Body Copy - Michael Craven [69]
Both of them were now seated in comfortable chairs in 216
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the living room, having a beer. Tremaine watched Evan, now wearing a T-shirt that said fresno state soccer, take a big swig.
Tremaine said, “Did you play for Fresno State?”
“First two years. But then, dude, I tore my ACL. It was brutal.”
“That’s a great program. Ranked number one in what,
’87?
“Dude, I can’t believe you know that.”
“Addicted to the sports page.”
“Solid,” Evan said, finishing his beer. “ ’Nother?”
“Not yet,” Tremaine said.
Evan got himself another beer, then sat back down and started the Kelly Burch dialogue for Tremaine, saying, “I have to admit, when you said you were a private detective, I had no idea what you wanted. And then you mentioned Kelly, and it, like, shocked me, hearing her name.
It’s been a while since I’ve talked about it with anyone. But I’m glad someone’s looking into it, because at the time of the murder . . .”
Evan paused for a second, almost reconsidering what he was going to say. Then he said, “Well, I’m just glad someone’s looking into it. I hope I can help. What’s up?”
“You were Kelly’s boyfriend for a time?”
“Yeah, when she first got to L.A. We met at a party. We dated for a few years, her first few years here. Dude, this girl, before she started with the drugs and all that . . . You know about the drugs?”
“Yes.”
“Well, anyway, she was a ten. I mean, she was perfect.
And sweet, too. Really sweet.”
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“What,” Tremaine said, “after a while you couldn’t take her lifestyle?”
“Yeah. I wanted to stay together at first. But then she started doing coke all the time, not calling me back and stuff. I’d catch her in lies. It was sad. The classic beautiful girl who comes to L.A. to be an actress and gets swept away by the scene. It’s a cliché. But it happens. I’ve seen it firsthand.”
“How long after you broke up was she killed?”
“Just over a year.”
Tremaine said, carefully, “Were there other men in her life after you? I mean, anyone she had a relationship with, anyone I could talk to?”
“Nothing serious,” Evan said. “I mean, let’s face it, drugs lead to things—she was with other men, probably lots of them. But nothing serious.”
It probably hurt Evan to admit this, but he had a matu-rity about the subject, a willingness to talk about it. He said,
“She was approached all the time, everywhere she went.
But she never got serious with anyone, at least she never mentioned it to me. You know, I don’t think she could get serious with anyone. She was married to her habit.”
Tremaine said, “Like I said, I’m actually not investigating Kelly’s case directly. I’m investigating the murder of a man named Roger Gale and looking for a connection. Do you know that name, Roger Gale?”
Evan said, “Yeah, he was the big ad guy.”
“Right,” Tremaine said.
Evan, wearing an expression that was both surprised and confused, said, “Did he have something to do with Kelly?”
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“Probably not. Except for the fact that they were murdered on the same day.”
Shaking his head as if saddened all over again by the news, Evan said, “And probably lots of others in Los Angeles, too, right?”
“Just one,” Tremaine said. “I checked that one out as well.”
“Are you finding a connection between any of them?”
“Not yet,” Tremaine said.
“Well,” Evan said, suddenly showing some edge, “I don’t think the police ever really had any interest in solv-ing Kelly’s murder. She had a drug problem and had no money, no family to speak of. I really don’t think they gave a shit.”
This must be what Evan had wanted to say before, when he cut himself off, Tremaine thought. Maybe he didn’t want to appear too cynical right off the bat.
Tremaine said, “Unfortunately, you may be right.”
Then, “You mentioned the drugs. Do you think that’s what led to Kelly’s murder?”
“Probably,” Evan said, more pensive now than irritated.
“I think Kelly got way more into drugs