City of the Dead (Alex Delaware, #37)(22)

“Thanks, Louise.”

“Never heard a lawyer eat crow like that, Dr. Delaware. All this time, you’ve never seemed the least bit frightening to me.”





CHAPTER


    12


Milo had expected lab results later in the day but I didn’t hear from him until ten the following morning. So his opening sentence was no surprise.

“The bad news is no prelim, yet. The staff’s been in ahem training sessions. Not science, workplace communications skills. Didn’t know you needed sensitivity to talk to petri dishes.”

“Hey,” I said, “microbes are people, too. What’s the good news?”

“I found Cordi’s mom in the marriage license files. She’s been hitched twice, a short-term deal twenty-seven years ago and one that’s lasted for seventeen years running. Her married name is Blanding and her current address is on North Camden Drive in Beverly Hills. I’m planning a drop-in, would appreciate your presence.”

“When?”

“I’ll work around you. If there’s any time psychological wisdom can help, it’s dealing with mothers of dead kids.”

“It’s an open day.”

“Excellent. Pick you up in forty.”



* * *



—

I put on a white shirt, jeans, and a blue blazer, used the waiting time to learn what I could about Renata Blanding.

Pairing her name with camden drive gave me her exact address on the 700 block. A real estate site added specifics. Fifty-five-hundred-square-foot, single-occupancy dwelling on a quarter-acre lot. Built in 1927 and purchased fifteen years ago by the Gregory S. and Renata Blanding Family Trust.

Gregory S. Blanding turned out to be an ENT physician with an office in Century City. Specialties in throat conditions and septal realignment. No photos on any professional sites and no apparent work history for Renata, but the couple had been snapped at last year’s Black and White Ball, a fundraiser for the Beverly Hills Police Department.

The two of them had posed flanking a city councilwoman, everyone with cocktails in hand. Gregory Blanding was tuxedoed, silver-haired, thickset, and bespectacled, with a warm smile. Renata wore a clinging, sleeveless yellow dress that set off long, center-parted black hair. Strong shoulders and a lean build suggested regular gym attendance. Also smiling, but with considerably less wattage than her husband.

I logged off and went outside to catch some sun before we clouded her day. Milo showed up early and we took off.

We’d barely exited my property and begun rolling down the bridle path that connects to the Glen when he said, “Any suggestions how to approach her?”

“Don’t know her.”

“You didn’t look her up while you waited?”

I stared at him.

He said, “Hey, you’re not the only one who can get clairvoyant.”

I told him what I’d learned.

He said, “Snagged herself a doctor.”

I said, “You’d know about that. And come to think of it, maybe your doctor knows her doctor.”

“Hmm. Why not.”

He phoned the man with whom he’d been living since I’ve known him. Richard Silverman is a trauma surgeon at Cedars-Sinai with a work schedule that rivals Milo’s. They don’t see much of each other but that seems to work out.

Milo managed to catch Rick between cases. “How’s your day going?”

“It’s going,” said Rick. “Actually, it’s going okay. What’s up?”

“I’m in the car. Alex is here.”

“So I shouldn’t say anything inappropriate.”

“Like that would happen,” said Milo. “We’re heading off to do a notification.”

“Oy,” said Rick. I’ve never seen him fazed by the blood, gore, and agony he sees every day. Emotional challenges are a different story.

“Oy, indeed, kiddo. I’m calling because my victim’s stepdad is a medico. ENT named Gregory Blanding. Know him?”

Rick said, “He’s in the tower on Century Park East, big group, they do a lot of ears but he’s throat. He also attends here. Never worked with him but we were on a committee together. Standards of care. He came across as a nice guy. Has a good reputation medically. That’s about it.”

Milo smiled. “Thanks. Thoughts on dinner?”

“If you can wait until nine thirty, ten, I’m game for a sit-down. No wine, though. Up early tomorrow.”

“Sounds like fun,” said Milo.

“Better than doing nothing. Right, Alex?”

I said, “You bet.”

Milo said, “I get famished, I’ll eat earlier then renew the experience with you.”

Rick said, “I figured.”

After ending the call, Milo said, “Good reputation medically. Wonder what he thought of his stepdaughter faking it.”



* * *



—

The house was a two-story pink stucco Mediterranean with a face as flat as a paper doll and undistinguished landscaping. A white Audi SUV sat in the driveway. Quiet block, no one out except a uniformed maid walking a rust-colored ball of yarn on legs, probably some kind of poodle mix.

Milo’s knock elicited footsteps and sound behind the door. Brief movement on the other side of the peephole, then a woman’s voice said, “Yes?”