Body Copy - Michael Craven [3]
Yeah, that’s what his investigative skills told him. She had the kind of beauty that hurt you a little. Made you want to drop to the floor, get in the fetal position, and just sob.
Tremaine was considering doing that now. But instead, he asked Nina a question, the question. His curiosity had gotten the best of him.
“What was your uncle’s name?” Tremaine said, know-8
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ing now for sure, now that he could hear the words coming out of his mouth, that his trip to Australia was officially postponed.
“Roger Gale,” she said.
“I remember the case. He was the advertising guy.
Started the big agency over in Playa del Rey.”
“That’s right. I’m surprised you remember. It made the papers, but after like a day it stopped showing up in the press.”
Tremaine grabbed the New York Times that he’d brought in from the roof. “These guys did an obit.”
Nina nodded and said, “I still have it.”
Tremaine began to think back about the obit and the couple other articles he’d read about Gale. He said, “He was found in his agency—in his office—right?”
Something—pain, sadness, confusion—showed on Nina’s face, and she took a breath before she said, “Yes. They found him at his desk. Sitting at his desk. Dead. He had a head wound, but they realized later that he had been strangled.”
Tremaine paused for a moment. Then switched gears and said, “Roger Gale. He came up with the famous campaign for Rogaine— Just admit it. You want your hair. Right?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Nina said, smiling.
“Where everybody in the commercials was admitting stuff that they really thought but were afraid to say.”
“That’s the one.”
“That’s a good campaign,” Tremaine said. “Funny.
Smart.”
“Will you help me when you get back from your vacation?”
“I’ll help you right now.”
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Michael Craven
“You really don’t have to cancel your trip. I can wait.”
“I’m not canceling it. I’m postponing it.”
She said, “I kinda feel bad. I know that feeling right before a vacation, it’s a good feeling.”
“Don’t feel bad. If I went on the trip knowing I had a case to get back to, I wouldn’t be able to relax. I would be looking at a kangaroo and thinking about Roger Gale.”
“I understand. I’m like that with my work, too.”
“What do you do?”
“I teach Italian and art history at UCLA”
“Do you teach John Lopez’s brother?”
“Yes. He’s the person who put me in touch with John.
You are a good P.I.”
Tremaine now thought, a beautiful woman, a college professor, and a sense of humor. I’m glad I took the case.
Even though none of those things caused me to take the case. I’m a professional, for Chrissakes.
“Here’s the way I work. I’ll need a few days to do some research before I talk to you. I want to know more before I start asking you questions.”
Nina nodded and said, “Something I want to ask you . . .
One of the reasons I wanted to look into this was because I felt the police just gave up. My uncle was kind of a big deal, you know? A prominent member of society. Not that that should make a difference, but it does. Anyway, the case is still technically open, but nobody’s doing anything about it.”
“Cold.”
“Excuse me?”
“The case is cold. That’s what they call it. What’s your question?”
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“Does that surprise you? That the police aren’t paying any attention to a murder? I mean, a man was killed and the case is just sitting there.”
Tremaine walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself another cup, number three, or was it four? He was beginning to get that shaky feeling—that shaky feeling he kind of enjoyed.
He said, “The LAPD has to deal with an enormous number of cases.