I shook my head.
Guzman said, “Me neither, but I guess anything’s possible.”
“Want to make a guess as to time of death, Christopher?”
“That’s not my expertise, sir—”
“That’s why I said ‘guess.’ ”
“Well, sir, rigor’s set in and the room’s not particularly cold.”
“So probably three to eight hours,” said Milo. “Makes sense, if I was up to nasty, I’d do it in the dark. I didn’t notice any cameras on the path. You see any security in the bungalow, itself?”
“No, sir. But I wasn’t looking.”
“Maybe I’ll get lucky and the hotel conceals them.” The notepad tapped his thigh. “All right, Christopher, if there’s nothing else you want to tell me, I’ll take it from here, go get some nutrition.”
“Thank you, sir.” Guzman lifted the case and the defibrillator and headed toward Barker. Barker greeted his arrival with a rapidly moving mouth. Rudimentary lip reading clarified the greeting: “What the fuck?”
Guzman kept going. Barker took a final look at Refugia and followed his partner out of eyeshot.
Refugia started to leave. Milo curled a finger and she hurried over.
When she got to us, he slumped a bit. Making himself smaller, the way he does when he’s trying not to intimidate. From the look in the young maid’s eyes, not successful.
He said, “Thanks for sticking around, Ms. Ramos.” As if she had a choice.
She managed a sad-looking smile. Dark eyes had misted.
Milo said, “It had to be tough walking in and seeing that.”
“Oh, God, so terrible, sir. She was a beautiful person. Here, I mean.” Tapping her left breast.
“You knew her well.”
“Oh, yes. I’ve done her cleaning and her room service since I started working here.”
“How long is that?”
“Three years, a little more,” said Refugia.
“She’s been here that long?”
“Longer. She lives here, sir.”
Milo looked at me.
I said, “Her description was ‘forever.’ ”
Refugia Ramos said, “I got her by accident — they sent me here with her breakfast and she liked me so she asked for me the next day. They didn’t do it right away but she kept asking and the schedule worked out so they put me on permanent breakfast and high-tea delivery to The Numbers.”
“The Numbers?”
I said, “The bungalows.”
“Uno,” said Milo. “But it’s not Los Numeros?”
“No, sir, we’re instructed during orientation that it’s The Numbers. ‘Continental breakfast at Cuatro.’ ‘Cocktails at Ocho.’ ”
“So she’s been here forever.”
“Everyone says that, not just her. She used to say, ‘I’m a fixture, Refugia. Like one of the faucets.’ Then she’d laugh. She liked to laugh.”
“Happy person.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Is longtime residency pretty common for the hotel?”
“No, sir, she’s the only one.”
He turned and peered up the pathway. “No other longtimers in The Numbers or anywhere else?”
“The Numbers don’t get used much,” said Refugia. “They don’t have air-conditioning and they’re far away from the parking lot. No WiFi, everybody wants WiFi.”
“Ms. Mars didn’t care.”
“She liked to read and watch regular TV.”
“The rest of the hotel has WiFi?”
“Not in all of El Ori-hi-nal — the older wing — just some. Mostly people stay in The Can.”
Milo smiled. “That sounds like an outbreak of intestinal flu.”
“Pardon — oh, no, no, sir, The Can’s the new wing. The big tower, looks like a can? The hotel doesn’t call it that but the staff does because of the shape.”
“Bungalows, Spanish, The Can. Interesting place,” said Milo.
“El Ori-hi-nal’s what’s left of the old hotel, most of it fell down in an earthquake a long time ago. I guess they kept it because...” She frowned. “I don’t know why.”
Milo said, “With The Numbers not being popular, Ms. Mars would have had plenty of privacy. Was she happy being by herself back here?”
“Very happy, sir. It’s her home.”
“How much did that cost her?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Who’s the hotel manager?”
“Mr. DeGraw,” she said. “Should I get him?”
“In a minute. What time do you come on shift?”
“Seven A.M.”
“And you go off...?”
“If I’m working a single, at three. If it’s a double, I stay till eleven.”
“You do a lot of doubles?”
“Maybe five, six a month.”
“Pretty full schedule.”
“I like to work. I came to America to work.”
“From?”
“Manila.”
“Any family here in L.A.?”
“Oh, yes, my sister and her husband. They’re registered nurses. I live with them.”
“Where, Ms. Ramos?”
“North Hollywood.” As Milo took down the address, Refugia’s mouth screwed up. “Where I live is important, sir?”
“Probably not, but just a few more questions. How long have you been in the U.S.?”
Refugia blinked. “Four years. First I worked as a health aide at a retirement home, then I got this. I like this better.”
“More enjoyable.”
“Working with healthy people is better, sir. That’s why when I got assigned to Miss Thalia, her being so old, I wasn’t so... but she was great. Not like the people in the home.”
“In good shape.”
“She had a little trouble moving around but her brain was young, she was smart and funny.”
“Almost a hundred,” said Milo. “Pretty impressive.”
Refugia sniffed and dabbed her eyes. “May I ask a question, sir?”
“Sure.”
“Are you here because you think someone did something to her?”
“Don’t know, yet.”
“Rob — Mr. Barker told me his partner’s got a crazy imagination, sees bad stuff everywhere.”
“Could be,” said Milo. “So all the other Numbers are currently unoccupied?”
“No, there’s a couple staying in Cinco, from Europe somewhere — the Birken-somethings — Birkenherr, Birkenharr, something like that. This morning I brought them coffee then they called for a paper but they must’ve gone back to sleep because they didn’t answer. So I rang the bell and left it in front of the door.”
“Cinco,” said Milo. “No one else.”
“There was a family in Dos. Tourists from Korea, but they moved out two days ago. Seven people. They used the couches for sleeping and they put sleeping bags on the floor. They complained about the A.C. not working and I told them there wasn’t any and they started talking in Korean. Next day I had to clean the whole place.”
“They left instead of transferring to The Can?”
“I don’t know, sir, I only work the ground floor of The Can, if they were on a higher floor, I’d have no idea.” Tears formed in her eyes. “She looked so peaceful but then I couldn’t wake her.”
Milo said, “Sorry you had to go through that. Did Miss Mars leave her front door unlocked?”
“Just the porch door.”
“But not the main door.”
“No, sir.”
“Did you find it locked?”
Wide eyes. “No, sir, it was open.”
“That didn’t bother you?”
“I figured she opened it, like she usually did.”
“Okay,” said Milo. “Anything else you want to tell me?”
“No, sir.” Tight voice.
“Then now would be a good time to get Mr. DeGraw.”
“His extension is—”
“Would you mind going over and telling him in person?”