Bones Read online

  Kelly said, “Simon footed my bill. Even though we were divorced.”

  “When was this?” I said.

  “Twelve years ago, Simon and I had split up three years before but we stayed friends. I put Simon through a lot and he stopped loving me, but he still liked me. No matter what, I never raised my voice to him. Never tried to squeeze any extra money out of him even after he got real rich. I thought I deserved not to be loved so I made sure he stopped loving me. Simone was a teenager, the stress—I wasn’t handling anything, Simon said give it another try, Kell, you owe it to yourself, we’ll find a great place, all the creature comforts. He got me brochures. I liked the one from Pledges, lots of trees.”

  “Pledges in South Pasadena?”

  “You know it?”

  “Good place,” I said. “Closed down a few years ago.”

  Larry Brackle said, “Great place. They got bought out by one of those corporations, bastards ran it into the ground.”

  Kelly said, “First day I got there, I met Larry. He liked me and loved me but it wasn’t for years that he admitted it ’cause he was still married. And I wasn’t in a receptive state—didn’t see myself committed to anyone.”

  “How long have you two been together?”

  Brackle said, “Officially, nine years. In here”—patting his heart—“from forever.”

  Kelly Vander said, “Instant friendship and acceptance, I never had that with a man. Simon’s a good man, but I knew I was failing him constantly, and you can’t live being a failure all the time.”

  I said, “The cops say Travis was a poly-drug user.”

  No answer.

  “Rehab helped the two of you, but it didn’t work for him. Two years afterward, he was homeless.”

  “That’s where I saw him,” said Larry Brackle.

  “On the street?”

  “Used to work in Hollywood, big apartment building, nice place west of La Brea, assistant super. On my way home, I generally took the boulevard, drove past the Chinese Theatre. One night I spotted Travis there, panhandling tourists. He looked real bad. Compared to when he was at Pledges, I mean. Stringy hair, beard, all hunched over. Not doing too good with the tourists because he wouldn’t get in anyone’s face, that’s Travis, he don’t confront. I drove around the block, pulled up, laid a twenty in his palm. He saw it was me, started to cry, said he was sorry for screwing up.”

  Kelly said, “Before we got discharged, the three of us made a promise to change and to reach out to each other when our thoughts turned bad. Larry and I stuck to it, that’s how we succeeded. But we lost touch with Travis.”

  Brackle nodded. “I told him, ‘No one’s judging you, man. Come home with me for a meal and a bath.’ He ran off and the next day, he wasn’t there, same for the entire week. But then I saw him again, same deal, his hand’s out, even worse-looking. This time, he agreed to go with me. Anita was pissed off, said you see any extra room in this dump, genius? What with her, me, all the kids, we had a couple of dogs, too. I said I’d sleep outside in the backyard if that made it better. She said maybe both of you should. What ended up happening was Travis used this toolshed we had. I cleared away junk and put out a mattress and he’d come and go as he pleased. I got him a haircut. Once the hair was off, we saw all these pierces he had in his ears. Like a pirate. Especially with that limp, he was like a pirate. Kids loved the pierces, Anita hated them.”

  Kelly said, “But Anita came to like Travis.”

  “What changed Anita’s mind was he was gentle with the kids. Soon she was letting him tell the kids stories. Then he was holding the baby, being real good with the baby. ’Course, Anita could be unpredictable, what with drinking and weed, so it wasn’t always perfect. But mostly we had peace.”

  Deep drag on his cigarette. “Travis really liked that baby . . . man, it’s been a long time. Now you’re wanting to tell me Travis is some kind of murder-monster? No way, José. I’m no shrink but I know people pretty good and Travis is good people.”

  I said, “Tell me about the night Brandi disappeared.”

  “She didn’t disappear, sir. She went with him. That garbage we don’t mention by name. Now, that one was evil from the get-go, his own family was scared of him. When Brandi didn’t come back, we went right over to their place—Travis and me. His folks looked scared, said the little shitface talked about visiting with Brandi and the baby, that’s all they knew. Travis and me went searching the neighborhood. Travis took a bunch of streets, I took some others. He found the baby. Saw the blood and took her to the hospital.”

  “So he knew something had happened to Brandi.”

  “Brandi was hidden—that’s what the cops said, off in some bushes. The baby was out in the open, he was thinking about the baby.”

  “Why’d he walk to the hospital rather than contact you?”

  “Scared, wouldn’t you be?” said Brackle. “Going to jail once for something you didn’t do, now there’s a baby with blood? Not that he said it, it’s just what I figured out. That boy’s whole life was fear, I’d walk by the shed and hear him moaning, bad dreams. Daylight, there’d be this look in his eyes, what’s the word—haunted. He was haunted by what they did to him. Anyone would be, way they beat his brain around. He probably got all freaked out the cops would blame it on him. But even with that fear, he wanted to make sure the baby was okay.”

  I said, “So you never talked to him about it.”

  “Nope. Travis disappeared after dropping Brandeen at the hospital.”

  “How’d you know it was him?”

  “Cops described him. Asked if we knew who he was but we didn’t let on. We were all crazy over what happened to Brandi, didn’t want to complicate things. The main thing was find out who did it to her, and that we did tell ’em.”

  I said, “Travis took a two-mile walk in the cold.”

  “Travis was a walking man, sir. Filled most of his days walking.”

  “Where?”

  “Everywhere,” said Brackle. “But don’t go misunderstanding, there was nothing crazy to it. He just liked to walk.”

  “It’s the best exercise,” said Kelly. “I used to do ten miles a day. I still do five.”

  The skin around Brackle’s eyes creased. He forced himself cheerful. “Exactly, aerobic, boy wanted to be aerobic—nossir, he just liked to walk.”

  I said, “How did Travis hook up with Simon?”

  Kelly said, “That was years later. We hadn’t heard from him for a while, then out of the blue he called Larry to let him know he was doing better.”

  “Finally got himself some help that stuck,” said Brackle.

  “Where?”

  “He didn’t say and I didn’t ask. He sounded good, I could tell this was different. I invited him for coffee with me and Kelly. He looked good.”

  “Clear-eyed,” said Kelly. “Intelligent. That never really came out before because he was always so depressed. He said he was looking for steady employment, would do anything to make an honest buck. I knew Simon was looking for someone to manage his house. He’d been through a couple of flakes, needed someone reliable. He said sure, he’d try Travis out. It worked out great.”

  I said, “Did Travis talk about what he’d been doing since the last time you saw him?”

  “No, sir,” said Brackle.

  “Where was he living?”

  “I got the sense he’d been traveling.”

  “Any idea where?”

  “We didn’t get nosy with him,” said Kelly. “We were thrilled he was doing well. It worked out great for everyone. Simon thanked me for finding Travis. Travis is gentle, he’d never hurt anyone. Now I am getting kind of hungry.”

  Brackle said, “Yup, dinnertime. We’d invite you to join us, sir, but we always portion for two.”

  I drove back to the city. A yellow VW was parked in front of my house.

  Unoccupied, cold engine, no sign of Alma Reynolds.

  My remark about her mother’s pearls had scared her.

  Mayb
e Robin had let her in.

  As I climbed the stairs, a voice behind me said, “Now I’m stalking you.”

  She stepped out from the side of my house, came toward me carrying a green vinyl attaché case. Brand new, tag still tied to the handle, not much different from the one Milo uses when the murder books get thick. She wore a plaid shirt, jeans, work boots. Gray hair flew in all directions. Her eyes were hot.

  “Here, take it,” she said, thrusting the case. “We’re finished.”

  My hands stayed at my sides.

  The case touched my chest. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t tick. Take it.”

  “Let’s talk.”

  She snatched it away, sprang the latches. Inside were stacks of twenty-dollar bills held together by rubber bands. Atop the money, a black velvet jewelry box.

  She said, “Including the damn pearl. Satisfied?”

  I said, “Going for the simple life?”

  “Stop being nasty. This is what you wanted, I’m giving it to you.”

  “What I want is information.”

  “Doesn’t this say it all?”

  “It implies. Why don’t you come up and we’ll talk?”

  “What? Therapy? Is there a couch? The psych board website lists this as your office. I’d think you’d be more careful, seeing as it’s your home. What if I was a sociopath?”

  “Should I be worried?”

  “Oh, sure, I’m packing heat.” She laughed, flipped her pockets inside out. Placing the case on the ground, she stomped to the VW, turned her back, slapped her palms on the hood. “Is this the proper position?”

  “C’mon,” I said. “Just a few minutes of your time.”

  She straightened and faced me. Her eyes were wet. “Sil taught me the position. He got used to doing it automatically at protests. Sometimes, the cops hit him anyway. He was a man of principle and look where it got him. So—but hell, why should I have anything nice?”

  “I’m sure his principles were strong. That made finding his cash-stash doubly shocking.”

  “Look,” she said, “I’m giving it to you, every bit of it, my hands are clean. Good-bye.”

  “Let’s clarify a few things and that really will be the end of it.”

  “So you say.”

  “The way I see it, you’re the person of principle,” I said. “And I’m not the enemy.”

  Arms folded across her chest. She wiped her eyes, nudged the case with a work-booted toe.

  “Oh, hell, I used to be Catholic. What’s another damn confession?”

  CHAPTER 34

  Alma Reynolds bounced on my couch and laughed. “You’ve actually got one. If leather could talk.”

  I placed the attaché case on the floor between us.

  “What’s that,” she said, “the altar of eternal truth? I’m supposed to see it and buckle?”

  I moved the case aside.

  “No matter what you think, Sil was a man of principle. He may have taken the money but he didn’t spend it.”

  “The police went over his apartment carefully. Where’d you find it?”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “He was murdered. Everything matters.”

  “Can’t see how that does but fine, in his car, okay? In the trunk, right out in the open. Which is my point: It was nothing he was ashamed of. There’s no big mystery here. People sent in minor cash donations and rather than go to the bank all the time, Sil saved them up so he could deposit them in the marsh account.”

  “The small stuff.”

  “So you actually listen.”

  I said, “He told you about the money?”

  “No, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “Sil controlled the account.”

  “Sil created the account. He was Save the Marsh, I already explained that to you. Every penny went to maintenance.”

  “Except for his salary.”

  “He never gave himself a raise, we’re not exactly talking rampant materialism. Now that I’ve seen how you live, I understand why you can’t seem to get that. This place, all the Sunday supplement contempo California living. I know what this neighborhood costs, money’s your thing, but it wasn’t Sil’s. The fact that he left the case right out in the open is proof positive there’s nothing corrupt about the money.”

  “How much is in there?”

  “Fifteen thousand. Yes, I counted it. Who wouldn’t?”

  “Including the pearl?”

  She flushed. “Keep the damn pearl, it didn’t fit me anyway and it’s obviously jammed a burr up your butt. Hell, give it to your wife, if you have one.”

  Thankful Robin worked in a separate building, I said, “The pearl’s yours, why shouldn’t it be?”

  “Aw, gee, how tweet of you. Forget it. I’m washing my hands of the whole damn mess. Sil was right, filthy lucre does stain permanently.”

  I said, “The money could very well be yours, too, unless he left a will bequeathing it to someone else.”

  “Well, he didn’t,” she said. “Neither of us had wills. We made a joint decision to avoid pathetic attempts to control things from the grave.”

  “Then I’d say it’s yours. You were his significant other.”

  “Are you dense or just being manipulative? I don’t want it—and don’t try to tell me the cops won’t try to confiscate it. Isn’t that part of the racket? The entire so-called-war-on-drugs is nothing more than a revenue scheme.”

  “The cops I work with are out to solve murders. And Detective Sturgis’s skin tones don’t go with the pearl.”

  “Oh, aren’t you charming,” she said. “Probably had a soft upbringing, always got your way because you were oh so cute. This is the last time I’m going to say it: I don’t want the money and I don’t want the damn pearl. Hell if I know what got into me in the first place. So stop harassing me—tracing me to that damn jewelry store, unbelievable. You’re like one of those Homeland Security scammers.”

  “Alma,” I said, “I’m just trying to figure out what happened at the marsh.”

  “Tracing me. That crack about my mother—you actually found that jewelry store?”

  “Lots of motivation, Alma.”

  “Well, bully for you—if you must know, I didn’t go in there intending to buy anything expensive. Just a trinket, something to remind me of Sil. Why the hell not? I was grieving.” She sniffed. “He’s so damn gone . . . you try filling hollow hours.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Like hell you are. You’re toying with me right now.”

  “What I’m trying to do is figure out who murdered the man you loved. And a whole bunch of other people.”

  “Who says it’s the same person? And even if it is, talking about the money isn’t going to accomplish anything. It’s what I said, small donations.”

  “Fifteen thousand worth,” I said.

  “It adds up.” Less confidence in her voice.

  “Are the bills of different denominations?”

  No answer.

  “It’s easy enough to check.”

  “Twenties, okay?” she said. “It’s all in twenties.”

  “Kind of a coincidence.”

  “So at some point Sil changed it into twenties . . . to make the count easier.”

  “If he went to the bank to change bills, why not simply deposit the money?”

  She shot to her feet. “My hands are clean. Forget all that Catholic crap, I was never into self-flagellation.”

  I said, “Sil was seen taking an envelope from a man.”

  “What?”

  “In the parking lot behind his office.”

  “Seen by who?”

  “A witness.”

  “Who?”

  “I can’t say.”

  She smirked. “One of those ‘anonymous sources’? Like the government always happens to find?”

  “A witness with no motive to lie.”

  “So you say.”

  “It may not have been ominous, but it happened, Alma.”


  “Someone delivered a donation in person. Big deal.”