True Detectives

by Jonathan Kellerman

  Steve whispered, “You asleep, Liana?”

  She said, “You’re right. That’s some fantasy.”

  CHAPTER

  40

  Raymond Wohr’s signed statement was less than Moe had hoped for but still enough to justify waking up Deputy D.A. John Nguyen.

  Nguyen had worked on the marsh murders, had raised all sorts of cautious lawyer objections during that investigation. This time, he said, “I like it.”

  Moe said, “We need Wohr out of County and back to Hollywood lockup. Sooner the better.”

  “I’ll get that started.”

  Moe reentered the interview room, gave Petra the thumbs-up. She smiled.

  Ramone W was drinking coffee and eating his third donut, powdered sugar bearding his grizzled face. He said, “What?”

  The detectives ignored the question and took him through the statement a second time. No change in demeanor or narrative, as he continued to deny any direct role in the murder of Adella Villareal or her baby. But he did admit setting up what he continued to insist was just another sexual transaction.

  Phoning Adella on short notice and telling her he’d lined up a monster gig, whole different class of john, the guy wanted her now.

  She’d been wary: “How come?”

  “I showed him your picture.” A lie, but so what? This could work in her favor, how was he to know it wouldn’t?

  Another “relationship” begun at Riptide. Adella had lucked into Riptide after he, Ramone, had taken her and Alicia there for drinks to celebrate Adella’s birthday. No one noticing Alicia, but Adella, all dolled up, that tiny black dress, a whole different story.

  The night of the transaction, he said, “Client likes your picture.”

  “You showed him my picture?” she said. “Like some ad on Craigslist?”

  “What’s the diff, monster client, Addie.”

  “Right. The last ‘monster’ you set me up with was that four-hundred-pound slob who cried when I asked him for an extra hundred.”

  “Forget hundred, Addie. This is three thousand big ones.”

  No answer.

  “You still there, Addie?”

  “Three thousand,” she said.

  “At least. Asshole’s good for a whole lot more, trust me.”

  “Three thousand,” she repeated. “What do I need to do for three thousand?”

  “Nothing special,” said Ramone.

  “Spell it out.”

  “Round the world, no anal.”

  “Three thousand ... shit, I don’t have a babysitter.”

  “Not to worry, me and Alicia’ll take care of the kid. In fact, bring the kid, that way minute it’s over, he’s back with you.”

  “Leave Gabriel with you? You couldn’t change a diaper if someone wrote you instructions.”

  “Me and Alicia. Alicia has two kids.”

  “I never seen them.”

  “Two,” said Ramone.

  “Where are they?”

  Who the hell knows? Ramone said, “All grown up.”

  “I don’t know, Ramone, Gabriel’s been cranky. I think he’s teething or something.”

  “Alicia can handle it. Three big ones, Addie, who knows how big the tip’ll go.”

  “I’m not splitting the tip.”

  “Aw, man ...”

  “Nope,” she said. “No way. It’s like a restaurant, the server gets the tip.”

  “That sucks donkey,” said Ramone, “but fine. Be at the Hyatt, the one on the Strip. Here’s the room number. He’ll let you in.”

  “Three thousand,” she said. “For sure no anal? Since giving birth I’ve got some tearing.”

  “Front door only, Addie.”

  “Three biggies for normal.”

  “Soft john, he usually don’t pay for it but I showed him your picture and he’s hot for you.”

  “Hot? He’s whack?”

  “No, no, he’s ripe, that’s all I mean. Even with that, you take too long, he’s gonna change his mind. Bring the baby, Alicia’ll meet you in the hall near the room—bring bottles, diapers, whatever.”

  “How about four?” she said.

  “Hold on.” Standing in Alicia’s apartment by himself, he covered the phone with one hand and faked out consulting the client. “He says three and a half but you got to get there soon. You in?”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “Now I can tell you who the john is.” Whispering a name.

  She said, “No way!”

  “Yes way. Is Ramone the man or is he the man?”

  “Jesus—okay, yeah, yeah, I’ll wear my good undies.”

  Wohr finished his donut. “That’s it. Same as I told you the first time.”

  Moe Reed said, “You had no idea what was going to happen?”

  “Nope.”

  “What’d you do with the baby?”

  “Addie had the baby when she went in. I wasn’t there.”

  “And neither was Alicia.”

  “Nope.”

  “So bringing the baby was the client’s idea.”

  “The plan was for Alicia to be in the hall but she had to go to the bathroom, so she missed meeting Addie.”

  “Sure,” said Moe. “That happened.”

  Long silence.

  Petra said, “There were two plans. The one you told her and the one you carried out.”

  “I wasn’t even there.”

  “And neither was Alicia. Alicia never even came along.”

  Silence.

  Moe said, “That whole bullshit about Alicia was to get the baby there.”

  No answer.

  “Maybe Adella even said she’d call a babysitter and you said don’t bother, we’ll handle it.”

  “Uh-uh,” said Wohr. “That never came up.”

  “Maybe Adella said she’d call Caitlin Frostig.”

  “Nope, don’t know her.”

  “You met her twice.”

  “That’s not knowing.”

  “Caitlin had nothing to do with this.”

  “I don’t know her, I made a call, that’s it.”

  “And drove to the Hyatt.”

  “No!” Ramone blurted. “I never went.”

  “That’s a new twist.”

  “It’s true.”

  Moe resisted the urge to throttle the guy. “Don’t insult us, Ramone. We see lips flapping but we don’t hear the truth and the truth’s the only thing going to set you free.”

  “I told you the truth.”

  “You told us a story. The truth is the baby. The whole point was the baby. Otherwise you wouldn’t have told Adella to bring the baby.”

  Wohr looked at the floor.

  Petra said, “Sending a baby to a gig. That’s one sick deal.”

  “Aw, man ...”

  Moe raised his voice. “Tell us about the baby.”

  “I don’t know nothing about no baby.”

  “Not any baby, Ramone. Baby Gabriel, Adella’s baby Gabriel, the cute little baby you had Adella take to the Hyatt.” Waving the signed statement. “By your own admission, Ramone.”

  Wohr hugged himself, slouched lower. “I made a call, that’s it.”

  Moe placed a thumb on Wohr’s collarbone. Found a pressure point. Pushed. Wohr whimpered.

  Moe said, “The point was Adella bringing the baby.”

  “I guess.”

  “You guess.”

  “I did what I was told.”

  “For a thousand bucks.”

  Silence.

  Moe said, “You didn’t wonder why someone would slip you a grand just to make a call?”

  “Addie worked for me.”

  “We know you bragged about that—representing her, you were Mr. Hollywood. But it’s not like she was in your stable. Because you don’t have a stable, Ramone.”

  “I got her other gigs. Rock guys, like at the Whiskey.”

  “Great,” said Petra. “You’re a heavy pimp. Doesn’t that come with responsibility? You make a call, never see her again, you’re
not trying to find out what happened?”

  “I figured she went back,” said Wohr.

  “Back where?”

  “Arizona,” said Wohr. “To see her family. She did that before, didn’t tell me or nothing.”

  “You set her up on a high-priced date, make sure she brings the baby,” said Petra. “Then she drops out of sight, you’re not the least bit curious.”

  “All I did was make a call.”

  “Thousand-dollar call,” said Moe. “Go to the Hyatt on the Strip, here’s the room number, you’re free and clear. She gets her pretty self murdered and dumped in Griffith Park and you don’t know about it?”

  Silence.

  “You expect us to believe you thought she made a family visit, meanwhile everyone knows she got killed and no one’s seen the baby?”

  Moe pushed down a bit more. Wohr whimpered. “You’re good at making calls, Ramone. You’re a frickin’ phone-call specialist.”

  “Huh?”

  “We got the trace an hour ago, Ramone.” No longer needing to lie. “Ratting out Alicia, because she was making noise, getting on your case for not cashing in on the first call.”

  Wohr hung his head.

  “After how she disrespected you, can’t say I blame you,” said Moe.

  Petra said, “Me neither. I did that to my man, I can’t even imagine.”

  Wohr’s face tilted up.

  Petra said, “My man and me, no one raises a hand to anyone.”

  Moe said, “Doing it right on the street. And it’s not like you hit her back. You stayed cool, I respect that—Detective Connor respects that.”

  Petra said, “That’s a whole lot of patience.”

  “You walked away,” said Moe. “That was manly. Then you made one of your famous calls. What’s the harm in that—there’s facts, you state them to someone, how they handle it isn’t your business. Problem is, they handled it by carving her up, Ramone, I’m talking taco meat. You want to see those pictures again?”

  “No!” Wohr’s hands wrapped around the back of his head. He bent low. “Aw, man.”

  “Horrible scene,” said Moe. “Even for detectives like us who see murder all the time. But that’s not your business, you just made a call, how they chose to handle it was their decision. And that’ll help you, Ramone. That’s bound to help you, people understanding the difference between making a call and doing a fifteen-wound knife-murder.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Didn’t know what?”

  “Nothing.”

  “What would happen after you made the call?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You make calls, that’s what you do,” said Petra. “You’re the phone man, king of the phone lines.”

  Wohr kept his face hidden. She reached into her pocket, drew out her own phone, and Moe waited for some dramatic flourish. Instead, she read a text message. Mouthed, John’s here.

  Moe sat back down, positioned his knees an inch from Wohr’s. Tolerated the stench of the guy’s breath, the sour despair emanating from Wohr’s pores. “Notice, Ramone, that we’re telling you about Alicia, not asking. ’Cause we don’t need you.”

  Wohr looked up again. “Yeah,” he said.

  “Yeah, what?”

  “She hit me, I called.” Touching his cheek. “She hadda know that wasn’t gonna work out.”

  “Good man,” said Moe. “Being straight is what’s going to help you. Now pick up that pencil and give us all the details you left out the first time.”

  Wohr complied. When he was through, Moe pulled him to his feet and cuffed him, recited the charges, read him his rights.

  Wohr said, “Murder? For using the phone?”

  Moe and Petra walked him to the door. Deputy D.A. John Nguyen was outside, talking to a jailer, holding papers. He looked at Wohr. “This is him?” As if disappointed.

  Petra said, “This here’s the Emperor of the Phone.” Laughing. Moe thought she looked really pretty, fresh and confident and calm, not a wrinkle in her pantsuit.

  His own head was filled with bad music: a little bit of melody but too many missing notes.

  CHAPTER

  41

  Aaron was the shepherd, Mason Book, the sheep.

  The actor stood naked and skeletal in the front room of the rocket-ship house as Aaron dressed him in the discarded robe. Docile as a pet. Spills from the protein drink Book had dumped left creamy, clotted stains on the black chair and the smooth stone floors. Aaron was careful not to step in the stuff as he steered Book to a nearby sofa, then realized that position offered a great city-lights view.

  Suicide view; no sense reminding him of what he’d missed. Taking Book by the elbow, he guided the actor into an adjoining space, smaller, set up with red suede chairs, a black desk with a gray tweed swivel seat and black-lacquered bookcases, mostly empty but for a handful of DVDs on one shelf.

  Recent movies, all crap, probably freebies from the studios or the Academy. None of Book’s films on display.

  He put the actor in the swivel seat, aimed it at a red wall, slipped a hand into a pocket of his cargo pants, and activated the mini-recorder. Nice and silent; it always paid to have good gear.

  “Tell me what happened, Mason.”

  “When?”

  “The night Adella Villareal got murdered.”

  Book licked his lips. “I didn’t see that.”

  So much for the power of guilt. Here we go with the mind-games. “Tell me what you did see, Mason.” Smiling reassuringly at the actor, as he tried to forget the pain that continued to course through his body. Fingers of fatigue scratching through the adrenaline rush.

  Telling himself this would work out, had to work out, Book was a whack, could be opened. Hopefully no one would show up at the wrong moment.

  Book sat there. Aaron’s hand glided over his nylon holster. “Mason, it’s time to be true to yourself.”

  Book said, “I saw everything but not that.”

  “Not what?”

  “Killing her.”

  “So you know she was killed.”

  Book’s cadaverous face tilted up. Pale hair swooshed as Book spread his arms in a Who-me? gesture. Appealing boyish, despite the self-inflicted ravages.

  With enough makeup, the right camera angle, the guy might be able to pull off one of his charming roles.

  “I’m your angel, Mason. You need to tell me everything.”

  Book sniffled, let loose more eye-water.

  Self-pitying bastard. Aaron felt like smacking him.

  Book turned away and dry-heaved. The actor’s rib cage expanded like bellows as cloudy amber liquid dribbled out of his mouth, flowed over his chin, plinked the floor.

  Meltdown on its way. Damn. Where is Delaware when you need him?

  Aaron said, “Tell me what you know, Mason. You’ll feel a lot better.”

  Book retched again. Breathed loud and raspy, lost control and got sucked into a coughing fit. Aaron slapped his back until the paroxysm stopped. Book took to comfort like a wounded puppy, pressing his head against Aaron’s thigh. Grasping Aaron’s sleeve with a filthy-nailed hand.

  Was he like that?

  Aaron patted Book’s hand. Book pressed closer. “You’re here for me.”

  “Of course I am, Mason. But I need to know everything.”

  He peeled Book’s hand from his arm, pulled up a red chair and faced the actor. Scooting forward until his knees were an inch from the actor’s bony bumps. Memories of drab, departmental interview rooms. This place was pretty but no less oppressive.

  “Go ahead, Mason.”

  “He said it was just a meeting with her.”

  “He, being?”

  “A friend. I didn’t even know her.”

  “What’s this friend’s name, Mason?”

  “His real name’s Ahab.”

  “But everyone calls him Ax.”

  “Ax. Yeah—you know him?”

  Jackpot! Aaron could almost feel the recorder whirring in glee.

&n
bsp; “We angels know all sorts of things.”

  “He’s not famous,” said Book. “He wants to be, but he’s not.”

  “One of those,” said Aaron. “Bet you know a lot of them.”

  “Oh, yeah ...,” said Book. “I thought he’d protect me. He’s fat-strong. Eats what he wants.”

  “Lucky him ... so Ax said he was meeting with Adella.”

  “He said a girl from that place.”

  “What place?”

  “This place we used to go to.”

  “A club?”

  “More like a bar,” said Book.

  “A bar where you and Ax went to drink and hang out?”

  Book’s eyes fixed on Aaron. “You look like Denzel.”

  “People say that.”

  “Denzel could play an angel,” said Book. “He’s a really talented guy.”

  “Yes, he is,” said Aaron. “This place where you and Ax went, it has a name.”

  “Riptide.”

  “Adella hung out there, too.”

  “I don’t know her name,” said Book. “I never was with her there.”

  “Ax was.”

  “I never saw that.”

  “But he told you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “The night it happened, Mason, what kind of meeting did Ax say it was?”

  “You know.”

  “I don’t unless you tell me, Mason.”