thing.”
“Carpentry?”
“Framing, digging ditches, driving a trash truck.” She smiled. “He did some door-to-door sales—magazines, that kind of thing. Sold clothing that he bought at thrift shops to vintage stores. One time he got hired by a company that guards shopping malls. They put him in uniform and a hat. His hair—he had real long hair back then—had to be bunched up in the hat and he looked like he had an oversized head. Glenn used to say putting a doper in that position was having the fox watch the chicken coop. But Stevie was okay as a guard, he never got into trouble. I guess he got bored with it ’cause he quit. Bored with us, too. One day he just picked up and moved to L.A.”
“When was that, ma’am?”
“Six, seven years ago.”
“Until then he was living with you?”
“He came and went.” Her eyes compressed “Why all these questions about Stevie if you just want to find that girl? Who I’m not really sure, now, was the same one.”
“A man fitting Stevie’s description was seen near the girl on the night she was killed.”
Harriet Muhrmann gasped.
“Ma’am, I’m being truthful when I say that does not make Stevie a suspect. But we would like to talk to him in case he can identify her. Because right now, she’s just a Jane Doe and that makes our job really tough.”
“I’m sure it does but there’s nothing more I can tell you about her.”
“At the very least, we can rule Stevie out and be out of your hair.”
“Well, that would be nice but there’s nothing more I can tell you.”
“That time—eight months ago. Was it a social call?”
She bit back tears. “I can’t hide anything from you guys, can I? No, Stevie needed money.”
“Did you give him any?”
She picked at a cuticle. “His father cannot know.”
“There’s no reason for us to talk to his father unless he can supply details you haven’t.”
“He can’t, Glenn’s been in Eye-rack for two years, on and off. And trust me, all he’d tell you is Stevie’s a doper and a disappointment.” Her eyes misted. “Glenn’s a good man but he’s not always a kind man. But I understand where he’s coming from.”
That sounded strangely detached. What I’d heard from so many parents of troubled kids after hope gave way to despair.
Milo said, “So you gave Stevie some money.”
“Usually I make him show me a time card or a pay stub, something to show he’s been working. Or at least trying to find work. That time he didn’t have anything but he claimed he was working on getting a part in a movie. As Ste- fahn , that would be his stage name. I said what kind of movie? He said an independent production, if everything came together he’d be in great shape, just needed something to tide him over, he’d pay me back with interest.”
She sighed. “He caught me on a day when I was tired and missing Glenn and getting over the flu.”
I said, “How much did you give him?”
“He asked for four, I gave him two.”
“Thousand,” said Milo.
“I know, I know,” said Harriet Muhrmann. “But Ste- fahn does sound like a movie name and that girl was pretty enough to be an actress. Actually, that’s what I figured her for.”
“How many times have you seen Stevie since then?”
“None. And yes, he never paid me back. But it was my money, not Glenn’s, so I can do what I want with it, right?”
“Of course.”
“You won’t tell Glenn? Please, that would be horrendous.”
“There’d be no reason to do that. So the purpose of Stevie’s visit was—”
“To use me,” she said. “So what else is new, I’m a mom. But he loves me, he’s always sweet to me. It’s just his problems get in the way.”
I said, “You’re worried the money went for drugs.”
“I didn’t ask, he didn’t tell.” Her eyes clamped shut. “Do you suspect Stevie of harming that girl?”
Milo said, “There’s no evidence of that.”
“He’s never hurt a woman. Never.”
“Do you have a phone
“Carpentry?”
“Framing, digging ditches, driving a trash truck.” She smiled. “He did some door-to-door sales—magazines, that kind of thing. Sold clothing that he bought at thrift shops to vintage stores. One time he got hired by a company that guards shopping malls. They put him in uniform and a hat. His hair—he had real long hair back then—had to be bunched up in the hat and he looked like he had an oversized head. Glenn used to say putting a doper in that position was having the fox watch the chicken coop. But Stevie was okay as a guard, he never got into trouble. I guess he got bored with it ’cause he quit. Bored with us, too. One day he just picked up and moved to L.A.”
“When was that, ma’am?”
“Six, seven years ago.”
“Until then he was living with you?”
“He came and went.” Her eyes compressed “Why all these questions about Stevie if you just want to find that girl? Who I’m not really sure, now, was the same one.”
“A man fitting Stevie’s description was seen near the girl on the night she was killed.”
Harriet Muhrmann gasped.
“Ma’am, I’m being truthful when I say that does not make Stevie a suspect. But we would like to talk to him in case he can identify her. Because right now, she’s just a Jane Doe and that makes our job really tough.”
“I’m sure it does but there’s nothing more I can tell you about her.”
“At the very least, we can rule Stevie out and be out of your hair.”
“Well, that would be nice but there’s nothing more I can tell you.”
“That time—eight months ago. Was it a social call?”
She bit back tears. “I can’t hide anything from you guys, can I? No, Stevie needed money.”
“Did you give him any?”
She picked at a cuticle. “His father cannot know.”
“There’s no reason for us to talk to his father unless he can supply details you haven’t.”
“He can’t, Glenn’s been in Eye-rack for two years, on and off. And trust me, all he’d tell you is Stevie’s a doper and a disappointment.” Her eyes misted. “Glenn’s a good man but he’s not always a kind man. But I understand where he’s coming from.”
That sounded strangely detached. What I’d heard from so many parents of troubled kids after hope gave way to despair.
Milo said, “So you gave Stevie some money.”
“Usually I make him show me a time card or a pay stub, something to show he’s been working. Or at least trying to find work. That time he didn’t have anything but he claimed he was working on getting a part in a movie. As Ste- fahn , that would be his stage name. I said what kind of movie? He said an independent production, if everything came together he’d be in great shape, just needed something to tide him over, he’d pay me back with interest.”
She sighed. “He caught me on a day when I was tired and missing Glenn and getting over the flu.”
I said, “How much did you give him?”
“He asked for four, I gave him two.”
“Thousand,” said Milo.
“I know, I know,” said Harriet Muhrmann. “But Ste- fahn does sound like a movie name and that girl was pretty enough to be an actress. Actually, that’s what I figured her for.”
“How many times have you seen Stevie since then?”
“None. And yes, he never paid me back. But it was my money, not Glenn’s, so I can do what I want with it, right?”
“Of course.”
“You won’t tell Glenn? Please, that would be horrendous.”
“There’d be no reason to do that. So the purpose of Stevie’s visit was—”
“To use me,” she said. “So what else is new, I’m a mom. But he loves me, he’s always sweet to me. It’s just his problems get in the way.”
I said, “You’re worried the money went for drugs.”
“I didn’t ask, he didn’t tell.” Her eyes clamped shut. “Do you suspect Stevie of harming that girl?”
Milo said, “There’s no evidence of that.”
“He’s never hurt a woman. Never.”
“Do you have a phone
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