City of the Dead (Alex Delaware, #37)(50)

A single window on the far wall revealed the guano-specked stucco of a neighboring building. The furniture was tired, the sole nod to personal three posters of modern dance concerts. New York, Paris, London.

That plus the ballet shoes, the leotards, and the flexibility spelled out Mona Kramm’s passion. This place said so far, love had turned out unrequited.

She sat yoga-style, like Shari Benedetto. Unlike Benedetto, she remained tense as we faced her on a nubby gray couch redolent of ramen.

Milo said, “You’re a dancer?”

“In theory,” she said. “In reality, I teach little kids at a studio in Brentwood.” She smiled. “It’s not bad. They’re rich but not messed up, yet.”

A dancer and a stylist sharing this drab place. Two people who’d set their sights on creativity and beauty but lived without much of either.

Milo said, “There’s no good way to say this but—”

“He’s dead.”

“I’m afraid so.”

As if a sluice had been opened, Mona Kramm went from taut to traumatized.

“Oh God, no!” She made a retching sound and pitched forward.

Milo had one of his clean hankies ready. But she ignored it and wiped her eyes on a kimono sleeve. “How? Why Caspian?”

“Wish we knew,” said Milo. “What I can tell you is that Caspian was one of two people murdered a few nights ago.”

“Cordi Gannett,” she said. “Her, too?”

Stomach sounds rose from a flat belly. She groaned and slapped a hand over her gut.

“How did you know?”

“Because Caspian was sleeping over at her place a few nights ago. Cordi was also killed? This is…I don’t know what it is. What do you call it? A double?”

Milo said, “Two people dead.”

“Omigod. I can’t believe this.”

Milo said, “Did you know Cordi?”

“No, but I knew of her,” said Mona Kramm. “Caspian—his real name is Charlie, by the way—Caspian talked about her a lot. He thought she was brilliant. No, I never met her but from what he told me I worried she might get him into trouble.”

“How so?”

“My feeling is that he started to get too attached to her and when that happens things can get weird, right?”

“They can,” said Milo.

“Hero worship,” said Mona Kramm. “I’ve never seen it go anywhere good.”

I said, “Caspian worshipped Cordi.”

“It didn’t start out that way but it came to that. Poor Caspian. He was so sweet. Gentle, quiet, considerate. Plus neat and clean and try finding all that in one person. When he answered my Craigslist ad I had a terrific first impression and it only improved. He was the best roommate you could ask for. Now he’s…this is unreal.”

“How long have the two of you lived together?”

“Two years,” said Mona Kramm. “Cordi.” She shook her head.

I said, “Caspian got attached to Cordi in a way that made you worry.”

“I never worried about something like this, no, no, nothing like this. Jesus…I just thought she was…I don’t want to disrespect a dead person.”

Milo said, “Anything you can tell us is helpful.”

She freed her legs, stretched, returned to the yoga fold. “It started off as work for Caspian. Doing her hair and makeup. This was like…a year and a half ago. But then he started talking about her more and more and I could tell he was getting…hooked.”

“What did he say about her?”

“What a brilliant shrink she was. How deep her insights were, she had a talent for tuning in to people’s souls. He’s like you have to watch her videos, Mona, she really gets it. I’m not into that stuff but just to be nice I watched a couple.”

She stuck out her tongue.

I said, “Not impressed.”

“I thought she was slick and superficial. But I told Caspian they were great. Why make him feel bad? I didn’t have the heart to say what I really thought.”

I said, “Which was…”

“Basically, she was either doling out common sense—be attracted to people who are good for you—or telling people what they wanted to hear. Kind of like what those fake psychics do? When I saw the videos, I was still in therapy with a real therapist and she looked Cordi up, watched, and agreed. Later she told me she’d found out Cordi had been busted for impersonating a shrink. So I’m thinking whoa. I guess I should’ve told Caspian but I didn’t imagine it would—something would happen to him. He was so needy, I figured he’d found a friend and that was better than nothing.”

I said, “Caspian didn’t have friends.”

“Just me, for what that was worth,” said Mona Kramm. “And we never really did anything together, we were just compatible roomies.”

“What was their friendship like?”

“I don’t know,” said Mona Kramm. “I never actually saw them together so maybe I’m being too judgmental. But I can tell you this: In the beginning she paid Caspian his full fee but then he began styling her at a discount. He claimed it was his idea, but who knows? Either way, Caspian wasn’t exactly rich, even with his other gigs. She had to know that. To me that sounds exploitative.”