”
“On a cold night, she covered her newborn with a warm blanket and put bootees on her daughter’s feet.”
“And then she abandoned her to die.”
“I used to be angry like you. The first few times I buried my children-and yes, I think of every one of them as a child of mine-I thought no punishment could be harsh enough for the monsters that abandoned them. I wanted those creatures found and sentenced to death, but not before being tortured. But then I happened to meet one of those monsters and then another, and suddenly they weren’t monsters anymore. They were mostly young women overwhelmed by a situation that they didn’t know how to deal with, and in a panic they made the worst decision of their life. I am not excusing what they did, but I have not yet heard of a mother that was in her right mind when she abandoned her baby.”
“I don’t believe in diminished capacity. What I do believe in is jailhouse conversions brought on by defense lawyers.”
“I can understand why cases like these hit home for you.”
“Don’t make this about me. It’s about Rose and other newborns like her.”
“And weren’t you a newborn like her?”
“I didn’t die.”
“And you haven’t forgiven.”
“Why the hell should I?”
“Hate is a heavy burden to carry.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“I am certain that Rose’s mother is suffering more than we can even imagine for what she did.”
“Then she shouldn’t mind doing that suffering in prison.”
“Having her wear a scarlet M won’t make anything better.”
“I don’t agree. Society needs its pound of flesh.”
“I believe Rose already paid that price.”