Island of Bones(47)
Issy saw him coming and jumped down, settling into a chair across from him. Landeta sat down stiffly on the sofa. He sipped the water, his eyes on the floor.
Louis went to the kitchen and brought back a fresh Heineken. “You didn’t come all the way out here to chew my ass about those files. Why are you here?”
“The girls aren’t the only ones without a past. Frank Woods doesn’t seem to have one either.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, there are no records. No birth certificate, no marriage license, no school records. Nothing before 1952. Everything after that says Frank Woods, friendly librarian.”
Louis took a drink, thinking. “He told me at the campground he went to high school in Sarasota. You checked that out, right?”
Landeta nodded. “Of course I did. He didn’t attend school there or anywhere else we can find. He lied to you.”
“What about Diane’s mother?” Louis asked. “Can’t we trace her?”
“You know her maiden name?”
Louis shook his head. “Call Diane.”
“Oh, yeah, she’s real cooperative. Let me tell you what happened today.” Landeta finished his water in one gulp. “After we finished searching Frank’s house, we went to hers.”
“Why?” Louis asked.
“Well, according to you, she has a coral ring. That’s evidence. But according to her, there is no fucking ring.”
“What?”
“We tore that apartment apart. She just stood there and watched us. We didn’t find shit. So now we’re trying to get a warrant for her office.”
“She’s a principal. You know what’s going to happen if you go charging in there?”
Landeta shrugged. “That’s her problem. All she has to do is give us the damn ring.” He looked up at Louis. “If it exists.”
“I saw it.” Louis leaned against the kitchen doorway. “I suppose you want me to try.”
“You still working for her?”
“Well, I haven’t been officially fired. Yet.”
“Does she like you?”
Louis wasn’t sure he wanted to tell Landeta that Diane still had hopes of him bringing Frank Woods in for questioning quietly. Landeta was looking at him, his eyes steady behind the yellow lenses.
“No, she doesn’t like me,” Louis said. “I’m not sure she likes anyone.”
“Well, we need the ring and she knows you, at least. While you’re at it, find out the mother’s maiden name. Convince her it’s for her father’s own good.”
“I’d be lying to her.”
A small smile spread across Landeta’s face. “I can’t believe you actually said that. We lie all the time.”
“Not to families. At least I don’t.”
“As far as I’m concerned, she’s half the problem in this whole case.”
“What’s the other half?”
“You. You don’t want to admit that Woods is probably a serial killer and his daughter is a paranoid weirdo who needs to quit playing mama to her daddy and find herself a man.”
“Your compassion is overwhelming, Detective.”
“And yours is overflowing,” Landeta said.
The cottage was quiet. Louis could hear Issy purring.
“Are we done?” Louis asked finally.
“No, tell me what you found out about the girls.”
Louis walked to the table and picked up a folder. He hadn’t yet bought a typewriter, so his reports on the girls were written in longhand, formatted and dated like a police report.
He held out the folder to Landeta. “Go ahead. Take a look.”
Landeta looked up at Louis, elbows on his knees. “Just tell me about them.”
“I’m tired of reading and interpreting and narrating this goddamn case to you. You want the information, you read it.”
Landeta stood up, taking the folder. “I’ll take them with me.”
“The hell you will. I’ll drop you a copy tomorrow.”
“They’re part of the case file. They go with me.”
Louis stood right in front of him. “It’s my work. It stays here.”
Landeta hesitated then tossed the folder to the sofa. He moved to step around Louis, and his knee caught the edge of the table. The empty water glass toppled to the terrazzo floor, shattering.
Landeta glanced down then continued toward the door. “Sorry about that,” he muttered.
He shoved open the screen door, and Louis followed him to the porch.
“You’re a real jackass, you know that?” Louis called.
Landeta ignored him, continuing on toward the cruiser. Officer Strickland was standing near the gumbo limbo tree, smoking a cigarette.