“Any resemblance to Amelia?”
“Maybe the blondeness. Amelia was more…constructed. Fuller in the face and she looked like she took all morning putting herself together.”
“What about Julie the Missing Showgirl, see any similarities?”
She peered closely. “I only saw one picture of her and it was twelve years ago…she was blond, too, so there’s that. She did make the Dunes stage so we’re not talking a toad…yeah, I guess, in a general way.”
“What about these people?” Flashing the MP shots of Cathy and Andy Gaidelas.
Marcia Peaty’s mouth opened and closed. “This could be Amelia Dowd, she’s heavy around the jaw and the cheeks in the exact same way. The guy’s not a dead-ringer for Bill Dowd Junior but he isn’t that different, either…similar around the eyes- the crags, the whole Gregory Peck thing.”
“Dowd looked like Peck?”
“My mom said Amelia bragged about it all the time. I guess there was some truth to it, except Captain Dowd was about five five. Mom used to say, ‘He’s Gregory Peck on the morning after an earthquake and a tornado and a flood, minus the charisma and sawed off at the knees.”
I said, “This guy’s been compared to Dennis Quaid.”
“I can see that…not as cute.” She studied the pictures some more, returned them. “You guys are dealing with serious bad, aren’t you?”
“You said Captain Dowd was no tough guy,” I said. “What else can you say about him?”
“Quiet, inoffensive, never seemed to do much.”
“Masculine?”
“What do you mean?”
“Manly man?”
“Hardly,” she said. “Just the opposite. Mom was convinced he was gay. Or as she put it, a homo. I can’t say I saw that, but I was too young to be thinking in those terms.”
“Your father have any opinions about it?” said Milo.
“Dad kept his opinions to himself.”
“But your mom was definite about it.”
“Mom was always definite. Why’s it important? Amelia and the captain have been dead for years.”
“How many years?”
“It was between the time Brad got called in for questioning and the next time I heard from him, which was five years later…I’m thinking ten years ago.”
“They died at the same time?”
“Car crash,” said Marcia Peaty. “Driving up to San Francisco. I think the captain fell asleep at the wheel.”
“You think,” said Milo.
“That’s what Mom said, but she was big into blame. Maybe he had a heart attack, I can’t say for sure.”
“At the birthday parties,” I said, “when Brad took you around the house and showed you his hobbies, what kinds of things was he interested in?”
“Typical boy stuff,” she said. “Stamp collection, coin collection, sports cards, he had a knife collection- is that what you’re getting at?”
“It’s just a general question. Anything else?”
“Anything else…let’s see…he flew kites, had some nice ones. Lots of little metal cars- he was always into cars. There was an insect collection- butterflies pinned to a board. Stuffed animals- not the girly kind, trophies he’d stuffed himself.”
“Taxidermy?”
“Yeah. Birds, a raccoon, this real weird horned lizard that sat on his desk. He told me he’d learned how to do it at summer camp. Was pretty good at it. Had these boxes- fishing tackle boxes with compartments full of glass eyes, needles and thread, glue, all kinds of tools. I thought it was cool, asked him to show me how he did it. He said, ‘Soon as I get something to fix.’ He never did. I think I went to maybe one more party and by that time I had a boyfriend, wasn’t thinking about much else.”
“Let’s talk about your other cousin,” said Milo. “Any idea how Reynold came to work for the Dowds?”
“That was me,” she said. “That bragging call from Brad five years ago. Christmas, there was lots of background noise, like he was doing some heavy partying. This was after Reyn’s trouble in Reno. I told Brad, ‘Seeing as you’re some big real estate honcho, how about helping out a country cousin?’ He didn’t want to hear about it. He and Reyn didn’t know each other, I don’t think they’d seen each other since they were kids. But I was in an obnoxious mood and kept working on him- working on his pride, you know? ‘Guess your business isn’t so big you’d need outside help,’ that kind of thing. Finally, he said, ‘Have him call me but if he fucks up once, that’s it.’ Next thing I know Reynold’s calling me from L.A., telling me Brad’s gonna hire him to manage some apartments.”
“Brad hired him to mop and sweep.”
“So I’ve learned,” said Marcia Peaty. “Real sweet, huh?”
“Reynold accepted it.”
“Reynold didn’t have too many options. Brad ever let on to anyone that Reynold was family?”
“Nope,” said Milo. “Would Billy and Nora be aware of the connection?”
“Not unless Brad told them. There’s no blood tie there.”
“Or Reynold told them. We’ve heard he and Billy hung out.”
“That so?” she said. “Hung out how?”
“Reynold dropped by Billy’s apartment, allegedly to drop off lost objects.”
“Allegedly?”
“Brad denies sending him on errands.”
“You believe him?”
Milo smiled. “They’re both your cousins but you’d prefer we focus on Brad, not Reynold. That why you came down to L.A.?”
“I came down because Reynold’s dead and no one else is going to bury him. He’s all I’ve got left in terms of family.”
“Except Brad.”
“Brad’s your concern, not mine.”
“You don’t like him.”
“He was raised in another family,” she said.
Silence.
Finally, she said, “Julie the dancer. That bothered me big time. Now you’re showing me photos of other blond girls. Reynold was dumb and sloppy and a drunk but he was never cruel.”
“So far you haven’t told us anything Brad did that was cruel.”
“No, I haven’t,” said Marcia Peaty. “And I guess I can’t because, like I said, he and I haven’t exactly been hanging out.”
“But…”
“You know, guys,” she said, “this is real weird and I don’t think I like it.”
“Like what?”
“Being on the receiving end of what I used to dish out.”
“It’s for a good cause, Marcia,” said Milo. “In terms of Julie the Showgirl, did Harold Fordebrand’s gut say anything more about Brad than he was slick?”
“You’d have to ask Harold. Once he found out Brad was my cousin he kept me out of the loop.”
“How about your gut…”
“Brad’s demeanor bothered me. Like he was enjoying some private joke. You guys know what I mean.”
“Despite that, you got Reyn a job with him.”
“And now Reyn’s gone,” she said. Her face crumpled and she turned to hide it from us. When she faced us again, her voice was small. “You’re saying I screwed up big time.”
“No,” said Milo. “I’m not trying to guilt-trip you, far from it. All this stuff you’re telling us is beyond helpful. We’re just groping around here.”
“No case yet.”
“Not hardly.”
“I was hoping I was wrong,” she said.
“About what?”
“Brad being somehow involved with Reynold’s death.”
“No indication he is.”
“I know, an altercation. You’re saying that’s all there was to it?”
“So far.”
“The old stonewall,” said Marcia Peaty. “I’ve laid a few bricks myself. Let me ask you this: The way Brad treated Reyn, giving him scut work, the Dowds owning all those properties, and they stick Reyn in a hovel. That add up to the milk of human kindness? These people are just what Mom always said they were.”
“What’s that?”
“Poison palming itself off as perfume.”
CHAPTER 40
Marcia Peaty switched the subject and Milo didn’t stop her.
Procedural questions about how to take possession of her cousin’s body. His rundown wasn’t much different from the one he’d given Lou Giacomo.
She said, “Paperwork aerobics. Okay, thanks for your time. Am I wasting my time asking you to keep me informed?”