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Authors: Michael Marshall
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of life she had not yet experienced, but knew was coming her way. Most were transcriptions of things Sian had told her, but she’d used her own imagination, too, plus what she’d gleaned from TV and movies and a not-too-gross magazine she’d found under the Pier.
The notebook was hidden, but not very well. When she was dead, her mother and father would find it, and they would know she had brought this evening upon herself.
NINA WAS UNAWARE OF much of this, but this was the event she described. When she had told what she knew, she topped her glass up. Zandt’s remained untouched.
“Four witnesses put Sarah Becker on the bench between 7:12 and 7:31. Their descriptions of the man with her range from ‘Nondescript, maybe tall,’ to ‘Shit, I don’t know,’ via ‘Well, he was, like, a guy.’ We don’t even have an age or color that I’d take to the bank, though we got two hits with white and blond. Two say he was wearing a long coat, another said a sport jacket. Nobody saw them leave, despite the fact that the bench is within yards of a zillion people. If the man spent any time in the bookstore before accosting her, then nobody noticed him. Another witnessdescribes seeing a car of undetermined color and model in the nearest side street. It’s possible that a trashcan may have been placed to obscure the number plate—which is pretty slick, though does require more confidence than God. Anybody could have just moved the can, and he was illegally parked. The car was gone by 8:15.
“The girl’s father arrived at the south end of the Promenade at 9:07. He parked up in the usual place, waited. When neither his daughter nor Sian Williams appeared after a few minutes, he went into the restaurant. The staff told him they hadn’t served a table who matched his description, though they did have a no-show in the name of Williams. He called the other girl’s mother and found that the dinner had been canceled at the last moment due to a problem with the Williamses’ car. The car’s been checked, but we can’t get a firm opinion on whether it was tampered with.
“Michael Becker demanded to speak to the girl herself and was eventually told Sarah had left a message saying she didn’t want to bother her dad, and that she was going to just kill time and wait for the usual pickup. He searched up and down the street without finding any sign of his daughter. Finally he made it up to the far end and after checking in the Barnes and Noble he spotted a Sony minidisc player lying partially obscured under the bench. His daughter’s ownership of this device was certain, both through a label she had affixed and because he had bought it for her. The disc in the machine was some album by her favorite band. She has a poster of them on her bedroom wall. Becker then called the sheriff’s department, the LAPD, and also his agent, somewhat bizarrely. He seems to have thought that she would have more pull with the cops than he did. He called his wife, and told her to stay where she was in case their daughter arrived home by cab.
“The whole area was searched. Nothing. There are no prints on the player apart from the girl’s. There are about ahundred cigarette butts around the bench, but we don’t even know if the perpetrator smoked. One of the witnesses said he thought he might have, so some poor fucker in a lab is currently trying for DNA off a whole bag of them.”
“The father isn’t a suspect.”
“Not in this universe. They were very close, in the right ways. Still, for a couple of days that’s what people were wondering. But no. We don’t think it’s him, and the timings don’t work at all. We’ve also eliminated his partner, a Charles Wang. He was in New York.”
Zandt slowly raised his glass, emptied it, lowered it again. He knew there was more. “And then?”
Nina pulled her feet off the table, reached over to pick the file up off the floor. Inside, in addition to a large number of copied documents, was a
The notebook was hidden, but not very well. When she was dead, her mother and father would find it, and they would know she had brought this evening upon herself.
NINA WAS UNAWARE OF much of this, but this was the event she described. When she had told what she knew, she topped her glass up. Zandt’s remained untouched.
“Four witnesses put Sarah Becker on the bench between 7:12 and 7:31. Their descriptions of the man with her range from ‘Nondescript, maybe tall,’ to ‘Shit, I don’t know,’ via ‘Well, he was, like, a guy.’ We don’t even have an age or color that I’d take to the bank, though we got two hits with white and blond. Two say he was wearing a long coat, another said a sport jacket. Nobody saw them leave, despite the fact that the bench is within yards of a zillion people. If the man spent any time in the bookstore before accosting her, then nobody noticed him. Another witnessdescribes seeing a car of undetermined color and model in the nearest side street. It’s possible that a trashcan may have been placed to obscure the number plate—which is pretty slick, though does require more confidence than God. Anybody could have just moved the can, and he was illegally parked. The car was gone by 8:15.
“The girl’s father arrived at the south end of the Promenade at 9:07. He parked up in the usual place, waited. When neither his daughter nor Sian Williams appeared after a few minutes, he went into the restaurant. The staff told him they hadn’t served a table who matched his description, though they did have a no-show in the name of Williams. He called the other girl’s mother and found that the dinner had been canceled at the last moment due to a problem with the Williamses’ car. The car’s been checked, but we can’t get a firm opinion on whether it was tampered with.
“Michael Becker demanded to speak to the girl herself and was eventually told Sarah had left a message saying she didn’t want to bother her dad, and that she was going to just kill time and wait for the usual pickup. He searched up and down the street without finding any sign of his daughter. Finally he made it up to the far end and after checking in the Barnes and Noble he spotted a Sony minidisc player lying partially obscured under the bench. His daughter’s ownership of this device was certain, both through a label she had affixed and because he had bought it for her. The disc in the machine was some album by her favorite band. She has a poster of them on her bedroom wall. Becker then called the sheriff’s department, the LAPD, and also his agent, somewhat bizarrely. He seems to have thought that she would have more pull with the cops than he did. He called his wife, and told her to stay where she was in case their daughter arrived home by cab.
“The whole area was searched. Nothing. There are no prints on the player apart from the girl’s. There are about ahundred cigarette butts around the bench, but we don’t even know if the perpetrator smoked. One of the witnesses said he thought he might have, so some poor fucker in a lab is currently trying for DNA off a whole bag of them.”
“The father isn’t a suspect.”
“Not in this universe. They were very close, in the right ways. Still, for a couple of days that’s what people were wondering. But no. We don’t think it’s him, and the timings don’t work at all. We’ve also eliminated his partner, a Charles Wang. He was in New York.”
Zandt slowly raised his glass, emptied it, lowered it again. He knew there was more. “And then?”
Nina pulled her feet off the table, reached over to pick the file up off the floor. Inside, in addition to a large number of copied documents, was a
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