The Museum of Desire: An Alex Delaware Novel(46)

“Time to shift gears,” said Milo. He told her about I.D.’ing Mary Jane Huralnik.

She said, “Homeless like we thought.”

“Homeless and mentally ill and doesn’t collect benefits so she wouldn’t be crashing at any SROs or shelters that collect government dough.”

“But maybe a nonprofit,” said Bogomil. “Church-run, that kind of thing. Or she just stayed on the street.”

“Exactly, Alicia. Forget the ads for the time being, head downtown and start looking for places. Now that we’ve got a name, maybe someone’s memory will get jogged.”

“On it, L.T.”

“I owe you lunch. You like pastrami?”

“Not really, too fatty.”

“You and Moe, both.”

“Nah, I’m just a girl trying to stay healthy,” she said. “Moe’s another species.”



* * *



—

He put BOLOs out on McGann’s Sentra and Vollmann’s Camaro. The second request elicited an immediate ping.

He said, “Excellent.” Then: “Damn.”





CHAPTER


    21


A call to an Inglewood detective named Marcus Coolidge gave him the details: Two bodies had been found in that city the Monday after the Benedict bloodbath.

Male victim in his thirties sitting in the front passenger seat of a blue Camaro, female vic in the trunk of the car. As with the limo, the paucity of blood said the killings had taken place elsewhere. Best guess of TOD based on decomposition was Sunday. Same day the limo had been found.

The Camaro’s registration plus the age and physical stats of the male victim suggested he was Stephen W. Vollmann but no formal verification.

Coolidge said, “I’m sure it’s him but like I said there was decomp and we’re talking a shotgun, 12-gauge, not much face or teeth left. Vollmann’s got no prints on file so until the DNA comes in, I’m not allowed to make it official.”

Milo said, “He’s a vet, the army may have prints.”

“Ah. Good. I’ll get on that, thanks.”

“Vollmann had a girlfriend—”

“Marcella McGann,” said Coolidge. “Found her on his Facebook, the photos I saw of her match my female in general terms. But she got hit even closer-range than Vollmann and no prints from her, her hands were obliterated, probably from holding them up defensively.”

“Nasty.”

“Worst scene I’ve had in a while. One weird thing: The pathologist also found a knife wound in Vollmann, nonfatal, between the ribs, missed organs but damaged muscle. Would’ve caused big-time pain and made Vollmann easier to control and shoot. Vollmann’s pretty good-sized so maybe cutting him first was insurance. But I’ve never seen that before and a shotgun’s more than enough to get the job done.”

“Where was the car found?”

“Hindry Avenue, industrial area. Behind a painting supply warehouse.”

“Tough area?”

“This is Inglewood, man. Tough’s our thing. Including citizens making wrong turns on their way to the airport, you’d be amazed at some of the directions the stupid computer kicks out. Which is what I’ve been thinking for these two.”

“They were planning a trip to Mexico.”

“There you go. We’ve got four major gangs operating in and around and with no wallets, I.D., or jewelry, I’ve been figuring it for a robbery gone really bad. Which is a sensitive topic, you know?”

“Bad for tourism.”

“Bad for tourism,” said Coolidge, “plus the racial thing. White people get killed, there’s two rules from the bosses: Keep your mouth shut and be right about everything.”

Milo said, “If it was a robbery, why bother shooting them elsewhere and transporting them in the car? Why not rip off the car, for that matter?”

“Interesting questions. I catch the offender, I might get answers. So far nothing from my informants and every gangster I’ve talked to denies having anything to do with it and I have to say they’re coming across righteous. Why’re you interested?”

Milo told him.

Coolidge said, “Oh, boy. So it could be totally different from what I figured.”

“If it’s connected to mine, it’s big-time different.”

“Amazing. My situation, you don’t get too many surprises. We should meet, no?”

“Definitely.”

“Your shop or mine?”

“Anything to learn from your crime scene?”

“Nah, it’s long cleaned up and there was nothing important in the first place, just the car between a couple of dumpsters, low branches from a tree hanging over it.”

Milo said, “Not hidden but not look-at-me, either.”

“My thinking exactly,” said Coolidge. “Weekend’s coming up, I’m off shift in an hour. How about we meet today, your shop. I live in Playa, getting home after rush hour won’t be as bad.”

“You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“How about a deli?”

“Never met a deli I didn’t like.”

“Place called Maury’s.” Milo gave the address. “When can you be there?”