The Museum of Desire: An Alex Delaware Novel(17)
Milo said, “Benson Alvarez.”
Enthusiastic nod. “We call him Benny. So he’s safe. Good. We’ve all been so worried since he didn’t come home Friday. I immediately reached out to his DPSS worker but she never got back to me so I phoned you guys. The guy I spoke to started in with an adult has to be missing twenty-four hours before you can file a report. I told him Benny wasn’t your typical adult and he said okay, he’d look into it. I wasn’t sure he meant it, so good, he did.”
She shifted to the right, blue eyes shooting past Milo. “Um, I don’t see him in your car. Is he being held somewhere? I can’t leave myself but maybe Andrea can authorize an Uber to pick him up or something.”
Milo said, “You’re his caretaker?”
“I oversee the facility. We’re Level One, the most able residents, they don’t have individual caretakers. It’s by accident that I’m dealing with this, usually I do the night shift because I’m going to school for my master’s during the day. But Marcella—the day person—asked if she could trade to take some vacation time with her boyfriend.”
She stopped, caught her breath. “That was oversharing, sorry. So where and when can Benny be picked up?”
Milo rubbed his face. “Could we come in, Ms….”
“Justine Merck. Why, what’s happened?”
“It would be better if we discussed this inside—”
“Something happened to Benny?”
This time, Milo used the card.
Justine Merck read and swayed and clutched the doorjamb for support. “Homicide…Benny? Oh, God, no!” One of her feet gave way and began skidding out from under her.
I caught her by the arm, Milo gripped the other, and we guided her inside.
* * *
—
Like the interior of most genuine Craftsman structures, the ground floor was dimmed by dark wood walls and matching ceiling coffers. A cheap plastic fixture dangled overhead, casting merciless light.
Off to the side was a living room furnished with couches that looked as if they’d been rescued curbside. But the space looked well tended and smelled of lemon-scented cleanser.
Big room, uninhabited. No sights or sounds of human habitation from anywhere in the house.
I said, “Is anyone else home?”
Justine Merck, now crying and gulping air, shook her head violently.
We sat her in a decrepit armchair facing a sofa and waited as she took several breaths.
“The other residents are at the zoo with our student volunteers. We go there a lot because it’s open and relaxed. Benny loved it. The flamingos, he loved their color. Even though they smelled bad. He’d joke about that, hold his nose and make a funny face—oh, here I go again, you don’t care about any of that!”
Milo said, “Actually we care about anything you can tell us about Benny.” He produced the wad of death-knock tissues he keeps in his jacket pocket and gave her one. She dabbed and sniffled.
Milo said, “Justine, when it comes to a homicide investigation, there’s no such thing as oversharing.”
She hung her head, tapped her knees. Placed both hands on her temples and pressed until the nails blanched. “In a couple of hours, they’ll be coming home and I’ll have to tell them. I should also call Andrea, she’ll know what to do. Or maybe she won’t. This never happened before.”
“Who’s Andrea?”
“Andrea Bauer, she owns Casa Clara and other havens. She lives in Santa Barbara but she comes here regularly. I told her about Benny not coming home, she said follow up with the police. This morning she called me back and said you guys were looking for him. That’s why when you showed up…”
Tears.
“Could we have Andrea’s number?”
“Sure.” Slow recitation, hurried jotting.
I said, “Justine, tell us about Benny.”
“Like what?”
“The kind of person he was.”
“Sweet,” she said. “Sweet, nice boy—I mean he was a middle-aged man, I’m not intending to juvenilize him. But that’s what you think of when you think of Benny. Innocent, like a young boy. Just the gentlest little guy.”
“How mentally challenged was he?”
“He was officially classified as DD—developmentally disabled—but it wasn’t severe. I think he tested out in the midseventies—his IQ. He could read a little, although usually he faked it.”
“Pretended to be higher functioning than he was.”
“I mean everyone needs to feel good about themselves, right? It’s not like he lied or bragged or did stupid stuff. What I’m talking about is like the time he got hold of one of my textbooks and ran this little plastic magnifying glass over it and started humming and nodding, like he understood it. I said, ‘So what have you learned about educational curriculum, Benny?’ He looked up at me with the sweetest expression and said, ‘I learned you’re smart, Justine.’ That was Benny, always a nice word for everyone. Everyone loved him. Who’d hurt him? I don’t understand!”
Milo said, “So he went missing on Friday.”
“He was supposed to be back by three. I arrived at four, usually it’s seven but Marcella had to get ready for her trip so I helped her out. Marcella was super concerned, she said she’d drive around looking for him but couldn’t do it for very long because she had to get ready for her trip. I told her not to worry, I’d take care of it. Which is when I began making calls. When I didn’t hear anything Friday or Saturday and then today, I was really scared. But hopeful, you know? Benny’s Level One, maybe he could take care of himself for a bit.”