“Why didn’t he and Bodhi get along?”
“He tried to get her to change, and she wouldn’t have any of it. Mom always gave her anything she wanted, always had a bigger checkbook, so she gravitated that way.”
“Do Derek and Sylvia get along?”
“Yeah, now that they’re divorced, but Bodhi’s troubles are causing friction. Both are worried this time, really worried. That’s why I’m coming to you two.”
Hondo dabbed his forehead with the towel and said, “We’re on it.” He turned to me, “Have you seen my chocolate milk? I put it in the fridge.”
I frowned as if remembering something, and trotted away in a hurry, saying over my shoulder, “I’m late for a call, mucho importan-tay.”
Archie said, “Hah! He’s a thief, Hondo! He took it!” Archie yelled at me, “Chocolate thief!”
As I went around the corner to our office next door, I yelled, “Almond Chocolate!”
I slowed to a walk and spotted something small leaning against the bottom of our office door. It was a shiny U.S. Marine Globe and Anchor emblem pin about the size of a half dollar. I looked around but didn’t see anyone in sight, so I picked up the pin and took it inside. I’d put
out a notice later at Archie’s, figuring someone dropped it while going to or coming from the gym, because they parked close to our office all the time.
~*~
Derek Pozza lived in a nice Malibu beachfront home, and he opened the door before we could knock. You noticed his size before you noticed anything. He said, “Come in.”
We followed him to the living room and sat in some comfortable oversized chairs. He took the corner of a small sectional sofa. Derek said, “Archie told me you two are good at this. Thanks for coming.”
Hondo said, “We can talk first, get some current photos of Bodhi, and hear in your own words what happened.”
“Bodhi and I haven’t been as close lately. Sylvia’s the one who told me she was missing.”
Hondo said, “When we finish, could you call Sylvia and get us through her security?”
I said, “We hear they get a little prickly when folks haven’t been preapproved for meeting her majesty.”
Derek gave me a little wave-off, “Sylvia’s not like that, but there have been two recent incidents where people tried to force their way in on her. Once outside the Beverly Hilton, and the other at her residence. Left her shook up, so she upgraded the security. I’ll call.”
He left the room to get photos and to call Sylvia, and I said, “Derek makes Dwayne Johnson look like an elf.”
Hondo said, “He’s no Magilla Sykes, though.”
I thought about Magilla, the huge, mysterious, lonely man we encountered a few months ago while working to save a young woman named Jett Sunday. I said, “Nobody was like Magilla.”
Derek walked in with an armload of photos in frames, and others that weren’t framed and had the look of being freshly printed. He put them on the large coffee table in front of us. “Take any you want,” He pointed at some papers, “And that lists her Facebook page, Twitter, Tumbler, Pinterest, phone numbers for two cell phones, plus the home phone, and her address for the apartment.” He reached into his pocket to withdraw a small ring of keys. “Keys to her apartment and her mail box.”
I looked at them and said, “Her car keys are there, too. Do you want to take them off the ring?”
“No, the car is gone, and she has another set of keys.”
Hondo said, “I didn’t see that in the detective’s report, about the car being gone.”
“I didn’t mention it to the police. She’s always letting people drive it, so half the time when she needs to go somewhere, she’ll drive one of Sylvia’s. Usually the Wraith.”
“A Rolls Royce Wraith?”
Derek nodded, “The color’s called Titanium, sort of a silver gray.”
I imagined it and said, “Well, she’s got taste.”
“What kind of car does she normally have?” Hondo asked.