“Be my guest, Irv.”
Wimmers phoned Ballistics, arranged for the comparison asap. “They said forty-eight hours, I got ’em down to twenty-four.” Two giant hands rubbed together. “This is starting to taste even better than my bird.”
CHAPTER 41
There’s a sixth sense, a high-definition sensitivity to threat, experienced by soldiers in combat, veteran cops, and a certain class of cold-blooded psychopath.
Milo’s approach to Lara Rieffen was subtle, faking good cheer as she exited her county car in the crypt lot. She went along with the chitchat, synched with his loose, slow gait, but I was reading her eyes, bet she had a different rhythm in mind.
Milo probably figured it out, but he kept up the performance as the three of us entered the northern half of the coroner’s complex. Where the wet-work gets done.
Once inside, he used the barest touch of thumb on arm to direct Rieffen toward the empty room Dave McClellan had provided. The trajectory took her toward her cubicle, no reason for her to resist or suspect but her mouth tightened and she pushed ahead of Milo. He caught up and when they reached the open door, took hold of her elbow and stopped the parade.
“I could use a few minutes of your time, Lara.”
Stiff smile. “For what, Lieutenant?”
“Go over the Borodi scene a bit. I need to nail down a few details before I finish my report.”
“You’ve closed the case?”
“I wish, just the opposite. It’s actually looking real bad for a close, but I’ve got a new assignment from the brass, need to move on.”
Blue eyes blinked. “Oh. That must be frustrating.”
“Part of the job. So just a few secs, okay?” Propelling her inside before she could answer.
Two chairs facing one, a table to the side where Milo’s jacket was bunched up. Kathy Vanderveldt aka Lara Rieffen sat where she was supposed to.
No one-way for observation, no space or practical way to work Gayle Lindstrom in and Milo had informed the S.A.
Appetizer goes down smooth, you can share the entrée, Gayle.
I sat down next to Milo. Lara Rieffen watched me. More concerned with my presence than Milo’s.
He said, “Doc’s along for the ride.” Snapping his attaché case open, he spent some time behind the lid, fumbling, like an inept magician scrounging for a prop.
Lara Rieffen wanted to look bored, but her body wouldn’t go along. She tried to will herself loose, ended up with something contrived and edgy, what a yoga novice might achieve the first few times on the mat.
Milo kept shuffling papers. Rieffen checked her watch. I said, “Busy day?”
“Always. Before I took the job, I had no idea.”
“Where’d you work before here?”
“Labs,” she said. “Nothing forensic, medical settings.”
“Always been into science, huh?”
“Always.”
Milo said, “Sorry, it’s a mess in here, bear with me.” He clicked his tongue. Lara Rieffen started to relax—the real deal. Put at ease by his incompetence.
“Take your time, Lieutenant. I want to be part of the solution, not the problem.”
“Thanks, Lara. I wish everyone felt that way.
“Okay, here we go.” Instead of drawing out papers, he snapped the case shut, placed it on the floor. Smiled at Rieffen and kept observing her with that lazy, hooded look he produces when the mood’s right.
Her lips turned up. More sickly confusion than anything related to glee.
“What do you need to know, Lieutenant?”
“Well, for starts, let’s talk about Monte.”
Lara Rieffen’s head retracted. Pretty blue eyes shot to the door. Milo crossed his legs and put his hands behind his head. Try to bolt, go ahead, you’re mine, I’m not worried.
Lara Rieffen said, “Monte?” as if trying out a foreign word. “As in Carlo. As in Scoppio.” No answer.
“As in Dwayne Parris.” Rieffen shook her head. “As in boom, Lara.”
Rieffen crossed her own legs. Smiled weakly and exhaled. “Thank God.”
“For what, Lara?”
“He terrifies me, says if I ever think about leaving him he’ll cut me up, dump the pieces where they’ll never be found.”
Milo winced. “That’s heavy-duty.”
“Super-heavy-duty, Lieutenant, but if you’re asking about him, you probably know that.”
Angling for info. When that didn’t work, she scrunched her eyes, worked at pushing out tears. Produced a couple of sorry-looking droplets.
Milo’s big, thick fingers rested atop hers. “Finally,” she said. “Someone who can help me.”
“Protect and serve, Lara. Okay, let’s get the details so we can nail this bastard good.”
Lara Rieffen’s technique was classic con: a mix of understatement, distraction, and outright lies. Painting Dwayne Parris/Monte Scoppio as ultimate evil, herself as submissive victim, all the while trying to pry out what Milo knew.
He fly-fished her, dangling error as bait then withdrawing, puncturing minor falsehoods with good nature while ignoring the whoppers.
Setting the hook.
“So... when exactly did you meet Monte?”
“Couple of years ago.”
“Really? Hmm.” Another mumbling foray into the attaché case. “Um, I could be wrong here, but I think I had a notation here... unfortunately, I can’t seem to find it... never mind.”
“What kind of notation, Lieutenant?”
“We’ve been talking to people about Monte. Doing background, you know? Someone claimed you and he knew each other way back—in high school.”
“Not really.”
“It’s not true?” More rummaging. “Ah, here it is Center High, class of—”
“Oh, that. Technically it’s true, but Center was huge, we hung in different crowds.”
“So you knew who he was—”
“Barely. We met up years later and even that was nothing intense.”
“Couple of years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I was backpacking with some friends in Oregon. He was at the same campsite. I didn’t recognize him but he recognized me. He can be charming, I’d just broken up with a boyfriend, guess I was vulnerable.”
“Ah.” Scrawl. “Well that clears that up ... Would you like something to drink, Lara?”
“So ... it was Monte who ran into Des Backer and Doreen in Venice—I’m guessing a Sunday.”
“Definitely a Sunday, Lieutenant. Monte went to skate. He’s into that.”
“You’re not.”
“I bike. That’s what I was doing when he was skating the path and saw them.”
“What were Des and Doreen doing?”
“Monte never mentioned. He just came back and told me he’d met up with someone else from Center.”
“By that time, did you know he was violent?”
“Not really. I mean I knew he had a bad temper but he hadn’t touched me, not yet.”
“Later, that changed.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Want another tissue, Lara?”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay ... so Monte told you he’d run into Des and Doreen. How did he feel about that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Was he happy? Surprised? Upset?”
“Definitely upset. He blamed them for something but wouldn’t say what, I still don’t know. Something from his past, when he talked about it he’d get furious.”
“But he wouldn’t say why.”
“Monte’s an extremely closed person.”
“Something from his past ... maybe something to do with messing up his law career?”
“He never got into it.”
“But does that make sense to you—law school?”
“I suppose.”
“We know he went to law school but was asked to leave. He ever explain that to you?”
“No and I knew b
etter than to ask.”
“Well, here’s what folks have told us: Des and Doreen mighta done something that got Monte kicked out of law school. That would be something you’d carry a grudge on, don’t you think? He tells people he’s a lawyer when he’s not.”
“Makes sense.”
“By the way, when did he start calling himself Monte?”
“Back then.”
“Back when?
“High school. That’s what I heard. He liked to gamble.”
“Monte Carlo.”
“He used fake I.D.’s to gamble at Indian casinos. At least that’s what people said.”
“Okay ... one more thing, Lara. Folks have also said Des and Doreen mighta messed you up, too. Something about med school?” Silence. “Lara?”
“You must be mistaken.”
“You never attended med school? University of Idaho, class of—”
“I started there but changed my mind.”
“Because... “
“My primary interest isn’t making money, I prefer pure science.”
“Being in the lab.”
“Exactly.”
“So it had nothing to do with lynx hairs?”
Silence.
“Lara?”
Prolonged sigh. Sick smile. “Okay, I guess I’m going to have to get into that. I didn’t want to because, frankly, Lieutenant, it’s too painful and I just didn’t see the point.”
“I understand, Lara, but the point is I need you giving me anything I can use against Monte. So if Des and Doreen did do something underhanded to you, that makes it more likely they did something to him and I’d like to know about it. And from what the Forest Service told us, they were blatant snitches.”
“Lieutenant, it was a big misunderstanding. Obviously I don’t talk about it because jobs are hard to come by and I love mine. Also, afterward, I realized I was lucky.”
“Lucky about what?”
“Leaving medicine, it worked out for the best. Medicine’s become nothing but a big business, my orientation’s research.”
“Working here you get to do research?”
“I hope to eventually. Meanwhile, I’m constantly learning and that satisfies the curious part of me. Eventually, I hope to go back to school, get a Ph.D.”
“Makes sense... so the lynx hair business ...”
“Big misunderstanding, Lieutenant. Another of Monte’s brilliant ideas. But I admit, I was stupid to go along with it.”
“Okay ... I appreciate your being straight with us, Lara. Even though we had a few false starts.”
“I’m sorry for those, Lieutenant. You caught me off-guard, I’m not always the greatest at multitasking. When I have to, I can do more than one thing at a time but it’s hard not to get sidetracked. It’s some sort of learning disability, my parents had me tested when I was a kid. The psychologist said I was gifted but had organizational and memory issues. So if I forget something, please don’t hold it against me.”
“Deal ... okay, let’s talk about Monte’s weapons.”
“That I can tell you about. He’s got tons of them. Rifles, shotguns.”
“We’re primarily interested in handguns.”
“Those, too.”
“Which one did he use to shoot Des Backer?”
“I have no idea.”
“We recovered a .22-caliber slug from Des’s head. Does Monte have a .22?”
“That would be a smaller gun?”
“For the most part.”
“He has an entire box of small guns, Lieutenant. Keeps them all loaded, keeps the box on the floor of our bedroom closet. Right next to my shoes, I’ve had nightmares.”
“About...?”
“His temper, what if he goes crazy, it would be so easy for him to just—he also keeps one loaded in his nightstand. Sometimes I have literal nightmares—crazy dreams but they seem so real.”
“Tell me about them.”
“It’s the same dream, over and over. There’s a fire in the house and it spreads to the closet, the guns get ignited by the heat and start going crazy, shooting off randomly, there’s no escape. I wake up sweating, my heart’s pounding. One time I woke him up, wanting some comfort. He told me to shut the fuck up, go back to sleep.”
“Prince Charming.”
“I’ve gotten in so deep, Lieutenant. It’s like finding yourself in a hole with no way to climb out.”
“We’ll get you out—so Monte keeps a whole box of small loaded guns.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about larger-caliber guns?”
“I’m sure. I’ve never taken a close look, don’t like firearms.”
“Don’t go to the range with Monte?”
“No, he goes by himself.”
“Reason I’m asking about a large-caliber gun is one was inserted in Doreen’s vagina. Before he strangled her.”
“Omigod, even for Monte that’s brutal.”
“Want another tissue, Lara?”
“Yes, please.”
“So... Monte never talked about what he did to Doreen. The big gun.”
“No, no, never.”
“What did he say about what happened up in that turret?”
“Nothing ... he just came back home and told me he’d done it.”
“Done what?”
“Taken care of Des and Doreen—his words. ‘I took care of them.’ I was too terrified to talk about it.”
“You must’ve wondered why he’d do something like that.”
“Of course.”
“Did you come up with any theories?”
“There are no logical theories, Lieutenant. Nothing justifies murder.”
“Well, that’s true... what I’m getting at is, did you think about that old grudge? Lynx hairs? Could revenge have been Monte’s motive?”
“Doesn’t that seem out of proportion?”
“Like you said, murder always is. But did it occur to you?”
“Not really.”
“Not really ... Okay, so we’re making good progress here, painting a picture. So to speak... there is a small problem, though, Lara. Nothing serious but you deserve to know.”
“Know what?”
“We’ve got Monte in custody and he tells a different story.”
“What does he claim?”
“That you planned the whole thing. That it was your grudge—Doreen and Des ratting you out on the lynx hairs and screwing up your medical career. That Doreen and Des split after they sold you out but you put it together because they were the only ones other than you and Monte who knew.”
“No, no way, it’s Monte’s grudge. I’d already changed my mind about medicine.”
“I’m just passing along what Monte’s saying, so you can give me something to work with... for example, he claims it wasn’t some chance meeting that got you together with Des and Doreen. They tracked you down, learned you were in L.A. from someone in Seattle, couldn’t find you under your own name but figured out you might be using your mom’s maiden name ’cause you’d done that before. You do have a Facebook page and Monte doesn’t.”
“I don’t know how they did it but it was Monte they contacted.”
“That Sunday in Venice.”
“Yes.”
“But maybe it wasn’t an accidental thing—Monte running into them.”
“Guess not.”
“Well, at least that matches with Monte’s story. Except he’s claiming you were there, arranged for him to meet up with them. Because you had experience with explosives as much as he did—all of you did—and Des and Doreen were trying to get hold of some help on a job.”
“I don’t know anything about any of that.”
“Monte also says the deal was for the four of you to split a hundred thousand.”
“No way.”
“You know about the fifty thousand Desi got paid. The half he was supposed to share but didn’t.”
Evidence Page 33