“We really do appreciate it, sir.”
“Do I get extra points for humiliation? A psychic Purple Heart, perhaps?”
Neither of us replied.
Holman said, “Back to Borodi Lane. You’ll be wanting to know exactly when this occurred, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And I can tell you precisely. April second. Right after April Fools’, at nine twenty-eight p.m. I keep a log of Marjie’s adventures. But this turned out not to be Marjie’s adventure. I should’ve known, she really is a creature of habit, no reason for her to break the pattern.”
She already had, behind a construction trailer in Santa Monica. No sense stomping her husband’s toehold on dignity.
Milo said, “Backer was there with another woman?”
“That woman,” said Holman. “The one whose face was in the news. And yes, I’m certain, because she and Backer went out to eat afterward and I got a good look at her.”
“Not your wife, but you continued following.”
“Because in the beginning I was pretty sure but couldn’t be certain. It was dark when they left, they hustled quickly into Backer’s car. The woman appeared shorter than Marjie, different hair, different walk, but I wasn’t close enough to be confident of my judgment, so I stayed on their trail.”
“Where’d they go for dinner?”
“Beverly Hills. Kate Mantilini, Doheny and Wilshire. Fortunately, they got a window seat and I was able to cruise by and felt tremendous relief. Then I realized Marjie was still out there and suddenly I needed to know where she was. So I called her landline at the office and she answered, said she was working on a proposal that would probably end up nowhere because Helga never followed through on anything.”
Milo said, “Backer’s car was at the office but you didn’t see the woman back there.”
“But she must’ve been nearby, Lieutenant, because she wasn’t inside the office with Backer and Marjie.”
“How do you know?”
“This morning Marjie and I were watching the news and the woman’s face came on, Marjie didn’t react in the least. I know my wife, gentlemen. If she’d met her, she’d have said something. And she’d also have told you when you questioned her. So my guess is the woman was either waiting outside the office, not in the lot or near it, or she was already at Borodi when Backer arrived.”
“Was another car parked nearby?”
“If there was,” said Holman, “I didn’t notice. But I wasn’t paying attention to cars.”
He turned to watch the diminishing form of the beachcomber.
Milo said, “What else can you tell us about Backer and this other woman’s behavior?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re sure it was the woman you saw on TV?”
“I’m absolutely certain. The image on TV was a line drawing, but to my eye, a rather good resemblance. She’s-was a good-looking woman. Young-thirty, thirty-five, to me that’s young. Good figure. Great figure, voluptuous but taut. As if she worked out. Not too tall, I’d say around five four, well below Marjie’s five seven.”
I said, “When you saw her and Backer in the restaurant window, what was their demeanor?”
“They didn’t seem particularly enthralled. Nor were they miserable. Two people reading menus. I guess I’d say bland.”
“Did you ever see the woman again?”
“Never.”
“What about Backer?”
“Him I saw a few times,” said Holman. “At the office, coming and going.” Blinking. “I have to say, Marjie having anything to do with him surprised me. He didn’t seem her type.”
“How so?”
“Shallow.”
“How so?”
Holman’s jaw set. His beard bristled. “No doubt my opinion is informed by the fact that I’m fairly certain he boffed my wife. But I’d like to think I’m also a decent judge of character. I don’t want to talk ill of the dead but to be frank, he struck me as a superficial little twit. The type who spends too much time at the mirror.”
Milo said, “You didn’t like him.”
“I didn’t know him well enough not to like him.”
Milo studied him.
Holman’s eyebrows rose. “You’re kidding.”
“About what, Professor?”
“You’re actually wondering if I could’ve done it? Well, I’m flattered, gents. That you’d think me capable. But why would I bother? Nine men in five years have bedded my wife. What reason would I have to wreak vengeance on one particular horny little twit?”
Holman’s lips clamped tight. “No, I didn’t care for Backer. He was fluff. But I don’t care for most people. And whatever I felt about him did not rise to the level of violence.”
Milo said, “Professor, we really do appreciate your coming forward, most people would have taken the easy way out. Is there anything else you’d like to tell us?”
“No, sir,” said Holman. “Now you’re going to leave and I’m going to stay here and watch the ocean.”
Milo gunned the unmarked past the marsh, continued east on Culver. “What just happened? Helpful, self-demeaning citizen or smart guy playing with us?”
“Maybe neither,” I said.
“Then what?”
“Professor Holman found a way to unload a whole lot of pent-up misery while feeling momentarily heroic.”
“Free therapy? So who bills him, you or me?”
“You can have it,” I said.
“Poor bastard. But he did just admit to being a chronic stalker, which fits our jealousy scenario. A bunch of middle-aged lotharios with his wife is one thing, Backer’s youth and vitality pushed him over the edge, he kept churning it, over and over, the rage didn’t fade so he hired a hit man. Who he was able to tip off about Borodi being a nookie-spot for Backer.”
“Then why call for a meet where he gives himself a motive and admits he resented Backer?”
“He’s an intellectual, Alex, thinks he’s smarter than us. A linguist, to boot-what do those guys do? Manipulate language. But maybe he just screwed himself by giving me grounds for a warrant on his financials.”
He phoned John Nguyen, asked the deputy D.A. what he thought. Nguyen said, “Iffy at best but you can try. Who do you have in mind?”
Milo said, “Judge Ferencz turned me down, any suggestions?”
“Not really.”
“What about Judge Hawkins, John?”
“Hawkins died last month.”
“Damn.”
Nguyen said, “Your warmhearted sympathy toward his loved ones is overwhelming. If you want, I can ask around.”
“Thanks, John.”
“I’m talking a few calls, not worth a thanks.”
At Lincoln, Milo switched the police radio to felony Muzak. Too early for waves of after-dark violence but plenty of minor-league infractions to keep uniforms busy.
I said, “If Holman’s not the killer, he still gave you something usefuclass="underline" Backer and Brigid were at Borodi two months ago, lending support for a long-term relationship and suggesting it was a habitual spot for them. Maybe she’s using a false identity out of self-defense, not criminality. As in running from a rabidly jealous ex.”
“Meaning don’t lose sight of her as the prime victim, okay, time for Hal again.”
“Who exactly is he?”
“Homeland Security, owes me more than one favor.” Punch punch punch, voice mail. His second message was more detailed, click. “Holman doesn’t shake out dirty, there’s still the fact that Brigid was snooping in Masterson’s files and scoping out Borodi by herself.”
I said, “The elusive DSD Inc.”
“Whom everyone seems to think are Arabs and that worries me. All I need is some jealous emir as a prime suspect.”
Two traffic lights later: “Backing away from all that, I’ve got plenty of mundane local issues to deal with. Like finding out if any non-antique.22s are registered to Loony Charlie Rutger, scanning the moniker files for particularly nasty Montes, somehow getting lists of subs who worked Borodi, and checking for violent felony backgrounds.”