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“He’s pretty much been ruled out.”
“If you say so.” She fiddled with her drink, then tugged at her curls.
The food arrived. No one ate but we all drank in silence for a while.
She was the first to break. “Can you give me a sense of what she was like beyond Bel Air? Just for my own edification.”
Milo looked at me.
I said, “Intelligent, self-possessed, had a few friends but mostly stuck to herself. For recreation, she ran and painted.”
“That I remember—art, her liking to draw. Not nasty stuff and I was looking for it, given her experiences. Girlie fantasies—unicorns, that kind of thing. I chose to take it as a good sign but maybe she was just holding it in. My job was like that, doing the dirty work, never really getting to know the kids.”
She looked at me hopefully.
I said, “She painted mostly landscapes and still lifes. But also a ghost orchid.”
“Really,” she said. “Well, that also makes sense. The monster who abused her worked in the swamp where those crazy things grow and he took her in there regularly. Allegedly to help with cleanup. Obviously I suspected it had nothing to do with cleanup but Peri denied he’d abused her there, insisted every attack took place in her bedroom. That’s how she nabbed him. She hid a mini-recorder under the bed and gave the cops the tapes. Made a special trip to the Copeland police station, marched in and said she had evidence of a felony. The rest of the family was on some kind of day trip and she’d faked illness. Luckily, the Copeland police chief was a wonderful man who immediately broke into action and protected her. And that’s not what I’ve always seen from law enforcement.”
I said, “A bedroom in a double-wide trailer.”
She took a long swallow, stared at her food, shook her head. “Exactly.Shehad to know. The enabler.”
“Her mother.”
“Ms. Rooney,” she said. “Some piece of work she was, always playing the I’m-stupid game. I can’t prove she knew but of course she did. She wasn’t educated but she was wily. Though I imagine the last thing she figured was Davis blowing her head off.”
She took two long sips before I said, “What were the younger boy’s problems?”
“Rooney? Yes, the same as her last name so you have to figure for all her servile bullshit she had clout in the family. What were his problems? Poor impulse control, temper control, disruptive behavior at school, bad grades.Horridgrades so obviously, I suspected some sort of learning disability but I never tested him, my job was finding all three of them refuge. You could try asking for records at the place they sent him to but I doubt you’ll get them due to confidentiality issues.”
Milo said, “Remember the name?”
“I don’t. Just that it was privately contracted and got federal funds.”
“Scam or the real deal?”
Kathy Bookbinder said, “As far as I know, the real deal. At least I never heard about any scandals there. But right after I placed the kids, I left clinical work. Tired of being dipped day after day into the toilet of life. I came out here, got my doctorate, and switched to teaching. Got married and had two of my own and thank God, they’re great.”
She sliced a small wedge of chile relleno, passed it between her lips, chewed slowly as if it took effort. “Now that I’ve told you about Rooney, do you suspect him? ’Cause I do.”
Milo said, “What motive would he have?”
Kathy Bookbinder sat back. “He was close to his father. Super-close, clearly the favorite. And he got treated differently, you could see it in the way the kids were dressed. Peri and Barlett wore what looked like hand-me-downs but little Rooney was always spiffed up. Bizarrely,actually. The family’s living in a double-wide and he’s got designer jeans and Ralph Lauren polo shirts.”
She turned to me. “What is it about some twisted families, Alex? That pathological inequity? Why do they target one kid and deify another?”
I said, “Wish I knew.”
She smiled broadly. “At least you’re honest. Better than what passes for wisdom nowadays, all those papier-mâché prophets.”
She drank some more. “I’d better get more solid stuff in my stomach. If I come home without eating my husband will press pastries on me, he’s a chef.”
Milo said, “Sounds like a good deal.”
“It can be,” said Kathy Bookbinder. “Duane takes super-good care of me when I let him. A few years back, cancer had the nerve to impose itself on my body. Nothing really scary, totally taken care of. But you learn to practice what you’ve preached to patients: live each day. Duane helps me do that.”
Her lips folded and unfolded again. Her chin quivered and she tugged at her hair. “I hope poor Peri had a bunch of good days.”
