“That can happen with addicts, if they live long enough,” said Petra. “Where did Lester’s financial support come from?”
Iona Bedard poked her chest. Waved dismissively. “Go on, you people, I’ve done your work for you. All you have to do is find the bastard.”
We didn’t move.
“Please,” said Bedard, making it sound like an order.
Petra said, “Does the name Robert Fisk mean anything to you?”
“There was a Bobby Fisk in my class at Atherton Prep. Flight surgeon in the navy.”
“What about Rosie?”
“The Riveter?”
“Blaise De Paine?”
Iona Bedard patted her coiffure. Laughed.
Petra said, “Something funny, ma’am?”
“That, young lady, is not a real name. Now go on, do your job.”
CHAPTER 21
On the ride down, we had the elevator to ourselves. Petra fanned herself and laughed. “That must’ve been one lousy prenup.”
Milo said, “If voodoo worked, ol’ Myron would be frying in oil.”
“She gives us no evidence he has anything to do with Lester, but on her say-so we’re supposed to track him down in Europe.”
“Hatred’s a great motivator.”
“I’m sure he adores her, too. After fifteen minutes, I’m ready to strangle her. But so what? For ten years Jordan’s been out of his life.”
I said, “As opposed to all those disreputable ‘minority’ types who shared Jordan’s lifestyle but were nothing like him.”
“Talk about denial,” said Petra. “One thing she’s probably right about. ‘De Paine’ is a moniker.”
We crossed the lobby in silence. Milo and I had parked in the hotel lot but Petra had left her Acura on Walden Drive across Wilshire, and we walked her over.
She unlocked the car and tossed her purse onto the passenger seat. “Any parting thoughts, guys?”
“It was me, I’d keep it basic,” said Milo.
“Concentrate on Fisk, anything else is a distraction. In terms of your Ms. Bigelow, I’m not seeing any stunning link. Even if she did channel hospital dope Jordan’s way, that’s also ancient history.”
“Seems to be,” said Milo.
“You have doubts?”
“The only sticking point is one day we’re talking to Jordan about Patty and soon after he gets dead.”
“The only possible connection would be he tipped someone off about some secret so big and bad he had to be silenced. Like what?”
Neither of us had an answer.
“Either way,” she said, “the key is finding Fisk.”
Milo said, “Dancing hit man. There’s a network show for you.”
I said, “Jordan was an ex-horn player. It keeps coming back to music.”
Petra said, “Jordan hadn’t played for years. The only music connection I can see is dope.”
“Or an anti-dope thing. As in Jordan pushing product on the wrong person.”
“Who’s the wrong person?”
“How about a music-biz honcho’s kid.”
“Daddy puts the hit on Lester for supplying his prodge? Great, I’d love to haul in more suspects, maybe Fisk will fink once we have him in custody. I got DMV on his wheels, from the lapsed files. ’Ninety-nine Mustang, red at the time, registration fees six months overdue. I also put in a rush subpoena on his phone records, let’s see what comes up. If I’m lucky maybe I can haul him in before Cruella phones the brass and trash-talks about us middle-class peons not following her cultivated instructions.”
Milo said, “Gonna cover your butt and look for her ex?”
She swung her purse. “I’ll sic Raul on it, give him some training in long-distance sleuthing.”
“Smart guy?” said Milo.
“Smart but real new. Quiet, though. I like that. See you, guys.”
We returned to the Hilton parking lot.
I said, “One thing meeting Iona was good for. Now we understand Patty’s housing choices.”
Milo said, “A thousand a month in cash for three years makes thirty-six K she didn’t have to declare. Then ol’ Myron moves her to Hudson and she’s raised to two grand. How long did she stay there?”
“Around two years.”
“Another forty-eight, for a grand total of eighty-four thou. Toss in her salary at the hospital, plus five years of free rent, and it’s a nice six-figure haul. Talk about a sweet deal, Alex. The downside was no job security. The old man dies, sayonara.”
“She moved to Fourth Street,” I said. “Nicest place yet, but she stayed less than a year. Maybe paying full rent was jarring. Or she was determined to save her cash now that she had some. Eighty-four thousand even at a conservative rate of interest could double in ten years. If she participated in the stock-market boom, she could’ve done significantly better. Downshifting to Culver Boulevard meant living in a dump but it got her to homeownership. Without the windfall from Myron Bedard, she might never have pulled it off. Her portfolio’s what started me wondering about dope, but maybe it’ll boil down to savvy investing.”
“Helped along by a little tax evasion.”
“That, too.”
Isaac Gomez’s e-mail read:
Hi, Dr. D. We’re in Bangkok and I’m writing this from an Internet café but the connection’s tenuous and we’re moving on so don’t bother responding. I woke up thinking about that crime trace and realized I’d made a methodological error by limiting myself to cases classified as homicides, as opposed to manslaughter, aggravated assault, or anything else that could’ve developed into murder but wasn’t reclassified. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about it right now but when I get back in a few weeks, I’ll dig around the data a bit more and see what I can come up with. Hopefully, I haven’t missed anything crucial. Heather says hi. Best, IG
I thought about that, decided Isaac was parsing too meticulously. Patty had said she’d killed a man. Everyone was dancing around that, but I couldn’t forget it.
I was sitting on the couch, contemplating a warming shot of Chivas, when Blanche waddled into the office and nuzzled my shin. When I stood, she danced around a bit, then raced out the door.
I followed her down the hall, across the kitchen, to the back door. She sped with surprising agility down the stairs to the pond. Zeroed in on the locked bin that held the koi chow and began butting it with her flat nose.
“You’re into seafood now?” I scooped out a few pellets and offered them to her. She turned her head in disdain.
Head-butted the bin some more. Stared up at me.
When I tossed food to the fish, she swiveled and watched. Panted.
Gave a hoarse bark until I threw more pellets.
“Altruism?” I said.
I know the experts will label it anthropomorphism but she smiled with pure joy, I’ll swear to it.
Robin found the two of us by the water. Blanche jumped off my lap and greeted her. The fish swarmed, as they do when footsteps sound on the stone pathway.
“They’re starving,” she said. “I’ll go feed them.”
I said, “They’ve already dined. Extensively, because Blanche has appointed herself Official Caterer.”
“I know,” she said. “She did it yesterday, too. Any progress finding Fisk?”
“Not yet.”
“I networked some more on Blaise De Paine. The only thing I can add is that maybe possibly could be his house in the hills is on one of the bird streets. But don’t put much faith in it, hon. The person who told me wasn’t sure where he’d heard it or even if it was De Paine and not some other crook and he had no idea which bird. No one’s heard of Fisk or Rosie, though there is a black guy named Mosey, does some deejay work.”