City of the Dead (Alex Delaware, #37)(51)

“Caspian struggled financially.”

She waved a hand. “I guess it’s pretty obvious looking at this dump that neither of us is doing the privilege thing. I hoped it would work out for Caspian eventually. He was super-talented and not temperamental, had been in town for five years but only working for himself for the last two. It takes time to build up but business did seem to be growing. Still, he was a long way from having any savings and he sure could’ve used every penny he got from her.”

Milo said, “Do you know where he was originally from?”

“Ohio,” she said. “Columbus. He didn’t talk much about that. I got the feeling his childhood wasn’t great.”

“So he came here.”

“And did the struggling thing.” Mona Kramm’s lips slitted and her eyes flashed. First time I noticed their color. Olive green with rusty rims. The pupils, dilated by cold light.

“This is a vicious town,” she said. “I’m not bitching. I could’ve chosen to be a social worker or a respiratory therapist like my sisters. You make choices, you live with them. But Cordi had to know Caspian needed every dollar he earned so why would she allow him to work cheap even if he offered?”

I said, “Did you see any other signs she took advantage of him?”

“When she wanted him for a shoot, she’d call at all hours. Beckoning. Like a queen summoning a servant. Need you in five hours. When he could, he’d reschedule to accommodate her.”

“His favorite client.”

She frowned.

I said, “Was sleeping over at her place a regular thing?”

“To my knowledge, he’d done it only once before. Came back gushing about what an elegant time they had. Sushi, sake, listening to spa music.”

“Flutes and whale sounds.”

She laughed, checked it, as if realizing glee was uncalled for. “Exactly. Doesn’t that sound kind of pseudo-shrinky?”

I nodded. “Did he say anything about the sleepover a few nights ago?”

“Just that he’d be bunking down at Dr. G’s crib. Like it was a privilege. He was excited. Giggling. A kid about to go on an adventure.”

“He called her a doctor.”

“Exactly. And she wasn’t,” said Mona Kramm. “But what was the point of arguing? I’m all about harmony. Caspian and I had achieved it and I wanted to keep it that way. I figured if I challenged him, he might freak.”

“You figured he’d be that sensitive about Cordi?”

“I did, sir. It’s like religion. People choose their form of worship and they punish infidels.”

Milo said, “The Church of Cordi.”

She stared at him. “That’s great. That’s really great, I’m going to remember it. Can I get you guys something to drink?”

“No, thanks, Mona. So what else can you tell us about Caspian?”

“Like I said, his real name was Charlie. Charles Bankster. I found out because one day he left his wallet open on the kitchen counter and his Social Security card and driver’s license were on top, in these little compartments covered by plastic. I asked him about it and he said he’d grown up as Charlie but decided when he came to L.A. to go for something with panache.”

She shook her head. “Caspian Delage, that’s a mouthful, huh? But like I said, no comment from me. Roommates as good as Caspian don’t come often. Plus, I really did like him. He was really likable. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to harm him. It had to be something to do with her.”

Looking at us, expecting an answer.

Milo said, “Too early to know, Mona, but you could be right.”

“Of course I’m right. She was a user and a phony and someone probably got pissed at her. I mean think about it. You post about yourself, tons of strangers get to watch you. Study you. Judge you. I mean some of them are bound to be psychos, right? It’s like a bad dating app times a bajillion.”

Milo smiled. “I’m going to remember that.”



* * *



—

Victim’s warrants are the general rule before entering the residence of a person who’s died violently. But Milo questioned Mona Kramm about the particulars of her arrangement with Caspian Delage and learned she was the sole lessee of the apartment, Delage an off-the-books co-tenant.

“And yes,” she said, “it’s against the rules to sublet but the way this dump is managed, no one pays attention and I don’t imagine you guys care about that kind of thing.”

“Not in the least, Mona. How about we take a look at Caspian’s room?”

“Sure, but please don’t judge me.”

“About what?”

“His space. I didn’t design this dump.”



* * *



—

The doorway opened to a skimpy, dark hall. Tiny, meticulous bedroom to the left—maybe nine by nine, dominated by a queen bed covered with a filmy salmon-colored throw, the walls crowded with more dancing prints.

On the opposite side of the corridor was a spotless fiberglass bathroom. Translucent window, flesh-colored towels, brightly colored lotions on the shelf of a shower nook.

Milo said, “Okay if I look in the medicine cabinet?”