Mystery_ An Alex Delaware Novel Part 31

"You want reminiscence. Too much remembering can be upsetting."

William hadn't pa.s.sed that along. Amid the clutter of the barn were mikes and cameras and who knew what else. And she wanted us to know.

Milo said, "We're not Vice."

"If you were," said Koznikov, "we wouldn't be talking at all." She drank soda, reclined. "Now please unb.u.t.ton your s.h.i.+rt, Lieutenant Sturgis. Your handsome colleague, as well. Also, turn out all your pockets, if you don't mind."

"If we do mind?"

"I'm an old woman. Memory fades."

"First time I've been asked this, Olga."

"I know, I'm sorry. But if you don't mind."

"Do we get background music?"

"I could hit the desk with my hands if you like."

When we'd b.u.t.toned back up, Koznikov said, "Thank you. I hope it wasn't too embarra.s.sing." Winking. "You both have nice chests."

Milo said, "Thanks for not taking it further."

"There is a limit, Lieutenant Sturgis. I've always believed in limits."

"Tell us about Tara."

"What I will tell is a story. Like a fairy tale. It could be be a fairy tale. Understood?" a fairy tale. Understood?"

"Once upon a time."

"Once upon a theoretical situation. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Then I begin," she said. "What if once upon a time a beautiful young girl comes to California and makes mistakes? What if she meets bad men who wait near bus stations and train stations and airports? It could be sad, no?"

"Tara got turned out by a street pimp."

"What if this beautiful girl has several what I will call bad experiences? What if she is lucky to survive without serious physical injury?" Koznikov popped open another soda can and drank. "What if she is more lucky and meets good people who take care of her? That would be happy, no?"

"Someone like a mother figure."

"Mothers are good." She rested a soft, liver-spotted hand on her left bosom. "Everyone needs a mother." Smiling. "Maybe a grandmother."

Milo said, "Once she found proper guidance, what was her turf?"

"What if it was wherever the client desired? With limits, of course."

"Outcall."

"It's a big city."

"What kind of limits?"

"It's a very very big city. Gasoline is expensive." big city. Gasoline is expensive."

"She stuck to the Westside," said Milo.

"The Westside is nice."

"What other limits did she have?"

"What if," said Koznikov, "she got tested every month, always used condoms, and the people she met were screened to make sure they were nice and would not force her to use body parts she didn't want to use."

Dr. Jernigan's description of a.n.a.l scarring flashed in my head. So did pictures I tried to shut off.

"Sounds like a good deal. Did the Westside include the Fauborg Hotel?"

Olga Koznikov blinked. "Lovely place."

"Did Tara work there?"

"If a client wanted a quite lovely place, that would be a good choice, no?"

Thinking of the Fauborg's typical guest, I said, "Was Tara a favorite with much older men?"

She studied me. "It's good you don't shave your chest hair. Men do that, now. I don't understand it."

"Did older men-"

"You are asking me to remember things from long ago."

Milo said, "How about theoretically? Was she theoretically into geezers?"

Koznikov's hand pressed down on a heavy bosom. "This is so long ago."

"Olga, something tells me you remember everything you've ever done or thought."

"A sweet thing to say, Lieutenant, but we all fade."

"Tara never got the chance to fade. That's what we're here about."

Koznikov flinched. For less than a second, a real person seeped through the kindly madam act.

As good as any therapist, Milo seized the moment: "She didn't go easily, Olga."

He placed a death shot on the desk.

Koznikov's face didn't change but the hand on her chest whitened.

"Help us, Olga."

"She was so beautiful. Barbarians."

"Any particular barbarians come to mind?"

"Why would I know people like this?"

Milo said, "Any barbarians, a name, anything."

Koznikov shook her head. Slowly, balefully. "I would tell you. I'm sorry."

"How long has it been since Tara worked for you?"

"Three years." First time she'd strayed from theoretical. She realized it and her jaw tightened. "Three years is nearly a thousand days. I like to count. For exercise. Mental. For my memory."

Prattling.

Milo said, "She left three years ago."

One year before going cyber.

"I like crosswords, too. For the memory. But the English? Too elevated."

"Why'd she leave, Olga?"

"People get tired."

"Personal problems?"

"People get tired."

"Did drugs or booze have anything to do with that?"

"People get tired without drugs and booze."

"No substance abuse issues."

"Some people have self-control."

"Her mother didn't."

"What mother? She had no mother," said Olga Koznikov.

"She was born in a test tube?"

"Her mother died when she was a little girl. In Colorado."

"What town in Colorado?"

"Vail. She grew up in the snow. Once upon a time."

"That so."

"Her mother taught skiing, died in an accident, she was raised by the county."

"What about her father?"

"Swiss tourist, she never knew him."

"She told you that."

"She showed me a picture."

"Of Vail."

"A pretty woman with a baby. Snow."

"Interesting," said Milo.

Koznikov's cheeks fluttered.

"Olga, her mother was a woman named Maude Grundy. She was an alcoholic streetwalker from New Mexico who gave birth to Tara when she was fifteen. Tara's birth certificate says father unknown. Maude had a rough life, moved to L.A. at some point but we can't figure out exactly when. Whether or not Tara brought her here is unclear. If she did, they probably had a falling-out because Tara let Maude live in a dump that burned down two and a half months ago. Maude died in the fire and Tara didn't pay a cent to bury her."

Koznikov had listened impa.s.sively. Now she took long sips from the can. Suppressed a belch and smiled. "You are telling me this to make me sad."

"I'm telling you in case Tara told you anything that was actually true and might help us find who murdered her."

She turned to me. "Your question I can now answer. Yes, the old ones liked her. I thought okay, she has no father, makes sense. This much is true, even if he was not Swiss."

"What does having no father have to do with them liking her?" said Milo.

"They liked her because she liked them them. That's all of it-love, s.e.x, pleasure. You like me, I like you. One of them-what if once upon a time one of them, a very old, kind man, told me Tara was 'patient'? That would explain it, no? That would help you understand."

I said, "Patience is a good quality in a young person."

"Good and so rare."

"How about a time line?" said Milo. "When did she start working with you, when did she finish?"

"Three years is a long time to do anything."

"How long have you had this place?"

"Eighteen years."

"You don't get tired."