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I said, “Keep it mostly on yourself, you’re the star. Just introduce me at the outset so we don’t spring anything on her. She’s stressed enough.”
He said, “My face? Not exactly comforting.” But he tinkered some more, finally found the optimal angle, and called a number.
Four rings before a woman appeared on the monitor. Late twenties, pudding-faced, with short dark hair, wearing a white apron over an aqua shirt. Raw eyes, downturned lips, dark hair drawn up in a bun. Maybe stress but I suspected only partially and that frown was habitual.
Katie Ionnides was twenty-nine but already sporting wrinkles perpendicular to her mouth.
Behind her was what looked like an outdoor parking lot. Traffic hum in the background. A pickup truck crossed the screen then vanished. Pigeons pecked near a dumpster.
Katie Ionnides’s image jiggled. Using a handheld phone. Unsteady.
Milo said, “Hi, Ms. Ionnides. Can you see us?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m Lieutenant Sturgis and this is Alex Delaware.”
I said, “Hi.”
She nodded.
I made out a few more blurry details. An unoccupied picnic table, cups and napkins on top. Behind that, a mock-adobe building topped by a sign too distant to read.
Milo said, “Again, we are really sorry about your brother.”
She said, “Thanks. Charlie was…he didn’t deserve this.”
“Absolutely not. Is there anyone you can think of who might want to harm him?”
“No, sir.”
“When’s the last time you and Charlie had contact?”
Katie Ionnides glanced to the right and bit her lip. “He called…I want to say a little over a year ago. It was right after my anniversary. Our anniversary, me and Stavros—my husband—we’re together three years. Charlie forgot the real date but it was nice he called.”
“What about before that?”
Katie Ionnides scratched the side of her nose. Another right-hand glance. “This is going to sound bad, sir, but not for a while. Charlie and me didn’t have regular contact. He kind of…left the family. Left me, really.”
“When did that happen?”
“He actually physically left,” she said, “once my parents were gone.” She shook her head, dispelling euphemism. “Once they died. Hereallyleft, like here”—touching her heart—“way before that.”
Deep sigh. “It’s not his fault. It was really rough for Charlie. I guess you know. Do you? That he was gay?”
“We do.”
“So you get it,” she said. “It was rough for all of us. Our family. But especially for Charlie. He wanted to be himself but they weren’t hearing it.”
Milo said, “Mom and Dad didn’t want to know.”
“They didn’t want to knowanything,” she said, with sudden vehemence. “They both drank all the time and got physical.”
“With Charlie?”
“With Charlie, with me and Joey—my other brother. With themselves.”
“Sounds like a tough situation.”
