Fallen Angels (19 page)

With so many active and retired police officers involved in this case, Josie decided she and Behan had to handle the bulk of the investigation. She didn’t have the time to spare, and it wasn’t something she wanted to do, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to know who to trust, or who had been or still was employed by Buck or Lieutenant Owens. The case could be compromised by inadvertently sharing information with one of those officers or detectives who’d worked for or felt any loyalty toward either man. Behan could do the majority of the legwork, and she would assist him the best she could. She knew it meant more work for Behan, but Marge could help, and the three of them would be the only ones involved.

Ibarra wasn’t back from his short vacation, so Josie assigned a number of her upcoming meetings to the p.m. watch lieutenant. The lieutenant who worked day watch was given a stack of projects to finish, and the remainder of her work Josie intended to complete when she wasn’t helping Behan.

She didn’t tell her adjutant why she wouldn’t be in the office, but did say she expected him to keep things organized and running smoothly and to keep her informed if anything needed her immediate attention. Sergeant Jones tried to finagle more information but finally gave up. She reasoned he was better off not knowing, and besides, she really didn’t know whether he’d been involved in any of the off-duty employment. At this point, his denial wouldn’t be good enough.

The most difficult dilemma for Josie was deciding how much to tell her boss. Chief Bright’s close association with some of the principals in the investigation had made him an information sieve. Art Perry was involved on the periphery of the case but nevertheless involved. There wasn’t much choice. Josie couldn’t ignore the chain of command, but somehow she’d find a way to filter out the more sensitive information.

When she told Behan about the new working arrangement, he didn’t seem surprised. He called Faldi from her office to arrange a meeting with the teacher after his last class that afternoon. Josie had expected some resistance from her homicide detective. He didn’t ask questions and that wasn’t like him. Behan never accepted change without knowing why, but today he seemed willing to go along almost as if he’d expected this to happen.

“Doesn’t it bother you having me look over your shoulder?” She didn’t think Behan intentionally cut corners, but everybody fudged just a little. She wouldn’t be comfortable having her boss work with her.

“No, but if we do this we’re partners, and I’m gonna treat you like a partner not a boss. If you have a problem with that, it’s not gonna happen,” he said.

She didn’t and told him so but had to ask. “You don’t seem surprised. Why not?”

“Because I knew you either had to stick your neck out and get involved or give this investigation to another division. I know how stubborn you can be. There’s no way you were gonna let this case go.”

B
RUNO
F
ALDI
was a giant of a man as tall as Josie’s son David, but he weighed at least a hundred pounds more. He was balding and had shaved his head which made him even more imposing. Josie imagined discipline wasn’t an issue in his classroom. His office at the Grandview Girls Academy was cluttered with stacks of papers, books and magazines. It had one small window that looked out on a well-tended track and soccer field. The school had a small-town college appeal with two multi-story vine-covered brick buildings nestled in a cluster of mature maple trees.

“I couldn’t do it anymore after she died,” Bruno said in response to Behan’s first question about why he quit the security job with Carlton Buck.

Josie studied the big man and thought he looked more bodyguard than high school teacher. She imagined he must’ve been quite impressive in a police uniform when he was in better shape, but even in his best physical condition he probably wasn’t the kind of guy who could buy his tailored blues off the rack. His neck and hands were huge. He was dressed informally in slacks and a sweater, but his manner was anything but casual. As he talked, he fidgeted with pens, paper clips and anything else he could touch on his desk.

“Was she your first client?” Behan asked, after making small talk for a few minutes. Josie knew he was trying to calm Bruno, who looked as nervous as anyone she’d ever interviewed.

“No, I only guarded her less than a month. I had maybe a dozen celebrity regulars in the half-year I was with Buck, but she was different . . . really vulnerable and scared. It wasn’t a vanity thing with that little girl like it was for most of them.”

“Scared of what?”

“Pretty much everything, but especially her crazy mother and that Goldman character.”

“She thought her own mother would harm her?”

Bruno’s mood changed, grew darker; his eyes narrowed. “Have you met the woman? She’s a psycho . . . threatened to save her little girl by sending her back to God in a plain wooden coffin so he’d forgive her evil ways. That’s nuts.”

“Did Mrs. Dennis try to harm Hillary?” Josie asked, remembering the simple, grief-stricken mother she’d comforted in her office.

“Not when I was there. I never let her get close enough.”

“What about the Goldman kid?” Behan asked.

“Wasn’t any kid. Must’ve been at least in his forties.”

“Cory Goldman?”

“Don’t know his first name . . . oh yeah, I do, Eli, maybe.”

Josie and Behan exchanged a quick glance, and she asked, “Are you talking about Councilman Eli Goldman?”

Bruno looked confused. “He’s a councilman? Sorry, I don’t live in the city anymore . . . guess I don’t pay much attention to local politics.”

Behan described Eli Goldman.

“Yeah, that sounds like the guy, kinda dorky-looking. They had a thing, but when she broke it off he pestered her all the time. The last time he knocked on her door, I answered and told him to get lost or I’d break both his arms . . . never saw him again.”

“Buck told us you never guarded her at home.” Josie said.

“I didn’t. We were leaving to go to one of the clubs. I just picked her up there.”

Bruno swore he didn’t know any of the other officers who worked for Buck because he’d always worked alone. He claimed Hillary was like his daughter, and he believed mentally and emotionally she was closer to fourteen than seventeen. She’d confided in him that she didn’t like the notoriety of being a movie star, enjoyed her independence but felt guilty about the wealth, and believed her mother who’d said someday she would have to pay for her freedom and extravagant lifestyle.

“Why’d she fire you?” Behan asked.

For the first time since the interview began, Bruno seemed reluctant or slow to answer. A knock on the door saved him from responding right away. A young girl, one of his students who looked to be about sixteen years old, said she wanted to talk to him about her midterm grade, and he took a few minutes to arrange another time with her. Bruno’s demeanor changed. He spoke softly and smiled at her, even joked a little.

Josie watched. The chemistry between student and teacher felt all wrong to her. The girl was pretty and flirting with him, but Bruno didn’t react the way an adult should have. He treated her like an equal, smiling at what Josie felt were inappropriate remarks, and the girl acted as if she were his friend rather than a student. Bruno didn’t really do anything wrong, but the interaction made Josie uncomfortable.

When they were alone again, Bruno folded his arms and sat back. “The drugs,” he said. “Told her to stop. She wouldn’t.”

“Tell us more about the drugs. How’d she get them?” Behan asked.

“Off the street, it was dangerous and stupid. Said she had better protection than me and nothing was going to happen to her . . . didn’t like me nagging her all the time so she dumped me. A few days later, she’s dead.”

The big man rubbed his eyes as if he was going to cry, but didn’t. He sat up and took several minutes to compose himself. Josie wasn’t buying it. She thought he was trying hard to look upset, but his body language said he was still very much in control.

“What sort of things did she do when you were with her,” she asked.

Bruno cleared his throat. “Partied, went to a club almost every night. She liked to have a good time.”

“She was a minor,” Josie said.

“Not really,” Bruno said, defensively. “She legally lived on her own. The studio hired a tutor for her, but it was all show. I tried too, but she wasn’t interested in improving her mind. She knew her success depended on her face and body.”

“She was a minor.”

“Of course,” Bruno said, glancing at her and shrugging.

“Did she ever work?” Josie asked, wondering when the young woman found time to make all those terrible movies.

“No, not when I was with her. She checked in with her agent every day, and I’d drive her to Skylar’s office or they’d meet at one of the clubs, but I never saw her on a film set and never saw Skylar offer her any kind of movie work.”

“Were there other men besides Eli?” Behan asked.

“Lots, but the guys I saw the most were some geeky-looking tattooed guy and his friend. Didn’t know either one of them, but I think they both stayed with her at different times. She dumped the geek, but I had a feeling the other guy kept coming around when I wasn’t there.”

Josie tried not to change her expression. Maybe Cory Goldman but not David; David wouldn’t lie to her about something that important.

“Anyone dating her at the time she got killed?”

“I wasn’t with her those last few days,” Bruno said.

“Tell me more about the tattooed geeky guy’s friend,” Behan said, deliberately avoiding Josie’s stare. She froze until Bruno answered, afraid to take a breath, dreading and at the same time knowing who the friend was.

“Not much to tell, skinny little black guy, dressed like a Goodwill poster boy, but Hillary treated him like her best buddy.”

Josie exhaled and felt as if a ton of manure had been shoveled off her back.

Bruno identified Cory Goldman’s picture as the tattooed geek. The description of the black man matched the one Mouse had given them of Little Joe, but they still hadn’t been able to identify the heroin dealer. Fricke and his partner claimed the dealer hadn’t been seen around the Palms for several weeks, so they weren’t able to snatch him.

Although Josie and Behan only talked to him another ten minutes, Bruno was able to give them some interesting tidbits about the month he’d spent with Hillary. He said she was a generous, loving girl who was overwhelmed by the money and attention she got from a number of older men who were infatuated with her. He surmised Hillary’s attachment to them was compensating for the father she never knew.

Hillary considered Misty Skylar a surrogate mother figure, but one night when Hillary asked him to drive Misty home, the agent admitted to Bruno that the young girl was strictly a short-term meal ticket whose only real talent was her youthful sex appeal. Misty told him as soon as Hillary got a little older her career would be over since her acting on its own merits wouldn’t be good enough to get even B-movie parts. The agent intended to drop her at the first signs of aging, but until then she’d market Hillary for every dollar she could get.

“That’s cold,” Behan said.

“Not in the movie business. Those young girls are used and abused, but I think Hillary was clever enough to figure out she didn’t have long to make the big bucks, and she was going to live it up and get as much as she could before they kicked her out the door.”

“Can you think of any reason someone would want to kill her?” Behan asked.

Bruno closed his eyes for a moment and leaned his head back. “I know she was scared. She wouldn’t tell me why or what frightened her, but it was bad enough to hire me and sleep with her lights on. Now, if you’d asked about Misty that’s a different story. From what I saw and heard about her she was a bitch. Probably everybody that knew her wanted to kill her at some time.”

“Why?” Josie asked.

“She used people. Pushed young girls who couldn’t act or weren’t pretty enough into porno films or worse.”

“Worse?”

“She’d get them on the payroll in those sleazy escort places. Of course, they were always eighteen on paper, and she always got her commission.”

“How do you know so much about her business?” Behan asked.

“I was a cop for twenty years. I know a madam when I see one even if she’s wearing designer clothes and carrying an expensive briefcase. Misty might’ve had some legitimate clients like Hillary, but I guarantee you she was peddling flesh on the side.”