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“Nope,” said Cifuentes, “and that’s the thing. Nothing’s come up, period. It’s weird. He only got himself a Social Security number when he started working at the church five years ago. Not just Social Security, he’s a ghost in any database I can find. Can’t even locate a prior address and I looked in a whole bunch of places.”
He recited a list.
Milo said, “Nothing I’d add to that, Sam.”
“Good to know,” said Cifuentes. “I asked Father Hernandez and he said Barlett just walked in one day, told him he had bookkeeping experience, and offered his services at like minimum wage. Church operates on a shoestring, so Father thought not a bad deal. He figured Barlett had maybe been homeless and got it together. If he had, he’d done a great job ’cause he was well groomed and polite, no sign of any mental issues. I’m thinking maybe it was drugs, not necessarilyhomeless. Some people can get cleaned up, right? Though personally, I haven’t seen that with our meth offenders and our crackheads.”
“So the guy’s a phantom,” said Milo. “Same for my victim.”
“Really,” said Cifuentes. “So maybe they rehabbed together.”
Milo looked at me. “You know, Sam, you may have hit on something.”
“You think?” said Cifuentes. “So where do we take it?”
“Any local rehab places you could talk to who might remember Barlett? Using his DMV shot, seeing as he coulda changed his name.”
“I could try.”
“There’s a problem?”
“Well, you know, they’re big on confidential and all that.”
“Sometimes murder trumps that.”
“Does it? You’d know, okay I’ll try,” said Cifuentes. “Your victim have any known substance history?”
“Nothing’s come up, so far.”
“Want me to show them her DMV, anyway?”
“I’d appreciate it,” said Milo. “She was in Vegas right before she came to L.A., probably two years ago. I’ll look into their facilities. Gonna text you her picture right now.”
“Whatever,” said Cifuentes.
“You don’t like it, Sam?”
“Not a matter of what I like. With all due respect, I’m not into chasing ghosts.”
—
After sending Meagin’s headshot to Cifuentes, Milo sent Barlett’s and hers to Alicia, Sean, and Moe and asked them to divide up rehab facilities in Clark County, Nevada.
Alicia and Moe responded with thumbs-up emojis. Sean called.
“Happy to do it, Loot, but there’s got to be a lot of them there, Sin City and all that.”
“Sin is what pays our salaries, kiddo.”
“It sure does, Loot. My mom calls it being an uncivil servant. So no way you want me to narrow it?”
“I wish.”
“On it.”
Clicking off, Milo wheeled around, half facing me. “If Meagin and Barlett met in rehab, the bad guy coulda also been there. As to why he decided to stalk and shoot them…” He shrugged.
I said, “To my mind, the jealous lover thing’s still on the table.”
