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e was grilled and cleared on the Scales job。
Clayton said he'd help us any way he could。 We stood outside his office and bullshitted。 I looked down the hallway。 My mind wandered。 I walked down that hallway the first time in June '58。 Thirty…nine years had intervened。 I was still obsessed and hungry at the cusp of 50。
Bill and I drove to Sergeant Tom Armstrong's office。 Armstrong ran the El Monte PD's Internal Affairs Unit。 He worked out of a PD adjunct building。
Bill ran down the Scales case。 Armstrong keyed on the kid。 He said he'd request full paper on him。 Bill said full was essential。 We had to know him before we tried to find him。
Bill grabbed Armstrong's phone and called Joe Walker。 Joe is a civilian crime analyst。 He knows puter search systems。 He helped us locate people in my mother's case。
Bill laid out the kid。 Joe said he'd find himdead or alive。
Bill and I drove to Sheriff's Homicide。 Bill ran a DMV check on William David Scales。 He hit。 Scales was fifty…one years old now。 He lived in Rancho Cucamonga。
Close。 A straight shot through the San Gabriel Valley。
Bill said Valley folks never strayed far。 I said the Valley was a fucking life sentence。 Bill said； 〃For you it is。〃
The evidence vault adjoined the Sheriff's Academy。 Evidence bags were stored on shelves stacked twenty…five feet high。 The vault looked like an airplane hangar。 Two dozen shelves ate up most of the floor space。 Technicians accessed them with forklifts。
It was my second visit。 I viewed the evidence from my mother's case the first time。
I'd touched the stocking and the cotton cord that killed her。 I put the dress she died in to my face and caught a trace of her perfume。
Bill requisitioned the Scales bag。 A technician found it。 We examined it in a small room next to the vault。
The red…pink sweater； the panties； the bra。 Separate items in separate envelopes。
Bill filled out a routing form and placed the items in a cardboard box。 I didn't touch them。 They looked like cheap stuff purchased at Sears or JC Penney。 They smelled like dust and old synthetics。
We dropped the items off at the Sheriff's Crime Lab。 A serologist named Valorie Scherr logged them in。 She explained DNA in a wholly precise and stupefyingly soporific manner。
Scherr said the prescreen would take ten days。 They had to identify semen or other fluids first。 The amount did not matter。 DNA could be successfully typed off a single cell。 Dissipation might factor in。 The event occurred twenty…four years ago。 The stains might have eroded during storage。
Scherr gave Bill eight swab sticks and containers。 She said he should tell the husband to scrape the inside of his mouth vigorously；
She advised a backup procedure。
They might not have a valid victim sample。 He should try to locate the victim's parents or a sibling and take scrapings from them。 This would help identify the victim's DNA。
Bill grabbed Scherr's phone and called Sheriff's Homicide。 A colleague tapped the DMV puter。 He got a hit on Bud Bedford。 His last known address： a trailer park in Fresno。
Bill got his number from Fresno information。 He called him and stated his business。 Bedford agreed to be interviewed。 He said he'd submit a cell sample。 He said his ex…wife was still in Fresno。 He gave Bill her number。
Bill called her。 She said she'd cooperate。
We broke it off for the day。 I went back to my hotel room and stared at a picture of Betty Jean smiling。 I sensed that things went stray for herbeyond her already low expectations。 I wanted to know how they stood on the night she died。
We door…knocked Bill Scales。 He stepped out of a time warp and let us into his house。
He was tall and rangy and an old 51。 His voice matched the voice on the interview tape down to subtle inflections。
Bill stated our business and stressed that he was not a suspect。 Scales said he'd help all he could。 Bud Bedford still thought he did it。 Bud had Bill Scales's own daughter convinced。
The house was small； neatly tended； and starkly underfurnished。 We sat down at a dinette table。
Scales described the night of 1/29 unsolicited。 His eyes flicked on and off Bill's gun。 His account tallied with his taped account of 2/1/73。 He ran it down deadpan。 Bill interposed questions。 Scales answered them and jumped back to his basic narrative。 He rolled over for authority figures。 I knew it was a long…term practice。
I said； 〃Tell us about BettyJean。〃
Scales said she was a dingbat。 She was mousy； easygoing； and submissive。 She talked a mile a minute like a true nutcase。 Simple tasks flummoxed her。 She didn't know how to do things。
He said 〃dingbat〃 dead cold。 I used to call my mother a drunk and a whore the same way。
I didn't say； Why did you marry her then？ Scales gave us the narrative version。
He met Betty in late '67。 He was living in Bell Gardens。 She was living in Downey。 Her father set her up in a pad。 He found Betty in bed with a boy and cut off his support abruptly。
Betty was going to high school then。 Bill Scales moved in with her。 He got her pregnant and married her。 Their daughter； Leah； was born in October '68。 They moved to El Monte in '71。 He raced motorcycles and hung insulation。 Betty worked on the assembly line at Avon cosmetics and quit to be a full…time mother。 They had a son。 He was 3 months old when Betty died。 Leah married a guy named Baker。 They had two kids。 Leah was fat。 She blamed her obesity on her father and her mother's death。 He had a second family and raised Leah and her brother with them。 Leah did not appreciate it。 Betty's parents hated him and encouraged her to hate him。
Scales said that second marriage folded。 He gave us a quick rundown on the details。
His candor was praiseworthy and appalling。 He impressed me as a control freak with a dark self…knowledge learned the hard way。 He cut his losses and lived inside rigid boundaries。 His subtext was all male pride and self…pity。
He gave us his daughter's phone number。 He said he'd give us a cell scrape。 He said he didn't remember the last time he had sex with Betty。 She was on the Pill。 He didn't wear rubbers。 The sperm on her panties might turn out to be his。
He looked like an Okie transplant and employed perfect grammar。 He set out to refute his roots every time he opened his mouth。
He said Bud Bedford sicced a P。I。 on him back in '73。 The guy tailed him to a siding job in Temecula。
Bill said； 〃How did Bud and Betty get on？〃
Scales said； 〃Not well。〃 Her brother said they were feuding right before Betty died。
Bill said； 〃Where's the brother now？〃
Scales said； 〃He died of AIDS。〃
We door…knocked Leah Scales Baker。 She let us in and sat on a couch between us。
The apartment was small and overfurnished。 I heard kids back in the bedrooms。 The husband sat on the living…room floor and observed the interview。
Leah Baker was prepared。 Bill called ahead and stated our purpose。
He introduced me。 I smiled。 He said my mother was a murder victim。 It fell flat。 Leah Baker looked right through me。 She said her mother's death destroyed her life。
Bill asked her if she remembered her mother。 Leah said hardly