He said, “I’m still intrigued by all the interest in Mary. Is it because Patty Bigelow lived in one of the duplexes? There’s no mystery to that. I sent Patty to Mary after she had to leave here.”
“After your father died.”
“She was a terrific caretaker,” said Bedard, “but there was no reason for her to stay.”
“Let’s get back to Peterson Whitbread,” I said. “How did Kyle come to know him?”
“This is about Pete? What has he done?”
Milo said, “Did Kyle meet him during your stopovers?”
Bedard fondled his ascot. “I’m not obligated to talk to you.”
“Any reason you wouldn’t want to cooperate?”
“Jet lag, for one. Bedard orneriness for another.” Capped smile. “No, I’m easy. Or so I’ve been told.”
People like to talk about themselves. My profession banks on it. Sometimes, though, it’s a means of avoiding substance.
I said, “What was the problem between Kyle and Pete?”
“Who said there was any?”
“You keep shying away from talking about it.”
“Lord,” said Myron Bedard. “And to think I’ve supported your profession.”
Milo said, “Would it help if I asked the same question?”
“Ha…no, I’m not trying to be evasive. It’s just that bringing up those days reminds me of…it’s a rather jarring example of the impulsiveness I was talking about. Precisely why I didn’t want Kyle here.”
I said, “You took Kyle along when you saw Mary and he saw things he shouldn’t have.”
“At the very least he heard things. Mary could be…exuberant. Yes, I had poor judgment, but you need to understand, I was Kyle’s primary parent, if I wasn’t with him he didn’t get any attention at all. You’ve met my ex-wife. Can you imagine her nurturing anything? So yes, I let him tag along everywhere. Now I realize there were some…inappropriate instances.”
“How old was Kyle when he accompanied you to Mary’s?”
“I’d say…nine, ten, who remembers? I thought it would be fun because Pete was a bit older. Kyle’s an only child.”
Drinking some more. “To my mind, it was better than leaving Kyle alone in this godforsaken place.”
“Big house.”
“Big cold tomb,” said Bedard. “I hated growing up here. One day I’ll sell it. I’m keeping an eye on the market.”
I said, “How’d Kyle react to the visits?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said there were inappropriate instances.”
“I was talking generally. Hearing Mary and I…for the most part, Kyle seemed fine.”
“For the most part.”
“One time—the last time—he seemed kind of moody. All I could get out of him was that he didn’t like Pete, preferred not to go back. Those were probably his exact words—‘Dad, I’d prefer not to go back.’ He always talked like an adult, when he was really small, people would say, ‘Where’s the ventriloquist?’”
“Why didn’t he like Pete?”
“He didn’t elaborate.”
“You didn’t pursue it.”
“I didn’t see any reason to. Kyle made a request, I honored it.”
I didn’t answer.
Bedard said, “Please don’t tell me something disgusting went on. I refuse to believe Kyle wouldn’t have told me. Most kids don’t talk to their parents. But with Kyle and me it was different. There was absolutely no sign of anything like that.”
Milo said, “That’s not what we’re after but if you do suspect something, now would be a—”
“I don’t. And frankly I don’t see what any of this has to do with Patty Bigelow and her daughter. I’m still confused about why you asked Kyle about Patty in the first place and why he’s so concerned. Patty died of cancer, not under suspicious circumstances.”
“What did Kyle tell you?”
“That you were going back and looking into her death and that possibly it was related to Lester’s death.”
“How’d you find out about Lester’s death?”
“Kyle called me in Venice and told me.”
“When?”
“Yesterday morning.” Wry smile. “Quite early in the morning. Right after I arrived from a rather gourmandish night in Paris and was trying to sleep it off.”
“What else did he tell you?”
“That’s it,” said Bedard. “The part about Patty didn’t come up until the ride from the airport.”
“Kyle’s explanation for why he wanted to drive past Tanya’s.”
“Not that it clarified matters.”
“Why’d you come back to L.A., sir?”
“Kyle asked me to.”
“Just like that, with no explanation.”
“You’re not a father, Lieutenant. I heard the need in my son’s voice and responded. I did try to get him to explain, but it made him more upset so I dropped it. I’ve learned to let Kyle proceed at his own pace—did you see how tough it was just getting him to leave the damn room?”
Milo said, “Why exactly did Kyle say he wanted to drive past Tanya’s house?”
“To make sure she was okay. And then he blushed and got fidgety. From that I inferred that he was smitten by the girl. That surprised me but not unpleasantly. ‘Kyle’ and ‘women’ aren’t two words often uttered in the same breath.”
“Not a ladies’ man.”
“It wouldn’t shock me if he was still a virgin.” Dry chuckle. “Where did I go wrong?”
I said, “Why did Kyle drive by Mary Whitbread’s duplex?”
“I had no idea he was going to do that. When he turned on Third instead of Beverly, I figured it was an alternative route, maybe something to do with traffic patterns—I haven’t been in L.A. for months, the bastards at City Hall keep digging up the streets. Then he turned off at Orlando and before I knew it, we were idling in front of Mary’s duplex. I asked him what the heck he was doing and he turned and gave me a strange look and began humming ‘Auld Lang Syne.’”
“Doing it for old times’ sake.”
“But he didn’t look amused. Quite the contrary, he was uptight and stayed that way, refused to explain.”
Bedard swallowed the last of the bourbon. “The ride home was tense. I’d just left Venice for him and believe me, that city is gorgeous any time of year—if you haven’t been there, trust me, you have to. Before the whole damn thing sinks into oblivion.”
“You came home because Kyle sounded upset,” I said, “but he wouldn’t explain why.”
“I tried to get it out of him. That’s why we were sitting in the driveway when you pulled your little commando raid.”
Running a finger under the knot of his ascot, he said, “Why can’t you tell me what the hell’s going on?”
“Let’s go back a bit,” I said. “How exactly did you meet Mary Whitbread?”
“Through my brother-in-law.”
“Lester Jordan.”
“The late, unlamented.”
“How did he know her?”
“As I said, Mary’s an exuberant gal. Do you know anything about her background?”
“In Chicago?”
“Her story—and I can’t vouch for it—is that back in Chicago she hung around with Mafia types. She also said she knew Mayor Daley, the Kennedys. But isn’t that the standard claim? Perhaps if you chat with her long enough she’ll claim to have bedded Jimmy Hoffa and Amelia Earhart.”
“Standard claim for who?”
“Aging bimbos. I’m not trying to be cruel, but let’s face it, that’s what Mary is. I’d take anything she says with more than a dash of sel de mer.”
“You don’t trust her but you did a real estate deal with her.”
“Her cashier’s check was genuine.”
“How’d she know Lester Jordan?”
“Among her varied interests were musicians,” said Bedard. “Les played sax in a traveling combo that had a gig at a club where Mary was ahem dancin
g.” Wink wink. “I suppose push led to shove…so to speak. And wouldn’t you know it, that’s the one time Mary got careless. A one-night stand and it’s time to buy diapers.”
He shook his head. “Stupid.”
Milo said, “Jordan was Peterson’s father?”
“Perhaps that was what motivated her to get her tubes tied. Or perhaps it was just a convenience. Given her new occupation.”
“Porn.”
“Aha,” said Bedard. “You know about all that. Have you ever seen Mary’s work?”
“No, sir.”
“High-quality, Lieutenant. For what it is.”
“If she didn’t want kids, why didn’t she abort?”
“She considered it,” said Bedard. “Told me so—pillow talk and all that. Her reason for not doing so was that she was dating a wealthy old man at the time. A wealthy generous old man, whom she thought she might be able to con into thinking the baby was his. Unfortunately, the plan backfired.”
“Sugar Daddy wasn’t overjoyed,” said Milo.
“Sugar Daddy demanded a paternity test and when she procrastinated, he kicked her somewhat enlarged butt out into the street. By the time it happened, she was too far along to feel comfortable aborting.”
“Scruples.”
“I suppose she has a few. Poor Mary. She’s blessed with vaginal muscles from heaven but her judgment sometimes falls short of the mark. She had the baby but from what I could tell, didn’t do much in the way of raising it. In that way, she’s not unlike my ex-wife.” To me: “No, my seeing her was not an example of neurotic pattern. In crucial ways, there were differences between Mary and Iona.”
Playing with his glass. “One hears about maternal instincts but I’ve run into quite a few women who seem to lack it.”
“When’s the last time you saw Mary?”
“I thought I answered that.”
“You said she was too old.”
“And has been for at least a decade. That’s why I was surprised when Kyle pulled up in front of her place and started humming. I do my best to forget old acquaintances.”
“Unpleasant memories?”
“Not at all, Doctor. I believe in moving on.”
“So you met Mary through Lester Jordan.”
“Ah, Lester,” he said. “Lester was a cancer on my married life—rock-filled baggage that I was willing to tolerate when I still had feelings for Iona. But I never liked giving him money because I knew where it was going. I met Mary, when I came by to give Lester yet another check and she was there. The sight of a woman who looked like that associated with a dried-up scrotum like Lester caught my attention.”
“Why was she there?”
“The two of them were having some kind of spat. Lester’s mood didn’t concern me but a beautiful woman so upset?” Touching a blue silk breast. “She ran out, I handed Lester his dole and went after her, gave her a shoulder to cry on.” Adjusting his glasses. “One thing led to another.”
“Why was she crying?”
“She wanted Lester to see Pete. Pete always asked to see his father but Lester rarely agreed. Par for the course.”
“His being an addict,” said Milo.
“Addiction’s all about self-indulgence, right? That’s what Patty told me. My sense was she was happy to be rid of him. That would be any rational person’s reaction to Lester.”
“Except his son’s.”
Bedard removed his glasses. “Sons can be like that.”
“Attached,” I said.
“Beyond the point of reason. I’m sure being rejected inflicted wounds on the kid’s psyche, but believe me, Pete was better off not being exposed to Lester. The man was dirt.”
“And you had to support him.”
“Like I said, baggage.”
“Your ex thinks you killed him.”
Bedard pulled out a foot of ascot and wiped his lenses. “That tells you about her judgment. I’ve been in Europe for two months.”
“She says you wouldn’t do it yourself, you’d hire someone.”
“I’m sure I would. If killing Lester was my aim. Unfortunately for Iona, Lester had been out of my life for years. Why the hell would I waste money—not to mention put myself in jeopardy—to squash a roach in someone else’s kitchen?”
I said, “What else did Patty tell you about Lester?”
“Nothing, he wasn’t a topic of frequent conversation. Patty concentrated on caring for Father. And did a damn fine job of it. Iona was incensed when I took her from Lester. In her twisted view, Patty was obligated to stay with Lester forever and I was obligated to pay for it. By the time he’d flunked his third rehab, Iona and I were talking through lawyers. When we settled, she got less than she wanted and more than I wanted to give.”
Big smile. “Marriage is all about compromise, right?”
I said, “She got the building on Cherokee. And Lester.”
“That alone,” said Bedard, “was worth the cost of the damn divorce.” He yawned. “I haven’t slept in two days. Will you be kind enough to see yourselves out?”
“Kyle will show us out,” said Milo.
“Let the boy be.”
“He’s the one who drove by Tanya’s.”
“I told you. He’s got a crush on the girl.”
“That doesn’t explain driving by Mary Whitbread’s.”
Bedard struggled to his feet, swayed, grabbed a side table for support. “I suppose it doesn’t. I’m going to have a nightcap and then I’ll be in dreamland. I’m sure you’ll find Kyle in the library. Good night, gents. Tell my son I love him.”
CHAPTER
32
Kyle Bedard sat on the library floor, ringed by piles of loose paper. Laptop at his fingertips, cell phone in hand.
He put the phone away. “Did Dad regale you with his sexual triumphs?”
I said, “He said to tell you he loves you.”
“He gets that way when he drinks.”
“Affectionate?”
“Mawkish.”
“He drink often?”
“More than often.”
Milo settled on a Chippendale chair too puny for his bulk. I got down beside Kyle and pointed to his phone. “Able to reach her?”
He started to say, “Who?” Cut it off before the vowel sound. “She’s okay.”
“Back home?”
“She just got in.”
“Late-night study group,” I said.
He flinched. “What do you need from me?”
I said, “It’s okay to care about her.”
He said, “I don’t hear a question in there.”
“How about this: What bothers you about Peterson Whitbread?”
“I haven’t seen him in—since I was a kid.”
“I don’t hear an answer in there.”
His left index finger tickled the keyboard of his laptop. The Einstein screensaver dissolved to an engraved portrait of a long-haired, mustachioed man. Frank Zappa look-alike.
I said, “Descartes. Smart guy but wrong about a few things.”
“Such as?”
“The split between emotion and reason.”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“It means you can have your feelings and still be smart. We know your father took you along when he visited Mary Whitbread. You hung out with Peterson Whitbread. He did something that bothered you. Enough for you to ask to stop going. Now you’re worried Peterson had something to do with your uncle Lester’s murder. But what really scares you is he could’ve been involved in what bothered Patty Bigelow.”
Tap tap tap. Descartes gave way to Aristotle.
I said, “Your father’s convinced you’re a genius. Maybe you are. In the current context, being smart means quelling the instinct to mindlessly buck authority.”
Rapid eyeblink. “Why would I know anything about what bothered Patty Bigelow?”
“Because Tanya told you everything. Even though she’d been asked not to.”
“I wouldn
’t hurt her. Ever.”
Milo grunted.
“You don’t believe me?”
“We might, son, if you cut the bullshit and answered our questions.”
“I don’t know anything. It’s all supposition.”
“Kind of like scientific research,” said Milo. “We can live with that.”
Kyle reached for a Styrofoam cup, looked inside, frowned, tossed it. Spying an unopened can of Fresca, he popped the top, watched liquid foam through the aperture and drip onto his papers.
We waited as he drank.
He said, “You’re convinced that what happened all those years ago is relevant?”
I said, “You’re not?”
Dipping a finger into the soda spill, he shaped an amoeba on the rug, played with the blob until it saturated the wool. “It started when I was nine. Dad and Mom were still married and we had a house a few blocks away from Grandfather’s on Muirfield, had just bought the place in Atherton. When Dad took me with him on his dates—it wasn’t just with Mary—I felt like a traitor to Mom. But I didn’t want to get him in trouble because he was the one who…shit, why am I meandering…right to the point: Yes, I asked to stop going because of Pete. He’s a sociopath, or whatever you call it nowadays. At first he made me feel he wanted to hang out. He was four years older. That made me feel uncharacteristically cool.”
Lowering his eyes. “It was also a distraction for what was going on in Mary’s bedroom.”
He passed the soda can from hand to hand. “At first we did normal things—shot hoops, tossed a football, watched TV. He was small for his age, not that much bigger than me, but he seemed a lot more experienced.”
“About?”
“Just a general attitude, he was cocky. But he never talked down to me or treated me like the social outcast I was. So I liked hanging with him. Then he eased into the other stuff. Started showing me naked girls he’d cut out of Penthouse and Hustler, he had piles under his bed. When I didn’t freak out, he began taking me into the garage where he kept his hard-core stuff. Not simple porn, this was over-the-top. Women gagged and tied up, bestiality, things I still find repellent. At that point, I was freaked out. Why I didn’t tell Dad, I don’t know. But I didn’t and Pete moved on to the next step. A toolbox he kept hidden behind some luggage. Inside were movie stills.”
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