to death outside a Cahuenga Boulevard tavern. Petra had informed his twenty-four-year-old widow that her four kids under six were orphans. Had thought she’d done okay, comforting the woman, holding her, letting her sob it out. Then, in the kitchen, Mrs. Chouinard went berserk, striking out at Petra, nearly clawing out an eye.
She said, “At least no one can slug me over the phone.”
“I really don’t mind doing it, Petra,” he said.
But she knew he did. He’d told her, early in their partnership, that it was the part of the job he hated most. Maybe if she’d go the extra mile, he’d see her for the perfect partner she was and open up about what was bugging him.
“I’m doing it, pard. If it’s okay with you, I’ll talk to the maid, too.”
“Lisa’s?”
“I meant Ramsey’s, if I can get her out of the house without being obvious about making Ramsey a suspect. But I can do Lisa’s, too.”
“Wait on Ramsey’s,” said Stu. “Too tricky.” He pulled out his notebook and flipped pages. “Lisa’s maid is Patricia . . . Kasempitakpong.” He enunciated the unmanageable name very slowly. “Probably Thai. The blues are holding her, but if she asks to leave, they can’t stop her from flying back to Bangkok. Or calling the
National Enquirer.
”
“I’ll go right after I call the family.”
He gave her the Doheny Drive address.
She said, “Cooperative of the sheriffs, letting us lead with Ramsey.’’
“All the bad press both departments have been getting, maybe someone’s finally getting smart.”
“Maybe.” Last month the sheriffs had been exposed for releasing several murderers through clerical error, giving county-jail prisoners gourmet food at taxpayer expense, and losing track of millions of dollars. Half a year before that, some deputies had been busted for off-duty armed robbery and a rookie had been found naked and dazed, roaming the hills near the Malibu substation.
Stu said, “The address reminds me—just a few blocks from Chasen’s. Which they’re tearing down in order to build a shopping center.”
“Aw gee,” said Petra. “No more celebrity dinners for us, pard.”
“I actually got to go there once,” he said. “Handled security for a wedding reception, big entertainment lawyer’s daughter, major stars all over the place.”
“I didn’t know you did that kind of thing.”
Also.
“Years ago. Mostly it was a drag. That time, though, at Chasen’s, was okay. They fed me. Chili, ribs, steak. Great place, class atmosphere. Reagan’s favorite restaurant . . . all right, you’ll take the Thai maid and notify the parents, I’ll try to figure out a way of discreetly asking some industry types about Ramsey, run DMV on the Mercedes, check back with the coroner and the techs before I go home. If they come up with any good forensics, I’ll let you know. So far so good?”
“I’ll also call the phone company, pull Lisa’s records.”
“Good idea.”
Basic procedure.
“Stu, if Ramsey is the guy, how can we touch him?”
No answer.
Petra said, “I guess what I’m saying is what’s the chance of something like this improving the quality of our lives? And how do we do our best by Lisa?”
He fooled with his hair, straightened his rep tie.
“Just take it step by step,” he finally said. “Do the best we can. Just like what I tell my kids about school.”
“We’re just kids on this one?”
“In a way.”
CHAPTER
11
The monkeys are the worst screamers. It’s only 6 A.M. and they’re already complaining.
In four hours the zoo will open. I’ve been up here when it’s full of people, heard mostly noise, but sometimes I catch words, like little kids, whining for something.
“Ice scream!” “Lions!”
When people are in the zoo, the animals get quiet, but at night they really go at it—listen to those monkeys screech—and here’s another one, deep, something heavy and tired, maybe a rhino. Like,
Let me out of here! We’re stuck here ’cause
She said, “At least no one can slug me over the phone.”
“I really don’t mind doing it, Petra,” he said.
But she knew he did. He’d told her, early in their partnership, that it was the part of the job he hated most. Maybe if she’d go the extra mile, he’d see her for the perfect partner she was and open up about what was bugging him.
“I’m doing it, pard. If it’s okay with you, I’ll talk to the maid, too.”
“Lisa’s?”
“I meant Ramsey’s, if I can get her out of the house without being obvious about making Ramsey a suspect. But I can do Lisa’s, too.”
“Wait on Ramsey’s,” said Stu. “Too tricky.” He pulled out his notebook and flipped pages. “Lisa’s maid is Patricia . . . Kasempitakpong.” He enunciated the unmanageable name very slowly. “Probably Thai. The blues are holding her, but if she asks to leave, they can’t stop her from flying back to Bangkok. Or calling the
National Enquirer.
”
“I’ll go right after I call the family.”
He gave her the Doheny Drive address.
She said, “Cooperative of the sheriffs, letting us lead with Ramsey.’’
“All the bad press both departments have been getting, maybe someone’s finally getting smart.”
“Maybe.” Last month the sheriffs had been exposed for releasing several murderers through clerical error, giving county-jail prisoners gourmet food at taxpayer expense, and losing track of millions of dollars. Half a year before that, some deputies had been busted for off-duty armed robbery and a rookie had been found naked and dazed, roaming the hills near the Malibu substation.
Stu said, “The address reminds me—just a few blocks from Chasen’s. Which they’re tearing down in order to build a shopping center.”
“Aw gee,” said Petra. “No more celebrity dinners for us, pard.”
“I actually got to go there once,” he said. “Handled security for a wedding reception, big entertainment lawyer’s daughter, major stars all over the place.”
“I didn’t know you did that kind of thing.”
Also.
“Years ago. Mostly it was a drag. That time, though, at Chasen’s, was okay. They fed me. Chili, ribs, steak. Great place, class atmosphere. Reagan’s favorite restaurant . . . all right, you’ll take the Thai maid and notify the parents, I’ll try to figure out a way of discreetly asking some industry types about Ramsey, run DMV on the Mercedes, check back with the coroner and the techs before I go home. If they come up with any good forensics, I’ll let you know. So far so good?”
“I’ll also call the phone company, pull Lisa’s records.”
“Good idea.”
Basic procedure.
“Stu, if Ramsey is the guy, how can we touch him?”
No answer.
Petra said, “I guess what I’m saying is what’s the chance of something like this improving the quality of our lives? And how do we do our best by Lisa?”
He fooled with his hair, straightened his rep tie.
“Just take it step by step,” he finally said. “Do the best we can. Just like what I tell my kids about school.”
“We’re just kids on this one?”
“In a way.”
CHAPTER
11
The monkeys are the worst screamers. It’s only 6 A.M. and they’re already complaining.
In four hours the zoo will open. I’ve been up here when it’s full of people, heard mostly noise, but sometimes I catch words, like little kids, whining for something.
“Ice scream!” “Lions!”
When people are in the zoo, the animals get quiet, but at night they really go at it—listen to those monkeys screech—and here’s another one, deep, something heavy and tired, maybe a rhino. Like,
Let me out of here! We’re stuck here ’cause
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