A vision in pale tones? I'm a good guy.
He held the door open for Petra and she walked in. The house smelled stale, and only a table lamp at the rear of the big sitting room was lit. The car museum was dark, too, the glass wall a sheet of black.
He walked two feet ahead of her, to the lamp, switched on another and winced, as if the wattage hurt his eyes. Had he been sitting in the darkness till now? His sleeves were rolled carelessly to his elbows and his curly hair looked lumpy and uneven.
“Please, have a seat.” Waiting till she'd settled on one of the overstuffeds, he picked his own spot at a right angle to hers, their knees two feet apart.
Placing his hands at his sides, he sat there. His face looked drawn, older. More gray hairs among the curls, but maybe it was just the lighting. Or some dye wearing off.
“Thanks for meeting with me, sir.”
“Of course,” he said, inhaling and rubbing one corner of his mouth.
Petra took out her pad, letting her jacket fall open so he could see the badge on her shirt pocket. Showing him the side of the pad with the blue LAPD stamp. Trying to study his reaction to those small bits of official presence.
He was looking somewhere else. At the big stone fireplace, cold and dark.
“Would you like something to drink, Detective?”
“No thanks, sir.”
“If you change your mind, let me know.”
“Will do, Mr. Ramsey.” She opened the pad. “How's everything?”
“Rough. Very rough.”
Petra gave her best understanding smile. “I noticed you have a different maid than when I was here the first time.”
“The other one walked out on me.”
“Estrella Flores?”
He stared at her. “Yes.”
“How long had she been working for you?”
“Two years, I guess. Give or take. She said she wanted to go back to El Salvador, but I know it was the… what happened to Lisa. She liked Lisa. I guess all the… when you people were here it must have upset her, because that night she was busy packing.” He shrugged. “Then all the media calls. It's been hard keeping my head clear.”
“Have there been many calls?”
“Tons, all on the business line. The number I gave you was my private line. I had everything forwarded to Greg's office. He's not talking to anyone, so hopefully it'll taper off.” He rubbed his eyes, shook his head.
“So you got a new maid immediately,” said Petra.
“Greg got her.”
She sat there, not writing. Giving Ramsey some silence to fill, but he lowered his head. Wide shoulders rounding as he slumped, your classic grieving posture. Chin in hand now. The Thinker.
“Estrella Flores liked Lisa,” she finally said, “but she didn't go with Lisa when Lisa moved out.”
“Nope,” said Ramsey, looking up. “Why's Estrella so important?”
“She probably isn't, sir. I'm trying to get a feel for Lisa's person-ality- was there something about her that would have stopped Estrella from going with her? Was she hard to work for?”
“Doubt it,” said Ramsey. “It was probably the money. I paid her more than Lisa would've wanted to. Social Security, withholding, everything legal. Lisa had a small place; she wouldn't need someone that expensive.”
So Flores's nervousness that first day hadn't been immigration worries. And now she was gone…
Ramsey widened his legs a bit. “No, Lisa wasn't hard to work for. She was bright, full of energy, had a great sense of humor. Sometimes she could get a little… sharp with people, but no, I wouldn't call her hard to live with.”
“Sharp?”
“Sarcastic.”
Exactly what Kelly Sposito had said.
“Not in a mean way,” said Ramsey. “Just a bit of an… edge. Part of it was her sense of humor. She told a joke better than any woman I've ever-”
He stopped himself, pressed his legs close together. “Guess that sounds sexist, but I haven't really known that many women who enjoyed telling jokes. I don't mean your Phyllis Dillers or your Carol Burnetts. Women who aren't pros.”
“And Lisa liked telling jokes.”
“When she was in the mood… you have no idea who killed her?”
“Not yet, sir. We're open to ideas.”
“It just doesn't make sense, Lisa hooking up with some maniac and going to Griffith Park. For the most part, she went for older guys- conservative types, not the type to get… wild.”
“She went for older guys after your divorce?”
“I wouldn't know about that,” said Ramsey. “But I do know that before we started dating, she'd had two older boyfriends back in Cleveland. A dentist and a high school principal.”
“How much older?”
“Ancient. Older than me,” he said, smiling. “She made a crack about going out with me even though I was too young for her. At the time she was twenty-four and I was forty-seven.”
Making him fifty.
“What were the names of these other men?”
“I honestly can't recall- the principal was Pete something, I think the dentist was Hal. Or maybe Hank. She'd been dating Pete right before she met me, broke up with him the day of the pageant- that's where I met her, Miss Ohio Entertainment- I told you that, didn't I?”
Petra nodded.
“Going senile.” He tapped his head. “One good thing about Alzheimer's- you get to meet new people every day.”
Thinking of her father, wasting away, Petra forced a smile. Onset at sixty, one of the earliest the doctors had seen. One of the quickest progressions, too. Kenneth Connor, dust at sixty-three…
“Are you okay?” said Ramsey.
“Pardon?”
“For a second you looked upset- was it the Alzheimer's joke? That was one of Lisa's- if it was too sick for your taste, I'm-”
“No, not at all, Mr. Ramsey,” she said, appalled. What had he seen on her face? “So Lisa liked jokes.”
“Yes- do you have any idea when there might be a funeral?”
“That would depend on the coroner, Mr. Ramsey. And Lisa's family's wishes.”
“Are they coming out to L.A.?”
“I don't know, sir.”
“By the way, I ended up calling them myself, thought it should be me, not some… not a stranger. But all I got was a machine.”
“I got through to Dr. Boehlinger.”
He frowned. “Jack. He hates my guts, always did. Probably told you I was a terrible husband, you should be investigating me.”
Rope.
She waited.
“He's a tough guy, but not a bad sort,” said Ramsey. “Lisa marrying me really blew his mind.” He touched his mustache, tracing a vertical line through the center, stroking the left side, then the right, bisecting again.
“He didn't approve,” said Petra.
“He went crazy. Didn't come to the wedding- it was just a small civil thing at their country club- Jack's and Vivian's. Vivian came. And Lisa's brother, John- Jack junior, he works for Mobil Oil in Saudi Arabia, and he came. Not Jack senior, though. He called me a week before, tried to talk me out of it, said I was robbing Lisa's youth, she deserved better- babies, a family, the whole nine yards.”
“You didn't want children?”
“I wouldn't have minded, but Lisa didn't want them. I didn't tell him that, of course. But Lisa made that clear right from the outset. She was the least domesticated girl I've ever met, but Jack thought she should be some high-achieving housewife. He's a very domineering guy. Surgeon, used to giving orders. He was tough on Lisa when she was growing up.”
“Tough in what way?”
“Perfectionistic- high standards. Lisa had to get straight A's, go out for every extracurricular activity, excel in everything. She told me when she was twelve, Jack bought her a horse, so she had to learn jumping, dressage, compete whether or not she wanted to. Not the pageants, though. Those were Vivian's idea.”
“Sounds like a lot of pressure.”
“On all sides. Lisa said it was hell. That's probably why she married me.”