Gull patted his own midriff. “In my opinion, that’s really why she left him. He wouldn’t assert himself with her.”
“So she used him.”
“She said, ‘Sonny wants to be controlled, I’m doing him a favor by pulling his strings.’ ”
“But she never mentioned Sonny being involved in Sentries?”
“All she mentioned was his owning the buildings.”
“What about Albin Larsen?” I said. “He and Mary ever develop anything physical?”
Gull looked offended. “I’m certain they didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Albin’s not Mary’s type.”
“Also not dominant?”
“As far as I can tell, Albin’s asexual.”
Milo said, “Got a monk thing going on?”
“In all the time I’ve known Albin, he’s never expressed any interest in sex or sexual matters. And we’ve worked together for years.”
“Too busy doing good works,” I said.
“People channel their drives in various ways,” said Gull. “I don’t judge. I always have seen Albin as someone who might’ve been comfortable in a monastic setting. He lives very simply.”
“Admirable,” said Milo.
Gull said, “About all those names. Are you saying someone actually claims I treated those men and billed Medi-Cal?”
“The state of California claims.”
“Ridiculous. It never happened.”
“The paperwork says it did, Doctor.”
“Then someone screwed up, or someone’s lying. Check my bank accounts- check the money trail or whatever you call it. You won’t find any three hundred thousand unaccounted for.”
“There are plenty of ways to hide money, Doctor.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know what they are.”
“The paperwork, Doctor-”
“Someone’s lying!” Gull shouted.
Milo smiled. “Now who could that be?”
Gull was silent.
I said, “Any theories?”
Myrna Wimmer said, “Be careful here, Franco.”
Gull inhaled deeply and let his breath out very slowly. “You’re saying Mary and Albin falsified bills in my name and pocketed the money.”
Milo said, “You’re saying it, Doctor.”
Gull swiped at his glassy brow. “I guess I am. And now Mary’s dead.”
“So she is, Doctor.”
Gull sweated profusely and didn’t bother to mop it up. “You can’t be serious.” His voice had changed. Higher register, strained.
I said, “During the same period you ostensibly billed for 340,000 dollars’ worth of felon therapy, Mary billed for 380, and Albin Larsen billed 440.”
Gull said, “Albin?”
I said, “That’s the question. Now let’s work on the answer.”
CHAPTER 41
As we rode the elevator from Wimmer’s high-rise to the ground floor, Milo said, “You squeezed him dry, congrats.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Not pleased?”
“It needed to be done.”
As we pulled out into traffic, he said, “When I hunt and actually bag something, I get hungry. I’m thinking red meat.”
“Okay.”
“Not up for it?”
“Red meat’s fine.”
“Had a big breakfast?”
“Had nothing.”
“You find playing Grand Inquisitor that repugnant?”
“A little outside my training.”
“Hey,” he said. “Psychological warfare. In Vietnam, the Army woulda had you writing pamphlets.”
“Where’s the red meat?” I said.
“Okay, change the subject… Wilshire, near the beach, there’s a new place that dry-ages, but if you find the notion of feasting after breaking down another human being repugnant, I understand. Even though said human being is a self-serving slimeball.”
“Now that you put it that way.”
“Gull may not have been in on the scam or the killings directly, but I don’t buy the complete-innocent act. I think the deal the ADA authorized was a gift.”
Two-year suspension of Gull’s psychology license in return for full cooperation in all criminal and civil matters pertaining to…
“More than fair,” I said. “Let’s eat.”
The steak house had microbrews on tap and an adjacent dry-aging room whose picture window faced the boulevard. A family of tourists stopped to admire sides of beef hanging from gleaming hooks, and Milo took the time to join them. Two little kids pointed and giggled, and the father said, “Cool.” The mother opined: “I think it’s brutal.”
Inside, seated at a back booth, Milo said, “Controlled decay kicks up the taste. Kind of like real life.”
I said, “Real life is hard to control.”
He clapped my shoulder. “All the more reason to gorge.”
Over two mountains of Steak Delmonico, baked potatoes the size of running shoes, and a bottle of red wine, we reviewed what we’d learned from Gull.
Milo said, “Sonny is coming across as a victim, not a bad guy.”
“No reason for Gull to lie about that. On the contrary. If there was a way to spread the blame, he’d have done it.”
“So maybe Gull doesn’t know the inside dope, or Sonny really is just a poor shmuck, hung up over his ex. Who happened to make a lot of money.”
“And didn’t know how to spend it,” I said.
“And out of the goodness of her heart, Mary helped him. She sure liked the green stuff, didn’t she? Nice lucrative practice, extra bucks from the ex, and she still risks it all going for a scam.”
“Maybe it was more than dollar signs,” I said. “Maybe it was the thrill of pulling off something illegal. Like we said, she probably rationalized it as penalizing a corrupt system.”
He gobbled steak, said, “Interesting woman, our Mary. Cultivates an identity as a professional woman and a dispenser of wisdom, but she had no compunction tapping Sonny for an increased allowance. Top of that, she liked being held down.”
“Power’s a strange drug. Sometimes people in authority like being controlled sexually.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“I’ve seen it.”
“Oh.” He sopped up gravy with a wedge of sourdough. “You believe Gull never talked to Mary about Degussa’s fantasies concerning Flora?”
I said, “Even if he didn’t, Mary had to have some idea what was going on. Flora came to her for treatment and sexual unresponsiveness, and Mary knew Degussa from the scam. Knew what kind of person he was. For all we know Degussa sent Flora for therapy. To tune her up sexually.”
“Brian Van Dyne said Flora had heard Mary on the radio.”
“There’s a lot Brian Van Dyne wasn’t aware of.”
“Fiancée with a shadow life,” he said. “Flora juggled the two of them?”
“Flora met Degussa while working at the parole office. He put on some of that macho sociopath charm, and she threw Roy Nichols over for someone even tougher. The thrill was forbidden fruit. Then she met Van Dyne and started thinking matrimony, but she didn’t want to give up the game.”
“A nice, respectable teacher to show off for Mom, rough trade on the side.”
“It’s possible Flora’s murder had nothing to do with the scam,” I said. “Her crime scene was a lot bloodier than any of the others, and there was no forced entry. To me it feels like passion and sex gone haywire. When we met Roy Nichols, you wondered about a jealousy motive. Why not apply that to Degussa?”
“Degussa found out about Van Dyne and blew,” he said.
“The wrong guy to betray. Toss in Flora’s inability to climax, and you’re talking rage fodder. A guy like Ray Degussa would take sexual unresponsiveness as a personal insult.”
“Sticking her every which way. That’s a goddamn blueprint for what he ended up doing to her. And Mary Koppel never warned her.”