Bones by Jonathan Kellerman Read Free Book Online Page B

lobster.”
    Pulling out his own phone, he requested a warrant on Selena Bass’s apartment.
     
     
    I left the Seville in the Westside lot, returned to the back of Reed’s unmarked for the twenty-minute drive to Indiana Avenue. Milo used the time to follow up on the warrant request.
    Granted telephonically, with paper to follow.
    “You run her beyond DMV?” he asked Reed.
    “Yup. Nothing on the bad-guy sites. I was planning to Google her today.”
    Milo logged on to Reed’s Mobile Dispatch Terminal and got on the Internet. “Nice talking straight to God… here we go — two hits… one’s an exact copy of the other… looks like she’s a piano teacher — introducing a student at a recital… named… Kelvin Vander.”
    An image search pulled up nothing.
    Reed said, “Piano teacher isn’t exactly high risk.”
    Milo said, “Nothing like a sad song to kick off the week.”
    “What about all those other bodies, Lieutenant?”
    “Let’s see what the bone pickers come up with. Meanwhile, we work with what we’ve got.”
    I tossed in my thoughts about someone with a thing for the marsh.
    Milo said, “Could be.”
    Reed said nothing.
     
     
    Selena Bass’s converted garage was a double, set behind a white stucco, one-story duplex.
    The front unit, blanketed by banana plants and mock orange, was occupied by the owner-landlady, an ancient eminence in a wheelchair named Anuta Rosenfield. A cheerful Filipina caretaker ushered us into a diminutive front room muffled by pink velvet drapes and crowded with houseplants and porcelain figurines on precarious stands.
    “She will be a
hundred
this January!”
    The old woman didn’t stir. Her eyes were open but clouded, her lap too flimsy to support one of her bisque dolls.
    Milo said, “That’s wonderful,” and stooped close to the wheelchair. “Ma’am, could we have a key to Ms. Bass’s apartment?”
    The caretaker said, “She’s deaf, can’t see, either. Ask me all the questions.” Pointing to her chest. “Luz.”
    “Luz, could we—”
    “Of course, guys!” Out of her uniform pocket came the key.
    “Appreciate it.”
    “Is she okay — Selena?”
    “You know her?”
    “I don’t really know her, but sometimes I
see
her. Mostly when I leave. Sometimes she’s leaving, too.”
    “When’s the last time you saw her?”
    “Hmm… now that you mention it, not for a while. And you know what, I haven’t seen lights on in her place for… the last few days, at least.” Deep breath. “And now
you
guys are here. Oh, boy.”
    “A few days,” said Reed.
    “Maybe four,” said Luz. “Could be five, I don’t keep count.”
    “What’s she like?”
    “Never talked to her, we just smile and say hi. She seemed nice. Pretty girl, skinny — no hips, the way they are now.”
    Milo said, “What time do you usually leave work?”
    “Seven p.m.”
    “Someone else takes over the night shift.”
    “Mrs. Rosenfield’s daughter comes home at seven. Elizabeth, she’s a nurse at Saint John’s.” Whispering conspiratorially: “Seventy-one but she still likes to work the neonatal ICU — little babies. That’s how I met her. I’m an LVN, also did the NICU. I like the babies, but I like this better.”
    She patted her charge’s shoulder. “Mrs. R. is a very nice person.” A sweet smile tangoed across the old woman’s lips. Someone had powdered her face, blued her eyelids, manicured her nails. The air in the room was close and heavy. Roses and wintergreen.
    Milo said, “What else can you tell us about Selena Bass?”
    “Hmm,” said Luz. “Like I said, nice… maybe a little shy. Like maybe she doesn’t want to have a long conversation? I never heard Elizabeth complain about her and Elizabeth complains.”
    “What’s Elizabeth’s full name?”
    “Elizabeth Mayer. She’s a widow, just like her mommy.” Downturn of eyes. “We all three have that in common.”
    “Ah,” said Milo. “Sorry for your loss.”
    “It was a long time ago.”
    Mrs.