Rico Hauer said, "Dreadful, dreadful, poor Elise." Touching his chest, he blinked. All the emotional depth of a sheet of vinyl.
Milo told him about the DVD.
Hauer didn't move a muscle. Seconds ticked. A full minute of mute immobility.
Milo said, "That's a serious charge, sir. No reaction?"
"What reaction would you like? Denial? Fine, I deny. Shock and surprise? Fine, I am appalled. If I believe you."
"You think we're lying?"
"I think," said Hauer, "that the police use deception because the courts have granted legitimacy to that tactic. In fact, I cover that issue in my urban studies class, pose it to my students as a serious moral dilemma."
"No dilemma here, Mr. Hauer. Elise really did make that claim, took the time to record it on a DVD."
"Poor Elise. To engage in such delusions. Then again, she had her own moral issues."
"Such as?"
"Lack of fidelity."
"To who?"
"Some poor devil who believed she had special feelings for him."
"A boyfriend?"
"He may have thought so." Hauer smiled. "Elise enjoyed playing with his head. Used me as a vehicle for her mean little games."
"How so, Mr. Hauer?"
"She liked to phone him while we were having sex." Hauer's eyes brightened. "There you go, perhaps he found out. Jealousy's an excellent motive."
"Does the poor devil have a name?"
"Sal. Elise enjoyed making small talk with him as she wiggled in interesting ways. Sometimes she'd cover the phone and moan. Sometimes she'd hold a photograph of herself and him while she and I tangoed. So to speak."
"What kind of photograph?"
"Nothing erotic," said Hauer. "The two of them at a casino, this Sal had won some money. A bald little man. I attribute her hostility to him as a yearning for mastery after a childhood filled with affective helplessness."
"She kept that picture in her living room," said Milo. "That mean you tangoed at her house?"
"Of course. Where else, Lieutenant?"
"Your place?"
Hauer grinned. "My wife would object."
Avoiding the bait, Milo took him over the same ground. Hauer grew bored. A guy hooked on novelty.
The request for an alibi elicited a yawn and the explanation that he'd been with his wife, a Spanish teacher at a girls' school in Hancock Park.
"Feel free to ask her, Lieutenant."
"You don't care."
"Claudia will pretend to be resentful but she has her own diversions."
"Open marriage?"
"There is no such thing," said Hauer. "Let's just say Claudia and I are more forgiving than most people. I would, of course, resent your telling her about Elise's accusation, as it is patently false and defamatory."
"Defamatory," said Milo. "That's kind of legalistic."
"I studied law in Buenos Aires, Lieutenant. Decided not to live my life as an attack dog." Smoothing his hair. "Doesn't it bother you, dealing with the worst in people?"
"I manage to cope, Mr. Hauer."
"Good for you. Now, what else can I help you with?"
Milo's wave was dismissive.
Hauer sat there.
Milo got up and rapped the back of Hauer's chair with a knuckle.
Hauer flinched.
"Out, Rico."
We watched him speed off in a yellow Mazda Miata convertible. Ten minutes remained until Pat Skaggs's appointment. Milo lit a cigar and we idled on the sidewalk.
Three puffs and two smoke rings later, he said, "Elise was a busy girl."
I said, "Esteemed educators molding young minds."
"It's like Hauer and Winterthorn own a testosterone time share but Winterthorn never gets to use it. Wimp or stud, cast your ballot for prime suspect."
"I'll withhold judgment until Mr. Skaggs tells his story."
"Who knew the faculty lounge was such a hotbed of naughty? What do you think of Elise's accusations now?"
"Same answer."
"C'mon, stretch your theoretical wings."
"Both men 'fessed up to sex with her, but consent's a rapist's favorite excuse because it can neutralize DNA. It's possible as soon as Hauer and Winterthorn were summoned, they conspired to hedge with partial truth. But I really don't know."
He cursed. "In a normal situation, I'da popped in on them, there'd be no chance to collude. What about their personalities?"
"Winterthorn's an excitable boy. My guess is nothing much shocks Hauer."
"Unflappable sociopath?"
"He's got the pretentiousness."
"Mr. Amateur Psychologist."
"Mile wide, inch deep," I said. "One day he can get his own talk show. Or run for office."
He laughed. Smoked, pulled out his cell, and punched in Claudia Hauer's number. The resulting conversation was brief, pleasant, ambiguous.
"Mrs. Rico verifies Senor Smooth was with her all night, which is worth about as much as Mommy Winterthorn vouching for Junior trouble."
I said, "Whatever Hauer's character flaws, if what he told us about Elise's childhood is true, it is a nice fit with her binge-drinking and promiscuity. Also with choosing a guy like Sal Fidella, then degrading him. I'd be interested in talking to her relatives. Someone's going to have to deal with the body, eventually."
"In a normal situation," he said, "I'd have already put Sean or Moe on a back-trace for nearest kin." He flicked ashes. "Prank-calling the poor fool while she romped with El Gaucho was pretty damn cold."
"Interesting word choice, Big Guy."
He lowered the cigar. "Gonna show me some inkblots now?"
"Got 'em back at the office. I'm serious. You've got good instincts, maybe you just hit on something."
"Elise freezes Sal out emotionally so he gets back at her with dry ice?"
"She staged her games," I said, "he devised one of his own. He had a key to her house and his alibi's no better than Winterthorn's or Hauer's."
"And what looks like a whodunit is just another stupid domestic. Talk about multiple orgasms for His Splendiferousness. Yeah, Sal needs to be looked at harder but so do our esteemed educators. Neither of them wasted time casting suspicion on someone else. For Winterthorn it was Hauer, Hauer aimed us back at Sal."
"Get on the love train," I said. "Reminds me of something one of my professors said when I was considering a teaching career. 'Backbiting is the mother's milk of academia, son, because so little is at stake.'"
"I had a graduate advisor tell me basically the same thing," he said. "Dr. Carter, chairman of my master's committee. That was a coupla days before he put a move on me." He checked his Timex. "Be interesting to see who Mr. Skaggs dumps on."
Just as Milo stubbed out his cigar, a small white car approached from the north, belching exhaust. Slowing, it parked across the street. Nissan Sentra, dusty windows, multiple dings.
The woman who got out was young, tall, sturdily built, with long dark wavy hair, a full face, gold-rimmed specs. Her gray pantsuit fit loosely, as did the yellow blouse underneath. A big brown leather purse arced wildly as she jogged across the street.
"Police?"
"And you are..."
"Pat Skaggs. They say you want to talk to me about Elise."
CHAPTER
13
Patricia Ann Skaggs's robust frame and broad shoulders were belied by a beseeching, little-girl voice. Frequent tic-like eyeblinks turned gorgeous cornflower eyes into sputtering gas-flames.
Ten seconds with her in the back room and Enrico Hauer's insouciance had been neutralized.
Milo said, "So you know why you're here."
"Marlene--Dr. H.'s secretary--told me Elise died, the police were talking to her colleagues. Was she murdered?"
"It's possible."
"Oh, that's horrid!"
"You two were close?"
"I liked her," said Pat Skaggs. "We socialized at work, but I really can't say much about her personal life."
Blink. Blink.
&
nbsp; Milo said, "Workplace friend."
"The first time I saw her, she having lunch by herself in a corner of the faculty lounge. She subbed, so no one knew who she was. I introduced myself. I figured it was difficult to get into our circle."
"Faculty at Prep's like a club."
"Oh, no, nothing like that," said Pat Skaggs. "It's just that the rest of us were accustomed to each other."
"Not much faculty turnover at Prep?"
"It's a great place to work." Raising her volume on that proclamation.
"How long have you been teaching there, Pat?"
"Five years, starting right after college."
"Which college?"
"Wellesley."
"That's a great place."
Impish smile. "Now you're going to say Hillary went there."
I said, "Madeleine Albright and Diane Sawyer went there."
She laughed. "They, as well."
Milo said, "What do you teach at Prep?"
"Advanced Placement and honors history, honors world civilizations seminar, bonus chautauqua on women's rights in the wake of the Industrial Revolution."
"Elise tutored history and English, so you had something in common. Ever send any students to her for tutoring?"
"A couple. They seemed satisfied."
"No complaints from pushy parents about someone getting an A-minus instead of an A?"
Pat Skaggs pushed hair off a moist forehead. "I'm sure you've heard stories but for the most part Prep's not like that."
"No grade pressure?"
"By the time kids get to AP and honors they've pretty much self-selected."
"Still," I said, "some of them require tutoring."
She licked her lips. "Some people are extremely perfectionistic."
"Some people get upset when perfection's not attained."
"You're not really saying some student did this because they weren't pleased with Elise's performance?"
Milo said, "At this point, we're open to any theory, Pat."
"Oh, wow," she said. "No, honestly, I don't see that." Small hands quivered. "Honestly, I just don't see that."
"Where did Elise go to school, Pat?"
"U. of Maryland."
"She talk much about her college days?"
"Not really."
"Not really?"
"She did tell me she'd preferred to go to a small college."
"Like Wellesley."
Nod.
"Why didn't she?"
"Money."
"What'd she have to say about her family?"
"Nothing," said Skaggs.
"Nothing at all?"
"She avoided talking about her family, Lieutenant. As to why, I can only conjecture that her memories weren't pleasant."
"Avoided, how?"
"I just got a general sense of... avoidance. Okay, here's an example: Once, before Thanksgiving, I was talking about how much I looked forward to seeing my family. Elise said, 'Sounds nice,' and there was a wistful tone in her voice. I mistook that for her missing her own family, said something along those lines. Elise shook her head, rather... vociferously. Then she smiled and changed the subject but I felt I'd touched a nerve. On the other hand, maybe I'm reading too much into it."
"What else did you and Elise talk about?"
"Work stuff, girl stuff. She hadn't dated in a long time, said she might be getting ready for that but wasn't sure."
"When did she tell you that?"
"I'd have to say a few months ago... three?"
Well past the time when she'd started seeing Sal Fidella.
Milo said, "Where'd you have those girl chats?"
Blink blink blink. "We went out a couple of times after work. Had a drink to unwind. Not at bars, at restaurants with bars. Because of me, I'm not into places where people just sit and get drunk. Even at Wellesley I wasn't much for the bar scene. Poor Elise, I can't believe anyone would do that to her. Did she suffer?"
"Sounds like you really liked her, as a person."
"I did."
He frowned. Shook his head. "That makes it a little tough, Pat."
"Makes what tough?"
"Having to tell you something that might conflict with your opinion of Elise."
"I'm not following." Moisture darkened the armpits of her jacket. Enough sweat to seep quickly through heavy twill.
Milo pulled his chair closer, leaned in close. Pat Skaggs's lower lip shook.
"Pat," he said, "the sad truth is you may have thought Elise was a nice person but the feeling wasn't mutual."
"I--what are you saying?"
He summed up the DVD.
Patricia Ann Skaggs screamed and ran from the room.
We caught up to her in the hallway near the vacant kitchen, where she'd slumped against a wall and was sobbing into both palms.
"I'm sorry, Pat." Milo placed a hand on her shoulder.
"It's not true! It's an ugly, ugly, ugly lie!"
We waited until tears gave way to snuffles.
"Let's sit back down and hear your side of it, Pat."
She pulled away. Red-faced, and some of the color had spread to the sclera of her eyes.
Red, white, and blue; the patriotism of fear.
"Let's sit down, Pat."
"There is no other side! If she said that--I can't believe she'd say that, why would she say that?"
"That's what we're trying to figure out, Pat."
"She lied about Jim Winterthorn and Rico Hauer, too?"
"Why would you ask that, Pat?"
"They're the only other faculty members summoned to talk to you."
"Who told you that?"
"Marlene."
"Pat, have you discussed anything related to this case with Winterthorn or Hauer--or anyone else?"
"Absolutely not," she said.
"I need you to be straight about that, Pat."
"I am being straight, I've had no time to talk to anyone."
"So you tried."
Silence.
"Pat?"
"After Marlene told me, I tried to call both of them but neither picked up their phones."
"When?"
"An hour ago. I assure you there was no attempt to dissemble. I was merely curious about why only the three of us."
"Was any other faculty member at Prep as friendly with Elise as you?"
"I really wasn't that friendly, myself."
"Same question, Pat."
She chewed her lip. Shook her head. "Truthfully, I never saw Elise with Jim or Rico."
"Do you know Jim and Rico pretty well?"
"Uh-uh, no way, I'm not getting into personalities. Not when you drag me here and make vicious accusations."
"The accusations are not ours, Pat. They're Elise's."
"How do I know that's true?"
"Why else would we be talking to you?"
"And Jim and Rico."
"Let's concentrate on you right now, Pat."
"There's nothing to concentrate on. I want to get out of here."
"That's your right," said Milo. "But it will result in a subpoena and further questioning at the police station."
Pat Skaggs gaped. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"A woman's dead and leaves behind a taped accusation. If we didn't follow through on something like that, would we be doing our job?"
No answer.
"What kind of grade would you give us for that type of sloppiness, Pat? D? F?"
Pat Skaggs ground her teeth. "She may have said it, but it never happened. Elise's death has nothing to do with me."
"That's why we need to sit back down and hear what you have to say."
"Oh, God," she said. "This is Kafkaesque."
Same adjective Hauer had used. If a tormented, tubercular Jew hadn't penned a handful of stories, what would academics do for emotional shorthand?
"I'm sure it feels that way, Pat. Let's head back and clear everything up."
"There's nothing to clear up," she said, but his gentle prod got her walking.<
br />
When she was back in the chair, I said, "So the sex was consensual?"
Milo's turn to blink.
Pat Skaggs didn't notice, her eyes were on me, wild and red-veined and bulging. Stricken as if I'd stripped her naked.
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."
Deception: An Alex Delaware Novel Page 8