“Did you?”
“I guess I did. It was his decision.”
“He was a homosexual.”
“Well…I would say bisexual.”
“You would?”
“Yes.”
“Did he have female sexual partners?”
“None that I know. Me, I guess.”
“Recently?”
“Recently?” She smiled. “Well, no. It’d been a few years since he and I…”
“Then why would you say he was bisexual?”
“That’s what he called himself. I think he would have known.”
“How long were you married?”
“Twelve years.”
“Did you know he was ho — bisexual when you married him?”
She gave him another appraising look. Hastings was beginning not to like her. She said, “Why do you want to know?”
“It may be important.”
“It may be you’re prying. Or something else.”
“It’s not something else,” Hastings said, knowing that would bruise her a little bit.
“You want to know about our sex life? Is that it?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Yeah, we very active. We had some good fucks. Just about everyday. There were no problems between us.”
Hastings kept his sigh to himself. She was trying to shock what she believed were his middle class sensibilities. He said, “Yet he left.”
“He wanted to do other things. Go in another direction. We didn’t split up because he was cheating on me. Or me him. We understood each other.”
“Would you have preferred to remain in the marriage?”
“Not really. I had other interests too. We were both open minded.”
“Open minded — you mean, you had an open marriage?”
“We had an understanding. Something I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
“No, I probably wouldn’t,” Hastings said. He was aware that she was trying to bait him now. He said, “I’m a little out of date on things like this. Is the proper term ‘swinging?’”
“Yeah. That’s a fair way to describe it.”
“And when was the last time you and he engaged in a…swing?”
“You mean an orgy?”
“Yeah.”
“Not for a long time. Years ago. We didn’t do it after we were divorced.”
“Did you like Johnny?”
“Sure. We were good friends. He was a good father. You think I didn’t mourn him?”
Hastings shrugged, like he didn’t really know or care one way or the other. He asked, “Was he into drugs?”
“Not heavily. He liked his dope. But he wasn’t a cokehead or nothing.”
“How did you meet him?”
“We worked at a bar together.”
“Was he into the photography when you met him?”
“No.” She seemed to hesitate for a moment. “No, that came later.”
“He was good at photographing women, wasn’t he?”
“I thought he was. He photographed me. I would…I would pose for him. You know, stuff for just us. And then he started taking photos of my friends, his friends. Then he got serious about it. Started doing it for money.”
“You mean, started taking pictures for money.”
“Yeah. What did you think I meant?”
“Nothing. Would you say he was a deviant fellow?”
“Deviant…why, because he was gay?”
“No. That’s not what I meant.”
“What then?”
“I think you know what I meant.”
“He liked men and women. He understood women. He was not a freak.”
“Okay.”
“Not a freak.”
Hastings gave her an impassive look, holding it for a moment. She looked away from him. It was a small victory.
Hastings said, “When he photographed you, did you trust him?”
“Yes. He was my husband.”
“Were there more than photographs?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did he videotape you? The two of you together?”
She bristled. “That’s none of your business.”
“Did he?”
“Yes, he did. So what? We were married. We didn’t hurt anyone. Everybody does that these days. It’s no big deal.”
“Did you get alimony in the divorce?”
“No.”
“Did you ask for it? Don’t lie to me, because I’ll find out the truth anyway.”
“Yeah, I did. But I — I didn’t get it. He didn’t have anything. After he lost his job with the pharmaceutical company, he lived hand to mouth.”
“He had photos and tapes of you.”
“Yeah, he had that. And he probably still does. I know what you’re suggesting and it’s shitty.”
“What am I suggesting?”
“That he threatened to show these pictures and videotapes of me if I didn’t back down in the divorce.”
“Did I say that?”
“You implied it. But he didn’t do that. He would not have done that.”
“Okay.”
“And here’s something you don’t understand: I wouldn’t have cared if he did. It’s only shameful if you’re ashamed. And I’m not ashamed of anything.”
“Got it.”
“You’re all wrong about him. You’re as bad as his dad.”
“How so?”
“Judging. Looking down on him.”
“I’m trying to find out who killed him. And I interviewed his father.”
“I’ll bet you two got along great.”
“He thought well of you.”
“That’s a lie. He and Tudi hated Johnny. Why don’t you check on them?”
“I have.” Hastings left it out there.
“They didn’t even know him. I knew him way better than they did.”
“I’m sure you did. Tudi took a clock from Johnny’s apartment. She said it was a family heirloom. Was it?”
Miranda Rodgers stared at him for a moment. It caught him off guard. She said, “A clock?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of clock?”
“It was a sort of wood clock with chimes, shaped like a bell curve. With hands you set by hand. You remember it?”
“Oh…yes. I remember it.”
“Did it belong to his family?”
“I guess. Fuck her, she can have it.”
A most distasteful woman, Hastings thought. She had more in common with the victim’s sister than she understood. Hastings said, “Johnny was supposed to meet someone at the lake named ‘B.B.’ Know anyone with those initials?”
“No.”
“Okay. Did you have a key to his apartment?”
“No.”
“All right. There was a computer missing from Johnny’s apartment. We believe he stored his photos on it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Do you have it?”
“No.”
“Would you mind if we checked your home to make sure?”
“Don’t you need a warrant for that?”
“Not if you give us permission. Is there some reason you wouldn’t?”
“No reason. Come anytime. I don’t have it, though.”
Murph and Rhodes searched her home later that afternoon. Miranda Rodgers was there when they did it. They didn’t find Johnny’s laptop computer.
They called Hastings from the squad room and talked with him on the speaker phone. Hastings was standing outside his lawyer’s office.
Murph said, “The whole time we were going through the place, she was sitting on the kitchen counter, her skirt hiked up, you know, wanting us to look at it. Well, not so much me. I guess she prefers the tall, dark and handsome types.”
Hastings said, “She came onto Howard?”
“And how,” Murph said. “At one point, she looked at him and said, ‘You see anything you like?’”
Hastings said, “That true, Howard?”
Murph said, “It was a psych game. She was trying to distract us. Or get us mad at each other, competing for her. I don’t know. She’s very bad news.”
Hastings said, “But her alibis checked out.”
“Oh,” Rhodes said. “We got a pair of her shoes.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. I saw what she was trying to do with me. She had this long black and white photo of her legs in her room. I asked if it was her legs in the photos. She said they were. So she was thinking I had some sort of shoe fetish. So I went along and said, ‘Can I see your shoes?’ And she smiled and took me to her bedroom closet. And I picked out a pair of tennis shoes.”
Murph laughed. “Yeah, Howard picks up her tennis shoe and nods his head up and down and says, ‘Very nice.’ And she didn’t know what the fuck to make of that. I was standing behind her, about to fucking lose it, and Howard stared at her, dead serious, not breaking character. And finally she says, ‘Really?’”
“And she let me take it,” Rhodes said.
Hastings said, “That’s great.”
“I checked it with the cast of the footprint they made at the tech lab,” Rhodes said. “It doesn’t match.”
Murph said, “I think she’s expecting a call from Howard, though.”
Hastings said, “Yeah, that’s all we fucking need.”
Rhodes said, “I’d say we can cross her off the list.”
“I agree,” Hastings said.
Murph said, “You’re at your lawyer’s?”
“Yeah, my lawyer’s taking Bradbury’s deposition. I’d rather not be here, but…Henry sort of insisted.”
“Man,” Murph said. “That’s going to be tough. Having to sit across from that table and listen to that fucker lie.”
“I’ve endured worse,” Hastings said.
• • •
Ryan Bradbury wore a checked blazer and a silk blue shirt. He started out smiling, affecting a chamber of commerce nonchalance, calling Brummell by his first name. But Brummell continued asking questions patiently and when it came to the murder of Toni McElroy and the attempted murder of her mother and his ex-wife, Bradbury started saying “I don’t recall” again and again.
Simon Cray sat next to him, glaring at Hastings and his attorney.
In time Bradbury said, “I’ve told you, I don’t recall.”
Brummell said, “You don’t seem to recall anything about that night.”
“I wasn’t there. Look, the jury acquitted me. The thing’s already been decided.”
“Your criminal trial’s already been decided,” Brummell said. “Since then, you’ve filed this suit. That means Mr. Hastings’s lawyer gets to ask you questions and you have to answer them.”
“We already went over these things at my trial.”
“You didn’t testify at your trial.”
“So what?”
“So you must testify at this deposition. That’s the civil litigation process.”
Bradbury started at Henry Brummell. And Brummell looked back at him and said, “I have plenty of time, Mr. Bradbury.”
“You don’t intimidate me, counselor. Ask your questions.”
“Errol Jones testified that you told him, ‘I’m going to kill that bitch.’ Did you say that?”
“No.”
“So Mr. Jones lied?”
“Yes.”
“Why would he have said that?”
“I have no idea.”
“Which bitch were you referring to? Your wife or your stepdaughter?”
“I already told you, I never said that to Errol.”
“Did you say it to anyone?”
“No.”
“Not ever?”
“No.”
“Isn’t it true you threatened to kill the judge who was handling your divorce?”
“No.”
“Rana has sworn under oath that you did.”
“She said a lot of things.”
“Are all of them untrue?”
“About ninety nine percent.”
“Was she lying when she said you punched her in the face?”
“Yes.”
“Was she lying when she said you threw her on the ground and kicked her in the stomach?”
“Yes.”
“She went to the emergency room after one of these beatings. We have the records. If you didn’t hit her, where did those contusions come from?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she fell.”
“How many — falls -- did she have during your marriage?”
“I don’t recall.”
Brummell stared at Bradbury for a few moments. Then he said, “About a year ago, Rana gave Toni a puppy. Do you remember that?”
“Yes.”
“The dog’s name was Sadie. Correct?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“And you broke that puppy’s neck, didn’t you? And killed it.”
“Objection,” Simon Cray said. “The prosecution tried to bring this in at trial and the judge ruled it was inadmissible.”
“So what?” Brummell said. “As I’ve already pointed out, this is a separate case. A civil action your client has brought.”
“It’s not relevant,” Cray said. “Move on.”
“I will not move on,” Brummell said. “Are you instructing this witness to refuse to answer the question?”
“No. But I just told you it’s not relevant.”
“I don’t care what you think is or is not relevant. You’re not the judge here. This is a discovery deposition. Either he answers the question or I call the judge and he’ll order him to answer it.”
Cray didn’t answer Brummell. He just stared at him with a sort of bullying contempt. Brummell sighed and pulled out his cell phone.
“All right,” Cray said. He turned to Bradbury and said, “Go ahead.”
“I didn’t kill that stupid little dog,” Bradbury said. “I was just punishing him and…it was an accident.”
“You accidentally picked him up and twisted his neck and killed him?”
“He shit on the fucking carpet. I told them not to get a fucking dog. But they didn’t listen. If they had listened to me, that would have never happened.”
“So it was their fault?”
“Yes.”
“You feel no remorse about it?”
“Why should I?”
Hastings scribbled a note on a piece of paper and handed it to Brummell. Brummell read it and handed it back to Hastings.
Brummell said, “Approximately eighteen months ago, Toni brought home a report card. She got a C in math. How did you feel about that?”
“Report card? I don’t remember that.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“Isn’t it true you punished her for that C?”
“I may have spoken to her about it. I don’t recall exactly.”
“Mr. Bradbury, you didn’t speak to her about it. You whipped her with your belt.”
“I punished her. I did not — I did not hurt her.”
“She had welts on her back and her buttocks. You gave them to her, didn’t you?”
“If I did — if I did, it was no worse than what my daddy did to me.”
“Well did you or didn’t you?”
“I…yes, I punished her.”
“With a belt.”
“I may have. Yes.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I didn’t say I did it.”
“Well, the record will speak for itself. You say your dad beat you with a belt?”
“Yes.”
“And you feel that’s appropriate punishment for a child.”
“There’s no law against it.”
“You sure about that? Some people would call it battery.”
“I was never charged with battery. I don’t see the point of this.”
“She got a bad grade.”
“Yes.”
“It was not satisfactory to you?”
“It was not. She was capable of better.”
“So…punishment was merited?”
“I believe so.”
“But she wasn’t your daughter, was she?”
“She was my stepdaughter. She was in my care. By the way, Rana and I had discussed the possibility of my adopting Toni. I’ll bet she didn’t tell you that, did she?”
Brummell looked at Bradbury, but didn’t answer him. He said, “Why would you want to adopt her?”
Bradbury seemed pleased with himself. He said, “I wanted to take care of her.”
Brummell stared at Bradbury for a long moment. Then in a quiet voice, Brummell said, “I’m sure you did.”
Bradbury didn’t get it at first. But his lawyer did. Cray said, “That is unprofessional, counsel. And uncalled for. If that’s the kind of —”
Brummell waved him off and said, “Isn’t it true you punished Toni another time when she was late for dinner?”
“Yes. You’ve got to set boundaries for kids.”
“Boundaries? Come now, Mr. Bradbury. Isn’t it more accurate to say you were more interested in control?”
“No.”
“You wanted to control Rana and her daughter, didn’t you?”
“I wanted them to respect the rules of my home. If they didn’t want to do that, then they —” Bradbury stopped himself.
“Then what? They would suffer the consequences?”
Bradbury said nothing.
“Mr. Bradbury, I asked you a question. If they didn’t want to respect the rules of your home, what were you going to do?”
“I don’t remember.”
“I see. Do you remember telling Rana that if she ever tried to leave you, you would break her neck too?”
Bradbury stared at him.
Hastings looked at Brummell then back at Bradbury.
Brummell said, “I’ve asked you a question.”
Bradbury folded his arms. “I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that it may incriminate me.”
Brummell tilted his head and smiled. “You mean you’re pleading the fifth amendment?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m afraid that doesn’t apply here, Mr. Bradbury. You’ve already been acquitted of first degree murder.”
Bradbury turned to Simon Cray. Cray said, “I think he can still plead the fifth.”
“I don’t think he can.”
Cray said, “We’ll take it up with the judge.”
“So you’re advising this witness not to answer the question?”
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