“He’s the obvious choice,” I said.
“But...”
“There could’ve been another lover of Meagin’s they’d seen before. Someone she brought to the house.”
“Not Gio? One lothario offs another?”
“She’s shaping up as someone with lots of secrets.”
“Gio she kept at arm’s length but Lover Boy Number Two got to use the marital bed?”
“It’s possible,” I said, “if he was someone with whom she had a longer, more serious relationship.”
“She was that blatant in front of the maids?” he said. “Not worried they’d rat her out?”
“Maybe she was confident they’d be on her side. Or she was oblivious to their presence. People can get that way with the help, start treating them like furniture. Alternatively, she paid them off to keep quiet. Then she gets murdered and they start thinking knowledge can be dangerous.”
He chewed on that. “Only way to find out is to find them.” He phoned Alicia and told her to start calling domestic agencies.
That accomplished, we resumed walking. Reached the gate, where Milo laid the paintings down, extracted the clicker, and created our exit route.
Randi Levine got out of her Audi, phone in one hand, small spiral datebook in the other. She looked at the canvases in Milo’s arms, raised her eyebrows but said nothing.
He placed the stack in the trunk of the unmarked, returned to Levine, handed over the keys and the remote and thanked her.
“The artwork,” she said. “You took it off the walls?”
“Nope, pulled it out of the garbage.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Original works by the late Ms. March. Your boss wasn’t appreciative.”
“I — okay, fine, whatever you say.”
“Thanks for your time.”
“Oka-ay.”
Seconds after she began driving away, her phone was at her mouth.
I said, “Loyal assistant notifying the boss. He gets sufficiently stirred up, he might call you and give something away.”
“You read my mind,” he said. “Aka doing your job.”
Chapter 25
Tracing the maids’ whereabouts remained Milo’s focus when we were back in his office. That changed when he logged onto his email and found an attachment containing Meagin March’s phone activity.
Seven months’ worth. He printed two copies, gave me one, sat back in his squealing desk chair, and began eyeballing.
I said, “Lots of calls but again, not a single text. Fits someone with secrets.”
He said, “She’s that hush-hush, why not just use burners?” He frowned. “Yeah, yeah, maybe she did. Okay, let’s take a closer look at what she did expose to the world.”
Not much more than we already knew.
Meagin March had amassed two hundred and nine days of reach-outs to nail salons, clothing boutiques and luxury department stores, jewelers, the day spa, food deliveries from high-end and health-conscious restaurants.
Nearly all the personal calls were to three numbers, all familiar. Back-and-forths with Lana Demarest and Toni Bowman.
One clarification: calls to and from Gio Aggiunta had begun just over three months ago. Phone contact between the lovers had always been brief, most calls lasting a minute or less.
Setting up jog-over dates, no need for chitchat?
I searched for a day-pattern for the trysts, found none. That made sense; the deciding factor had been Doug March’s absence.
I ran through the log twice, searching for evidence of another love interest, and came up empty. A minute later, Milo announced the same conclusion and cursed.
Then he pointed.
I said, “Just about to mention it.”
We’d come up with the same question mark, an eight-minute call from Meagin to an 805 number, just over two months ago.
He said, “Long call but only once. Maybe this is the ex she dumped and pissed off. They have a heated discussion, he stews, finally decides to come down here two months later to express his disappointment.”
He crossed his fingers and logged onto the reverse directory.
Cellphones have made that a lot less useful. This time it paid off, listing a Ventura County landline.
The auxiliary of St. Jerome’s Catholic Church in San Pietro.
He said, “Confessing her sins?”
I said, “Last I heard that had to be in person. You know different?”
“Not since I consulted to the Vatican. Don’t know what an auxiliary is, either. Maybe something they put in place after I lapsed.”
I said, “Could be a charity group the church runs.”
“She wanted to donate?”
“There are plenty of good causes locally, why pick a place fifty miles away? To me an eight-minute call says some sort of personal connection.”
He tried the number. Got multiple-choice voicemail presented by a cheerful female voice. First decision: English or Español. Following that, Option 1 was the church’s main office. That triggered a new list.
If this is in regard to the schedule of Mass and services, press 1.
If this is in regard to a christening...
He said, “How long before God installs a system?” and listened.
Nothing about an auxiliary.
He hung up. “San Pietro isn’t big on day spas, it’s mostly aggie and oil wells. I was there coupla years ago, some farm dinner fundraiser Rick had to go to. Tables set up in an avocado ranch. I learned that avocado trees don’t die. They look like they’ve had it, then you hack ’em to stumps and they rebloom. I remember thinking if humans could do that, I’d be out of a job.”
He looked at me. “You, on the other hand, would be raking it in, helping late bloomers adjust. So what do you think about her calling there? Seeing as it’s a church, Angry Ex is looking less likely.”
I said, “Maybe she has family there.”
“One call in seven months?” he said. “Not exactly a big happy clan.”
“Maybe she left the clan and tried reconnecting.”
“Midwestern girl packs out to Vegas for excitement that ain’t San Pietro?”
“Who knows if that’s even true?” I said. “If whoever she called in San Pietro is kin, her roots could be in California. Maybe Vegas attracted her because she’d heard for years how good-looking she was and figured that would carry her a long way. But once she got there, she discovered plenty of competition and at some point she got into escorting. That led her to Rikki Montel and the others and eventually, the four of them decided to try L.A.”
He said, “Homecoming.”
“Spending serious time in Vegas could mean the older guys she complained about were what you said: big spenders or shady types who got too aggressive. That led her to Doug, at first glance shy and nonthreatening. But he also turned out to be a Mega Type A, so she found herself an easygoing younger lover. With a history of his own that directed him to older women.”
“Living ultra-luxe and having a nice dip in the pool at Gio’s,” he said. “She probably felt she’d won the lottery. But still, why risk it all by cheating?”
“Rikki told us she liked to take risks.”
“Skydiving.” He sighed. “Bad judgment, bad luck. The kind of person I usually get to meet.”
Alicia called. She’d talked to a dozen agencies. No record of either woman being placed. She said, “Want me to keep looking?”
“If you’ve got time.”
“Nothing but, Loo. Until dinner, Al’s taking me to Spago.”
“In the Rolls?”
“What else? Gets him great valet parking.”
“Bon appétit, road warrior.”
She laughed and hung up.