Serpentine: An Alex Delaware Novel Read online

  * * *

  —

  The three of us walked up the nearest hallway, passed nurses and doctors hurrying by, finally found a quiet stretch.

  Petra said, “Looks like I couldn’t avoid your case.”

  Milo said, “You think this is related to Swoboda?”

  “It’s not an attempted robbery and given what you’ve told me about the file going missing, I can’t exclude it. Maybe someone really doesn’t want this dug up.”

  “How did it go down?”

  Petra said, “Twohy got shot coming back from a run. He’s a serious runner, has been working on speed goals for next year’s marathon.”

  I said, “When we met him he was aiming for eight fast miles.”

  “According to Ellie he reached that goal yesterday and decided to dive right in for nine. When I ran seriously I always heard it was important to rest, but maybe he’s at a different level.”

  “More like driven,” I said.

  Milo said, “More like a bad decision. What was his route?”

  Petra said, “Out of his neighborhood, turn east on Los Feliz Boulevard, past the park, into Atwater and beyond. He got nailed four blocks from home. Before they prepped him for surgery he was conscious and in a lot of pain, staff didn’t want me around. I got them to allow me a minute. Nothing substantive.”

  I said, “Fatigued and probably dehydrated. Easy target.”

  “Easy and unobservant. I asked if he saw anyone or anything. Negative. He got shot from behind, single entry wound in his lower back, exit right below his rib cage, probably small caliber.”

  Milo said, “Who called it in?”

  “A neighbor heard the gunshot and came out with his own firearm. He’s a vet, knows the diff between a weapon and a car backfiring. Fortunately for Twohy, he also knows first aid and stanched the wound while he 911’d.”

  “Hero of the story.”

  “Ninety-four-year-old hero, we’re talking World War Two.” She checked her own notes. “Herman Lieber, retired accountant.”

  Milo copied.

  Petra said, “Feel free to talk to him but I doubt he’ll have anything to add. We’re still not sure where the shooter was stationed, there’s mature foliage and trees all over, plenty of places to use as a blind. Just got a call from the scene, so far no casing, so maybe a revolver or we just haven’t found it yet. That’s it so far. Someone lay in wait, popped out and popped Twohy. What does that sound like to you?”

  Milo said, “Personal.”

  I said, “Was it up close and personal?”

  “Not so much,” she said. “No scorch marks. CSI’s best guess is ten, fifteen feet away.”

  I said, “Lucky shot in the dark.”

  “I thought so, too, Alex. It is pretty dark, nearest streetlight is up a ways.”

  “If it was an execution, why only one in the back? Once Twohy was down, a headshot would’ve sealed the deal.”

  Petra said, “Maybe Mr. Lieber opening the door scared the bad guy away.”

  I said, “Maybe.”

  Both of them looked at me.

  “This is a reach but what if it didn’t matter if Twohy died?”

  “He may very well end up dying,” she said. “What are you getting at?”

  “If the goal was to scare Ellie off, a serious wounding might be enough.”

  Petra considered that.

  Milo’s frown said he didn’t want to. “Or,” he said, “this has zero to do with Ellie and everything to do with Twohy.”

  Petra said, “Ellie doesn’t know anyone who’d hate him.”

  “That may or may not be relevant, kiddo. They haven’t been going together that long, come from different circles.”

  “Twohy has a secret life? I guess anything’s possible, obviously I need to learn more about my vic. But what Alex is saying about wounding could be right.” She grinned. “He often is right, no?”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  She said, “Let’s go with the warning thing, just for argument’s sake. Who knows about your investigation?”

  “Bunch of politicians including the mayor, Martz and her boss, and the third D to try to solve it. I’m voting for Martz.”

  “Wouldn’t that be nice. Seriously.”

  “Don’t know if Ellie told anyone but from our perspective, all that’s left is a rich lady from Montecito who we know from another case. She’s the one who revved up the politicos. Plus two of Des Barres’s heirs that we know about: daughter and son. There’s another son but we haven’t talked to him yet.”

  Petra said, “Dredging up Dorothy threatens them?”

  Milo frowned. “At this point, that’s a giant leap. The daughter was actually at the fundraiser where Ellie made contact with Bauer. When we spoke to her a couple days ago, she was open, didn’t seem bugged by our questions. Same for the brother we spoke to right after.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” she said. “Still, we’re talking two days later and Twohy gets ambushed. Plenty of time to put something together.” Her turn to jot. “Names?”

  “Valerie Des Barres, William Des Barres. The one we haven’t contacted is Anthony. She lives here, the sons are in Illinois. William’s a lawyer, Anthony’s a doctor.”

  “Where’s here?”

  “Daddy’s former mansion,” he said. “Where Dorothy also lived.”

  “Whoa,” said Petra. “Contracting a shooter from Illinois is feasible, but keeping it local sounds a lot easier. What if the daughter faked being chill? What else do you know about her?”

  “Writes and illustrates kiddie books, comes across like a female Mr. Rogers.”

  I said, “How would she know where to find Twohy?”

  “Did she and Ellie exchange addresses at the fundraiser?”

  Milo said, “I doubt it, don’t want to bring it up now. Could get Ellie needlessly freaked out.”

  Petra tapped her pad against her thigh. “Kiddie books. She make money at it?”

  “Probably not. She self-publishes.”

  “Not Dr. Seuss but lives in a big house,” she said, “so we’re likely in trust-fund territory. The world finding out Daddy was a homicidal letch could threaten her on multiple levels. I have to say, guys, she doesn’t disinterest me. I have your okay to contact her?”

  “If you don’t mind, hold off,” he said. “For your sake and mine.”

  “What’s my sake?”

  “If she is dirty, no sense alerting her. For now, I’d rather do a loose surveillance on her place, see if anyone interesting goes in and out. You know how contract kills usually go. No slick movie hit man, some loser who needs dough. It’s a huge property, we saw a gardening crew and a butler-type houseman but there could be more guys in and out.”

  “Who do you see surveilling, you or me?”

  “I can do it.”

  “Hoped you’d say that. Are we talking live-in staff?”

  “Probably not the gardeners but maybe the butler. I’ve only got a first name—Sabino—but I can try to cross-ref with the address. If he turns out to have a record, it gets kicked up several notches.”

  Petra copied the name. “Wouldn’t that be something? The butler did it? Heck, if I get lucky my next call-out will be on a dark and stormy night.”

  I cleared my throat.

  Milo said, “Unless you’re coming down with a cold, I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “Here’s the thing,” I said, “everyone who knows about the Swoboda investigation—from Martz to Galoway—helped it along. Even Val Des Barres, by switching seats with Ellie so she could talk to Bauer. I think her openness was real and I didn’t pick up any sense of threat on her part. Also, with social media, a whole lot of people could know Ellie’s personal info, especially if she posted about her mother. And I’ll bet Twohy’s got a serio
us online presence, maybe to the point of charting his runs.”

  Petra whipped out her phone. “The Web Deities. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  Milo said, “Job stress. Clogs the neurons.”

  CHAPTER

  16

  We hovered around Petra’s phone.

  Ellie Barker’s cyber-engagement was minimal. No photos, nothing about the search for her mother’s killer. Maybe leaving the world of e-trade made the computer a reminder of work that she wanted to escape. Or she just liked her privacy.

  Brannon Twohy, on the other hand, had no concept of privacy.

  Scores of photos of him. Scuba diving, skiing, paragliding, zip-lining, usually bare-chested.

  His main thing, though, was trumpeting his running triumphs down to the second. Every race for the past two years memorialized, complete with dates, places, stats, and photographs.

  The most recent data dump had been posted at six p.m. today, reporting on his nine-mile speed goal, which he intended to expand regularly as a pathway to making the top twenty in next year’s L.A. Marathon.

  Included was a map of tonight’s run, complete with a red line tracing the route from the house he shared with Ellie to a destination 0.6 miles past Atwater Village.

  “the magic 4.5 each way, let’s go for warpspeed!”

  Milo said, “Jesus, he might as well have put a target on his back.”

  I said, “He didn’t feel threatened. Tonight was a first attempt.”

  Petra said, “Use a gun, all it takes is one. What a mess. So what, we’re back on Twohy being the target not as a surrogate for Ellie?”

  Milo said, “Who the hell knows?”

  She nodded. “I’m thrashed and I still need to revisit the scene. You sticking around?”

  “Just to say goodbye.”

  “To your client,” she said. “And my interested party.”

  * * *

  —

  When we got back to the room, a surgeon in scrubs was leaving.

  R. Chopra, M.D.’s shoulders were stooped. Dark crescents tugged his eyes downward.

  Hard to gauge anything from his expression.

  Petra introduced herself and asked Twohy’s status.

  He said, “No major organ damage, the big risk at this point is infection.”

  “He’ll survive.”

  “Probably.”

  Milo said, “Lucky man.”

  Chopra said, “If you don’t include getting shot. The bullet nicked his dorsal ribs, bounced around, and exited here.” He fingered a spot well to the right of his own navel. “Missed the diaphragm by a millimeter, tore up a bunch of fascia and muscle. Very lean guy, if he was fat, he could’ve had a bit of liposection.”

  Eyeing Milo, then yawning.

  Milo said, “A little flab coulda cushioned him, huh? So much for my gym membership.”

  Chopra’s mouth opened and closed. “Gotta go, Officers.”

  Petra said, “Any guesses about the bullet, Doctor?”

  “Not a pathologist,” said Chopra. “You didn’t find it?”

  “Not yet. When we see bouncing around, it’s usually small caliber.”

  “If you know, why ask me.” He hurried off.

  Milo patted his own midriff. “Guess the charm offensive didn’t work.”

  Petra said, “Including mine.” She opened the door to the waiting room.

  * * *

  —

  Ellie Barker’s posture hadn’t changed. Raul was in the same spot, working his phone. I caught brief images of his children before he clicked off and looked at Petra. “Good news from the surgeon.”

  “We just spoke to him.”

  No reaction from Ellie.

  Milo approached her and stood in front of her until she raised her eyes. Tear tracks striped her face.

  He said, “Terrible thing but it coulda been a lot worse.”

  Reluctant nod. Near-whisper afterthought: “Thank God.”

  Milo turned to Raul, who stood and gave him the seat. The couch shifted like a lagoon accommodating an ocean liner. Ellie played with her hands.

  He said, “So no idea who’d want to hurt Brannon.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone would, Lieutenant.”

  Petra said, “Did he ever have problems with other runners?”

  Ellie looked up again. “Why would he?”

  “When was his most recent race?”

  “I’d have to say…a month ago? Nothing important, just a 10K for an animal shelter.”

  “Where?”

  “Palm Springs. It was super-hot, a lot of people dropped out.”

  I said, “Not Brannon.”

  “He never quits, he’s got a great constitution.” Her voice caught. “Did.”

  Petra said, “I’m sure he’ll heal up and be right back on track. So nothing happened at the 10K.”

  “It was a good race,” said Ellie. “Brannon came in second.”

  “No problems related to that.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Detective.”

  “With intense competition, sometimes people get a little out of hand.”

  “No, no, no, there was nothing remotely like that.” Ellie’s hands stilled. “Why would you think this is related to running?”

  “We’re a long ways from any sort of theory,” said Petra. “The thing is, Brannon put his routes on his Facebook and Instagram pages. Including tonight’s practice run.”

  “He does that to keep himself disciplined. Once he schedules, he’s obligated to keep his— Oh. I see what you’re getting at. Someone stalked him? Honestly, I can’t see that. Brannon has no enemies. Unless some street criminal from Hollywood reads his posts—like what you told me the first time, Lieutenant. There’s a lot of crime nearby.”

  Milo said, “Brannon wasn’t robbed.”

  “Maybe someone tried but lost his nerve? I don’t know, the whole thing’s—” She breathed in deeply. “Okay. I might as well say this. I can’t help feeling guilty.”

  “About what?”

  “Could it be related to me? What you’re helping me with, Lieutenant.”

  “How so?”

  “I move here, you start investigating, and Brannon gets shot? What if someone doesn’t want the truth to come out? But then I thought, it was so long ago, who’d even know what you were doing? So I’m probably being paranoid.”

  Milo said, “Have you talked about the investigation to anyone we don’t know about?”

  “No one. Just you and Dr. Bauer and the other woman I met in San Francisco—Valerie.”

  “Know her last name?”

  “Sorry, no.”

  “What about Brannon? Did he tell his friends?”

  “He doesn’t really have friends, his life is work and running and he’s not working down here, so it’s all running.”

  “How much detail did you go into with Dr. Bauer and this Valerie person?”

  “You think—”

  “Not at all,” said Milo. “What Detective Connor said is true. We have no theories, but we do need to ask questions to be thorough. So if you can recall your conversations with each of them, we’d appreciate it.”

  “All right. Let me think back…Valerie was sitting next to me. We introduced ourselves to be polite, the way you do when you’re seated next to someone you don’t know. We made some small talk. She’s a writer, I told her I admired that, asked her what she wrote. She said children’s books. I said how interesting. She said, I guess I do it because I’m trying to get back in touch with my own childhood. I asked her what she meant. She told me she’d lost her mom when she was young. That’s what got me telling her my story. Dr. Bauer must’ve been listening because she joined the conversation. Basically took charge.”

  Petra said, �
��Took charge how?”

  “Talking past Valerie to me. Telling me not to accept failure, it was all about perseverance. And contacts. Which she had.”

  I said, “So you and Valerie switched seats.”

  “Yes. I really can’t see either of them wanting to do Brannon—or me—any harm. Dr. Bauer was a bit pushy but she followed through and Val seemed to empathize. I came home from the event feeling more buoyed up than I’ve been in…more hopeful than ever.”

  She threw up her hands. Cried some more. Again, Raul was ready.

  Petra said, “We’ll do our best to figure out what happened. Meanwhile, you might want to examine your home security. I work Hollywood and there are some tough areas not far from you.”

  Ellie’s eyes rounded. “You think they could try again?”

  “There’s no reason to think that,” said Petra. “But it pays to be careful. In any neighborhood. Does the house have an alarm system?”

  “Yes.”

  “Switch it on even when you’re home. How about security cameras?”

  “No. You’re kind of scaring me, Detective.”

  “Don’t mean to,” said Petra. “But I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you all this.”

  Milo said, “If she didn’t, I would.”

  “We’re not talking extreme measures, just normal caution,” said Petra. “The bad guys have learned to use social media. We advise people to never announce a vacation, it’s like sending the villains an e-vite.”

  “Makes sense,” said Ellie Barker. Her chest heaved. “About the only thing that does, tonight.”

  CHAPTER

  17

  Raul stayed in the room and the three of us left and reconvened in another quiet spot near the elevators.

  Milo said, “I just keep thinking about Twohy laying out his route. What a genius.”

  Petra said, “I’ll see if he’s a genius with a past.”

  “You’ve got the crime scene to deal with, I don’t mind.”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  He turned to me. “What do you think of Ellie and the whole guilt thing?”

  “Does she know more than she’s letting on? I didn’t pick anything up. What does make me wonder is if Bauer hadn’t butted in, her contact with Val would have ended as a casual conversation.”