She shrugged. “We made pleasant conversation, he walked me out, and we parted ways. But yes, I did give him my office number and by the time I got home and checked for messages, his was one of them. I didn’t answer but he called the next day and invited me to dinner. I said no but how about coffee. Which we did in the afternoon at a place I like in Brentwood. It was pleasant, and classy, and again, nothing happened.”
A fingertip brushed the fringe of her hair. “The next time, something happened.” She leaned forward. “Gio was the most tender man I’ve ever met. In every regard. Why anyone would want to harm him...” Her voice cracked. “I just can’t fathom this.”
Milo said, “It may have had nothing to do with him, Ms. Mastrecht.”
“What do you mean?”
“The primary target might have been someone he was with.”
“Oh no, that’s horrible. Who?”
“A woman named Meagin March.”
“Meg?”
“You know her?”
“I know of her. Gio talked about her. Called her Meagin and Meg.”
“The two of you overlapped?”
“Not substantively,” said Lulu Mastrecht. “By that I mean I was transitioning away from Gio and she’d just entered the picture.”
“Did that create problems?”
“Not at all, Lieutenant. It wasn’t some rivalry thing. I called it transitioning because Gio and I didn’t have any sort of abrupt breakup. What happened was my husband — we’d been separated, having a rough patch — my husband and I decided to give it another go.”
She twisted the wedding band. “That process took a while but when it finally became clear that Ed was serious, I informed Gio it had been great knowing him but it was a phase in my life that had to end. He was totally understanding. Called me amate. Took my hand and kissed my knuckles.”
Her fingers clawed. The ring rotated the other way. “I know what you’re thinking. Cheesy. But you had to know Gio. He was sincere. Told me how happy he was for me, how wonderful it had been being with me. That’s what I mean. The sweetest man.”
We nodded.
Her look said she hoped we were also sincere but had her doubts.
I said, “By that time Gio was seeing Meagin March.”
“He wasn’t sneaking around on me, what we had was open.”
“What did Gio tell you about her?”
She lowered her eyes. Beautifully mascaraed lashes fluttered. “Not much, just that she was vulnerabile. I said if you know that, don’t be a jerk. And we laughed. It was like that with us. Expressing whatever was on our minds. We did a lot of talking, he was so good at talking.”
“Did Gio say how Meagin was vulnerable?”
“Just that she’d had a rough life. I didn’t ask, he didn’t say, we didn’t dwell on it.”
“Did he tell you she was married?”
“No, but who cares about that type of thing? Especially if she was in my situation. If you want to judge, can’t stop you. But from my limited experience Gio didn’t try to muscle in or take advantage.”
I said, “Where did the two of you generally meet?”
“Not generally, always,” she said. “Once more at the Four Seasons, once at the Waldorf, and then always at Gio’s place.” Rosy cheeks had deepened to coral.
“It was so lovely there,” she continued. “Quiet, peaceful, you could forget you were in the city. We loved to swim. And fuck. I’m being open with you because my therapist says I need to work on openness. And I have nothing to hide or be ashamed of. Never sneaked around on Ed when we were together and before we got back together, I told him everything. And he did the same.”
Her eyes shifted to the right. Her jaw set. “Ed had a lot more to tell. Now, if there’s nothing more, I really do need to prep for my meeting.”
Milo said, “Thanks for talking to us. If there’s anything else that occurs to you, we’d appreciate hearing about it.”
“Before you showed up, I went over everything and no, there’s nothing. Will be nothing.”
She stood gracefully, waited until we’d done the same, and eyed the left-hand elevator bank. We walked with her. When bronze doors slid open, she held them in place. “Can you tell me where it happened? Was it a robbery on the street?”
Milo said, “It happened at Gio’s house.”
Lulu Mastrecht gasped. Backed into the elevator and allowed the doors to shut. We watched as her terrified face narrowed then disappeared.
Milo said, “That scared her.”
I said, “Thinking it could’ve been her.”
Another layer of chrome had been added to the spoon but an escape route had been set aside for the unmarked.
Milo said, “Thanks, amigo,” and handed Surfer Joe a ten.
He said, “Not necessary,” as he snatched the bill and jammed it into a pant pocket.
As we drove away, Milo said, “Easygoing guy, our Gio. She breaks up with him but he’s cool with it. Probably because he already found her replacement.”
“Or,” I said, “none of his relationships meant much to him.”
“You’ve changed your mind about him and Meagin getting serious.”
“It’s feeling that way.”
“Meaning there could be others.”
“There could be but I doubt it matters. Barlett’s murder tells us Meagin was the likely target.”
“Vulnerabile,” he said. “Meaning she coulda told him about whatever it was she was running from. He didn’t tell Lulu because if he was loose-lipped about Meagin, she’d know he’d be the same with her.”
“Or,” I said, “he really was a nice guy.”
“Gallant,” he said. “Goes great with a nice pool in Bel Air.”
He took Twenty-Sixth Street and drove east. “Maybe it all has to do with her past but I’m not letting go of Dougie. All that hatred when he talks about her.”
I said, “He really did seem surprised to hear about Gio.”
“Or so he wants us to think.”
“Maybe.”
“Mr. March ain’t twanging your antenna.”
“Find anything connecting him to Richard Barlett and it’ll be twanging away.”
He chewed his cheek. Said nothing until we were back in his office.
Chapter 34
Settling behind his desk, Milo phoned Sam Cifuentes.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“I was gonna ask you the same thing.”
“Oh. Nothing. Your end, too, huh?”
“Just confirmation that my female victim had a tough past. Anything come up like that about Barlett?”
“Nope,” said Cifuentes, “and that’s the thing. Nothing’s come up, period. It’s weird. He only got himself a Social Security number when he started working at the church five years ago. Not just Social Security, he’s a ghost in any database I can find. Can’t even locate a prior address and I looked in a whole bunch of places.”
He recited a list.
Milo said, “Nothing I’d add to that, Sam.”
“Good to know,” said Cifuentes. “I asked Father Hernandez and he said Barlett just walked in one day, told him he had bookkeeping experience, and offered his services at like minimum wage. Church operates on a shoestring, so Father thought not a bad deal. He figured Barlett had maybe been homeless and got it together. If he had, he’d done a great job ’cause he was well groomed and polite, no sign of any mental issues. I’m thinking maybe it was drugs, not necessarily homeless. Some people can get cleaned up, right? Though personally, I haven’t seen that with our meth offenders and our crackheads.”