“Aiding and abetting me, huh?”
“Right from the beginning.”
“So you figured out the semen was Monte’s, not Des’s? Okay… um, how do you know Des used condoms, Lara?”
Silence.
“Lara?”
“Must be something I heard. Back in high school. Des was a huge player, everyone talked about it, how he’d jump anything with a pulse. How he carried condoms in his wallet.”
“We didn’t find any condoms at the scene.”
“I figured Monte took them.”
“Why would he do that?”
“He’s evil-maybe for a trophy, some kind of sick male dominance. Just like ejaculating on Doreen’s leg.”
“You’re sure it wasn’t Des’s semen?”
“I can’t be sure of anything. I just figured Monte was capable of something twisted like that. Killing Doreen, then demeaning her. When I pointed it out, I was hoping you’d analyze it, find out it was Monte’s, and that would tell you had something more than a simple murder.”
“One thing this case hasn’t been, Lara, is simple. Something John Nguyen reminds me every day. Now it looks like it’s not gonna close anytime in the future. Especially with that semen stain gone. What do you think caused that?”
“Someone here screwed up. It happens more often than you think.”
“A screwup as opposed to something deliberate.”
“Who would do that deliberately?”
“That’s what Bobby Escobar wanted to know.”
“Who?”
“Bobby Escobar, C.I., used to work here-the position you filled-before he went back to school to get a master’s. Well liked, so they let him come in after hours, work on his data.”
“He told you about the stain?”
“Basically.”
“Okay… good, so someone will look into it and hopefully they’ll tighten up procedures. For the chain of evidence, I mean.”
“That would be useful… but here we go again, Lara, with another annoying problem. Bobby reported to Dave McClellan that a couple of days after Des and Doreen’s bodies came in, he was here working late, happened to step out of his office, which is right across from the fridge-closet, at the exact same time you walked out of the fridge. That ring a bell?”
“Short Latin guy? Big mustache?”
“That’s Bobby. He went into the fridge, found one of the bodies looked like the plastic wrap had been messed with. Doreen’s. Dave didn’t think much of it, you were staff, maybe you were clearing a serial number for your paperwork. But now that we know about the stain, you can see what it looks like.”
“That’s all it was, I was checking numbers.”
“But someone else got in there and removed the stain?”
“Or it got washed away by accident, Lieutenant. That kind of thing happens around here, believe me.”
“I can hear John Nguyen groaning.”
“What do you mean?”
“See it from John’s perspective, Lara. You’re seen entering the fridge, the plastic’s disturbed, a piece of evidence is missing.”
“Maybe he did it.”
“Who?”
“That guy Bobby, maybe he wanted his job back, so he tried to cast suspicion on me.”
“Bobby’s busy with school and a part-time job.”
“He might’ve changed his mind.”
“Anything’s possible, Lara, but I wouldn’t even try to offer that to John Nguyen-hold on, let me shoot another one at you. A problem, I mean: Bobby was murdered.”
Silence.
“Lara?”
“Oh, that.”
“That?”
“I heard a C.I. was shot off the premises. I didn’t know it was him.”
“It was, Lara. He was shot in the head, same as Des Backer. With a.22, same as Des, no shell casings left behind, same as Des. Which makes sense, because the gun-the one with your prints on it-is a revolver, that little Smith and Wesson 650 we found in the box in the closet. So obviously we ran comparisons and unfortunately, the striations from the bullet in Bobby’s head match those from the bullet in Des’s head. I say unfortunately, because now we’ve got your prints on a weapon of multiple destruction. So to speak. Monte has an explanation for that-one that doesn’t depend on coincidence. Want to guess what he says?”
“Something that incriminates me. But he’s a sociopath and a liar.”
“Be that as it may, Lara, John Nguyen likes what Monte has to say. Which is that you were the one who ambushed Bobby. Monte admits to following Bobby when he left the crypt and to waiting until Bobby caught a red light then jacking him, pulling him out of his car, and dragging him over to where he says you shot Bobby. He even admits to putting Bobby back in the car. All you did, according to his version, is pull the trigger. John likes that story because it doesn’t depend on coincidence.”
Silence.
“This is ridiculous, Lieutenant.”
“So is sticking lynx hair on trees where it doesn’t belong. Which, when you think about it, isn’t that different from wiping away a stain. A stain Monte was too macho to get rid of at the scene-like you said, he’s a gambler, likes to take risks. Probably told you no way would they even analyze the stain. Two people are found in a sexual pose, there’s semen, why even suspect someone else contributed? I’m willing to believe he intimidated you that night, Lara, that’s why you couldn’t get rid of the stain right then and there. You both had guns but Monte’s was bigger. Size mattering and all that. You were training your little gun on Doreen while Monte did his big-gun thing, weren’t you? Then he strangled her, came on her leg.”
Silence.
“Lara?”
Silence.
“Lynx hairs, stains, it’s always about playing with evidence, Lara.”
Silence.
“Now you’re getting kind of closed up, Lara, the way you say Monte tends to be. That is not in your best interest, John Nguyen will not appreciate that.”
Silence.
“Lara, I’ve been open to your explanations, will continue to be open. But you’ve got to meet me halfway. Like that trip to Port Angeles to get the money. We’ve got Monte on video taking those suitcases, but both your names on the passenger list to Seattle. On a day you were off-shift.”
Silence.
“Tell me what really happened, Lara. Start at the beginning, it’s in your best interest.”
“We’re over.”
“Pardon?”
“Over. Finished. I need to have an attorney.”
“You’re saying you absolutely want an attorney.”
“Finished.”
“Suit yourself, Lara. You always do.”
CHAPTER 42
Knock on the door.
Milo said, “Entrez-vous.”
A Mutt-and-Jeff duo of female sheriffs stood over Lara Rieffen.
“Thank you, ladies, give this one the full strip-use that room across the hall.”
The shorter cop said, “Will do, Loo.”
He turned to Rieffen. “See you around, Lara? Or should we start using Kathy? For old times’ sake.”
Her reply was scalding eyes and a toss of strawberry blond.
The taller cop said, “I like your highlights. What do you use, L’Oréal?”
Stepping back inside, Milo removed his coat from the table, checked the mini-video-recorder he’d secreted under the garment. High-tech loan from Reed’s half brother Aaron Fox, formerly an LAPD homicide D, now a Beverly Hills private eye with a penchant for toys.
A partial replay revealed clear images and sound. “Perfect. Except for those extra ten pounds, can’t they invent a camera won’t do that?”
Gloving up, he searched Rieffen’s bag.
Inside were coroner’s credentials, five photos of her and M. Carlo Scoppio wearing hiking clothes, backdropped by forest.
“She look intimidated to you?”
“Not in the least.”
A wallet held a hundred twenty-three dollars in cash and some change, I.D.’s and credit cards under Lara Rieffen, Kathy Lara Vanderveldt, Laura Vander, Kathleen Rieffenstahl, Laura Rice, Cathy Rice, Lara Van Vliet.