'Did she say where she had the operation?'
Second's hesitation. 'No.'
'She ever mention the name of the doctor?'
'No.'
'What, Ted?'
'She never mentioned the name.'
'She tell you something else about him?'
'No, but I saw him.'
'Where?'
'The casino.'
'When?'
'Maybe a month before.'
'Before she was killed?'
'Yeah.'
'Tell me about it.'
'Why, is he some kind of-'
Milo held a big hand up. 'Tell me, Ted.'
'Okay, okay, I was working and saw her doing her thing. Slinking around in a little black halter dress, her hair up, fake diamond earrings.' He closed his eyes for a second, preserving the image, opened them, tugged at his red shirt. 'I tried to catch her eye, so I could maybe get to see her later. She gave a big smile, then I saw she was smiling past me, not at me. At someone else.'
'The doctor,' said Milo.
'I didn't know he was a doctor. Later she told me he was. She walked right past my table, he was at another five-hundred-dollar table, big pile of chips. She said hi to him and some other guy, hugs and kisses, like old friends. He collected his chips and they all walked off. Next day I told her nice of you to say hi. She said don't get touchy, I go way back with the guy. He's the doctor who fixed me. I owe him.'
'What'd she owe him for?'
'Maybe he did it for free, who knows?'
'A trade?'
Barnaby shrugged.
"What did he look like?' said Milo.
'Nothing special. Thirty-five, forty. Short. But big here.' Touching a shoulder. 'like a gym rat. Short hair, almost skinned, kind of jap eyes. Good threads - suit, tie, the works.'
'And the other one?'
'What other one?'
'You said there was another guy.'
'Yeah, but he was old, no big deal. Sick-looking -yellow skin, in a wheelchair. The doctor was pushing him around. Maybe he was a big-bucks patient having a last fling. You see that all the time in Vegas. Totally fucked-up people, paraplegics, people on air tanks, losers with no legs. Getting pushed around the casino with cups full of chips. Like a last fling, you know?'
'What else did Mandy say about them?'
'She didn't say nothing at all about the old guy.'
'And the doctor?'
'Just that he fixed her.'
'And she owed him.'
'Yeah. Is he some wacko?'
'No,' said Milo. 'He's a hero.'
Barnaby looked confused.
Milo said, 'Anything else you can think of?'
'Nope.'
'Okay, thanks.'
'Yeah. You're welcome.'
'The address on Vista Chino your current one?'
'Yeah.'
'What's the address of the place you're leasing?'
'What's the cliff, you got me busted, I can't take it now.'
'Just in case.'
Barnaby recited some numbers and a street. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he started to walk off.
'Want me to talk to Giovanne?' said Milo.
'It won't do any good.' 'Suit yourself.'
Barnaby stopped. 'Hey, you wanna do it, fine. You wanna feel like a hero, too, fine.'
We played five hands of losing blackjack, thanked the pit boss, got back on the highway, and raced through the desert. A gray moon sat low in the sky and the sand looked like snow.
'Old man in a wheelchair,' I said. 'Maybe Big Micky Kruvinski?'
Milo shifted his bulk in the driver's seat and rolled his neck. 'Or maybe he was a rich patient. Getting his ashes hauled, bill it to Medi-Cal as physical therapy. Lord only knows what kinds of things Cruvic does for a buck.'
'The main thing: Cruvic knew Mandy.'
'Bastard. Gotta find a way to get into his records. Barone's an expert on building paper walls and all we have against Cruvic so far is suspicion, no grounds for a warrant.'
'Did you ask Barnaby about dope because you think there might be a dope angle?'
'I asked him because he's still a user - did you see all that sweat, those eyes? I meant what I said about bad guys.'
'Hope and cocaine? No evidence she ever used.'
'No evidence on Hope, period.'
'Casey Locking might be able to provide some,' I said. 'He has some connection to Cruvic. I keep thinking about the time we talked on campus, his taking the law-and-order line. Which is standard psychopath behavior - the rules apply to everyone but me. Maybe I can learn something about him from Hope's other student - the one in London. I'll try her again.'
He pushed the Porsche over ninety. 'It's weird, Alex. The case starts out all high-tone - professors, the high-IQ crowd, but now we're back on the usual terrain: dopers, dealers, hookers, characters.'
'Hope's little boxes,' I said.
He thought about that for a mile or two, finally said, 'Yeah. But which box had the rattlesnake?'
We stopped for coffee at an all-night diner in Ontario and were back in L.A. just before 2:00 a.m. Another note had been added to the scrap on the dining-room table:
Talk about your ships in the night! Wake me if you want.
Your pen pal. R.
Despite four cups of decaf my throat was dry from the desert air and I poured myself an iced soda water and sat drinking in the kitchen. Then I realized it was morning in England and went to the library to find Mary Ann Gonsalvez's number.
This time she answered, in a soft, curious voice. 'Hello?'
I told her who I was.
'Yes. I got your messages.' No emotion.
'Do you have time to talk about Professor Devane?'
'I suppose - it's so terrible. Have they any idea who did it?'
'No.'
'Terrible,' she repeated. 'I didn't find out until a week after, when the department notified me by fax. I couldn't believe it. But... I don't know how I can help.'
'We're trying to learn as much as possible about Professor Devane,' I said. 'The kind of person she was. Her relationships.'
'That's why you're involved, Dr Delaware?'
'Yes.'
'Interesting... new uses for our field. I'm sorry I didn't call back, but I just didn't think I had anything to say. She was a fine advisor for me.'
Dropping pitch on the last two words.
'For you but not for someone else?' I said.
Another pause. 'What I meant was her style suited mine. Hands-off, she had her own life. She did help get me funding for my year in England.'
'Hands-off, how?'
'She let me do my own thing. I'm kind of compulsive, so it worked out.'
'A self-starter.'
She laughed. 'That's a nicer way to put it.'
'So someone who needed more guidance might find her style difficult?'
'I suppose so, but that would just be speculation.'
'What about Casey Locking? Is he a self-starter?'
'I don't know Casey.' Tension in her voice.
'Not at all?'
'Not well. You're an alumnus, Dr Delaware, you know how the program operates: three years of coursework, quals, then on to dissertation research. Some students know what they want, hook up with an advisor right away. I didn't. Between my job, my daughter, and classes, I was in a pretty severe time crunch.'
'How old's your-daughter?'
'Three. I just sent her off to day care. They have excellent day care here.'
'Better than L.A.?'
'Better than I found in L.A. I wanted someplace that would provide some nurturance, do more than warehousing. Anyway, I was crunched, needed to finish, so you can see why there wasn't much time to socialize with Casey or anyone else.'
'Did you have any contact with him?'
'Minimal. He - our paths were different.'
'In what way?'
'I'm interested in clinical work. He didn't seem to care about that at all.'
'Pure re
search?'
'I guess so.'
'He's a little different,' I said.
'What do you mean?'
'The black leather.'
'Yes,' she said. 'He does try to project an image.'
'So even though the two of you were Professor
Devane's only students, you had little to do with each other.'
'Correct.'
'Do you know anything about his research?'
'Something about self-control. Animal studies, I think.'
'Was Professor Devane hands-off with him, too?'
'Well,' she said, 'they published together, so they must have shared some common ground. Why? Is Casey... implicated somehow?'
'Would it surprise you if he was?'
'Of course it would. The thought of anyone I know doing something like that would be surprising. Dr Delaware, I have to say this conversation is making me uncomfortable. I can't even know for sure you're really who you say you are.'
'If you'd like, I can give you the number of the police detective assigned to the case.'
'No, that's all right. I have nothing more to say anyway.'
'But discussing Casey made you uncomfortable.'
She gave a small, soft laugh. 'That sounds like a therapeutic comment, Dr Delaware.'
'Is it an accurate comment?'
'Discussing anyone makes me uncomfortable. I don't like to gossip.'
'So it's nothing to do with Casey, specifically?'
'He - I have some feelings about him but they're really not relevant.'
'You don't like him?'
'I'd rather not,' she said, a bit louder.
'Ms Gonsalvez,' I said. 'Professor Devane was
murdered very brutally. There are no leads and no way to know what's relevant and what isn't.'
'So Casey is under suspicion?'
'No, he isn't. Not formally. But if there's something about him that upset you, I'd like to know about it. Or I can have Detective Sturgis call.'
'Oh, boy,' she said. 'Oh, boy... I really can't afford to have this getting back to Casey. He's - I'm not afraid of him but he's someone whose bad side I wouldn't want to be on.'
'Have you seen his bad side in action?'
'No, but he's - I've seen his research. I wasn't being totally honest when I said I thought he was running animal studies. I know he was because one night I happened to be down in the basement and passed his lab. I was grading some papers and had to pick them up in the prof's basement lab. It must have been eleven o'clock, everyone was gone. I heard music -heavy-metal music - and saw light coming through a partially open door. I peeked in and there was Casey, with his back to me. He had cages of rats, mazes, all sorts of psychophysiologic equipment. The music was very loud and he never heard me. He had a rat in his hand - between his fingers. Pinching its neck. The poor thing was squirming and squeaking, Casey was clearly hurting it. Then he started dancing around. To the music - doing a little jig while he pinched the rat. Its tail was - it was horrible to watch. I wanted to rush in and stop him but I didn't. Too scared, being down there alone. Since then I guess he always has scared me - the leather, his manner. Have you seen that ring he wears?'
'The skull.'
'Tacky,' she said. 'And juvenile. He saw me looking at it once and said Hope had given it to him. Which I find hard to believe.'
'Why?'
'She was the epitome of class. He was just playing head games with me - anyway, it bothered me for a long time. The rat. I kept thinking I should tell someone - the department has rules about humane treatment of animals. But Hope was his advisor and I knew she liked him and... I know this sounds like petty sibling rivalry but he was clearly the favored child. So if I made problems for him, how would she react? Cowardly, Dr Delaware, but my goal is to finish my Ph.D., get out in the world, make a good home for my daughter. Hope was staying out of my life and I'd adjusted to it.'
'Did she stay out to the point of neglect?'
'Honestly? There were times I needed her and she wasn't available and sometimes it hung me up. Because of my tight schedule, every delay threw me back. I even tried to tell her once. She was pleasant but really didn't want to hear it so I never brought it up again. When I picked her, I thought she'd be ideal because of her feminism. My field of interest is cross-cultural sex-roles and child rearing. I thought she'd get turned on by the topic but she really wasn't interested.' 'But with Casey it was different.' 'Very different. She always seemed to have time for him. Don't get me wrong, when we did get together she was great - supportive, incredibly smart. And she did come through on my grant. But getting her attention was always tough and after her book came out it became
impossible. By the time I left for England, I was starting to feel like an orphan.'
'How do you know she had more time with Casey?'
'Because I saw them together a lot and he let me know. "Hope and I were lunching," "I was over at Hope's house the other day." Almost gloating - God, this really does sound like sibling garbage, doesn't it?'
'Grad school often works out that way.'
'I guess. She even took him with her to TV shows. He told me about sitting in the greenroom, meeting celebrities. Which isn't to say she wasn't entitled to work with whom ever she preferred.'
'Pinching the rat,' I said. 'Gloating. Sounds like he's into control in some unpleasant ways.'
'Yes. I definitely see him as highly dominant. One of those people who won't have anything to do with a situation unless he can control it. But he is bright. Very bright.'
'How do you know?'
'During the first three years of classes, he always scored high, and I remember someone saying he was at the top of his class at Berkeley.'
'But no interest in clinical issues.'
'Just the opposite. He used to disparage clinical work, said psychology was presumptuous because it hadn't laid enough scientific groundwork to be able to help people. That point of view goes over pretty well with lots of the department biggies, so he'll probably end up a full professor. Heck, with his brains and his dominance needs, he'll probably end up a department chairman!
'Chairman in black leather?'
'I'm sure it's a stage,' she said. 'Maybe next year it'll be tweeds and elbow patches.'
I sat thinking about the rat suffering between Locking's fingers. Mr Skull Ring.
Hope's gift.
Another Berkeley grad.
The Northern California connection... Big Micky moving up to San Francisco because you could get away with more there.
How many connecting threads? How far back did it
go?
I tiptoed into the bedroom, determined not to wake Robin. Eased into bed, careful not to rock the
mattress.
But she said, 'Honey?' and reached out to me. I wrapped my arms around her.
Next morning my mind was a gun scope with Locking centered in the crosshairs.
I started phoning at nine, in my bathrobe. No answer at his home or his campus office. Down in the basement with his rats?
I had no home address because his file was missing. Had he pulled it himself? Hiding something?
Dialing the psych department, I filled my voice with annoyed authority and told the secretary, 'This is Dr Delaware. I need to locate a grad student on a research matter. Casey Locking. Your file on him's missing and you gave me his number but I need an address.'
'One second, Doctor.' Click out, click in. 'I have an address for him on 1391 Londonderry Place.'
After she read it off, I said, 'What about his lab? Is there an extension there?'
'Hold on... No, there's nothing here.'
'Thanks. Is there a zip code for Londonderry Place?'
'L.A. 90069.'
Hollywood Hills, north of Sunset Strip. Nice address for a grad student. Thanking her again, I got dressed.
I drove Sunset through Beverly Hills and into West Hollywood, cruising by talent agencies, high-ticket defense attorneys, glass boxes filled with used Ferraris and Lambo
rghinis. Past the Roxy, the House of Blues, the Snake Pit, what used to be Gazzarri's before it burned to the ground. At Holloway I spied a magenta-and-brass thing that said club none over neon highball glass and stirrer.
Jonathan Kellerman - Alex 11 - The Clinic Page 30
