Souvenirs of the red zone. Which was where he was edging now, without warning.
Milo sat taller and stared him down.
Dugong forced his hands open, rubbed the side of his neck, tried, without success, to smile. “Sorry, sometimes I get inpatient.”
“No prob, Geoff. You’re under stress.”
“Zactly. Makes no sense, like at the show, she gave me shit for being ten minutes late and it wasn’t even my fault, driver was some Armenian asshole, got messed up by one-way streets. Ten minutes and she reams me. Like really reams me. It put me in a shit mood. That’s why you saw me being in a shit mood.”
He cracked his knuckles. “I’m working on it. Keeping it even…maybe I’m making a big fucking deal but it feels off, that’s all I can say. I don’t want problems with you guys so when Redhead Dude says he’s calling the boss, I say sure, flight’s already gone, what the fuck.”
Milo said, “Where’ve you been staying in L.A., Geoff?”
“Caribbean Motel in Hollywood. I been in worse.”
“You never stayed at Medina’s place.”
“No way, we both like our space. We never lived together, he just went back and forth depending on who he wanted to fu— He was a dog and an asshole and now we agree on that.”
I said, “You and your sister are used to living separately.”
“I never thought of her as my sister,” said Dugong. “Even now, with the show, it wasn’t a family thing, more like…we had something we could both do. She hung my stuff, threw the party, we sold a couple, we both made out. So are you gonna look for her?”
Milo said, “Definitely, Geoff. Have you checked to see if she went back home? Maybe left her car at the gallery and took her own Uber?”
Dugong thought. Slow-breathed with effort that creased his forehead. A man fated to battle emotion. Maybe neural pathways disrupted by meth. Maybe he’d gone for speed because something had always been wrong.
Milo said, “I’m not trying to stress you, Geoff.”
“I know, I know.” Dugong took hold of his beard, squeezed, let go. “Sorry, it’s just the questions, it’s like a storm in my head…I told you her phone doesn’t answer, how can I check?”
“Good point, Geoff. Sorry, I’m just used to asking questions.”
“She had my money and she promised to take me—I’m not making this up in my head.”
Convincing himself.
Milo said, “Of course not, Geoff.”
Yank of the beard. “Good, good—sometimes I need to know I’m making sense.” Dugong licked his lips.
Milo said, “Want some water or coffee?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Change your mind, let me know, Geoff. Now I’d like to show you some pictures and you tell me if you’ve ever seen any of these people with Medina.”
“What kind of people?” said Dugong.
“Possible social contacts. Maybe folks who were at the show.”
“Why?”
“If we’re gonna do a good search, Geoff, we need to know as much as we can about her social life.”
Flimsy premise. Dugong said, “Sure, go for it.”
No reactions to any of the victims until he saw Benny Alvarez’s photo.
“That’s the retarded dude, worked at the gallery.” Red eyes slitted. “Why you showing me that? He got killed.”
“Medina told you?”
“She said that’s why you were there. She was pretty freaked out.”
“That he was killed or that we were there?”
“Both. I guess. This was later, after the show. She was pissed off and not talking to me. I say okay, here goes, own your shit, asshole, like they tell you in rehab. So I say sor-ree. She shines me on, I say it again. She says I couldn’ta picked a worse time, she’s trying to run a show and sell my stuff and I’m acting like a big baby and on top of it you guys just showed up and told her the retarded dude got killed.”
I said, “His name’s Benny.”
“She said that, too.”
“What was Benny like?”
“Like? He was retarded, didn’t talk much. Little dude, didn’t seem like he’d get in anyone’s face. So who killed him?”
Milo said, “We’re trying to find out.”
Dugong’s eyes bugged. “Oh, shit. Oh, holy fucking shit.” He buried his face in his hands.
“Geoff?”
Red eyes rose. “I see what you’re getting at. Oh, fuck.”
“What, Geoff?”
“He works there, she works there, you think the same could happen to her as him. Something about that place? Bad karma, whatever? Oh, shit. I didn’t think about that.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Geoff.”
Dugong pouted. Curiously vulnerable moue, out of place on a grizzled face. “What do you mean?”
“There’s no reason to connect Medina to Benny.”
“Really? You’re not shitting me?”
“Absolutely not, Geoff. First thing we’ll do is head over to Medina’s place, for all we know she came down with something and decided to go to bed.”
“We? You and me?”
Milo smiled. “No, just us, Geoff.”
“She’s sick why wouldn’t she call me? She knew when my flight was leaving because she’d boughten the ticket—oh, fuck, I need to buy another—you think maybe they’d give it to me free ’cause it’s not my fault? Oh, fuck, I need to find out when there are other flights.”
He held the sides of his head. Murmured, “All this shit to do.”
Milo said, “No guarantees, Geoff, but we’ll talk to the airlines, tell them it was an emergency. Why don’t you find out first if there is another flight.”
“Yeah…” Dugong reached into a pocket and pulled out an older Android with a cracked screen.
Milo glanced at me. Not a burner.
He clicked for a while, made errors, cursed, finally connected. “Okay…there’s another in…like five hours. I got to get over there. So you’ll write me a note or something?”
“We’ll do better, Geoff. We’ll drive you over and talk to the airline personally. What’s your cell number?”