Deception: An Alex Delaware Novel (10 page)

Milo remained impassive. Hauer turned to me for empathy. I pretended to be a DMV clerk.

He said, "What I'm trying to get across is, Elise began talking about her childhood. A very unpleasant childhood, as it turned out."

"How so, Mr. Hauer?"

"A father who withheld love. In my view, it had turned Elise needy and vulnerable. That particular night, her point was that she'd escaped an unsatisfying family situation and had no desire to repeat it. Hence, 'I'm not into pain, Rico.' To my mind it sounded like anxious denial--trying to convince herself that she was strong. On the other hand, not repeating history would be a positive step, so I didn't debate her."

Hauer turned serious. "She yearned for gentleness. In fact, I'd say that was the unifying concept of her sexually. That's why I find it so unnerving that someone has harmed her. Was it violent?"

"We're keeping the details to ourselves for now."

"Yes," said Hauer. "That makes sense."

Milo said, "You always treated her gently."

"I'm a guy who loves to make women happy, Lieutenant. The pleasure of others increases my own."

"So if a woman wanted it rough, you'd oblige."

"Within bounds, but that wasn't Elise. Quite the opposite, she was more tickle than tussle."

Milo flipped pages in his pad. Hauer looked out to the garden, smiled serenely.

"You like working at Prep?"

"For the time being."

"Thinking of leaving?"

"Not imminently," said Hauer, "but I do like to keep life well seasoned. A few years ago I rode my motorcycle from San Diego into Central America. Shortly after that, I managed to enter Myanmar--Burma--on a cargo ship. That is a place Americans are advised against visiting. I managed quite nicely for two weeks. I've lived on the isle of Gibraltar, observing the monkeys. I've studied flamenco guitar in Andalusia--as a historian, not a musician."

"So one day you might just pick up and take another adventure."

"Life is adventure."

I said, "Where are you from?"

"A place where Italians speak Spanish and think they're Germans." Smile. "Argentina. But America suits me better. The land of endless opportunity."

"Like a Ph.D. in psychology."

"Or a position at a think tank, or ten more years teaching bright, nervous kids." A big hand waved. "Whatever life brings."

"What aspect of psychology would you study?"

"I would become a master psychotherapist."

"Isn't the Ph.D. a research degree?" I said. "Least that's what my cousin the psychologist says."

"I would research becoming a master psychotherapist. My secondary topic would be psychotherapeutic valences as they enhance affective gestalt."

Gibberish; I nodded as if it were profound.

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.

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?"