We cross the road and knock on the door. After a minute or so a woman in her forties, dressed like she’s twenty, answers.
“Yeah?” She chews gum loudly.
We take out our ID and identify ourselves.
She narrows her eyes. “What do you want?” There’s a hint of both annoyance and concern in her voice.
“We’d like to talk to Todd Fischer. Is he home?” Carson is a long drive if Fischer’s not in, but unannounced visits are always more effective in this game.
“Todd!” the woman yells without moving farther into the house.
After a few seconds with no response she yells again. “Todd! Get your ass down here.”
Heavy footsteps sound above us, moving toward the stairs. “Mom, I told you not to disturb me.” Todd’s feet appear on the steps. “What is it?”
“Cops are here to see you.”
“Oh… Okay.” He doesn’t seem surprised.
Once he’s halfway down the stairs he comes into full view. Todd Fischer is about six-one, tall and lanky, with black hair and pale skin that looks paler against his red lips and rosy cheeks.
“Is this about Sherry?” He moves off the stairs and toward us.
His mother turns to him. “Told you no good would come out of dating some rich bitch.”
He gives his mother a scathing look. “Give it a rest, Mom.”
“Whatever.” She pops the gum in her mouth.
He turns back to us, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “She’s really missing then?”
We don’t have a chance to answer before his mum blurts, “You don’t have to talk to them, Todd.”
“I’ll handle this, Mom. You go back to…whatever you were doing.”
She gives us a sneer. “Whatever.” She chews her gum noisily and moves off to the left and the background hum of a TV set.
“We can talk in the kitchen.” Todd leads us in the opposite direction, through an extremely messy room that is presumably the dining area but is sparsely furnished and covered in old newspapers and bric-a-brac.
Following him through a swinging door, we move into a seventies-style kitchen. The decor is red and white, which makes it look almost retro rather than dated. A splash of paint and new appliances and it could look good. Certainly a few less dishes in the sink would help.
Todd looks around and sighs. “Sorry about the mess.” He shakes his head. “Can I get you a drink? Coffee?”
At the rate we’re going, I’ll be getting the caffeine shakes soon.
“Sure,” I say politely.
Todd flicks on the kettle and then starts opening cupboards, obviously searching for clean cups. “I can’t believe Sherry’s really missing.”
“Have you spoken to the Taylors recently?” Sloan takes a seat at the kitchen table. The chairs are metal-framed with patterned vinyl for your butt and a curved, thin backrest. They remind me of our kitchen set during my childhood. But ours was brand-new, and the Fischers’ is over thirty years old.
“They rang this morning. To see if Sherry was with me.” He takes three cups from the pile of dirty dishes, squirts dishwashing liquid into each of them and runs the hot-water tap for a minute before half filling each cup.
“When did you see her last?” Sloan asks.
He takes a dish brush to the cups. “Last night.”
Last night? Could Todd have been the mystery date? It seems unlikely Sherry would lie to her best friend if she was going out with her ex.
“The Taylors didn’t know that, did they?”
He shakes his head. “Sherry doesn’t want them to know.”
“Why?” Sloan leans her elbow on the table.
“She doesn’t want her mom getting her hopes up.”
“So you get on well with the Taylors?”
“Real well. Mrs. Taylor is, was, like a mom to me. It’s been hard not seeing them for the past few months.” He takes a chair, puts it beside the counter and stands on it. Reaching into the very top cupboard he withdraws a packet of Oreos and a small plate.
“Your hiding spot?” I give him a smile.
“Uh-huh. Mom would eat them in one sitting if she knew they were here.”
“Really?” Todd’s mum is less than ten pounds overweight.
“Don’t let her fool you. She binges for a few days, then hardly eats for days on end.” He shakes his head. “It’s crazy.”
Sloan moves around, unable to get comfy in the chair. “Was last night the first time you’ve seen Sherry since you broke up?”
He gives a little snort. “Hardly. Sherry and I split up four months ago, but we’ve still been seeing each other.”
“Sexually?” Sloan’s tone is harsh.
Todd winces. “I love Sherry, Detective. And I always will.”
“Was the feeling mutual?” Sloan’s voice is softer now.
He sighs. “Not exactly.” He rinses the cups and pulls a plunger down from a high cupboard before leaning on the sink. His shoulders rise and fall in a labored breath. “She was obsessed with that professor of hers.”
“Professor?” Sloan’s voice is casual, but I know her curiosity is truly piqued—as is mine.
“Yes. She had a crush on him. It’s why she broke it off with me.” He places three scoops of coffee into the plunger and fills it with boiling water. “She said if we were meant to be together she wouldn’t have feelings for any other guy.”
“Do you know his name?”
Todd turns around. “Carrington. He’s her acting professor.” He stares at his shoes. “I guess she could be with him.”
No, she’s not with Carrington…she’s in the morgue.
So far I’m only getting a good vibe off Todd and I’m finding it hard not to tell him that Sherry’s dead.
Sloan, on the other hand, doesn’t seem bothered. “Tell us about last night. What time did you see her?”
“Late. About midnight.”
“Did you have a fight?” I ask.
“No.” He slowly pushes the plunger down. “But she was…different.” He looks up again. “She called me around midnight and she was upset.”
“Go on.”
“We arranged to meet in Santa Monica.” He pours out three cups of coffee and places them on the kitchen table before opening the fridge and peering inside. “Dammit.” Closing the fridge he looks around, his eyes finally resting on a carton of milk on the counter. He shakes his head. “How many times do I have to tell her to put the milk away?” He picks it up from the counter and smells it before looking up at us. “I’m sorry, but it is fine.” He puts the milk on the table.
I get the distinct impression that this mother-son relationship doesn’t have a mother in it. I often wonder how women like Todd’s mum get their babies past the first two years of life. Then again, sometimes they don’t.