City of the Dead (Alex Delaware, #37)(42)

The sitting part was assigned to a six-foot, white leather couch with red metal legs, the obvious place for us, and a black leather sling-back chair where Shari Benedetto settled gracefully and faced us, legs crossed yoga-style. Her palms lowered to her knees and her eyelids fluttered. But she kept her eyes open and curious.

The couch was as soft as concrete. Milo did a fine job of looking comfortable. “Thanks for meeting with us, ma’am.”

She mouthed, “Ma’am.” Amused by the word, as are lots of young women. “Of course. I’d offer you something but I’ve been traveling and there’s nothing in the house.”

“Out on a shoot?”

She nodded. “A pilot filmed in Vancouver. I got to see a trained grizzly bear do some pretty amazing stunts.”

As Milo took out his pad, a sleek black cat with onyx eyes glided in from the doorway. Crossing the room with confidence, it jumped up effortlessly and sank into Shari Benedetto’s lap.

Feline in silent repose, but studying us with an expression that evoked a genetic link to panthers and leopards.

Milo said, “Nice cat.”

“To me,” said Shari Benedetto. “Boris has been known to get aggressive with other people.”

I wondered if the presence of an attack cat explained her trust level. Hopefully not; I knew of pit bulls and rottweilers who’d faced off against guns or knives and ended up as vital as stuffed animals.

Milo said, “Guess we’ll have to be on our best behavior.”

Shari Benedetto smiled weakly and let out two puffs of exhalation.

“Mindfulness,” she said. “Cordi’s actually the one who told me about it.”

“May I ask if you were her—”

“Client? No. We just used to talk while I was prepping her for some of her videos.”

“Some but not all?”

“Just some,” she said. “I travel a lot. If I was in town, I’d help her. That’s actually where I met Caspian. He was doing her hair. And by the way, his real name is Charlie Baxter.”

Milo’s pen danced. “Really. How’d you find out?”

“By posting like you said. No one knew except one of my friends, also a makeup artist, who worked with him on an MTV shoot years ago. He told her his real name was Charlie Baxter and that he hated it and decided to go exotic.”

Milo scrawled some more. “Thanks, that’s super-helpful. Would she be willing to talk to us?”

“Mariah’s in Singapore working on a film and was definite about that being all she knew. We both agreed that we liked Caspian but neither of us was close to him.”

“Is there anything you can tell us about him? Or Cordi.”

“From the little I saw, he was sweet, very soft-spoken.” She sniffed back tears. “So terrible, a sweet guy like him…no, there really isn’t anything beyond that, Lieutenant. Basically, the three of us would chitchat when he was doing her hair and I was waiting around to touch her up. I did work with him on a couple of other jobs but not by plan and only a couple. Both were private parties. A woman from Encino who wanted to be one of the Real Housewives had me tart her up.” She stuck out her tongue. “Another woman from Brentwood wanted to surprise her husband on their anniversary with a tattoo and a makeover.”

I said, “You travel a lot.”

“All the time. Mostly in Canada because it’s cheaper to shoot there, but also in New Mexico and Utah and South Dakota.”

I said, “You do a lot of westerns?”

She smiled. “Good guess. Yeah, they’re coming back. Bears and wolves and actors trying to be cowboys. Most of my time is spent making people look like they never used sunscreen but still stayed gorgeous.”

“Do you know if Caspian took jobs out of town?”

“Couldn’t tell you,” she said. “He was easy to talk to but never revealed much about himself. In our business that helps. People want it to be all about them.”

Milo said, “Like being a therapist.”

“We probably hear more juicy stuff than most therapists.”

Back when I was in grad school, a professor had proposed giving bartenders and barbers a few courses in active listening and client-centered therapy. No progress on the project that I’d ever heard, but he had a good point.

I said, “So Caspian was easy to talk to but private.”

“He was easygoing, period. Which was part of his being great with hair. He didn’t try to push his ego on people. He took the time to find out about them so he could learn what they were after and give it to them.”

That synced with the varying hairdos on the Instagram pages.

I thought of gentle, agreeable Caspian Delage, sinking into wine-enhanced sleep and never waking up.

Brain stem destroyed, then hurled like garbage at a lumbering beast of a vehicle.

Shari Benedetto sniffed back tears. “They didn’t deserve it. Who would do this, guys?”

Milo said, “Wish we could answer that. But your help identifying Caspian gets us closer.”

“Good,” she said. “I felt so hopeless. Hearing about it. Can you tell me where it happened? No one seems to know.”

“In Cordi’s house.”

A hand shot to her mouth. “Oh my God, that’s my worst nightmare. Every time I come home after being away, it’s like approaching a strange place. So first I go and collect Boris from Mrs. Lipschitz, my neighbor down below. She’s around ninety and has lost eight cats to cancer or gout or whatever and Boris must sense her neediness because he’s super obedient with her.”