Kramer stroked the poodle. “Really? Tell me about it.”
When he finished, she said, “So you’re thinking: If Malley’s a vengeance-crazed killer, maybe he did the same to Lara.”
“I’m sure you were right on, but you know how it is when stuff comes up- ”
“No need to stroke me, Milo. If the situation was reversed, I’d do the same thing.” She sat back. The dog’s breathing had slowed. Kramer whispered something in its ear. “Fernie and I did a good job on Lara. Coroner confirmed it was suicide, there was no reason to think it wasn’t. Lara was what you psychologists call profoundly depressed, Doctor. Since Kristal’s death, she’d lost weight, was taking medication, slept all day, refused to socialize.”
“You got this from Barnett?”
“That’s right.”
“I found him a rather taciturn fellow.”
“Yeah, he did have the old Clint Eastwood thing going on,” said Kramer. “But Fernie and I had bonded with him because we caught the two little monsters.”
“What was his reaction to Lara’s death?”
“Sad, wiped out, guilty. He said he should’ve taken her depression more seriously, but they’d been having their problems and he’d been focusing on his work.”
“What kind of problems?”
“Marital stuff,” said Kramer. “I didn’t push. This was a guy who’d lost everything.”
“So he was feeling guilty for not paying attention to her.”
“Suicide does that. Right, Doctor? Leaves all that guilt residue. Like the case I’m working on right now. The wife hated the husband’s guts, did everything in her power to squeeze him dry during the divorce. But seeing him bleeding out in that bathtub freaked her out and now she’s remembering all sorts of wonderful things about him and blaming herself.”
Milo said, “Did Barnett express any guilt about Lara using his gun?”
“No,” said Kramer. “Nothing like that. I also talked to Lara’s mother and she said basically the same.”
“She and Barnett get along?” I said.
“I got the feeling they didn’t, but she never came out and said anything bad about him,” said Kramer. “What I got from her was that Lara had really struggled after Kristal’s death and she felt powerless to do anything about it, poor woman. Her name was Nina. Nina Balquin. She was devastated. How could she not be?”
“Lara was on medication,” I said. “She get that from a family doctor?”
“Lara refused to see a therapist, so Nina gave her some of her pills.”
“Mom was depressed, too.”
“Over Kristal,” said Kramer. “Maybe there was more. I got the sense this was a family that had dealt with a lot over the years.”
“Like what?” said Milo.
“It was just a feeling- I’m sure you’ve seen that, Doctor. Some families seem to live under a cloud. But maybe my opinion was colored because I was seeing them at their worst.”
“Twice,” I said.
“Talk about the pits. I’m getting profoundly depressed just thinking about it,” said Kramer. She laughed softly and stroked the poodle. “Fritzi’s my therapist. She loves stakeouts.”
“Walks in a straight line and doesn’t talk,” said Milo. “The perfect partner.”
“And doesn’t need privacy to pee.”
Milo chuckled. “Anything else that would be helpful, Sue?”
“That’s it, guys. Those cases made me so damn sad, I couldn’t wait to close both of them. So maybe I overlooked something on Lara, I don’t know. But there really was nothing to indicate Barnett had anything to do with it.” She sighed.
Milo said, “I wouldn’ta done different, Sue.”
“You really think he could’ve killed her?”
“You know him better than I do.”
“I knew him as a grieving father.”
“An angry, grieving father.”
“Isn’t anger how men deal with everything?”
Neither of us answered.
Sue Kramer said, “If Barnett blamed Lara for being negligent, he never said so to me. Can I see him waiting for Duchay to get out and pulling a revenge thing? I guess. I know he was happy when the Turner kid got shanked in jail.”
“He said that?” said Milo.
“Yup. I called to tell him about it. Figured it might hit the papers and he shouldn’t find out that way. He listened and said nothing, there was this long silence. I said, ‘Barnett?’ And he said ‘I heard you.’ I said, ‘You all right?’ And he said, ‘Thanks for calling. Good riddance to bad garbage.’ Then he hung up. I have to say it creeped me out a little, because Turner was thirteen years old and the way he died was gross. Still, it wasn’t my kid he murdered. The more I thought about Barnett’s pain, the more I figured he was entitled.”
“Barnett ever talk about Rand?” said Milo.
“Only before the sentencing. He said he wanted them to get what they deserved. Which I suppose they did, in the end.”
Milo stopped at a light at Doheny.
Sue Kramer said, “I remember Turner’s death making the paper, but I didn’t see anything about Duchay. Was it in there?”
“Nope,” said Milo.
“Something like that, you’d think there would be coverage.”
“That would require a reporter actually ferreting something out,” said Milo.
“True,” said Kramer. “Those guys feed off press releases.” A beat. “Unlike us, huh, Milo? We just keep running after trouble. Sticking our fingers in holes as the world floods.”
Milo grunted assent.
Kramer said, “I’d better be getting back, guys. Just my luck to be gone when something exciting happens. And Fritzi’s due for a bathroom break.”
He circled back to Rexford.
“Drop me off in the alley out back, Milo. I left a little piece of tape at the bottom of the apartment door, want to make sure no one broke it.”
“Super-sleuth,” said Milo.
“Can’t wait to close this one. When I’m finished, Dwayne’s taking me to Fiji.”
“Aloha.”
“You should get some sunshine yourself, Milo.”
“I don’t tan.”
“Right here’s fine, big guy.”
Milo rolled to a stop behind a white-box apartment complex backed by parking slots. Stepping out, Kramer set the poodle down, leaned into his window, touched his shoulder. “The brassogracy treating you okay?”
“They leave me alone,” he said.
“That’s a brand of okay.”
“That’s a brand of nirvana.”
“What do you think?” he asked me as we exited the alley and drove west on Gregory Drive.
“She did a competent job, didn’t dig very deep.”
“What about that comment: the family living under a cloud?”
“Sounds like reality.”
He grunted. “Let’s find Lara’s other surviving relative. See what her reality is.”
CHAPTER 18
Nina Balquin was listed on Bluebell Avenue in North Hollywood.
Not far from the site of her daughter’s suicide. Or the Buy-Rite mall, or the park where her granddaughter had been taken to be murdered.
A short drive, also, to the Daneys’ house in Van Nuys.
But for Barnett Malley’s escape to rural solitude, the case had tossed a narrow net.
Milo got the number, spoke briefly, finished with, “Thanks, ma’am, will do.”
“Off we go,” he said. “She’s surprised that I want to talk to her about Barnett, not upset. Just the opposite, she’s lonely as hell.”
“You picked that up in a thirty-second conversation?”
“I didn’t pick up anything,” he said. “She came right out with it. ‘I’m a lonely woman, Lieutenant. Any company would be welcome.’ ”
The house was a cantaloupe orange one-story ranch on a bright, hot street. The lawn was green pebbles. A garden hose coiled loosely near the front steps, maybe for watering the elephant’s ears that covered half the front wall. This sisal doormat read DJB over a heraldic crest. The bell chimed do-re-mi.