DMV coughed up driver's licenses for both girls, obtained three years ago when they were fresh-faced.
Brianna had racked up several moving violations in a Ford truck registered to Harvey Blevins.
Milo sang, "Til her Daddy takes the T-Bird away," found Selma's wheels:
Five-year-old black Honda.
"Chavez actually told the truth," he said. "It ain't quite enough to restore my faith in human nature, but maybe one tiny step forward."
Arredondo's address conformed to one of the no-answer numbers Milo had tried. He phoned it again. The only one without voice mail.
"That's why I don't play games of chance, bucko."
"Sal scored a jackpot and look what happened to him," I said.
"Let's pay Franck another visit. Don't wanna make him nervous so the cover story will be we found new evidence that implicates Marty Mendoza, e.g. the Corvette. Is there anything else he can tell us about the kid?"
"I wouldn't mention Fidella's murder. There'd be no reason for you to tell him."
"Makes sense. Same goes for bringing up Brianna and Selma. If Franck is connected to them, no sense giving them a heads-up. Any other suggestions?"
"Just be your usual master-thespian self."
He twirled the end of a nonexistent mustache. Punched the air again and clapped his hands. "Trey, my boy, I may be dumb but I can still nab your Einsteinian ass."
CHAPTER
30
No answer at Trey Franck's apartment. The hallways of the dingy building echoed.
"Probably in the lab," said Milo. "Mixing up his potions or whatever chemical engineers do."
We made the drive to Caltech in three minutes. The chem-eng receptionist studied Milo's card. "Lieutenant?... one second."
She disappeared into an inner office. Her voice on the phone was a low buzz of anxiety. Moments later, a thin, white-bearded man in his fifties walked through the department's main door.
"Gentlemen? Norm Moon, I'm Trey Franck's dissertation advisor."
Milo held out a hand. "Professor."
Moon waved off the honorific as he shook. "You've located Trey? Please don't tell me something unfortunate has occurred."
"He's missing?" said Milo.
Moon tugged a beard hair. "You weren't aware, foolish of me to assume. Then I suppose you're inquiring again about that tutor he worked for."
"Elise Freeman, Professor. Trey told you about that?"
"A few days ago, he seemed a bit distracted in the lab and I asked him why. He told me he'd just had a strange experience: interrogation by the police."
"We call it interviewing."
Moon smiled. "Be that as it may, Trey felt interrogated. As if you suspected him of something simply because he'd known the woman."
"Contacting a victim's acquaintances is pretty much routine."
"That would make sense," said Moon. "Nonetheless I'm sure most people don't enjoy the experience."
"How long has Trey been missing?"
"He's been absent from the lab for two days and we haven't been able to reach him. One of Trey's virtues is reliability. We're preparing an important paper so his participation is especially important."
"Perhaps," I said, "the pressure got to him."
"What pressure?"
"The paper added to his usual responsibilities."
"Hmm," said Moon. "No, I don't think so. Trey has never been the anxious type."
"Cool under fire. But the interview bothered him."
"He seemed more disappointed than anxious. That someone would think him capable of such violence."
"He described the murder as violent?"
Moon wet his lips with his tongue. "I don't believe we got into details--frankly that kind of thing doesn't interest me. I suppose he meant homicide, in general. Isn't the malicious dispatch of another human being always violent at the core?"
"When you and Trey traveled to Stanford were you together most of the time?"
"That sounds as if you're confirming an alibi."
I smiled.
Moon said, "Contrary to what you might think of academics, we do work hard. That was a work trip, our days were pretty much nine-to-five."
Milo said, "So Trey had evenings to himself."
"I'm his advisor, not his babysitter, I have no idea what he did at night. You might try Juliet Harshberger. She and Trey appear to be a bit of an item."
"You haven't contacted her?"
"I avoid meddling in my students' personal lives but I was contemplating doing just that."
"Where can we find Ms. Harshberger?"
"Most likely here, Lieutenant."
"In this department?"
"Here on campus. She's a grad student in biology."
"Thank you, Professor. Is there anything else you'd like us to know about Trey?"
Moon said, "Obviously I've enjoyed having him in my lab. He's smart and an excellent long-range thinker. In my field, problems often take years, even decades, to solve. Some of the brightest students fade when gratification slows."
"Trey on the other hand..."
"Is able to keep his eye on the core of the problem as well as the eventual goal." Moon stroked his beard. "You don't really think he was involved in murder?"
"Routine questions," said Milo. "Also, we like talking to smart people."
When we were out of earshot, I said, "Nothing like a careful planner."
"I was thinking the same thing."
In the biology office, two students studied the bulletin board as if it were a shrine.
Pinned to the cork were items for sale, birthday greetings to a professor, summer fellowship opportunities abroad, and a clipping about recent advances in computer simulation of fruit fly neural transmission.
Milo asked the receptionist where to find Juliet Harshberger.
"She's not here today."
"Any idea where we can find her?"
"No, sorry."
"Try her apartment," said one of the students, his eyes still on the board. Tall, dark, shaggy-haired, with poor posture, he giggled. "It'll be a high-probability endeavor because she's there more than she's here. Hell, maybe she'll even get her own lab there, never have to come in."
His companion, bespectacled, unshaven, stocky, raised an eyebrow.
The receptionist frowned. "Brian, is there something you need?"
Shaggy said, "No, Nadine, just spending a rare free moment searching for a potentially interesting way to spend July financed by someone else." To us: "My apartment's five rooms less than six, the walls start to close in."
The other student said, "Bitch, bitch, bitch."
Brian said, "And then you die, die, die."
The receptionist turned to us. "Anything else?"
Milo said, "Juliet Harshberger's address, please."
"I'm sorry, we're not supposed to."
Brian cackled and rattled off a street name and three digits.
Maliciously helpful but unnecessary. The girl on the veranda, snuggling up with Franck.
Nadine said, "Brian!"
Brian slapped his mouth. "Oops, silly me. Guess that slipped out because my prefrontal lobes are clogged from long nights of actually doing work."
"You're a prince," said his friend.
The receptionist said, "That was totally inappropriate."
Brian said, "So is coasting through grad school in the comfort of your six-room apartment with no serious obligations other than showing up to seminars while everyone else has to R.A. and T.A. and do mind-eroding scut."
Nadine flushed. "Brian, please--"
He stomped out, muttering, "Yeah, yeah, reality bites, big shocker." His friend looked at us, shrugged, followed.
Milo said, "Grumpy fellow."
Nadine said, "He just failed his orals."
When we caught up with Brian he was smoking a cigarette under an oak tree. The stocky boy had departed.
He sucked in a lungful of poison. "Once again, the gendarmerie."
Milo sai
d, "Thanks for the info, Brian."
"Lucky for you, I'm an asshole."
"She's a rich girl, huh?"
"Her old man's Harshberger Petroleum Exploration. Nice Texas girl."
"Not smart enough to get in on her own?"
Brian ran a tongue inside his mouth. "Should I be fair or just spiteful?"
"Fair would be better."
"How about first telling me why the police are interested in her."
"It's in regard to her boyfriend."
"Sir Coiffure?"
"Pardon?"
"Her squeeze, the chemist. Changes his hairstyle every month. I figure he's researching dyes." Dry chuckle. "What'd he do?"
"He's a potential witness."
"To what?"
"Brian," said Milo, showing teeth, "I really need to be asking questions, not answering them. Juliet's not smart, huh?"
"She's plenty smart, but that isn't the point. Dr. Chang--my advisor--has never accepted more than one student a year and sometimes not even that. This year he took two."
"You and Juliet."
"After she applied months past the deadline. I'm on fellowship, she doesn't need one. Are you conceptualizing a causal thread?"
"So now you've got to carry her."
"It's not that she's increased my workload, Chang would be a slave driver anyway. But she's apparently exempt from everything the rest of us have to hassle with. Like I said, reality gnaws out huge chunks of raw flesh on a regular basis, but if she had a modicum of class she'd try to pull at least some of her damn weight."
"Six-room crib," said Milo. "Nice."
"Never been invited, but Chang was much impressed."
The Spanish-style building was even lovelier in daylight, trees perfectly barbered, shrubs glowing, sparkling beds of flowers a fauvist delight. A couple exited, arm in arm, white-haired, immaculately dressed, didn't stop to greet the petite girl on the veranda.
She wore the same Brown sweatshirt as when she'd put her head on Trey Franck's shoulder. The bench beneath her was stationary but she rocked back and forth, staring into the distance.
Like a whaler's wife waiting for a storm to disgorge her man.
She saw us coming. Kept rocking.
Milo's card caused her to burst out in tears.
Juliet Harshberger's apartment was done up in authentic Deco-Moderne and fragrant with scented candles. Signed Cartier-Bresson prints hung on the wall along with an unsigned cubist painting. A long-haired white cat, so inert its occasional eyeblink seemed battery-driven, perched on a divan and ignored the proceedings.
Its mistress perched on the edge of a cream velvet chair trimmed in macassar ebony and continued to weep.
Milo's third tissue finally dried up the well.
"Ms. Harshberger--"
"I knew it would come to this. Trey was so scared, now you're going to tell me something horrid and nightmarishly permanent has taken place and I'll never be able to erase this terrible moment from my consciousness."
"We're not here to tell you anything bad. We'd just like to know where Trey is."
Juliet Harshberger's enormous pale green eyes stretched the limits of their sockets. She was five feet tall, probably less than a hundred pounds, with a pixie face dusted with buttermilk freckles under a mop of carefully layered mocha hair. Tiny pointy breasts fell short of filling her white cashmere sweater. Boyish hips were no more successful with razor-creased designer jeans.
Petite young woman easily able to pass as a high school student. I wondered if her bond with Franck extended to fraud.
She said, "You really don't know where he is? Well, neither do I and I'm worried sick. It's not like him to disappear."
Milo said, "What was he scared about?"
Her answer came too quickly. "I don't know."
We waited.
Juliet Harshberger said, "I don't know."
Milo said, "Where'd you do your undergrad work?"
That threw her but she murmured, "Brown."
So much for that rule.
"You went from there straight to Caltech?"
"I took a year off."
"Lab work?"
"I traveled. Why would you care?"
"I love to travel," Milo lied. "Where'd you go?"
"Europe, Southeast Asia." A beat. "Africa."
"World tour?"
Silence.
"Sounds nice."
"I needed to do it," she said. "Before the grind."
"Grad school's tough."
"Grad school at this place is..." Her eyes moistened again. "Everyone's a genius except me."
Milo said, "I'm betting you made summa at Brown."
Juliet Harshberger ground her teeth. "At Brown I was smart. At Caltech, I'm an inanimate object." Glance to the side. "Trey's a genius. He's been my lifeline."
"And now he's frightened. And missing."
She cried. He passed her another tissue. "What's going on, Juliet?"
"Just Julie."
"Tell me about Trey, Julie."
She shook her head. "I can't."
"What if he's in danger, Julie?"
"Please don't say that."
"I'm sure Trey told you about the murder."
Julie Harshberger reached for her cat. The animal rolled away, continued to feign sleep. "Omarine, you are so lazy."
"What did Trey tell you about the murder, Julie?"
"That you came to his place and interrogated him."
"When's the last time you saw him?"
"Then," she said. "Right after you left, he came here. The next day I didn't hear from him but sometimes he works late in the lab. It was only last night when I went by and he wasn't there for our dinner date. I was taking him to the Parkside Grill, it's my favorite. He hasn't been back since, nor has he come into the lab and his cell's not responding."
"What's he scared about, Julie?"
"I--I can't."
"We know about the SAT scam."
Her mouth dropped open.
Milo said, "Yeah, that was wrong but think about it: Trey was frightened enough to leave. So covering up and slowing us down could be hazardous to his health. When did he tell you about it, Julie?"
"A few months ago," she said. "It bothered him. She convinced him to go along with it."
"Elise Freeman."
"He said she would do anything for a quick buck."
"She hired Trey because he could pass for a high school student."
"Also, he was an alumnus."
"Of Windsor Prep."
Nod.
"That was important because..."
"All the students he sat in for were from there."
"Elise Freeman limited herself to Windsor Prep students."
"She told Trey it kept things simple. And she had plenty of business just from there."
"Lots of pressure to excel."
She grimaced. "I went to a place like that in Houston until I could no longer tolerate it and insisted I be sent to public school."
"Tough environment."
"Brutal, uncaring, selfish. Elise and some guy she hung out with exploited that."
"Some guy."
"Trey said he was pure sleaze, shake his hand and count your fingers."
I said, "How many SATs did Trey take for Prep students?"
"How would I know? I don't want to talk about it."
"Trey was okay talking about it."
"No, not really," she said. "We were discussing how insubstantial the world has become and he brought it up as an example."
"Of..."
"Something stupid and pointless. The test is a joke, there are tricks, it's really something you can figure out if you just pay attention."
"If you're as smart as Trey."
"My parents forced tutors on me from ninth grade on and they were useless. I understood that I needed to study specifically for the test, got 790 on the AP bio, 740 on the AP chem, 1490 on the SAT I. Back then it was out of 1600."
"Impressive."
"You think?"
Her smile was unsettling. "My brother refused tutoring and got 1520."
I said, "Trey was a 1600 man."
"Of course."
"How much did Elise Freeman pay him?"
"I don't kn--oh, why not, she gave him five thousand per administration. She took more while he did all the work."
"How much more?"
"She'd never say, so he figured it was a lot... I hope he's okay."
Grabbing the cat, she stroked the animal hard enough to raise a startled mew. "Omarine, you're so warm... do you promise to help him if you find him?"
Milo said, "Of course."
"Then I'll tell you. It's not her he's afraid of. He's running from some kids."
"Kids he took the test for?"
"He's convinced they killed her to cover their tracks."
"Why?"
"He just said they're scary kids."
"What are their names, Julie?"
"He didn't say! I wish he did so I could tell you! I begged him, let's go to the police, my father knows people, I can make sure they do their job! He said, 'The less you know the better, Julie.' And now he's gone!" The cat jumped off her lap, curled in a far corner, and pretended to sleep.
Milo said, "Did he give you any details at all, Julie?"
"Rich kids," she said, as if it were a disease. "No surprise there."
I said, "Is there someplace Trey likes to go when he needs to think?"
"Here. I hold him, we listen to music, we both unwind."
"Did he ever mention the name Martin Mendoza?"
"No. Who's that?"
"Someone Trey talked about to us the first time."
"That name never came up. No names came up, he was trying to protect me." A small hand settled on a concave belly. "I'm feeling sick, I'll never be able to concentrate on my research."
"What's your topic?"
"Don't know yet, I'm somewhat of a searcher."
CHAPTER
31
We made a second pass at Trey Franck's apartment, found the live-in manager's quarters on the top floor. The custodian of dinge was a forty-year-old physics student named Mario Scuzetti who didn't balk at unlocking Franck's flat.
"Sketchy tenant?" I said.
"We've had better," said Scuzetti. "As in paying rent in a timely fashion."
He stood outside the room as Milo scanned. Milo entered the bathroom, closed the door, emerged moments later. "Not here and nothing iffy, thanks."
Deception: An Alex Delaware Novel Page 21