Free Victims by Jonathan Kellerman

back.”
    “Must be nice to be productive. I located Vita’s sister using phone records. Had to go back nearly a month to find an Illinois number, so we’re not talking regular contact. The sister—Patricia’s her name—lives in Evanston and the call was her phoning Vita on her birthday. Which, she made sure to tell me, Vita would never do for her.”
    “Was that after she found out Vita was dead or before?”
    “After.”
    “Not exactly sentimental,” I said. “How’d she react to the news?”
    “She was shocked but it wore off and she got pretty dispassionate.Analytic, like ‘Hmm, who would do something so terrible?’ And she had a quick answer: ‘If I was a betting woman, I’d say Jay, he despised Vita.’ ”
    “The ex-husband?”
    “Bingo, that’s why everyone calls you Doctor and bows and scrapes when you enter a room. Jay is one Jackson J. Sloat. He and Vita divorced fifteen years ago but Patricia said the financial battle went on long after. Turns out he’s got a record with some violence in it, lives here in L.A. Los Feliz, which is at most a forty-minute drive to Vita’s place.”
    I said, “They hated each other, got divorced, but moved to the same city?”
    “Funny about that, huh? So maybe it’s one of those obsessive, love-hate things. A drop-in on ol’ Jay is clearly the next step but if he is our bad guy he could be smart and manipulative and as the ex he could be expecting us. So I figured I’d tap your ample brain for strategy.”
    “When were you planning on talking to him?”
    “Soon as you finish opining. He works in Brentwood, hopefully he’s there or home.”
    “What does he do for a living?”
    “Salesman at a high-end clothing store.” He retrieved his notepad from the attaché. “Domenico Valli.”
    I said, “That’s why you got spiffed up.”
    “Just the opposite.” He rubbed a lapel, ended up with brittle threads on his fingertips. “I come in like this, he’ll feel superior, maybe let his guard down.”
    I laughed. “What kind of record does Sloat have?”
    “Some lightweight vehicular stuff—operating without a license, the requisite DUIs every self-respecting marginal character needs for self-validation. The serious stuff is two ag assaults, one with a crowbar.”
    “Who was the victim?”
    “Guy at a drinking establishment, he and Sloat had words, Sloat followed him outside. Sloat brained him but also received some fairly serious injuries. That enabled him to claim self-defense and maybe there was something to it because charges were dropped. The other case was similar but it happened inside a bar. That time Sloat used his fists. He got pled down, received ninety days at County, served twenty-six.”
    “Enough violence to be worrisome,” I said. “Two incidents in bars could mean he’s got a drinking problem—maybe what he and Vita had in common. More important, he’d be familiar with Vita’s drinking habits, know she was a nighttime boozer, would be vulnerable. And if there was a love-hate relationship, he could’ve wheedled his way into the apartment.”
    “Arrives with what looks like a pizza,” he said. “ ‘Hi, honey, I miss you. Remember how we used to share an extra-large pepperoni with sausage?’ ”
    He rolled the beer bottle between his hands. “Everything we know about Vita said she was distrustful, maybe borderline-paranoid. You think she’d fall for that?”
    “With the help of Jack Daniel’s and old-times’-sake?” I said. “Maybe.”
    “Real old times. My phone subpoena covered eighteen months of her records and his number’s not on it.”
    “What about a different type of contact?” I said. “Vita used the court system at least once and got rewarded.”
    “She’s still dragging him to court? Yeah, that might kick up the anger level.”
    He called Deputy D.A. John Nguyen, asked for a quick scan of any legal proceedings between Vita Gertrude Berlin and Jackson Junius Sloat.
    Nguyen said, “A quick one I can