“Working ranch?”
“Not hardly. My practice is farm critters, which means barn calls at all hours, no time to raise our own stock. We keep a few animals around because we love animals but mostly for the grandkids. Primarily rescues—dogs, a blind heifer, couple of goats, sheep, rabbits.”
Sandy Burdette smiled. “Don’t forget Glenn, dear.” To us: “That’s a desert tortoise we’ve had for God knows how long.”
Will Burdette said, “Coming on twenty-two years. Healthy bugger, probably outlive us.”
I said, “How many grandkids do you have?”
“Three boys,” said Sandy. “Six, four, and three.” Her lips tightened. “A decision was made that they were too young to attend.”
Will said, “Just as well, I suppose. Seeing as how it turned out.”
I said, “Who made that decision?”
Sandy said, “Gar informed us but it was what she wanted. My poor son was really nervous, having to deliver the message. He would’ve wanted his nephews here but he goes with the flow.” She pulled out a curl, tamped it back into place. “The wedding’s basically been her thing. The rest of us are along for the ride.”
Will said, “Saints and Sinners, still don’t get that. I will tell you this: What I had to pay for a deejay and all those bartenders is a sin. We have a married daughter, her situation was a lot more normal. Church, pastor, the reception stayed at the church, sandwiches, soft drinks, and beer, now go off and be happy together.”
He looked around the room. “They say this used to be some kind of church but to my eye you’d never know it.”
Milo said, “Not hardly.”
Sandy said, “Don’t be coy, Will.” To us: “Don’t know if anyone told you guys this but before it became a rental venue, it was a burlesque joint.”
“So we’ve heard.”
“Ah.” Disappointed. “Could that be related, Lieutenant? The kind of people a place like that would attract?”
“We’re looking into everything, Mrs. Burdette.”
“Those metal poles,” she said, pointing. “I don’t even want to think. But as I said, this is her big day.”
“Was,” said Will Burdette. “Best-laid plans and all that.”
* * *
—
Older sister Marilee Mastro and her husband, Stuart, were M.D.’s around forty practicing family medicine. Enhanced by stilt heels, she topped his six feet by a couple of inches. Both Mastros were blond, blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked, and rangy. Long, grave faces gave them the look of an outtake from a Scandinavian travel poster.
I said, “Where do you practice?”
Stuart Mastro said, “That’s in some way relevant?”
“Just collecting information, Doctor.”
“We’re both at Kaiser Murrieta.”
Marilee Mastro said, “We live in Murrieta. Stu’s full-time, I’m in the clinic twice a week so I can prioritize the kids.”
“Three boys,” I said. “Your mom told us.”
Marilee nodded. “They weren’t allowed to attend so we had to hire a hotel babysitter. In fact, I’d like to get back as soon as possible to see how they’re doing.”
“We’ll get through this as fast as possible,” said Milo. “Which hotel are you staying at?”
“Executive Suites on Santa Monica and Overland. We’re all there, Amanda—my little sister—booked it. Correction: All of us are there except Amanda. She lives in L.A., goes to the U.”
I said, “The girl with the book.”
Marilee smiled. “Always. She’s the big-brain in the family.”
Stuart frowned. “Didn’t see why the boys had to be excluded but now I’m glad. Not just what happened, the tacky ambience. This used to be a strip joint. Not exactly a wholesome environment.”
Marilee stuck out her tongue. “It is kind of gross, thinking of what those poles went through, no? Can you imagine the germ cultures on them, hon? On the other hand, the boys would’ve had fun spinning around on them.”
Stuart chuckled. “Kyle and Brendan would go nuts and Marston would be sitting in his stroller cheering them on. With our luck, they’d pull the darn things down.”
“Reign of destruction,” said Marilee.
“Boom,” said Stuart.
I said, “Three boys.”
“Oh, they’re a trio of hellions,” said Marilee, fully enjoying the thought. She crossed her fingers. Checked her phone. “So far, no calls from the babysitter.”
“The boys being banished was the blushing bride’s idea,” said Stuart Mastro. “Garrett called to tell us but his heart wasn’t in it. That’s Garrett.”
“Goes with the flow.”
“That’s one way to put it. He doesn’t have strong opinions on much except the Dodgers and the Lakers.”
Marilee said, “You’re making him sound insipid, hon.” To us: “Garrett’s smart and sweet but not a fighter.”
Stuart said, “Goes along to get along.”
I said, “That’s not the bride.”
A beat. Stuart shook his head.
Marilee said, “I’m sure she’s a fine person. We don’t really know her that well.”
“Not a lot of contact before the wedding.”
“The two of them visited my parents on Thanksgiving and Christmas and that was about it. Apparently her parents aren’t big on family holidays, they were off on some sort of vacation.”
I said, “So pretty limited contact.”
Stuart said, “Never met her parents before today, only met her twice. Our conclusion was they’re superficially a cute couple.”
“Superficially.”
“First impressions are by nature superficial,” he said. “Now that I see them together, I’m assessing that they’re totally different from each other. But maybe opposites can attract.”
I said, “Can you think of anyone who’d want to destroy their wedding?”
“By murdering someone?” he said. “That’s kind of flat-out insane, no?”
Milo said, “You heard there was a murder.”
Stuart blinked. “Well, no, I didn’t. What we were told was someone died and then detectives showed us the photo of that girl. With all the police presence plus detectives it’s pretty obvious this wasn’t a slip-and-fall or a suicide, right?”
Milo said, “Mind taking another look at the photo?” He handed it to Mastro.
“Yup, that’s the postmortem look. I know it because third year in med school I took an elective with the Riverside County coroner. Nope, same answer, never seen her.”
He passed the shot to his wife. She said, “We were just discussing it before you called my parents over, and no one on our side has any idea who she is.”
I said, “Should we concentrate on the bride’s side?”
“I’m not saying that—actually, I guess I am. Simply on a probability basis. Nearly everyone here is from her side.”
“What’s the breakdown?”
“Our side is basically us and a few of Gar’s college buddies.” She looked at Stuart.
He said, “If there are a hundred people here, my off-the-cuff would be eighty-five to them, fifteen to us.”
I said, “We noticed there were plenty of bridesmaids but no ushers.”
Marilee Mastro said, “Another official policy, she thought it would take up too much time. Though to be fair, Garrett’s never been real social. Maybe she’ll draw him out.”
“If opposites attract,” said Stuart, “these two sure have a chance to prove it.”
Marilee said, “Given how few of us are here and the fact that your victim’s a young woman, wouldn’t you say she’s more likely to tie in with Brears? Not that I’m pointing fingers.”
“At this point, Dr. Mastro, any information is welcome.”
“I wish I could give you more, Lieutenant. It really is a horrible thing. Brears was so into it.”
Stuart shook his head. “One day in their lives, it’s the rest that count. If there’s nothing else, Officers, can we find out how our little savages are doing?”
* * *
—
The table was down to Leanza Cardell still playing with her hair and studious Amanda Burdette, who’d produced a yellow felt-tipped marker and was underlining. As Milo got up to head there, he was distracted by something to his left.
CSI Peggy Cho, still suited and gloved, caught his attention with an upright index finger. We went over and she said, “A couple of things came up, probably better to talk up there.”