Milo said, “That’s what we’re trying to find out. Any reason he’d be in L.A.?”
“I can’t see any. He used to live in L.A. but said he hated it, too much city. He liked nature — what was your — the guy you found, what was he wearing?”
Milo described the clothing.
EmJay Braun sank low. “Those stupid pants. I used to call them his grandpa jeans, he got them at a thrift shop — two pairs, the other could still be here if he didn’t pack it.”
She wheeled toward the doorway. “Got a photo of Hal, too. Of us. In the bedroom. Don’t hang anything out here, when stuff hangs crooked it drives me nuts, I don’t want to have to stand up and straighten.”
I said, “When Hal was around, did he straighten?”
“Ha. He couldn’t care less.” Smiling. “Maybe knights don’t straighten. C’mon, this way.”
The pseudo-jeans sat at the bottom of two drawers that held most of Hal Braun’s wardrobe. Same brand; Milo took them, along with a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt. The only other garments in the closet were a navy peacoat and a corduroy jacket.
EmJay lifted a standing frame from a nightstand. Casually dressed couple on the steps of a beautiful, cathedral-like structure.
“Ventura City Hall, the day we got married.”
Maria Josefina leaned against her new husband’s arm, smiling, strikingly pretty, her hair in an updo.
Hargis Braun’s grin livened the same moon-face in Mary Ellen’s photos and his driver’s license.
He wore the same clothes as the corpse in the Corvins’ den.
EmJay Braun said, “I don’t have to give this to you, do I?”
Milo said, “No, ma’am. Did Hal have a computer?”
“A laptop. He took it with him, he always did.”
We returned to the living room. Milo handed her his card. “If you think of anything.”
“And you’ll call me? Once you know?”
“Absolutely.”
She pinched her lower lip between index finger and thumb. Let go and revealed a crescent-shaped indentation just short of a wound. “You wouldn’t come all the way from L.A. if you weren’t pretty sure.”
“Ms. Braun, we honestly can’t say at this point.”
“Okay. But when you do know. I need to arrange things. Haven’t done that since my parents. They at least put away money for their funerals, I don’t know how I’m going to handle it.”
I said, “Is there anyone you’d like us to call for support?”
“The church folk are good, I’ll ask them what they think.”
We walked to the door.
She said, “Will I get into trouble if I cash Hal’s check? I mean if you don’t know for sure? I’ll probably get something anyway. Widow’s benefits. I think.”
“You’d best check with social services on that, ma’am.”
“I don’t want to do anything illegal but I could sure use both checks.”
“You won’t get into trouble because of us, ma’am.”
“That’s good. I need what I can get, it’s going to be different, now.” She blinked back tears. “What am I going to do without him?”
Chapter 14
Milo stashed the evidence bags in the trunk of the unmarked, got behind the wheel, and studied the little gray house.
“At the risk of venturing into your territory,” he said, “Braun sounds a little nuts.”
I said, “I’m feeling more literary: How about quixotic?”
“Tilting at windmills?”
“And someone tilted back.”
“Idiot looks for trouble, there’s an army of people he could’ve pissed off. And the crime scene’s potentially anywhere he could drive. At least I’ve got a vehicle to BOLO, if it shows up maybe the location will say something.”
He got on the radio, put in the alert, hung up. “Nothing we heard from either Mary explains how he ended up on ol’ Chet’s parquet.”
“Mary Two said the adventures were infrequent. The Santa Barbara trip took place shortly before he ended up in L.A. Maybe it was part of the same adventure.”
“What, saving the whales and Ahab got irate?”
I laughed. “That does raise a question: Why drive forty miles for sand and surf when he lived in a beach town?”
“Maybe he liked high-priced sand better.” He turned the ignition key. “God, I hope you’re wrong about that. How am I gonna get a handle on something that started a hundred miles away?”
“Be good to know if the Corvins have any Santa Barbara connections.”
“Sure, I’ll ask... saving snakes, wanting to be covert. Sir Lance-a-little.”
A man stepped out of the beige cottage two doors south.
Tall, Hispanic, wearing a powder-blue golf shirt, white slacks, and polished brown loafers. A deeply seamed bronze face was topped by thick white hair. A snowy mustache sprouted from beneath a strong nose.
Older man, easily seventy but solidly built with ramrod posture.
Pretending he was examining a bed of geraniums rather than checking us out.
I said, “We interest the neighbor.”
Milo swiveled. The movement caught the man’s eyes. He folded his arms across his chest and stared, as if inviting confrontation. When none occurred, he plucked a dead flower from the bed and went back inside.
“Beggars, choosers,” said Milo and got out of the car.
The beige cottage’s paint was fresh; same for the semisweet chocolate trim. A fake-grass lawn gleamed emerald. No Soliciting sign. No bell. Before Milo’s fist landed on the lacquered red door, it opened.
The white-haired man said, “Here I was thinking you were lazy. You’re obviously on the job. What happened with Braun?”
Milo showed his badge.
The man squinted. “L.A.?” He eyed the unmarked. “Back when I was on the job we used wheels like that. You have A.C. in that thing? We didn’t.”
“Theoretically,” said Milo. “If you can spare a minute, sir—”
“Prieto, Enrique, everyone calls me Henry. Worked Oxnard patrol fifteen years, then Robbery, when I reached mandatory I went private and rousted bums around the harbor.”
“Know Frank Gonzales?”
“Francisco,” said Henry Prieto. “Loved food, always needed to watch his weight.”
“Yeah, he’s a gourmet.”
Prieto patted his own flat stomach, took a long look at Milo’s convexity. “How do you know Frank?”
“Worked a homicide case with him.”
“Homicide. You still that?”
“Still.”
Henry Prieto glanced at the Braun house. “You’re saying one of them got killed? Just saw her wheeling her chair up and down her driveway this morning so it has to be him.”
“Could be.”
“Could be?”
“We’ve got a body needs identifying.”
“What’s the holdup?” said Prieto.
“It’s in bad shape.”
“Decomp? Hated those. Once I saw a tarp at the harbor, inside was a drunk, the wharf rats had enjoyed him for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and another breakfast. You went to ask her questions, see if you could get an I.D.?”
“Yup. What can you tell us about the two of them?”
“Couple of waiters. Waiting around for the monthly check. Her I don’t mind, she’s been sick for a long time.” The mustache angled down. “Him? A little limp stops you from getting a job? All he does is loaf around all day, come to think about it, haven’t seen him in a while, must be... what, a week? Two? Where in L.A. did he show up? Watts, East L.A.?”
“Westside,” said Milo.
“That’s a switch.”
“What else can you tell us about them, Mr. Prieto?”