City of the Dead (Alex Delaware, #37)(73)

“Obviously exigent circumstances,” said Bloomfield.

Milo said, “You’re making a point, Counselor.”

That startled Bloomfield.

Milo turned back to Montag. “Where’d you get the gun, Lisette?”

Smug smile. A question she welcomed. “I was just going to tell you. From Tyler. How’s that for ironism?”

“Tyler gave you the gun.”

“Yes, sir. Last year, back in the desert. I told him I was scared living alone. The next day he gave it to me and told me not to use it unless I had to.”

Bloomfield said, “Beyond irony.”

Milo said, “Lisette, we found the casings from the bullets you used to shoot Tyler in your closet, stored with some jewelry.”

Montag began gnawing her lip.

Bloomfield said, “What’s the difference? Doesn’t change the basics.”

Milo said, “It might be good to know.”

Lisette Montag said, “I kept them to remind me. That I was strong.”

“Kind of like a trophy.”

“That’s not what she said, Lieutenant. Just a reminder.”

Milo said, “More like a battle ribbon.”

“Yes!” said Montag as Bloomfield shook his head. “I sometimes still feel weak. I need to remember and feel I can take my own life back.”

Al Bloomfield said, “Lieutenant, I think we’ve meandered along this pathway sufficiently. As you said, I made a good point.” Speaking louder and eyeing the one-way glass. “And let’s establish some perspective, Lieutenant. Lisette has absolutely no criminal record. Which is why you’ve never encountered a more forthright, honest, abjectly remorseful suspect. This isn’t who she is. She was coerced.” To me: “Coerced psychologically. And please note that she’s just ripped open her chest and showed you her heart. Surely you can’t be asking for all of her blood.”

“God forbid, Counselor. But I could use some information about Cordelia Gannett and Caspian Delage.”

“Who?” said Lisette Montag.

No eye-dancing or shifting posture. Meeting Milo’s eyes straight-on.

He repeated the names.

She said, “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

Meaning it.

Devastatingly honest.

Alan Bloomfield said, “These are obviously other murders. Am I correct in assuming you suspect Hoffgarden for those, as well? All the better.”

“It’s not that simple,” said Milo.

“Maybe in your mind, Lieutenant. In my mind, my initial premise has just grown significantly stronger.”

Lisette Montag said, “What the fuck are you guys talking about? It’s like hearing a foreign language.”





CHAPTER


    32


Milo and I watched the uniform, Montag, and Bloomfield head for the elevator.

Bloomfield stopped and saluted. “Thanks for your time, Lieutenant. I know you’ll do the right thing.”

When they were gone, Milo said, “Oh sure, I’m a white knight.”



* * *



—

We returned to his office where he speakerphoned D.D.A. John Nguyen. It was pushing eleven p.m. but Nguyen answered, sounding alert.

“Dude, do you know what time it is?”

“I thought you’d want follow-up.”

“On what?”

Milo recapped.

Nguyen said, “Wonderful. Guess I should’ve warned you about Bloomfield. Not that it would’ve made a difference, he can’t take credit for her not knowing squat about Gannett and Delage. Allegedly. You believe her?”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

“What does Dr. Shrink say?”

“Same thing.”

“Hmm,” said Nguyen. “At least you solved one.”

“Gonna be a process,” said Milo. “What’s Bloomfield’s story?”

“Major guy at the Scranton, Pennsylvania, D.A.’s office,” said Nguyen. “Rose to second in command then became a honcho at the state attorney general’s office before going private. He defended some of the heaviest bad guys, including mob murderers and union racketeers, won a lot more than he lost. When he turned seventy, he retired, moved out here, and got himself an estate in Hidden Hills. Horses, the works. Then he got bored, took the California bar with no prep, passed the first time, and started doing defense work again, pro bono.”

“Montag lucked out.”

“Yup. Next name on the list. So what do you think for her? Voluntary manslaughter?”

“You’ve got to be kidding, John.”

“You hear laughter?”

“She sets Hoffgarden up, gets the twins to bind and gag him, drives him to the kill-spot, shoots him twice, and takes the casings for a souvenir?”

“I am aware of all of that,” said Nguyen. “Except the casings. Which don’t change anything. We’re talking a lowlife like Hoffgarden with a prior history of violence and a probable murder under his belt and she’s what, five-two, hundred pounds with absolutely no record? I can just see Bloomfield bringing in a parade of people that Hoffgarden terrorized. Some of them might even be righteous. I don’t play, I could lose.”