In a way, I had.
She let loose another flood of tears but made no attempt to bolt. Sat there snuffling and mumbling.
Milo said, “What’s that, Pat?”
“It was only twice.” She sat up. “Now you’re going to say it’s because of Wellesley, well, it’s not, I’m tired of all those Harvard-boy jokes and I wasn’t gay at Wellesley, I had a boyfriend, I was engaged to be married.”
“Your sexuality doesn’t matter to us, Pat, except as it relates to Elise Freeman.”
“Twice,” she said. “Two damn times. Okay? Satisfied? And you cannot tell my girlfriend, you simply cannot!”
The girlfriend was a harp teacher from Glendale named Michelle Washburn. She and Pat Skaggs had been living together for three months in an apartment not far from the Galleria.
The dual sexual encounters with Elise Freeman preceded that arrangement, though Skaggs and Washburn had been dating seriously. Skaggs’s account evoked James Winterthorn’s story: Following drinks and dinner, Elise Freeman had initiated contact. Substituting “soft kisses and affection” then a grope up Skaggs’s skirt for the sudden fellatio she’d performed on Winterthorn. Both times, the women had ended up at Elise’s house. Both times, Skaggs had left without spending the night, worried about giving herself away to Michelle Washburn.
“Brief encounter, then good night,” said Milo.
“That makes it sound… I guess it was tawdry. I was an idiot, I still don’t understand why I acceded. The first time could’ve been written off as Mojitos and bad judgment, the second? Moronic—and now I have to talk to you about it. Good Lord, this is humiliating.”
“We hear all kinds of things, Pat. If it’s not related to homicide, we couldn’t care less.”
“Well, I certainly didn’t kill her. I never, never, never did anything remotely abusive or coercive with Elise. I just can’t see why she’d say that.” Tears. Abrupt panic. “You don’t have to notify Prep about this, right?”
“Of course not.”
“Please, I beg you. I love my job.”
“Pat, if you’ve told us the complete truth, no one will know.”
“I have, I swear. Please!”
“Okay, then. You can go.”
“That’s it?”
Milo smiled. “We could stretch this out a bit if you’d prefer.”
Pat Skaggs inhaled, stood. Ran from the room looking smaller.
CHAPTER
14
When we were alone, Milo paced the vacant house. I stayed in the back room, enjoying the view of the garden and wondering.
His footsteps lingered in the kitchen; the primeval urge. When he stomped back in, I said, “My bet’s on Freeman making it up.”
Milo said, “The teachers are horny but not monsters?”
“If they were drama coaches I might feel differently but all three seemed genuinely surprised about the accusation and it’s hard to see the three of them cooperating on a campaign to torment poor Elise. Also, Elise made the DVD but never did anything with it. Maybe she contemplated an extortion scheme but changed her mind?”
“Seducing teachers for blackmail? Not exactly deep pockets.”
“These are teachers who work for the richest school in the city,” I said. “Talk about a massive workplace harassment suit. And something that waitress at the bar said makes me wonder if Fidella was involved. She pegged him as a get-rich-quick type.”
He circled the room. Stopped. “Winterthorn and Skaggs I can see as vulnerable to extortion, but Rico Suavisimo doesn’t care what wifey thinks. Why would Elise pick him as a stooge?”
“Maybe she didn’t know about his wife’s tolerance. She’d see a married man, one clearly giving off sexual vibes.”
“Using the three of them to get to ultra-deep pockets… then why change her mind? Given what we’re learning about her, I don’t see a burst of moral growth.”
“Could be she lost her nerve about doing battle with an institution like Prep. Especially after they gave her a permanent gig.”
“Maybe the gig was payoff for not suing, Alex.”
I thought about that. “Doubt it. She’d hold out for a lot more than a steady job. Another reason could be Rico. Unlike the other two, he describes a prolonged affair. Maybe Elise decided making love beat making war.”
“She falls for Señor Stud, decides not to drag him into the muck?”
“And if things went bad, she always had the disc.”
“Best-laid plans,” he said. “So to speak.”
“Which brings us back to Fidella,” I said. “If he was involved in the scheme, he’d lose twice: another jackpot dashed and his girlfriend’s making a fool of him with another man. I keep going back to his having a key to her house. What if he dropped in one night, found Elise and Hauer together but left without a scene?”
“He stews, builds up the rage, finally accepts the fact that Elise won’t go forward with her threats.”
“He also was aware of Elise’s binge-drinking. Who better to lace her vodka with some kind of opiate? He waits until she’s wasted and helpless, lowers her into the tub, packs her like crab legs at the fish market.”
He grimaced. “And here I was thinking seafood for dinner. Wonder where that waitress hangs out when she’s not drinking at Arnie Joseph’s.”
The octogenarian bartender held a glass to the light. “That’s Doris, she does the three-to-eleven shift at Fat Boy.”
“Where’s Fat Boy?”
“Two blocks north. If you’re thinking Doris had a thing with Sal, she didn’t.”
“Who did?” said Milo.
“Some blonde.”
Milo showed him a snap of Elise Freeman.
“That’s her.”
“She in here a lot?”
“A few times. Grey Goose, up. Sometimes a twist, sometimes nothing.”
“Not an ice freak,” said Milo.
“Nope.”
“Heavy drinker?”
“One drink, period. Thank God most ain’t like her.”
“What else do you know about her?”
“Nothing, I know drinks, not people.” Studying Milo. “You’re beer.” To me: “Blended scotch, maybe a high-end single malt if you’re feeling flush. Both of you drink wine when your wives want you to.”
“Let’s hear it for the wives,” said Milo. “You’re an oracle.”
“Been doing this for fifty-three years, nothing changes.”
“What does your crystal ball tell you about Sal?”
“Beer, same as you. Only difference is you I might let run a tab.”
“Sal’s not a good risk?”
“I’m a trusting sort,” said the old man. “But jerk me around enough and it’s cash on the barrel.”
“Sal has trouble meeting his obligations?”
The bartender laid down his towel, folded it neatly. “What kind of dumb-ass empties a slot machine of ten grand and blows it the same day? When it comes to settling up, he’s always got a sad story. So now it’s cash on the barrel.”
“Sal react okay to that?” said Milo.
“What do you mean?”
“He have a temper?”
“People don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Fuss when I read ’em the law.” He reached behind the bar, hefted a Louisville Slugger. Black worn to gray, same for the tape around the handle.
Milo said, “It came to that with Sal?”
“Nah, but he knows it’s here. Everyone does. Got robbed twenty-eight years ago, coupla cholos pistol-whipped me, my skull was like eggshell. I got smart.”
“A bat’s enough?”
The old man winked. Watery eyes dropped to a spot behind the bar. “Gotta be seeing as how normal people can’t get carry permits for firearms, only rich dumb-asses who know the mayor.”