Unnatural history, p.13
Unnatural History, page 13
“Now I’m getting parenting lessons from the cops?” She broke into crackling laughter, looked at the plunger and snatched it from Milo.
“Here’s what going to happen: First, I’m going to wash and disinfect this disgusting thing. Second, I’m going to low-key my daughter down here. No worries, I’ll not insinuate myself into whatever conversation you all end up having. Instead, I’ll be informing the rooter people that they missed a golden opportunity to rip off another homeowner.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
She pointed to a sunken living room. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll even bring you drinks. And snacks. Once I’ve washed my hands.”
* * *
—
The house was well kept, expensively but blandly furnished. Wall decoration consisted of a few abstract prints and half a dozen framed enlargements of Angel City covers. Editing Christine Coolidge was proud of.
An open doorway fed to a white kitchen large enough for a tribal dinner. There’s a severe scarcity of tribes on the Westside of L.A. but warm and fuzzy fantasies persist.
Coolidge went in there and slipped from view. A few minutes of clatter and running water passed before she returned and laid down two cans of mandarin-flavored LaCroix water and a bowl of pretzel sticks.
Milo said, “Thanks, ma’am.”
“You performed the royal flush, least I can do.” She ran up the stairs to the second floor. Muffled voices began sounding from above. The maternal voice dominated. Two feeble rejoinders from the daughterly voice, then silence.
Moments later, Melissande Gornick trudged down the stairs followed by her mother. Only a leash was missing.
“Go. They won’t bite you.”
As Mother returned upstairs, Daughter entered with her head down and sat cater-corner to us. Mel Gornick’s pink hair was tied up high and haphazardly, resembled an oversized radish. Her facial piercings remained except for the stud between lip and chin. In its place was a black-as-night pinhole that looked as if it might never close. She wore white fleecy sweats so grossly oversized they seemed to ingest her. Like an octopus wrapping itself around a sardine.
When she looked up, her eyes moved from Milo to me. My face evoked a violent flinch and she turned away quickly.
It can get like that when you help someone in acute stress. You remind them of how helpless they felt so they try to cancel you cognitively.
Milo took advantage of that and edged a bit closer. “Really appreciate this, Mel.”
She shrugged. Scratched a forearm.
“First of all,” he said, “is there anything you want to tell us? Something that might’ve occurred to you since we spoke the first time?”
“Uh-uh.”
“No prob, Mel. The reason we’re here is we consider you the expert on Donny.”
Half smile. “Why?”
“You spent more time with Donny than anyone. Including his girlfriend Ali, who we just talked to.”
“Her.”
“Is there something we should know about Ali?”
Eye-roll. “She’s okay.”
“But?”
“She wasn’t exactly there for him.”
“She told us she travels extensively.”
“Whatever.”
“Ever observe any problems between her and Donny?”
“Nah…except for her not being there.”
“Donny talked about that?”
Head shake. “It just makes sense. Someone’s not there for you? Who wants that?”
“Donny was left alone a lot.”
“He had me.” Her hands began to shake and her face turned as pink as her hair. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just that I spent more time with him. Like you said. That’s all I meant.”
“A hundred percent, Mel,” said Milo. “If we’re going to catch whoever killed Donny, we need information. So please tell us anything you can think of, even if you don’t think it’s important. Because, yeah, you really are an expert.”
Mel Gornick allowed the smile to enlarge. That didn’t sit right and she twisted her lips into a grimace.
“I mean,” she said, “I don’t know what you think I can tell you.”
“Let’s talk about the Wishers. Did Donny ever have any problems with them?”
“Never. He was so sweet to them. They appreciated it.”
“They told him they appreciated him?”
“Not with words, but you could tell. I mean they never, ever got sassy at him. None of them, never. I know people are thinking one of them did it. My mother thinks that but trust me, there was nothing crazy going on, it was all peace.”
She crossed her legs. “Like if they came in and they were hungry and thirsty, Donny would give them food and something to drink. And he always took his time with them.”
I said, “He was patient.”
“Totally. He never rushed them, he made sure they were always comfortable. As comfortable as they could get.”
“Some of them had trouble getting comfortable?”
“No.”
I waited.
She said, “What I meant was sometimes they could be restless. Jumping up. Walking around. Talking to themselves. Donny never rushed them and in the end, they all sat for him and had a good time.”
He showed her the before-and-after shots. “Were these the only Wishers?”
“Yes.”
“How many of them were restless?”
“I don’t know. They’re people like anyone else. Individuals. None of them were scary.” She looked to the right. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
“No one will get in trouble unless they had something to do with Donny’s murder.”
She scratched her arm.
Milo said, “I’m sure you want the case solved.”
Mel Gornick screwed up her lips and twisted them through several circuits. “The only one I remember who was really restless was Jean Harlow, I don’t know her real name, Donny never told me.”
Milo pulled the photo of the emaciated woman out of the mix.
He said, “Beverly.”
“Never heard her name. Never heard any names.”
“But this is the woman who was really restless.”
“Yeah. Super skinny and jumpy. But not creepy restless, okay? She just kept walking back and forth. Moving her lips with no sound coming out. Waving her hands. Like she was talking to an invisible person. Donny was totally cool, he just brought out the dress and gave her time to look at it and she loved it right away and was totally happy. They’re different, okay? But there’s nothing wrong with being different, everyone’s different if you just look enough, okay? Me and Donny respected that. There was never a problem. Never.”
I said, “Beverly loved the dress.”
“Loved it. Loved posing it. At the end she hugged and kissed Donny on the cheek and he was cool with that, too. Even though she smelled of booze.”
“What happened then?”
“Nothing,” she said, as if the question puzzled her. “Donny paid her and she left.”
Milo said, “How much did the Wishers get paid?”
“A hundred dollars,” said Mel Gornick. “Five twenties.”
“We heard five hundred.”
“From who?”
“Ali.”
“She wouldn’t know.” Trying to sound confident but uncertain.
“So,” said Milo, “how exactly did Donny hook up with the Wishers?”
“He used a guy.”
“What guy?”
“Someone with connections to their community.”
“The homeless community.”
Her arms stiffened. “It is a community. Whatever you want to be a community is a community.”
“Of course. Was this guy actually part of the homeless community?”
“No,” she said. “He just…knew them. I guess. I’m not sure how. It wasn’t my job to ask questions, just to make Donny—to be a good assistant.”
“What’s the guy’s name?”
“I don’t know his total name,” said Mel Gornick.
“Whatever you know is fine.”
“All I know is he called himself Cap. Donny said maybe it was short for Captain.” She shrugged. “Maybe he worked on a boat. I don’t know.”
“Did you ever meet Cap?”
“Only one time.”
“When was that?”
“When he came to Donny.”
“Was that recently?”
“No,” she said. “Months ago. After a couple of them had posed.”
“Did Cap bring the homeless people to the studio?”
“Not that I saw.”
“They found their own way.”
“I guess. Or he drove them and waited outside. Or someone else did—I don’t know, okay? I was just there when they came in and when they left. I keep saying I don’t know but you don’t believe me!”
“Of course we do, Mel. We’re just trying to do our job.”
“Whatever.”
I said, “The time Cap did show up, what did he and Donny discuss?”
“No idea.”
“Was it a long meeting?”
“Uh-uh, short.” Another quick sidelong glance. Sensitive topic?
“Five minutes?”
“Something like that.”
Milo said, “Maybe Cap came to get paid for finding the homeless?”
“Maybe.”
“Any idea how much Donny paid Cap?”
“Nope. I only saw him once. In and out.”
Milo produced Abel Rodriguez’s most recent mugshot. “Is this Cap?”
Her face constricted. “He did it?”
No reason to mention the perfect alibi: three days dead. Milo said, “He absolutely did not.”
“Then why are you showing me that?”
“We’re trying to learn as much as we can about Donny. About the project, the homeless folk. Anything. So this is definitely Cap?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, thanks.” Milo pocketed the photo. “So Cap hooked Donny up with the Wishers. Any idea how Donny found Cap?”
She looked to the side, yet again. Definitely a sensitive topic.
She caught my eye and swung back quickly in the other direction, speeding past Milo and fixing on one of her mother’s framed covers. One leg began bouncing up and down. She bent forward, hugging her knees.
Milo said, “Mel?”
“Do I have to say?”
“Is there a problem with saying?”
“It’s just…” She pivoted slowly, forced herself to look at both of us. “Okay.” Deep sigh. “It’s been totally…okay. It’s this. Since he moved out, it’s been for shit. Totally for shit. They want to hate on each other, fine, but why are they taking it out on me? I need things to stop being crazy. I can’t mess it up even more by getting him pissed off at me.”
I said, “We’re talking about your parents.”
Her nod was so violent it threatened whiplash.
“Your dad moved out recently?”
“Like…two months ago. They had a massive fight and the next day he was gone.”
She turned back toward the second-story landing. Moved forward and half covered her mouth with a hand.
“She’s been going all psycho bitch on me like it’s my fault. And he’s like sorry I can’t talk to you. When I call his office, his secretary tells me he’s in a meeting, when I call his landline, I get voicemail. Not his voicemail and not Heather’s—his girlfriend, she’s like twenty-five. I get this robot voicemail. I mean, it’s not like he’s got to hide Heather, I know about her, I don’t give a shit about her, he can do what he wants. But talk to me, dude, I’m still your daughter, okay?”
Milo said, “Tough situation.”
“Fucked situation and that’s what I’m trying to say. I don’t want to make it more fucked by pissing him off.”
She rolled up a sleeve, resumed scratching her arm. Slowly at first, then steadily accelerating to allegro clawing. Welts rose; earthworms squirming beneath soft flesh.
Inspecting the blemishes, she muttered, “Fucking allergies,” and slid her hands under her meager butt.
Maybe something she’d learned in therapy.
Milo looked at me. Your ball.
I said, “Your father knows Cap. We can see why you don’t want your dad to know you told us. And he won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because we wouldn’t do that to you, we have no need to tell your dad. Lieutenant Sturgis just showed you a picture of Cap so we obviously knew about him before coming here. But any details you can fill in would be helpful. How your dad knows Cap, how Donny met him, anything.”
“Like that matters?”
“It may not matter, Mel. But we can’t know unless we try.”
“Once I tell you, I can’t stop you from telling him. Making me a snitch in a ditch.”
“We don’t do that, Mel.”
She shook her head.
I said, “It’s a promise: Your father will never know.”
“You don’t understand! I’m the one who did it!”
Milo said, “Did what?”
“Created it! Talked to Daddy about helping Donny! He’s a lawyer and I remembered some dude he represented who did something with the homeless. He talked about the case, said it was a big one. He used to talk about work all the time but mostly it was DUIs, that’s what he mostly does. When he talked work, it totally pissed her off, she’d give him the look. Like You’re boring me, dude. Then she’d leave the room. But I stayed in the room, I didn’t think he was boring. It made him feel good when I listened.”
“Your dad does criminal defense.”
“Yup.”
“What did he tell you about defending Cap?”
“He didn’t tell me a name, just one day said ‘Want to know about one of my biggest ones, sweetie?’ ”
Her voice snagged on the last word. Scratch. Claw. Deep breath. “I said of course, Daddy, and he said he had a client who was on trial for doing something with the homeless. I’m like, what? And he’s like, they were getting medicines and other stuff they didn’t need. Hoses put up their butts, needle-sticks, really bad stuff. I said that’s a hate crime, how can you defend someone like that? And he gave me his lawyer look.”
She let out air in a long, sibilant puff. “The You’re a silly kid, we’ve been through this before, Mel, look. And I’m like, ‘I get it, people get defended, it’s the Revolutionary War. But still.’ So I’m like, ‘Even if he hurt helpless people?’ And he’s like, ‘He didn’t actually hurt anyone, he just gave them rides to the people who did bad stuff, no one forced them to take the money.’ I thought that was lame but he was getting a little pissed off so I didn’t say anything more.”
Freeing her hands, she laced them tightly around her torso. “Back then he was talking to me.”
I said, “So when Donny talked about wanting to do the project, you remembered the conversation with your dad and thought about the driver he’d defended.”
“Donny didn’t know what to do,” she said. “He had other projects that he talked about but didn’t do. Maybe going out to Burning Man. Or taking pictures of places destroyed by fire and saying something about climate change. Or sick old people in nursing homes. Then he came up with it and liked it the best. Said it could be a vehicle for changing people’s lives with constructive fantasy, how everyone needs fantasy. On an individual and on a world level. After that, it was all he talked about. Saying he craved—he used that word, craved—he craved showing them a side of life they wouldn’t know without him. I told him that’s beautiful, Donny, and he was like, now all I need to do is find them. He had no idea. Then he laughed and I’m like what’s funny and he’s like, ‘Big ideas, as usual, but no clue how to put them into action because I’m too fucking privileged.’ ”
She reached for the pretzels, took one, twirled it, placed it atop the coffee table. “That really downed him. He got quiet for a long time. I felt so, so bad for him. Then I flashed on Daddy, his guy who knew the homeless, and it was like karma electricity and I’m like, ‘Guess what?’ I told Donny and he got totally excited so I called Daddy and Daddy said sure, baby, why not? Don’t know if he’s still around but I’ll give it a try. Back then, he was like that, whatever I wanted. The next day, he calls, ‘Here’s the guy’s number, your timing’s good, he can use the money.’ So I’m feeling like everyone’s going to get helped, this is masterful karma. I give the number to Donny, Donny gives me a big hug and tells me I’m a lifesaver. I remember laughing inside. Thinking about being a candy.”
Her hands came free and clamped around her chest. “A lifesaver. But I wasn’t, huh?”
* * *
—
Milo questioned her awhile longer, got nothing new, thanked her and stood. She remained seated as we crossed the room toward the front door. Small, pale, fragile. I’d call Helen Framus and fill her in.
As Milo swung the door open, she called out, “Good luck.”
We turned toward her.
Not fast enough. She’d begun running up the stairs.
CHAPTER
18
Driving back to the station, Milo said, “Nothing iffy happened with the Wishers. You see her as credible on that?”
“She was enamored of him. If she really knew something about who killed him, she’d tell us.”
“And post it on her social pages.”
“That, too.”
“Schoolgirl crush,” he said. “Or whatever they’re calling it nowadays. So put her aside and move on. The question is where.”
“Don’t know but at least you’ve got a fuller picture of your victim. Naive and trusting and inept to the point where it took Mel to get the process going. His learning disabilities may have played a role in it. Finding it hard to plan and organize. And having all that money didn’t help, it just made him feel guilty. You saw the way he lived.”
“Here’s what going to happen: First, I’m going to wash and disinfect this disgusting thing. Second, I’m going to low-key my daughter down here. No worries, I’ll not insinuate myself into whatever conversation you all end up having. Instead, I’ll be informing the rooter people that they missed a golden opportunity to rip off another homeowner.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
She pointed to a sunken living room. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll even bring you drinks. And snacks. Once I’ve washed my hands.”
* * *
—
The house was well kept, expensively but blandly furnished. Wall decoration consisted of a few abstract prints and half a dozen framed enlargements of Angel City covers. Editing Christine Coolidge was proud of.
An open doorway fed to a white kitchen large enough for a tribal dinner. There’s a severe scarcity of tribes on the Westside of L.A. but warm and fuzzy fantasies persist.
Coolidge went in there and slipped from view. A few minutes of clatter and running water passed before she returned and laid down two cans of mandarin-flavored LaCroix water and a bowl of pretzel sticks.
Milo said, “Thanks, ma’am.”
“You performed the royal flush, least I can do.” She ran up the stairs to the second floor. Muffled voices began sounding from above. The maternal voice dominated. Two feeble rejoinders from the daughterly voice, then silence.
Moments later, Melissande Gornick trudged down the stairs followed by her mother. Only a leash was missing.
“Go. They won’t bite you.”
As Mother returned upstairs, Daughter entered with her head down and sat cater-corner to us. Mel Gornick’s pink hair was tied up high and haphazardly, resembled an oversized radish. Her facial piercings remained except for the stud between lip and chin. In its place was a black-as-night pinhole that looked as if it might never close. She wore white fleecy sweats so grossly oversized they seemed to ingest her. Like an octopus wrapping itself around a sardine.
When she looked up, her eyes moved from Milo to me. My face evoked a violent flinch and she turned away quickly.
It can get like that when you help someone in acute stress. You remind them of how helpless they felt so they try to cancel you cognitively.
Milo took advantage of that and edged a bit closer. “Really appreciate this, Mel.”
She shrugged. Scratched a forearm.
“First of all,” he said, “is there anything you want to tell us? Something that might’ve occurred to you since we spoke the first time?”
“Uh-uh.”
“No prob, Mel. The reason we’re here is we consider you the expert on Donny.”
Half smile. “Why?”
“You spent more time with Donny than anyone. Including his girlfriend Ali, who we just talked to.”
“Her.”
“Is there something we should know about Ali?”
Eye-roll. “She’s okay.”
“But?”
“She wasn’t exactly there for him.”
“She told us she travels extensively.”
“Whatever.”
“Ever observe any problems between her and Donny?”
“Nah…except for her not being there.”
“Donny talked about that?”
Head shake. “It just makes sense. Someone’s not there for you? Who wants that?”
“Donny was left alone a lot.”
“He had me.” Her hands began to shake and her face turned as pink as her hair. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just that I spent more time with him. Like you said. That’s all I meant.”
“A hundred percent, Mel,” said Milo. “If we’re going to catch whoever killed Donny, we need information. So please tell us anything you can think of, even if you don’t think it’s important. Because, yeah, you really are an expert.”
Mel Gornick allowed the smile to enlarge. That didn’t sit right and she twisted her lips into a grimace.
“I mean,” she said, “I don’t know what you think I can tell you.”
“Let’s talk about the Wishers. Did Donny ever have any problems with them?”
“Never. He was so sweet to them. They appreciated it.”
“They told him they appreciated him?”
“Not with words, but you could tell. I mean they never, ever got sassy at him. None of them, never. I know people are thinking one of them did it. My mother thinks that but trust me, there was nothing crazy going on, it was all peace.”
She crossed her legs. “Like if they came in and they were hungry and thirsty, Donny would give them food and something to drink. And he always took his time with them.”
I said, “He was patient.”
“Totally. He never rushed them, he made sure they were always comfortable. As comfortable as they could get.”
“Some of them had trouble getting comfortable?”
“No.”
I waited.
She said, “What I meant was sometimes they could be restless. Jumping up. Walking around. Talking to themselves. Donny never rushed them and in the end, they all sat for him and had a good time.”
He showed her the before-and-after shots. “Were these the only Wishers?”
“Yes.”
“How many of them were restless?”
“I don’t know. They’re people like anyone else. Individuals. None of them were scary.” She looked to the right. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
“No one will get in trouble unless they had something to do with Donny’s murder.”
She scratched her arm.
Milo said, “I’m sure you want the case solved.”
Mel Gornick screwed up her lips and twisted them through several circuits. “The only one I remember who was really restless was Jean Harlow, I don’t know her real name, Donny never told me.”
Milo pulled the photo of the emaciated woman out of the mix.
He said, “Beverly.”
“Never heard her name. Never heard any names.”
“But this is the woman who was really restless.”
“Yeah. Super skinny and jumpy. But not creepy restless, okay? She just kept walking back and forth. Moving her lips with no sound coming out. Waving her hands. Like she was talking to an invisible person. Donny was totally cool, he just brought out the dress and gave her time to look at it and she loved it right away and was totally happy. They’re different, okay? But there’s nothing wrong with being different, everyone’s different if you just look enough, okay? Me and Donny respected that. There was never a problem. Never.”
I said, “Beverly loved the dress.”
“Loved it. Loved posing it. At the end she hugged and kissed Donny on the cheek and he was cool with that, too. Even though she smelled of booze.”
“What happened then?”
“Nothing,” she said, as if the question puzzled her. “Donny paid her and she left.”
Milo said, “How much did the Wishers get paid?”
“A hundred dollars,” said Mel Gornick. “Five twenties.”
“We heard five hundred.”
“From who?”
“Ali.”
“She wouldn’t know.” Trying to sound confident but uncertain.
“So,” said Milo, “how exactly did Donny hook up with the Wishers?”
“He used a guy.”
“What guy?”
“Someone with connections to their community.”
“The homeless community.”
Her arms stiffened. “It is a community. Whatever you want to be a community is a community.”
“Of course. Was this guy actually part of the homeless community?”
“No,” she said. “He just…knew them. I guess. I’m not sure how. It wasn’t my job to ask questions, just to make Donny—to be a good assistant.”
“What’s the guy’s name?”
“I don’t know his total name,” said Mel Gornick.
“Whatever you know is fine.”
“All I know is he called himself Cap. Donny said maybe it was short for Captain.” She shrugged. “Maybe he worked on a boat. I don’t know.”
“Did you ever meet Cap?”
“Only one time.”
“When was that?”
“When he came to Donny.”
“Was that recently?”
“No,” she said. “Months ago. After a couple of them had posed.”
“Did Cap bring the homeless people to the studio?”
“Not that I saw.”
“They found their own way.”
“I guess. Or he drove them and waited outside. Or someone else did—I don’t know, okay? I was just there when they came in and when they left. I keep saying I don’t know but you don’t believe me!”
“Of course we do, Mel. We’re just trying to do our job.”
“Whatever.”
I said, “The time Cap did show up, what did he and Donny discuss?”
“No idea.”
“Was it a long meeting?”
“Uh-uh, short.” Another quick sidelong glance. Sensitive topic?
“Five minutes?”
“Something like that.”
Milo said, “Maybe Cap came to get paid for finding the homeless?”
“Maybe.”
“Any idea how much Donny paid Cap?”
“Nope. I only saw him once. In and out.”
Milo produced Abel Rodriguez’s most recent mugshot. “Is this Cap?”
Her face constricted. “He did it?”
No reason to mention the perfect alibi: three days dead. Milo said, “He absolutely did not.”
“Then why are you showing me that?”
“We’re trying to learn as much as we can about Donny. About the project, the homeless folk. Anything. So this is definitely Cap?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, thanks.” Milo pocketed the photo. “So Cap hooked Donny up with the Wishers. Any idea how Donny found Cap?”
She looked to the side, yet again. Definitely a sensitive topic.
She caught my eye and swung back quickly in the other direction, speeding past Milo and fixing on one of her mother’s framed covers. One leg began bouncing up and down. She bent forward, hugging her knees.
Milo said, “Mel?”
“Do I have to say?”
“Is there a problem with saying?”
“It’s just…” She pivoted slowly, forced herself to look at both of us. “Okay.” Deep sigh. “It’s been totally…okay. It’s this. Since he moved out, it’s been for shit. Totally for shit. They want to hate on each other, fine, but why are they taking it out on me? I need things to stop being crazy. I can’t mess it up even more by getting him pissed off at me.”
I said, “We’re talking about your parents.”
Her nod was so violent it threatened whiplash.
“Your dad moved out recently?”
“Like…two months ago. They had a massive fight and the next day he was gone.”
She turned back toward the second-story landing. Moved forward and half covered her mouth with a hand.
“She’s been going all psycho bitch on me like it’s my fault. And he’s like sorry I can’t talk to you. When I call his office, his secretary tells me he’s in a meeting, when I call his landline, I get voicemail. Not his voicemail and not Heather’s—his girlfriend, she’s like twenty-five. I get this robot voicemail. I mean, it’s not like he’s got to hide Heather, I know about her, I don’t give a shit about her, he can do what he wants. But talk to me, dude, I’m still your daughter, okay?”
Milo said, “Tough situation.”
“Fucked situation and that’s what I’m trying to say. I don’t want to make it more fucked by pissing him off.”
She rolled up a sleeve, resumed scratching her arm. Slowly at first, then steadily accelerating to allegro clawing. Welts rose; earthworms squirming beneath soft flesh.
Inspecting the blemishes, she muttered, “Fucking allergies,” and slid her hands under her meager butt.
Maybe something she’d learned in therapy.
Milo looked at me. Your ball.
I said, “Your father knows Cap. We can see why you don’t want your dad to know you told us. And he won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because we wouldn’t do that to you, we have no need to tell your dad. Lieutenant Sturgis just showed you a picture of Cap so we obviously knew about him before coming here. But any details you can fill in would be helpful. How your dad knows Cap, how Donny met him, anything.”
“Like that matters?”
“It may not matter, Mel. But we can’t know unless we try.”
“Once I tell you, I can’t stop you from telling him. Making me a snitch in a ditch.”
“We don’t do that, Mel.”
She shook her head.
I said, “It’s a promise: Your father will never know.”
“You don’t understand! I’m the one who did it!”
Milo said, “Did what?”
“Created it! Talked to Daddy about helping Donny! He’s a lawyer and I remembered some dude he represented who did something with the homeless. He talked about the case, said it was a big one. He used to talk about work all the time but mostly it was DUIs, that’s what he mostly does. When he talked work, it totally pissed her off, she’d give him the look. Like You’re boring me, dude. Then she’d leave the room. But I stayed in the room, I didn’t think he was boring. It made him feel good when I listened.”
“Your dad does criminal defense.”
“Yup.”
“What did he tell you about defending Cap?”
“He didn’t tell me a name, just one day said ‘Want to know about one of my biggest ones, sweetie?’ ”
Her voice snagged on the last word. Scratch. Claw. Deep breath. “I said of course, Daddy, and he said he had a client who was on trial for doing something with the homeless. I’m like, what? And he’s like, they were getting medicines and other stuff they didn’t need. Hoses put up their butts, needle-sticks, really bad stuff. I said that’s a hate crime, how can you defend someone like that? And he gave me his lawyer look.”
She let out air in a long, sibilant puff. “The You’re a silly kid, we’ve been through this before, Mel, look. And I’m like, ‘I get it, people get defended, it’s the Revolutionary War. But still.’ So I’m like, ‘Even if he hurt helpless people?’ And he’s like, ‘He didn’t actually hurt anyone, he just gave them rides to the people who did bad stuff, no one forced them to take the money.’ I thought that was lame but he was getting a little pissed off so I didn’t say anything more.”
Freeing her hands, she laced them tightly around her torso. “Back then he was talking to me.”
I said, “So when Donny talked about wanting to do the project, you remembered the conversation with your dad and thought about the driver he’d defended.”
“Donny didn’t know what to do,” she said. “He had other projects that he talked about but didn’t do. Maybe going out to Burning Man. Or taking pictures of places destroyed by fire and saying something about climate change. Or sick old people in nursing homes. Then he came up with it and liked it the best. Said it could be a vehicle for changing people’s lives with constructive fantasy, how everyone needs fantasy. On an individual and on a world level. After that, it was all he talked about. Saying he craved—he used that word, craved—he craved showing them a side of life they wouldn’t know without him. I told him that’s beautiful, Donny, and he was like, now all I need to do is find them. He had no idea. Then he laughed and I’m like what’s funny and he’s like, ‘Big ideas, as usual, but no clue how to put them into action because I’m too fucking privileged.’ ”
She reached for the pretzels, took one, twirled it, placed it atop the coffee table. “That really downed him. He got quiet for a long time. I felt so, so bad for him. Then I flashed on Daddy, his guy who knew the homeless, and it was like karma electricity and I’m like, ‘Guess what?’ I told Donny and he got totally excited so I called Daddy and Daddy said sure, baby, why not? Don’t know if he’s still around but I’ll give it a try. Back then, he was like that, whatever I wanted. The next day, he calls, ‘Here’s the guy’s number, your timing’s good, he can use the money.’ So I’m feeling like everyone’s going to get helped, this is masterful karma. I give the number to Donny, Donny gives me a big hug and tells me I’m a lifesaver. I remember laughing inside. Thinking about being a candy.”
Her hands came free and clamped around her chest. “A lifesaver. But I wasn’t, huh?”
* * *
—
Milo questioned her awhile longer, got nothing new, thanked her and stood. She remained seated as we crossed the room toward the front door. Small, pale, fragile. I’d call Helen Framus and fill her in.
As Milo swung the door open, she called out, “Good luck.”
We turned toward her.
Not fast enough. She’d begun running up the stairs.
CHAPTER
18
Driving back to the station, Milo said, “Nothing iffy happened with the Wishers. You see her as credible on that?”
“She was enamored of him. If she really knew something about who killed him, she’d tell us.”
“And post it on her social pages.”
“That, too.”
“Schoolgirl crush,” he said. “Or whatever they’re calling it nowadays. So put her aside and move on. The question is where.”
“Don’t know but at least you’ve got a fuller picture of your victim. Naive and trusting and inept to the point where it took Mel to get the process going. His learning disabilities may have played a role in it. Finding it hard to plan and organize. And having all that money didn’t help, it just made him feel guilty. You saw the way he lived.”
