“Knowing the right matches, who fits with who. I figured you’d be okay for them because you have all the right paper, probably wouldn’t fuck up.”
I smiled. “Thanks for the endorsement, Brent.”
“They canceled, huh? So what else is new.”
“Why’d they bail on your deal?”
“Not my deal, a deal between titans, I’m talking A-est of the A-list, something that could’ve been huge. I set it up elegantly, if it had gone through, I’d never have to think about anything for the rest of my life.”
“Blockbuster.”
“Blockbuster times a quintzillion, Alex. I’m talking action, romance, long and short arcs, merchandising potential up the wazz, sequels that would’ve gone on for infinity. I’m talking the biggest thing they’d do together, wa-aaay bigger than Passion Power and that piece of shit pulled in heavy eight figures with overseas distribution. The upside would’ve been astronomical. More important, I staked my word on it, staked my fucking soul. Everything was in place, contracts drawn, clauses hammered out, legal fees alone cost more than entire pictures used to rack up. We were set up for a signing, going to make a big thing about it, press conference, photo ops. The day before, they change their mind.”
“How come?”
“People like that have to give a reason?” His fist hit the table. The wineglass bounced. He caught it. “Gotcha, you little bastard.”
Beckoning the waiter, he brandished the glass. “Take this away, it’s annoying.”
“Yes, sir.”
Flecks of foam had collected at the corners of Brent’s mouth. He made claws out of his hands, scratched air. “I put everything into it, Alex. Hadn’t taken on another client the entire year and I’m talking names, people pissed off at me. Everything else came my way, I delegated to other agents at the firm. So of course, my alleged friends and colleagues held on to everything after I got … after the deal got murdered and I had nothing, was starting from fucking scratch and my credibility’s worse than a politician. Everything changed. I got moved to a new office. Want to take odds it was bigger? Don’t.” Long sigh. “But I’m getting back to a good place in my life, every day’s progress.”
He shoved his plate to the side. “The deal was perfection, every meeting was perfection. And for a bullshit reason like that? Give me a fucking break.”
I said, “Thought they didn’t give you a reason?”
“I said that? I never said that. What I said was people like that don’t have to have a reason. Yeah, they gave an excuse. Family matters. And that’s after I referred them to you, so what the fuck was their problem?”
His eyelids dropped farther. “Here’s a confession, Alex. For a while I got paranoid. About you. Did they go see you and you laid some shrink crap on them—spend more time with the kids, whatever—and that’s what fucked things up? For a while I had … thoughts about you. Then I realized I was getting psycho, if I didn’t watch out I’d go totally psycho.”
He reached across, patted my wrist. “I have to be honest, that’s one reason I wanted to meet with you. To find out what the fuck happened. So now I find out you don’t know what the fuck happened and you’re asking me what the fuck happened. Funny. Ironic. Ha ha ha. And they’re in some kind of trouble. Good. I’m happy. They should rot in hell.”
“What kind of people are they?”
“What kind do you think? Selfish, narcissistic, inconsiderate, he’s an idiot, she’s a controlling bitch. You buy that Super Mom-Super Dad crap? It’s just part of the façade, everything about people like that is a façade. You ever hear him talk? Dluh dluh dluh dluh. That’s what passes for James Dean, now. Welcome to my world.”
The waiter came over. “Anything else, gents? Coffee?”
Brent said, “No. Check.”
I paid.
Brent said, “Good man.”
CHAPTER
43
I reached Milo at the coroner’s.
“Just watched a .45 slug get pulled out of Wedd’s head, a weapon ever shows up, it’s early Christmas. His apartment was vacant except for a mattress on the bedroom floor and some over-the-counter pharmaceuticals in the john. He used to get heartburn and headaches, now he’s passed both along to me. Had the place dusted, sent the meds and the mattress to the lab, located one relative, Wedd’s brother, cowboy-type in Montana where Wedd’s originally from. No contact with Brother Mel for years, was appropriately shocked about the murder, said Mel was always the wild one but he never figured it would get that bad.”
He paused for breath.
I said, “Wild but no criminal record.”
“Minor-league stuff when he was young—joyriding, malicious pranks, neighborhood mischief, a few fights. No criminal record because the sheriff was his uncle, he’d bring Mel home and Mel’s dad would whup him. Then Mel got bigger than Dad and the parents basically gave up.”
“When did he come to L.A.?”
“Ten years ago, brother’s had no contact with him since. He wasn’t surprised to know Mel had gone Hollywood. Said the only thing Mel liked in high school was theater arts, he was always getting starring roles, could sing like Hank Williams, do impressions. John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, you name it.”
“I’ve got something. You might even think of it as progress.”
I told him about the order from JayMar Lab, my talks with Kevin Dubinsky and Brent Dorf. Leaving out Len Coates because everything he knew was secondhand.
Milo said, “Knives and beetles. Her.”
“Purchased right around the time the baby was born. Poor little thing might’ve been targeted in utero.”
“I need to digest this … got time? My office, an hour.”
Midway through the drive to the station, I got a call from Len.
“Alex, I can’t tell you where I got this, so don’t ask, okay?”
“Okay.”
“The client we discussed did in fact opt for a therapist other than yourself. But the contact was limited to a single visit so obviously there was some serious resistance going on, don’t take it personally.”
“Thanks for the reassurance, Len.”
“Well,” he said, “we have feelings, too, no one likes to be passed over.”
“Agreed. One visit for what?”
He cleared his throat. “Here’s what I can tell you, please don’t ask for more: Client shows up late, can’t seem to articulate a good reason for being there, leaves before the session is over.”
I said, “Trouble focusing.” Thinking of Donny Rader’s voice on the line, his reputation as a barely literate dullard.
Then Len slipped and changed all that. “She … there was a lot of generalized anxiety, no ability to … explicate. Basically, it amounted to nothing, Alex, so I don’t see anything you can do with it.”
She.
“I’m sure you’re right, Len. Thanks.”
“Law enforcement issues notwithstanding, Alex, none of this can ever be repeated to anyone.”
“I get it, Len. You have my word.”
“Good … you still taking patients?”
“Infrequently.”
“I’m asking because sometimes I get run-over. Good cases, not bullshit ones, things get crazy-busy, I could use backup.”
“Beyond your associates.”
“They’re kids, Alex. We’re vets. You interested?”
“Something short-term, in a pinch, I might be able to help.”
“Pretty busy, yourself.”
“It can get that way.”
“Playing Sherlock, huh? Ever think of selling yourself to TV? Make a good series.”
“Not really.”
“No interest at all?”
“I like the quiet life.”
“Think about it anyway, I’d produce in a heartbeat. And don’t be a stranger.”
I continued toward the station, thought about Donny Rader setting up an appointment, Prema Moon showing up late and leaving early, unable to explain what she was after.
A couple of nervou
s, caring parents? That didn’t fit with the notion of cold-blooded baby killers. Something was off. I was struggling with that when Milo rang in.
“Almost there,” I said.
“Change of plans.”
He laid them out. I got on the freeway, sped downtown.
CHAPTER
44
The chief had opted to hide in plain sight, designating the meet at Number One Fortune Dim Sum Palace, one of those arena-sized places in Chinatown that still feature gluey chop suey, oil-drenched moo goo gai pan, and seafood of mysterious origin.
The air was humid with steam, sweat, and MSG. Linoleum floors had been pounded dull by decades of feet. The walls were red, green, more red, raised panels embossed with gold dragon medallions and outsized renderings of birds, fish, and bats. Chinese lettering might have meant something. Hundreds of lunchers were crammed into vault-like dining rooms, tended by ancient waiters in black poly Mao suits and tasseled gold beanies who moved as if running for their lives.
Enough clatter and din to make the Grill seem like a monastery. If there was a caste system behind this seating scheme, I couldn’t decipher it, and when Milo asked to be directed to the chief’s table, the stunning hostess looked at him as if he was stupid.
“We don’t take reservations and we have eight rooms.”
We set out on the hunt, finally spotted him at a smallish table near the center of the sixth room surrounded by hordes engrossed in their food. No one paying attention to the white-haired, mustachioed man in the black shadow-stripe suit, white silk tab-collar shirt, gray-yellow-scarlet Leonard tie that screamed more is more.
He saw us when we were thirty feet away, looked up from chop-sticking noodles into his mouth, wiped his mouth and drank from a glass of dark beer.
I looked around for his bodyguards, spotted a pair of cold-eyed burlies four tables over, pretending to concentrate on a platter of something brown.
“Sit down. I ordered spareribs, pepper steak, shrimp-fried rice, and some sort of deep-fried chicken thing, hopefully they won’t include the damn feet.” Glancing at Milo. “You I know will eat anything.” To me: “That sound suitable for your constitution?”
“Sure.”
“Easy to please today, Doc? Strange phase of the moon?”
He’d been trying to hire me full-time for years, had never accepted failure with anything approaching good nature.
He returned to eating, chopsticks whirling like darning needles. Excellent fine-motor coordination motivated a huge load of noodles under the mustache. He chewed, had more beer, looked around. “Damn barn.”
One of the old waiters brought tea and beer and sped away.
The chief said, “You stirred up a hornets’ nest, Doctor.”
“Keeps life interesting.”
“Maybe yours. Okay, give me a brief summary. And I mean brief. You, not Sturgis. He already went over the basics when he called and made my life complicated.”
I said, “At least three people who lived at Premadonny’s compound have been murdered.”
“Three?” he said. “I’ve got the nanny and the guy—Wedd.”
“The baby found in the park.”
“That,” he said. “All right, go on. Why do you suspect dark events at Xanadu?”
“A couple of years ago, I received a call from a man I believe to be Donny Rader, requesting help—”
“Why do you think it was him?”
“The way he spoke.”
“Like a moron.”
“Indistinctly,” I said.
“Okay, he needed a shrink for a brat, he’s an actor, big surprise. What else?”
“I set up an appointment that was canceled. I didn’t think much of it. But the death of one, maybe two child-care workers got me wondering about the family situation and I tried to learn as much as I could. That turned out to be next to nothing because the family’s basically gone underground. Moon and Rader used to be ultra-public figures. They peddled their fame. Now they’ve disappeared. No venturing out in public, no chatter on the Web, and right around the time I got that call they abruptly canceled a major film project due to ‘family issues.’ ”
“Maybe they didn’t like the script.”
The waiter returned. Platters were slammed down unceremoniously. The chief said, “So they’re miserable maladjusts. So what?”
“My experience is that extremely isolated families are often breeding grounds for psychopathology. Three people with connections to them are dead. Something’s going on there.”
“Sounds like you’ve got nothing, Doc.”
“Until recently, I would’ve agreed with you. Then I learned that Prema Moon purchased flesh-eating beetles and surgical tools. Right around the time the baby was born.”
“Show me the proof.”
I produced the form from JayMar, began explaining the purchasing process.
He cut me off. “They’ve got peons to wipe their asses for them, another big shock.” He put on glasses, read, frowned, slid the form into an inner jacket pocket.
Milo said, “Only thing missing, sir, is beeswax. If we can get access to the rest of their—”
The chief waved him quiet. “Beetles. Crazy bitch. How exactly did you get hold of the form, Doctor?”
“I called supply houses pretending to be someone from Apex, said I wanted to renew the order. Eventually, I found the right one.”
“Planning on billing the department for your time?”
“Hadn’t thought about it.”
“You just do this for fun, huh?”
“I’m a curious guy.”
“How long did it take you to find the right company?”
“A few hours.”
“You’re a persistent bastard, aren’t you?”
“I can be.”
“Deceptive, too … no telling how that’ll play into the hands of some nuclear-powered lawyer. If you’re deemed a police agent, it could open up claims of insufficient grounds, hence illegal search. Which is probably bullshit but with judges you never know. If you’re deemed to be a civilian, it could open you up to some ball-squeezing cross-examination, not to mention an invasion-of-privacy suit by people who can buy and sell you a thousand times over. That happens, forget any chance of a quiet life for the foreseeable future. These people are like governments, they go to war. You willing to take that risk?”
I said, “Sounds like you’re trying to discourage me.”
He put his chopsticks down. “I think long-term, Alex.” First time he’d used my name. “That separates me from ninety-nine percent of the population. Even at Harvard.”
He loved putting down the Ivy League, rarely missed the opportunity to bring up his graduate degree from the iviest of all.
I said, “You think I was wrong to dig up the information.”
“I think this could get nasty.”
“What happened to that baby was beyond nasty.”
He glared. “I got a white knight here.” Lifting a sparerib with his fingers, he chewed down to the bone, ingesting meat, gristle, and fat. “Take one, Sturgis. You not stuffing your face scares me. It’s like the sun stopping mid-orbit.”
Milo spooned some fried rice onto his plate.
The chief said, “Not into ribs, today, Lieutenant?”
“This is fine, sir.”
The chief smirked. “Establishing your independence? That makes you feel like a grown-up, be my guest.” To me: “This is a mess.”
He reached for the plate. Another rib got gnawed to the bone.
I said, “Another thing I did—”
“Another thing? Jesus Almighty, you figure you’re running your own investigation?” His eyes shifted to Milo. Milo’s head was down as he shoveled rice into his maw.
The chief turned back to me. “What?”
I told him about the morning’s hike. “None of the principals entered or exited the compound but I did learn that it’s a pretty busy place. In the space of three hours, I saw a seven-man groundskeeping crew, a
grocery delivery, a repairman from a home-theater outfit, and a plumber. I copied down the tags—”
“Why?”
“I figured it might offer a possible way to get in—”
“Sturgis pretends to be a gardener or a plumber? Habla español, Sturgis? Know how to unclog a sink? I do, my father was a plumber, I spent my summers elbow-deep in rich people’s muck. You ever do that, Sturgis? Wade in rich folk shit?”
Milo said, “Frequently, sir.”
“Don’t like the job?”
“Love it, sir. It is what it is.”
The chief looked ready to spit. “Don Quixote and Sancho Panza … so, being a psychologist, Doc, you figure a crafty way to gain entry would be to hitch a ride with one of the peasants who services the castle, once you’re inside, you just mosey around at random in the hope of stumbling across definitive evidence?”
“I was hoping to catch Moon, Rader, or any of the kids leaving. But when I saw the volume of traffic, it occurred to me there might be an opening.”
“If Moon or Rader had left, you figured to tail them.”
“Discreetly.”
His face darkened. “Dr. Do-A-Lot. You talk to animals, as well?”
“If I’ve overstepped, I’m sorry.”
“Overstepped?” He laughed. “More like you’ve invented new dance moves. What day does the garbage get taken out at that place?”
Milo said, “I’ll find out.” He walked to the dining room doorway, talked on his cell.
The chief returned to his ribs, tried some pepper steak. Pincer-grasped a plump little pink shrimp out of the fried rice. “Not hungry, Doc?”
“Actually, I am.” I tried a rib. Greasy and delicious.
“Just like you,” said the chief.
“Pardon?”
“You’re like the damn ribs. Unhealthy but satisfying. Congratulations, Sturgis plodded along but you’re the one who learned something.”
“He—”
“No need to defend him, I know what he is, he’s good at what he does, as good as I’m gonna get. You, on the other hand, are a different animal. You piss me off without trying. You also make me wonder what the department would be like if everyone was super-smart and psychotically driven. Don’t tell Sturgis I said that, you’ll hurt his feelings.”
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