Hugger Mugger

by Robert B. Parker

  "You're being cute," I said. "Isn't that fun."

  "And I got Vallone to talk to me a little."

  "About something besides Vallone?" I said.

  "Yeah, Rudy's always been pretty happy being Rudy," Becker said. "But while he was enjoying that, he did mention that Clive had discussed modifying the will."

  I waited.

  "You interested in how?" Becker said.

  "Yes, I am," I said, "if you could get through swallowing the canary long enough to tell me."

  "It pains me to say this," Becker said, "but Walter appears to have been a closet sexist after all these years. He wanted the will to add a clause giving managing control of Three Fillies Stables to any male issue."

  "Jason Hartman," I said.

  "That's the only male issue we know about."

  "Why the hell didn't Vallone tell us that?"

  "Maybe he forgot," Becker said.

  "You believe that?"

  "Rudy's pretty lazy," Becker said. "But he's made a good living around here for the last thirty years. And he's probably noticed that if he runs his mouth a lot about nothing, and keeps it shut about anything that matters, things work out for him. Especially if it matters to the Clives."

  "Well," I said. "Now we've got a motive. If Penny knew the contents of that will and knew her father was about to change it and knew her father was going to acknowledge a son…"

  "That's a lot of ifs," Becker said.

  "Maybe I can make them less iffy," I said.

  "If Penny was capable of murder," Becker said.

  "She's capable of Delroy," I said.

  "Good point. I wouldn't have believed that either if we didn't have to see it every time we looked."

  The bathroom door was open. From where I sat I could see Susan get out of the shower with a towel. She saw me looking at her and smiled and flipped the towel like a fan dancer. I grinned. She grinned. Male issue might be overrated.

  "You do anything with Herb the tracker?"

  Becker laughed.

  "Kid couldn't track a bull through a china shop," Becker said. "I sent him straight over to Hector Tobin's repair shop to get his car in compliance. Last name ain't Simmons, by the way. It's Simpson."

  "Clever alias," I said. "You talked to Tedy Sapp at all?"

  "Nope. He's got no time for me. He's too busy looking after the brood of refugees you dumped on him."

  "You know about that."

  "I sort of pay attention. I got nothing much else to do."

  "You ready to move on Penny?" I said.

  "'Cause you don't like her boyfriend? Or whatever he is."

  "She's got opportunity, and motive."

  "Un-huh."

  "She's got Delroy."

  "Un-huh," Becker said. "You got a murder weapon?"

  "No."

  "Eyewitness?"

  "No."

  "Fingerprints? Powder residue? Confession? Any of that kind of stuff?"

  "If we can arrest somebody, and pressure somebody, we can turn somebody."

  "Sure, do it all the time with guys rob a convenience store. But these aren't guys robbed a convenience store. These are Clives. Gimme some evidence."

  "Maybe the sisters will be in shape to talk with me," I said.

  "I'd like to hear what her sisters have to say."

  "Okay. Everybody who is anybody is heading back down to Lamarr tomorrow. Me too. I'll talk to SueSue and Stonie this weekend."

  "I'm looking forward to it," Becker said.

  "Because you thirst for justice?"

  "Because I always like to see what happens after somebody pokes a stick into a hornet's nest."

  We hung up and I sat for a bit in my chair, thinking and looking at Susan. With the towel contrived in some way to cover all areas of special interest to me, Susan was sitting in the sink in the bathroom, applying her makeup. I wasn't startled by her position anymore. She liked a lot of light and she liked to get close to the mirror and she was small enough so she could, and she took a long time putting on her makeup, so she sat in the sink. Once I'd asked her about it and she had turned the question back. "Wouldn't you sit in the sink," she had said, "if you weren't so big and didn't fit?"

  I was now at a point where I didn't understand why anyone wouldn't sit in the sink.

  DOLLYHARTMAN'S COTTAGEin Saratoga was a cottage in name only. It had Greek Revival columns out front, and a big dining room with a fifteen-foot ceiling where hors d'oeuvres were spread upon a lace tablecloth, and champagne chilled in silver buckets. A couple of kids who would have looked comfortable in jeans looked quite uncomfortable in French maid outfits as they circulated through the house pouring champagne. Dolly was there being the hostess with the mostess in a gauzy white gown that had several layers and made her look vaguely like Little Bo-Peep. Her son, Jason, was with her, greeting guests, looking polished in a crisp black shirt buttoned to the neck, and black linen trousers. Susan got a glass of champagne, which she used mainly as a prop, and went to the buffet table, which, she knew, was where the action would be. People interested Susan. She also knew I needed to be alone with Dolly.

  "How are you doing?" Dolly said.

  "I keep learning more and more, and knowing less and less," I said. "You're sure you can't think of anyone at all that knew of Walter's DNA testing?"

  "Me, Walter, and Dr. Klein," Dolly said. "I can't believe Walter told anyone but me. He was very secretive. Dr. Klein didn't even tell me."

  "Walter told you?"

  "Yes. He called me-the night before he died, as a matter of fact-and told me. He was quite excited about it."

  "Dr. Klein have a relationship with anyone in the Clive family?" I said.

  Dolly was silent for a moment, as if examining something she'd never seen before. Then she smiled.

  "I do believe that Larry might have had a little fling with the Hippie."

  "Sherry Lark?"

  "Or whatever her name is this week," Dolly said.

  "How recent a fling?"

  Dolly smiled some more.

  "Did you ever see the play Same Time Next Year?"

  "I know the premise," I said.

  "Well, it's like that, sort of, I think. Larry and the Hippie would gather occasionally, when she came to Lamarr to see her daughters, or when Larry went to San Francisco to a medical conference."

  "He's married."

  "Yes," Dolly said. "And happily, as far as I can tell. I think Sherry was his walk on the wild side, and God knows he would have been discreet about it."

  "How do you know about it?" I said.

  Dolly smiled widely, and there was a small flush on her lovely cheekbones. She didn't say anything. Larry Klein, you dog.

  "Do you think they might still be, ah, relating?" I said.

  "If they were, I assume they still are."

  "Possibly… Men sometimes reveal confidences to women with whom they are sleeping," I said.

  "Really?" Dolly said. "I'm shocked. Shocked, I tell you."

  I went to find Susan.

  FIFTY-THREE

  I GOT TO Lamarr with the taste of lipstick from Susan's goodbye kiss no longer lingering, but its memory still insistent. Back in my old digs at the Holiday Inn Lamarr, I unpacked my toothbrush and bullets, slept the night, and at seven the next morning was in the hospital cafeteria with Larry Klein, M.D. "How are things going?" Klein said as he organized a couple of sausage biscuits on his plate.

  "Curiouser and curiouser," I said. "Do you know Sherry Lark?"

  Klein smiled.

  "Since she was Sherry Clive," he said.

  "Have you seen her recently?"

  Klein shrugged, and bit into a biscuit.

  "You ask a noncommittal question," I said, "you get a noncommittal answer. When's the last time you saw Sherry?"

  "Wow, that sounds a little coppish," Klein said. "I thought we were pals."

  "I am a little coppish," I said. "And there's a point at which I'm nobody's pal."

  "This the point?"

  "I
t's past the point. When did you see her last?"

  "May, I think. She came to my office."

  "And got right in?" I said.

  "We're old friends."

  "Social visit?"

  "She thought she had a cold. She didn't. She had a seasonal allergy. I gave her some antihistamine samples I had."

  "You mention Walter Clive?"

  Klein stared at me. I could feel him starting to close down.

  "I don't remember. I might have. He's a friend, she's a friend, they used to be married."

  I drank some more coffee.

  "Here's the thing," I said. "I think Walter Clive was killed because of his DNA tests. I think someone knew he was having them and started the horse shooting as a cover-up pending the outcome of the tests."

  "Jesus," Klein said.

  "If the tests were negative, the horse shootings would stop and everything would go on as before. If he did have a son, he got shot and the cops think it's the horse shooter."

  "For God's sake, Spenser, who would be so… so… Who would plan something like that out?"

  "Clive was planning to rewrite his will in favor of male issue, if any."

  Klein looked suddenly as if he had bitten into a toad.

  "Only you, Clive, and Dolly knew about Clive's blood testing," I said. "Only you and Clive knew the results. He told Dolly. Who did you tell?"

  Klein's face had reddened as I talked, and then as I waited for his answer it began to drain, until it was pale and he looked as if he might fall over. If he did, he was in the right place. There'd be a good response to Is there a doctor in the house? I waited.

  "I… I've known Sherry half her life," Klein said.

  I drank some of my coffee. It wasn't very good coffee. But it was hot and contained caffeine, so it was sufficient.

  "I can't believe…" Klein looked at his partly eaten sausage biscuit for a moment and then pushed it away. Good idea.

  I waited. His face began to redden again. Good sign. He probably wasn't going to fall over.

  "You know," he said without looking at me, "that in every elevator, in the washrooms, and in the medical locker rooms, there are these signs that read, 'Respect Patient Confidentiality.' "

  "I've seen them," I said.

  Klein shook his head slowly. "Jesus Christ," he said.

  "You told her," I said. "Didn't you?"

  "Yes."

  "You were pretty good friends, and after all it did involve her ex-husband and, indirectly, her daughters, and what harm would it do? For crissake, she lived way out in San Francisco."

  "Something like that."

  "When did she first know?" I said.

  "A little while after Walter arranged for the tests. I was in San Francisco, at an internal medicine conference. We had dinner together, some wine, you know."

  "Un-huh. And when did she learn the results?"

  "She came to Lamarr that week," Klein said.

  "Amazing how things fall into place, isn't it."

  "She stopped by my office, like I said."

  "And?" I said.

  "We talked about this and that for a while… and I guess it came up… and I told her."

  "When?"

  Klein closed his eyes as if thinking back over the scene.

  "Walter's folder was still on my desk. I remember her seeing it, and commenting. It's probably what gave rise to the question."

  "Sure," I said.

  "You think she came on purpose, to find out?"

  "Yes. Why was the folder out?"

  "I had called Walter with the results."

  "So she knew the same day he did."

  "Yes."

  My coffee cup was empty. I went up to get some more, and when I came back Klein had his head in his hands.

  "Does anyone have to know this?"

  "Probably not," I said. "I won't mention it if I don't have to."

  "I never thought… You think it led to the murder, don't you?"

  "Yes."

  "You think Sherry did it?"

  "To protect her girls?" I said.

  "Oh, I don't think so," Klein said. "She wasn't a dedicated mother."

  "I gather. If so, then she had no motive."

  "Hatred of Dolly?" Klein said.

  I nodded slowly.

  "That would be a motive," I said.

  "Sherry is very odd," Klein said. "I…" He let it trail away.

  I drank some more of the bad coffee.

  "Tell me something," I said. "I don't mean to pry, but when you and she were having sex, did she whisper things like 'Right on' and 'Give peace a chance'?"

  Klein's head jerked up and he stared at me with his mouth hanging open. He shut it and opened it again and said nothing and shut it.

  "None of my business anyway," I said.

  "How did you know we had sex?" Klein said hoarsely.

  "I'm a detective," I said.

  IWENT BACKto my motel, hoping that Dr. Klein didn't have a complicated diagnosis today. It was quarter to nine when I got there. I went to the dining room and had breakfast. In the middle of breakfast I had a thought. I was pleased to have it. I'd had so few recently.

  Knowing that Walter was having paternity DNA testing was not enough information to get him killed. Someone would also have to know about the prospective change in his will. I finished breakfast and went to see Rudy Vallone.

  "Dalton Becker says that Clive was planning to change his will," I said when I was in his office and seated in front of his desk.

  "Always right to the point," Vallone said.

  "Always," I said. "Somebody had to know that besides Clive."

  "Why?"

  "Trust me," I said. "Who could have known Clive's intention besides you?"

  "It was merely inquiry, sir. It was not yet an intention."

  "Who knew of his inquiry?"

  "Whoever he may have told," Vallone said.

  "You didn't tell anyone?"

  "Of course not."

  I had another thought, two in the same morning. And this one was inspired.

  "You know Sherry Lark?" I said. "The former Mrs. Clive?"

  "Of course," Vallone said.

  "You tell her?"

  I thought Vallone colored a little bit. That's probably as close as lawyers can get to blushing.

  "Of course not," Vallone said. "Why on earth would I tell Sherry?"

  "In a fit of passion," I said.

  Vallone colored a little more.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Listen," I said. "I can find this out. It's just time and money and I've got some of both. But why drag it out? Sherry's a free spirit. She probably had reason to want to prove herself desirable, and to do so with her husband's associates. You bopped her, didn't you?"

  Vallone struggled for a moment but his essential self won out. He bragged about it. "Her idea," he said. He leaned back in his chair and took out a cigar and began to trim the end with a small silver knife.

  "Last time she was in town she came to see me. I knew her from the old days. We, ah, used to get together now and then, and when she came to see me this time, she said she was hoping we could sort of pick up where we left off so long ago."

  He paused while he got his cigar burning. "You've seen her?"

  I nodded.

  "Sherry's still a fine-looking woman to my eye, and…" He shrugged.

  I waited.

  "Right there on that couch," he said.

  "And in those scant moments when you weren't telling each other how it was just like it always was, she might have asked about Walter and you might have let slip that he was thinking of changing his will."

  "You know how it is when you're in heat," Vallone said.

  "I'm proud to say that I do."

  ***

  AT TEN-THIRTY,WHICH would make it seven-thirty Pacific time, I called Sherry Lark. It was probably too early; my memory was that hippies slept late. But it was as long as I could stand to wait. When she answered her voice told me I was right. She'd been asleep.


  "Spenser," I said, "remember me? Square-jawed, clear-eyed, waffles at Sears?"

  "Oh… yeah… sure. Why are you calling me?"

  "For this case I'm working on," I said. "Did you tell all your daughters about Walter's DNA results, or just Penny?"

  "Whaaat?"

  "Come on, Sherry, I know you knew, and I know you told. I'm only asking which ones."

  "I'm not about to betray my daughters…"

  "I know a homicide cop out there named O'Gar," I said. "If I ask him to, he'll come and haul your flower child butt down to the Hall of Justice and question you in a back room under hot lights."

  "I…"

  "Who'd you tell, Sherry? It's either me, now, the easy way, or O'Gar, soon, the hard way."

  "I only told Penny. She's the only one with the spunk to stand up to her father."

  "And you told her he was planning to change his will."

  "He was going to give their inheritance to that whore's bastard."

  "And you couldn't tolerate her winning like that," I said.

  "I'm looking out for my daughters," she said.

  "Mother love," I said.

  And hung up. I didn't think Sherry Lark had killed Walter Clive. But somebody had, and Penny kept looking better.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  I SAT WITH Tedy Sapp and the Clive outcasts around a big table eating pizza in the corner of the Bath House Bar and Grill. Sapp was drinking coffee. Everyone else had iced tea, except me. I didn't like iced tea. Sapp was beside me to my right. Cord Wyatt was on the other side. Beyond him was Stonie, then SueSue, then Pud. All of the Clive exiles were looking better than they had. Pud's eyes were clear and his face had lost a lot of the ruddy mottle that he used to sport. Cord seemed more at ease in these surroundings. The two women had brushed their short hair as best they could and put on makeup. They were dressed normally. Life had returned to their eyes. And their bearing was no longer feral. Since she had once called me a hunk, I figured SueSue was the one I should talk to.

  "Tell me what happened to you," I said.

  Sitting beside SueSue, Pud put his open hand on her back and patted a little. SueSue looked at Stonie. She took a deep breath through her nose.

  "After Daddy… died, Penny sat down with us. She said that it was terrible that Daddy had died. But that we shouldn't worry, that she could run things, in fact she had run things for a while, and Three Fillies would go on as if Daddy were alive."