Gone by Jonathan Kellerman Page A

“Tori’d stopped going to church.”
    Giacomo sat up straighter. “Some of those churches, they weren’t much to look at, not like St. Robert Bellarmine, where my wife goes, that’s a
church.
So maybe Tori wanted a nice church, like she was used to, I dunno. I went to the biggest one you guys got, downtown. Talked to an assistant to the assistant to the cardinal or whatever. Thinking maybe they had some records. No one knew a damn thing there, either.”
    He sat back. “That’s it. Ask me whatever you want.”
    Milo began with the usual questions, starting with Tori’s ex-husband, the not-too-bright, odiferous Mikey.
    Lou Giacomo said, “Mortensen wanted to know the same thing. So I’ll tell you what I told him: No way. First off, I know the family and they’re good people. Second, Mikey’s a good kid, the soft type, you know? Third, he and Tori stayed friendly, there was no problem, they were just too young. Fourth, he never been out of New York.”
    He huffed, glanced over his shoulder. “Not much business in this place. The food got a problem?”
    “How often did Tori call home?”
    “Coupla times a week she talked to her mother. She knew I wasn’t real happy about her picking up and leaving. She thought I didn’t understand nothing.”
    “What’d she tell her mother?”
    “That she was making a living on tips and learning how to act.”
    “Learning where?”
    Giacomo frowned. “She never said. I double-checked with the wife after I talked to you. You can call her and ask any questions you like, but all she’s gonna do is cry, believe me.”
    “Give me Mikey’s last name,” said Milo. “For the record.”
    “Michael Caravanza. Works at the Forest Hills branch. He and Tori looked happier split up than at the wedding. Like both of them were free, or something.” He snorted. “Like you can ever be free. Go ahead, ask me more.”
    Ten more minutes of questioning revealed a sad truth: Louis Giacomo Junior knew precious little about his daughter’s life since she’d come out to L.A.
    Milo said, “The article on Michaela Brand caught your attention.”
    “The acting thing, you know.” Giacomo’s shoulders dropped. “I read it, got sick in the stomach. I don’t wanna think the worst but it’s been two years. No matter what her mother says, Tori woulda called.”
    “What does her mother say?”
    “Arlene gets crazy theories in her head. Tori met some billionaire and she’s off on some yacht. Stupid stuff like that.” The whites of Giacomo’s eyes had pinkened around the edges. He choked back a surge of emotion with a furious growl.
    “So what do you think?” he demanded of Milo. “This dead girl have something to do with Tori?”
    “I don’t know enough to think anything yet, sir.”
    “But you figure Tori’s dead, right?”
    “I couldn’t say that either, Mr. Giacomo.”
    “You couldn’t say but
you
know it and
I
know it. Two years. No way she wouldn’t call her mother.”
    Milo didn’t answer.
    “The other girl,” said Giacomo. “Who killed her?”
    “The investigation just opened.”
    “You get a lot of those? Girls wanna be movie stars getting into big trouble?”
    “It happens—”
    “Bet it happens plenty. What’s the name of the acting school the other girl went to?”
    Milo rubbed his face. “Sir, it really wouldn’t be a good idea for you to go over there—”
    “Why not?”
    “Like I said, it’s a new investigation—”
    “All I wanna do is ask if they knew Tori.”
    “I’ll ask for you, sir. If I learn something, I’ll call you. That’s a promise.”
    “Promises, promises,” said Giacomo. “It’s a free country. Nothing illegal about going over there.”
    “Interfering with an investigation’s illegal, sir. Please don’t complicate your life.”
    “That a kinda threat?”
    “It’s a request not to interfere. If I learn anything about Tori, I’ll tell you.” Milo put money on the table and stood.
    Lou Giacomo got up, too. Picked up