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“You do?” he said. “Okay, so at least I don’t have to worry about Loot talking to you and you saying something different.”
“I doubt he’d do that, but on the off chance he does, I’d totally support you.”
“Oh man.” Sean’s eyes got moist.
I said, “In terms of going forward, I see two approaches. I can talk to Milo and suggest he ease up. No guarantees, of course. And it might work against you.”
He smiled. “Yeah, Loot can be…set in his ways. And to be fair, his ways are usually right. But this isn’t about detective work, this is about what’s in here. And here.” Tapping his chest, then his forehead.
“Like Dr. Daschoff said, no one knows your experience the way you do.”
He sighed. “Doc, you have a way of phrasing things…yes, that’s it to a T. And I see what you mean by working against me. He’d see me as kind of…babyish. Needing someone to go to bat for me. So I guess I should talk to him myself.”
I said, “Makes sense.”
“I sure hope so.”
—
At the door, Sean shook my hand hard, made a slight move as if wanting to hug me but held back. “Doc, this has been super-helpful. Ireallywant to be in on busting Deeb. The past is the past and my life has been fantastic, I wouldn’t ask God to change anything.”
This from a man who’d nearly been thrown off a twenty-four-story building.
CHAPTER
38
I heard from Milo that evening.
“Nothing dramatic on Deeb. He left his apartment to jog, came back, didn’t reemerge. Alicia and Moses got a look at him in a tank top and she said his arms are substantial.”
I said, “Moe wasn’t impressed.”
“Godzilla might impress Moe. Apparently, the arms are minimally okay but Deeb’s soft everywhere else, the arms were okay.” He laughed. “Bottom line, Deeb looks fit enough to tote and toss Caspian. In terms of getting some DNA, nada. His pad’s in a security building with the trash going into dumpsters out back. Unfortunately, the bins are kept in a gated area and pickup’s by a private service, so the truck probably card-keys in. Meaning no curbside access to Deeb’s gar-baaahgeand so far he hasn’t eaten, drunk, sneezed, spit, or discarded anything.”
I said, “What’s the undramatic part?”
“Always interpreting,” he said. “Yeah, I was getting to it. Sean found his birth certificate, he was born in Rahway, New Jersey. Both parents are deceased. Mom because Dad killed her and Dad maybe because jailfood for life ain’t good for longevity. Though Manson did make it to eighty-three.”
Undramatic.He probably saw Deeb’s childhood as an ingredient for a defense maneuver and chose not to think of it.
I said, “How old was Deeb when it happened?”
“Twelve,” he said. “Yeah, yeah, poor little kid was traumatized blah blah blah. It wasn’t a huge story, couple of lines in a local newspaper article found by Sean. The lad does have a knack for paper. The only other bit of info has to do with the late Mr. Hoffgarden. His Mini Cooper showed up in Watts last night, minus tires, windshield, convertible top, radio, and seats. That came courtesy of Alicia via Al Freeman. Al does a daily check of every stolen vehicle in the county.”
I said, “Any idea how it got there?”
“Al’s guess, and I think he’s right on, is that Hoffgarden parked on the street when he headed for what he thought was a hot night with Montag. That area of Venice is notorious for street robberies and GTAs. Either way, it doesn’t matter, that one’s closed, time to prioritize.”
“When are you planning to get Deeb?”
“If his daily routine doesn’t change, probably tomorrow. I caught Nguyen in a good mood and he’s all for an arrest warrant. Though he did term the motive ‘fucking bizarre.’ ”
“When tomorrow?”
“No idea. And alas, my friend, you won’t be there seeing as Deeb has sat on your couch.”
“Can’t argue with that,” I said.
