“Learning disabled.”
“Learning disabled, perceptual issues, special needs, you name it, they’re great with labels. Once she taught herself to read she did okay. Except math, math wasn’t her thing, period, but so what? You don’t need fancy numbers to get through life, if you showed me an algebra book, it would be like reading Egyptian or something and I’ve made my way just fine.”
“Did she have any particular interests?”
“Dance was her thing. She was graceful. When she was little I spent you don’t want to know how much on ballet and tap lessons. Then she said she’d be fine on her own, she didn’t need all those teachers telling her what to do. Which made sense to me. You’re born with that, right? You can’t teach a big fat ape to be graceful, right?”
Milo smiled.
Dorothy Koster said, “I swear there were times she could float. Now you’re telling me she’s gone. It makes no sense.”
He said, “When’s the last time you heard from Susie?”
“The last time was…a while ago. She called me, she was happy. New boyfriend. The boyfriend before that she was happy, too. I said why’d you end that one? She laughed, she’d never really let on about personal stuff. The boyfriend before she found in Panama. If you’re going to ask me, don’t know his name—just that she said he was smart and good looking and Jewish. I’ve got nothing against Jewish people, my boss at The Kitchen is Jewish, Andy Streit, treats me well, treats everyone well.”
I said, “What else did she tell you about the boyfriend from Panama?”
“Not from Panama. She met him in Panama, he was American. She was dancing at a hotel, he worked there. He was going to run his own hotel one day.”
Milo said, “No name, huh?”
“You think he did it?”
“Not at all, ma’am, just trying to collect information.”
“Well,” said Dorothy Koster, “she did have a nickname for him. Handsome Hilton. Like the hotel, but he wasn’t a real Hilton. It was like she was making fun of him. In a nice way. Susie could get like that. Liking someone but still playing around with them. She teased me. But in a nice way. My name, Dorothy, she was always trying Wizard of Oz jokes. Like I should get a dog named Toto, that kind of thing.”
I said, “No problems with Handsome Hilton but she moved on.”
“The new one was supposedly brilliant, she called him The Brain. Which reminded me of a science-fiction movie that scared me when I was a girl. This brain, separated from a body, sitting there in a glass jar, bubbling and buzzing.”
She shuddered. “Anyway, she said this one had taken her to a new level. Opened her mind to books, theories, stuff she’d never thought about. It made her want to try harder. I said, See, I always said you were smart but me you didn’t believe. Usually, when I tried to make a point, she’d change the subject. This time she said, You know, Mom, I think you’re right.”
Dorothy Koster’s face crumpled. “Finally I get some credit, huh?”
I said, “How much schooling did she have?”
“She finished high school, had to repeat a bunch of summers but finally, yeah, they graduated her. I said how about junior college, you’ve got what it takes. Instead, she left. Just packed her bags while I was at work and left me a note to say she was traveling and poof. Maybe if she went to junior college like I said…God wouldn’t just do that. So I guess there really is the Devil.”
* * *
—
Milo asked if she had photos of Susie, anything at all that could be helpful. Her answer spoke volumes.
“I’ve got photos from when she was little, elementary school. Once she hit junior high, she refused to let me take any.”
“Why’s that?”
“She said she was ugly, she didn’t want a record of it. I said, that’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard of—oh, yeah, I did sneak one in. When she was at dance class, she was probably fifteen—no, sixteen, hold on.”
She stood up, tottering, but avoided my supporting hand. “I’m fine, that was just a weird thing.” Walking to the left, she was gone for a few moments, returned with a color snapshot.
Lovely, lithe girl in a pink tutu and white tights. Toe-pointing on pink ballet shoes, arms outstretched gracefully.
I said, “Gorgeous,” and meant it.
Milo said, “Really lovely.”
“She was, she was,” said Dorothy Koster. “Now—when can I come get her, sirs?”
“Soon as you’re able, ma’am.”
“I’ve got the money. Harry’s pension fills in the gaps. Who do I talk to?”
He gave her his card, one from the coroner’s administrative office, and three from mortuaries that work smoothly with the crypt. Some people carry spare change and gum. His pockets are a bit different.
Dorothy Koster said, “Okay, thanks.”
“Is there anything you can think of that might help us, ma’am?”
“Nope.” She waved his card. “If that changes, I know how to reach you.”
She accompanied us to the door. “I won’t say nice meeting you, but you did a good job, it’s got to be tough.”
“Thanks so much, ma’am.”
“That’s part of it,” said Dorothy Koster. “The way you call me ma’am.”
CHAPTER
37
As he had following the visit with Paul Kramer, Milo drove a bit and pulled over. “You’re thinking what I am, right?”
I said, “Same story as Peter Kramer.”
“It’s like they were on the same path.” He sucked in his breath. “Ended up in the same place.”
“By the same hand.”
“Like you said, the fucking Brain cleaning house.”
“Susie would’ve been ripe for a Pygmalion thing,” I said. “Convinced she was stupid, finally someone tells her different.”
“Trips to the library, goddamn textbooks. Not for her sake. He was out to control and manipulate her. Offs her boyfriend, plays with her for a while, she outlives her usefulness, he gets Lotz to drive a spike into her head and choke her out.”
“You see Garrett as capable of all that?”
“Because he comes across as a wimp? Why not? If he fooled Susie and maybe the Booker girl, why the hell couldn’t he put on an act for us?”
“Kramer and Lotz had a link to the building. The only connection Garrett has is his sister lives there.”
“Maybe that’s enough. He visits, notices things. Collects people like a serious psychopath.”
“You know what I’m going to say.”
He waved a big hand. “Anything’s possible but. What’s the but?”
“All we really have on him is that he’s bright.”
“Plus that look he gave when Poland came up, same for his parents. Plus, the goddamn wedding was his, who better to need damage control—hold on.”
He reached for a buzzing jacket pocket, removed his phone, went on speaker. “Alicia…what’s up, kid?”
Bogomil said, “Something to report on Amanda, Loo. Finally she left and went somewhere other than to campus or to get food in the Village. Got on her trusty little bike and pedaled past the Village—sketchily, I might add. She spaces out, doesn’t look where she’s going, drifts in front of cars. Couple of times she got honked, didn’t even react.”
“Lost in thought,” said Milo.
“Lost in something,” said Alicia. “Anyway, this time she kept going east and crossed Hilgard into the residential streets. Then over to Wilshire at Selby where there’s a light. She crosses, bikes a couple of blocks west nearly getting pulverized, then turns off at one of the fancy high-rises and rolls down into the sub-lot.”
Milo copied the address she recited. “The gate was open?”
“No, there’s a call box. She knows the combination. Interesting, no?”
“Very.”
“It’s a high-end place, Loo, even for the Corridor. Valets out front, working with the level of chrome you’d expect. I considered asking the staff if they knew her but the heap I got from the impound lot and the way I’m dressed they’d probably call the station on me. Plus I wanted to check with you first.”