“By Nancy.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “No comment.”
“And the guy with the roof problem?”
“Composition is ugly,” Dorn said with finality. “Look, I sympathize with Mr. Lowenthal's situation. Restoring the roof will be expensive. But we have to maintain standards. At the same time, I don't like the whole Big Brother thing. I'm hoping to change that, but it won't happen overnight.”
I applauded his goal but agreed with Fennel: I didn't think Dorn had the cojónes for the job—or beitzim, if you want to use the Yiddish slang. (Literally, eggs.) In any language, he didn't have what it took.
“I heard that residents in a few HARP areas are so unhappy that they're trying to rescind their status,” I said.
“Ladera Heights and Mar Vista.” Dorn nodded. “If it does happen, it won't be soon. And that's exactly why I'm getting involved, to make the system more reasonable and keep the homeowners happy and build a community.”
“Hancock Park homeowners don't seem all that happy about becoming a HARP area. Yours was one of the recently vandalized homes, right?”
His hand went to his bandage. “That was terrifying, I can tell you. One minute I'm reading in my living room. The next, there's glass all over me and I'm bleeding. A few inches lower and I could have lost an eye.” He grimaced.
“Who do you think did it?”
Dorn shrugged. “The police asked me. You were at tonight's meeting. It's not always that contentious, but there are quite a few unhappy homeowners in Miracle Mile, and I imagine it's the same in the other HARP districts.”
“Anyone stand out in your mind?”
He hesitated, then shook his head.
“Roger Modine?” I thought I saw a flicker in his eyes but wasn't sure. “You can tell me off the record.”
“Thanks, but being shot at once is enough for me.”
“What about Arnold Seltzer? The man who was yelling at you and Linda Cobern at the Hancock Park HARP meeting?”
“Arnie's a flake, but he's harmless.” Dorn checked his watch. “You have four minutes.”
“Why would I think you were having an affair with Margaret Reston?”
“Because according to Walter Fennel, I was. The old goat dropped hints whenever he saw me. He introduced you tonight, so you've obviously talked to him. I figured he told you. Why not? He's told the rest of the world.”
Dorn sounded bitter, and I couldn't blame him. “Including Hank Reston?”
He grimaced. “I assume you've talked to Reston. What did he say?”
“That there was nothing going on between you and his wife.”
The architect grunted. “Well, that's not the tune he was singing five months ago. Five months ago he was ready to take my head off.”
“What happened?” We were down to less than three minutes, but I sensed that Dorn wanted me to hear his version. And I was more than happy to listen.
“Linney phoned Hank in a panic. Maggie was supposedly at the Muirfield house, but she hadn't answered her cell phone all day. Hank couldn't reach her, either, so he drove to Muirfield and waited. By the time Maggie and I arrived, he was convinced that she hadn't answered her phone because we hadn't wanted to be interrupted.”
“Why didn't she answer it?”
“She didn't have it. She'd misplaced it. She told Linney he wouldn't be able to contact her. She also told him she wouldn't be at the Muirfield house until late in the afternoon. The old guy forgot.” Dorn sighed again. “Maggie tried to explain, but Hank was too busy raging.”
“I'm surprised he didn't fire you.”
“Actually, he did.” Dorn flashed a wry smile. “He hadn't wanted to hire me in the first place. I'm sure he thought Maggie and I were too chummy. We've known each other for years. This gave him an out.”
“He wanted to hire his friend Ned Vaughan?” I said.
Dorn nodded. “That was awkward, especially because I know Ned. But I was Maggie's choice and Hank wanted her to be happy. Anyway, after he finally stopped yelling and let Maggie explain, he apologized profusely and rehired me. But I'm not sure he believed her. It's a shame. They really had something special, and he was ruining it with his obsessive jealousy.”
“Maggie loved him?”
“Are you kidding? She was crazy about him. The truth is they should never have moved into her father's house. That's when things started turning sour. You want to hear the kicker? Linney had the cell phone the whole time. He put it in his desk drawer and forgot all about it.”
Or not, I thought.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
MINDY WAS HALF RECLINING ON THE DEN SOFA, NURSING the baby and watching Will and Grace when I showed up a little after nine. It's one of my favorite shows, so I had no problem waiting for the commercial before asking her about Tiler.
“Never heard of him, which doesn't mean anything.” She adjusted the pillow under the arm that cradled the baby's head. “Do you know what kind of law he practices?”
“No.”
“The State Bar of California has a Web site. I'll check it when I'm at the office. Why do you need to know?”
I explained. “So it was obviously important to Margaret Linney. Can you check one more thing? Oscar Linney invested forty thousand with a Denver company, Skoll Investment. I was going to ask Reston about it, but then I found the tape, and forgot about it. Anyway, I tried the phone number. It's been disconnected, and there's no new number. I couldn't find a Web site, either. I'm beginning to think Skoll Investment doesn't exist.”
“I wouldn't be surprised. I can't tell you how many people invest in phantom companies, especially the elderly. They're such easy prey, you know?” Mindy stroked Yitz's hair. “Many of them live alone, and they're not as mentally sharp as they used to be. They invest their hard-earned life savings with strangers who promise them riches and leave them with worthless paper.”
“Financial elder abuse,” I said. “The gift of old age.” I grimaced.
“One of my colleagues, Mark, is an estate planner. He's had clients whose kids have emptied their parents' savings and coerced them to sign over their assets. The house, the pension fund, Social Security payments. If mom or dad won't sign, it's off to a nursing home. Or a beating.”
“Maybe a nursing home would be an improvement.”
“They don't think so. And some facilities are awful, Molly. Norm heard about one where a resident died sitting in a chair in his room and no one knew about it for over four hours. And a few residents have been abused by someone on staff. Robbed or fondled or raped. But those are the exceptions. Most of the abuse takes place at home. A son or daughter or some other family member who's frustrated and resents having to take care of a parent whose physical and mental deterioration is making them a burden. Women are abused more often than men, by the way.”
“The abuser could be an in-law,” I said. “Margaret was anxious to put her dad in a facility. Maybe she wanted to get him away from her husband.”
Mindy nodded. “Norm has residents who don't want to spend time with their families, not even the holidays. And when they do go, they come back depressed and noncommunicative, and sometimes with bruises the family member explains away. The residents won't say, but Norm suspects they're being abused, and maybe pressured to relinquish assets. Was Linney in charge of his own finances?”
“He signed over his house to Margaret about a month before she disappeared. I assume he gave her power of attorney, but I don't know that for a fact.”
“When did he invest in Skoll?”
“April.” Before he signed over the house. I wondered if that had been his idea, or if Margaret—or Hank—had pushed him to do it. “There was a notation in Margaret's planner about bank and help.” I pulled the stapled pages out of my purse and found the entry. “Here.” I held up the page and pointed to the word.
Mindy glanced at it. “The last letter is smudged. Maybe it's the photocopy. See that little curved mark at the bottom?”
I peered at t
he page. “Now that you mention it.”
“The spine of the letter looks curved, too. I think it's a C, not a P. That would make sense.”
“HELC makes sense to you?”
“Home Equity Line of Credit. Maybe Margaret planned to withdraw cash.”
I put the pages back into my purse. “Hank Reston didn't mention anything about Maggie taking out money. He would have known about it.”
Mindy shrugged. “Could be she didn't get around to it. You said she had an appointment with the attorney. Maybe she wrote the P by accident. A Freudian slip.”
“Maybe.” I picked up the National Geographic on the coffee table and fanned the pages. “Or maybe she was going over all of her father's financial papers and came across a discrepancy. So she needed help from the bank.”
“Possible.”
“No, you're probably right. All this time I've been thinking that her murder and Linney's were crimes of passion. Maybe it's about money.”
“It often is.” Mindy removed Yitz from her breast. “Okay, halftime.”
“Can I burp him?”
She handed me the burp cloth, which I draped on my shoulder. I scooped Yitz from her arms, careful to support his head, and laid him against my chest. I patted his back tentatively.
“He won't break,” Mindy said. “If that position doesn't work, lay him on your lap. That's what I do.”
A few seconds later I was rewarded with an adult-volume belch. “Can you believe this little guy? He sounds like Howard Stern.” I nuzzled his neck. He smelled of baby—deliciously sour.
“God forbid.” Mindy made a face. I handed her the baby, and she put him to her other breast. “So how's the rest of the investigation going?” she asked when he was suckling. “Are you making progress?”
“If you call getting a threat ‘progress.'” I told her about the windshield and tires. “Don't tell Mom or Dad or the rest of the family. They'll worry.”
Mindy frowned. “And I won't?”
“You don't panic. And I needed to tell someone, Mindy. I can't stop thinking about it. I keep looking over my shoulder to see if someone is following me.” I'd done that in the parking garage, had frozen for a second when I'd heard echoing footsteps, until I'd realized they were mine.
“Why don't you drop this, Molly?”
“I have to know, Mindy.” I ignored her frown, which had deepened. “And I figure I'll be safer when I find out who did it. On the plus side, Zack told me he loves me.”
“He did?” Her smile turned into a yawn. “That's wonderful, Molly. Did you tell Mom?”
“I haven't had a chance. I will, when I see her. But I'm not telling anyone else, especially Edie. She'll make something bigger out of it.”
“It's pretty big, Molly. I think you should tell her. She'll be hurt. After all, she set this up.”
“There's nothing to tell, yet.”
Mindy looked at me. “Are you saying you're not sure how you feel?”
“I'm sure. But things don't always work out, Min. I don't want any pressure.”
“But you're happy about this? It feels right?”
“It feels very right, and I'm very happy. And nervous. He wants me to have lunch at his parents' this Shabbos.”
I found another flyer on my windshield. Pink this time, with a different message:
I WATCH, AND AM AS A SPARROW
ALONE UPON THE HOUSE TOP.
I had no idea what that meant, or where the quote was from. But I was unnerved, especially after I checked up and down the block and didn't see flyers on any of the other cars.
The night seemed suddenly darker, more forbidding. Was someone watching me? The same someone who had vandalized my car? But the tone of the messages was so different.
I considered spending the night at Mindy's. Instead I got into my car and drove home, checking my rearview mirror every few seconds. I didn't spot anyone following me, but how could I be sure?
At home I parked in the driveway, and with my keys in my hand, I ran to the porch. Inside my apartment I slid the deadbolt and felt my heart knocking against my rib cage.
The phone was ringing. Zack, I thought as I hurried to the kitchen and picked up the receiver.
“The tape was spliced,” Hank Reston said. “Detective Hernandez came by the house a while ago and told me. I left a couple of messages on your machine.”
“I just got back. I'm so sorry, Hank.” I felt a wave of sadness. Suspecting is one thing, knowing is altogether different. I learned that when Aggie disappeared.
“I kind of knew when I heard the tape the first time, but I didn't want to. So she's dead,” he said dully. “All this time . . . It's like losing her all over again, you know?” He paused. “But if Maggie's dead . . .”
I stayed silent and let him think it through.
“Someone lured the Professor to the house,” he finally said. “He killed him, just like he killed Maggie. Why?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Friday, November 14. 9:12 A.M. 8100 block of Raintree Circle. A married couple are concerned for their safety because of a neighbor. The couple and the suspect were attending a homeowners' association meeting and at the end of the meeting the suspect accused the husband of stalking him and said he was going to get a gun. He made the comment four times in front of 12 to 14 witnesses. The suspect, who has accused the husband of stalking him and making threats toward him, has made numerous sexual gestures and comments toward the wife, they said, and added that the suspect is mentally unstable. (Culver City)
THE RECEPTIONIST AT FIRST AID HOME HEALTH CARE, A nasally young woman, transferred me to Sonia in Central Intake. Sonia must have been doing an awful lot of intaking, because she kept me on hold for over ten minutes, during which I listened to the company's taped music and put a top coat on the nails I'd just polished.
“It's been a crazy day,” she told me when she returned to me, her cheerful tone implying that she thrived on “crazy.” “Sorry. How can I help you?”
“I'm interested in hiring someone to take care of my aunt.” I could have said “grandmother,” but that would be tempting Satan, who doesn't need encouragement.
“Home health attendant or LVN? Licensed vocational nurse,” she explained.
“I don't know.”
“What are your aunt's needs?” she asked patiently.
“She has Parkinson's and Alzheimer's, and she needs assistance getting around. We're afraid she's going to fall and hurt herself. Sometimes she forgets to take her medications.” The last was something I didn't know about Linney, but it seemed plausible.
“The family would have to pay for a nurse to administer the meds,” Sonia said. “Medicare wouldn't cover that, but they might pay for an LVN, depending. Does she have a catheter? Does she need her blood pressure taken regularly? Does she need insulin shots?”
I was getting dizzy from the questions. “I'm not sure. I don't think so.”
“Well, then you're looking at a home health attendant, and unfortunately, Medicare doesn't cover that. We charge eighteen dollars an hour with a four-hour minimum for an attendant. Does that sound like something your aunt would be interested in?”
“I think so.” Seventy-two dollars for four hours. I wondered what people did who needed home health care but couldn't afford it. “Actually, I'd like to hire the attendant who worked for my friend. Hank Reston? Well, she didn't take care of Mr. Reston. She took care of his father-in-law. Oscar Linney. Her first name is Maria.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Just last week.”
“One minute. I'll check.”
I listened to more taped music and fanned my fingers. I thought about Zack, something I'd been doing from the time I woke up, bleary-eyed because we'd talked late into the night. I felt guilty about not having mentioned my car vandalism, but what was the point in worrying him?
“Maria Louisa de la Cruz,” Sonia said when she came back on the line. “Unfortunately, she's not available.”
“H
as she taken another position?”
“She's not available.” There was a tightness in Sonia's voice that hadn't been there a moment before.
Maria had probably been suspended for not showing up Friday morning at Reston's. Not fired, or Intaker Sonia would have said Maria was no longer with First Aid.
“Do you know when she'll be available?”
“I really can't say. We have a number of excellent attendants. I'm certain your aunt would like one of them.”
“I'm sure,” I agreed. “The thing is, my aunt is nervous about having a stranger in the house, but she was visiting Professor Linney and met Maria, and she thought Maria was extremely nice. So you can see why it would make it so much easier if we could get Maria.” I put a smile into my voice. “Would I be able to talk to Maria? So that when she becomes available, we'd have first dibs?”
“We don't give out our staff's phone numbers. If you leave your number, I can give it to Maria. But if your aunt needs a caregiver, I wouldn't wait.”
I'd achieved my first goal—learning Maria's full name. I doubted I'd achieve the second—talking to the caregiver and finding out if Linney had said anything that would shed light on who had killed him.
“Can I speak to a supervisor, Sonia?”
Sonia sighed. “I'll connect you with a staffing coordinator, but she'll tell you the same thing, Miss . . . ?”
“Blume. Thank you. I'd appreciate that.”
A minute later I was talking to Patty Aragon, whose tone made it clear that Sonia the Intaker had labeled me stubborn and difficult.
“I'm sure we'll find someone to meet your aunt's needs,” she told me.
“I wanted to speak to Maria Louisa de la Cruz.”
“She's not available.”
They should put it on a tape. “I assume she's been suspended because she failed to show up at Mr. Reston's home on Friday morning.”
There was a short silence, and when Patty Aragon spoke again it was with controlled anger. “Obviously you're not interested in finding a caregiver for your aunt, if in fact you have one. I'm not going to discuss Miss de la Cruz. If that's why you phoned—”
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