Guilt (27 page)

A hand shot out. “Floyd Banfer.”

“Milo Sturgis, this is Alex Delaware.”

Shakes all around. Banfer’s grip was a mite too firm, his arm remained stiff, his eyes wary. The smile he’d arrived with seemed glued to his face. “Pretty morning, eh?”

“Don’t imagine Beverly Hills would allow anything less, Counselor.”

Banfer chuckled. “You’d be surprised.” His suit was the same dark gray we’d seen yesterday, a slightly shiny silk-and-wool. His shirt was a TV blue spread-collar, his tie a pink Hermès patterned with bugles. Fifty to fifty-five, with thin, wavy hair tinted brown and throwing off red highlights the way men’s dyed hair often does, he radiated an odd mix of good cheer and anxiety. As if he enjoyed being on edge.

Milo motioned to the space we’d created between us on the bench.

Banfer said, “Mind if we walk? That piece of shit they call art makes me queasy and any chance to exercise is welcome.”

“Sure.”

The three of us headed west. The granite pathways are supposed to resist dust but Banfer’s black wingtips turned gray within seconds. Every few yards, he managed to wipe the shoes on the back of his trousers without breaking step. At Crescent Drive we paused until cross-traffic cleared. A helmeted bicyclist rounded the corner and sped toward us and Banfer had to step to the right to avoid collision.

“Totally illegal,” he said, still smiling. “No bikes allowed. Want to chase him down and give him a ticket, Lieutenant?”

Milo hadn’t told Banfer his rank. Banfer did his homework.

“Above my pay grade, Counselor.”

Banfer chuckled again. “So why did I ask for this meeting?”

He paused, as if really expecting an answer.

Milo and I kept walking.

Banfer said, “First off, thanks for being accommodating, got a tough week, if not now, it would have to wait.”

“Happy to oblige, Mr. Banfer. What’s on your mind?”

“Floyd’s fine. Okay, let me start with a given: Jack Weathers is a good man.”

Milo didn’t answer.

Banfer said, “You kind of scared him, popping in like that.”

“Not my intention.”

Banfer picked up his pace. “Be that as it may, Lieutenant, here’s the thing: Jack and Daisy are good people, run a good business, perform a good service—did you know they used to be in the Industry? Small screen mostly, Jack played music and acted, did a whole bunch of
Hawaii Five-O’
s, some
Gunsmoke
, couple of
Magnum
s. Daisy was on
Lawrence Welk
for years. Then Jack did real estate out in the Valley and Daisy did some dance teaching, she was a dancer before she was an actress, performed with Martha Graham, knew Cyd Charisse, I’m talking talent.”

“Impressive,” said Milo.

“I’d say.”

Several more steps. A group of younger Persian women glided past, trim in black velour, wearing pearls and diamonds, listening to iPods.

Banfer said, “What I’m trying to get across is these are decent, honest people, been working all their lives, neither of them came from money, they found a niche, developed it, thank God they’ve been doing well, can even possibly think about retiring. At some point. Though I don’t know if they will, that’s up to them.”

“Makes sense.”

“What does?” said Banfer.

“Making their own decision about retirement.”

“Yes. Of course. My point here is that we’re talking good people.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Floyd.”

“Good. Anyway, in case you don’t know how the Industry works, let me cue you in, it’s all hierarchy. Bottom of the pyramid up to the top, we’re talking highly structured, who you know determines how you do,
things can change in a snap.” He paused to breathe. “Who’m I preaching to, this is L.A., you’re pros.”

We reached Canon Drive. A homeless man shuffled toward us, leaving a wake of stench.

Banfer wrinkled his nose. “No more vagrancy laws. I’m ambivalent about that, would like to see them taken care of properly but you can’t just go scoop them up out of the park the way I saw in Europe when I was a student backpacking in the eighties. Made me think of storm troopers.”

Milo made no effort hiding the glance at his Timex.

Banfer said, “Time to cut to the chase? Sure, makes sense.”

But he offered no additional wisdom as we continued walking.

Halfway to Beverly Drive, Milo said, “Floyd, what exactly can I do for you?”

“Accept the data I’m going to proffer in the spirit with which it’s offered.”

“Meaning?”

“Jack and Daisy need to be kept out of any homicide investigation, nor will their contract client—the client in question—be notified of their input to the police.”

“CAPD,” said Milo. “Creative Aura of Prema and Donny.”

Banfer’s chin vibrated. “So you know. Okay, now you see what I mean.”

“You go to court much, Floyd?”

The question threw Banfer off-balance and he stiffened his arms. “When it’s necessary. Why?”

“Just curious.”

“You’re saying I’m long-winded? Would bore a jury? Don’t worry, I do just fine. Am I being a bit … detailed? Maybe I am, yes, I am. Because I told Jack and Daisy I’d take care of it and darned if I’m going to go back to them and tell them I didn’t. They’re good folk.”

“Which one are you related to?”

Banfer turned scarlet. “Why would you assume that?”

“You seem unusually dedicated but sorry if I presumed.”

“Let me assure you, I’d do the same for any client, Lieutenant.” A beat. “But if you must know, Jack was married to my mother’s sister and then she died and he married Daisy. So technically, Daisy’s my step-aunt but I think of her as my full aunt, she’s dear to me, she’s a dear woman.”

“She seemed very nice.”

“Jack’s nice, too.”

“No doubt.”

“So do we have a deal?”

“That depends on what you have to offer.”

“I have the truth to offer, Lieutenant Sturgis—may I call you Milo?”

“Sure.”

“Milo, this can be extremely simple if we go the simplicity route. I give you information and you use it as you see fit in your criminal investigation but you don’t draw Jack and Daisy into it.”

“I have no desire to complicate their lives, Floyd, but I need to be up front with you. If they’ve got crucial information, it could find its way into the case file.”

“Not true,” snapped Banfer. “Just call them confidential informants and everything will go smooth as silk.”

“I can do that but I can’t promise that at some point a prosecutor’s not going to want to know their identity.”

“If that happens, you say no.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Floyd.”

“Then we … have a problem.”

“You may have all kinds of problems if Jack and Daisy don’t cooperate, Floyd. I don’t need to tell you about all the unpleasant legal maneuvers at the D.A.’s disposal.”

“I’ll fight each and every one.”

“That will toss Jack and Daisy right into the limelight.”

Banfer slanted forward, walked faster.

Milo said, “All this hassle just to make sure Premadonny doesn’t get mad at them?”

“It’s not a matter of mad,” said Banfer. “It’s a matter of excommunication. Do you know how powerful those two are?”

“A-list.”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Banfer’s hand arced above his head, like a kid playing airplane. “
Miles
above A-list. It’s like pissing off the queen of England.”

“Last I checked the queen hadn’t excommunicated anyone, Floyd.”

“Okay,” said the lawyer, “perhaps I engaged in a bit of hyperbole, but still. If word gets out that Jack somehow violated a confidence, the results could be professionally and financially devastating.”

“Jack and Daisy signed a gag clause.”

Banfer frowned. “Standard operating procedure when dealing with clients at that level.”

“Maybe so, but we already know Jack sent Adriana Betts to work at Premadonny’s compound and we’re fairly certain he did the same for a couple of other people who may be connected to Adriana Betts’s murder. Did you read today’s
Times
?”

“Of course,” said Banfer. “That’s why I called you.”

“The reporter’s itching for anything I can give her. I’ve been holding her off but that could change.”

“You’re threatening to leak my clients’ identities?”

“You called the meeting, Floyd. I’m letting you know how things stand.”

Banfer clicked his teeth. “Lieutenant Sturgis,” he said, as if hearing the title for the first time. “Do you by chance have legal training?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment though I’m not sure I should. The answer is just what I’ve learned on the job.”

“Well, you’re a wily man, Milo. Not what I’d expect. Because frankly most of the cops I encounter aren’t what you’d call intellectual giants.”

“You encounter a lot of cops?”

“I do my share of workers’ comp, have represented several of your compatriots, learned how they tick. Typically their long-term goals
don’t stretch beyond a brand-new motorcycle and a Hawaiian vacation.”

“Oh, those crazy kids in blue.”

“It was meant as a compliment. You seem different, Milo. A careful planner.”

“Accepted and appreciated, Floyd. So what is it you’d like to tell me in the hope that Jack and Daisy remain bulletproof?”

Banfer stopped, took hold of the bulb at the end of his nose and twisted. His breath had grown ragged. He said, “Let’s sit down.”

B
everly Hills park benches are complex creations, curvy and black and wrought iron with a center divider that makes it difficult for more than two people to sit. Milo motioned Banfer to the left. A flick of his head directed me to the right.

Leaving him on his feet, looming.

Another homeless man shambled by, eyes rolling, stumbling.

Banfer said, “That’s probably where they got the idea for that picture—
Down and Out in Beverly Hills
. They prettied it up, but that’s the Industry … okay, back to business: Jack and Daisy are—”

“Wonderful people. Acknowledged, Floyd.”

“Ethical people,” Banfer corrected. “Jack made some mistakes, granted, but the basic core is ethical so there’s no reason for you to worry about them.”

“Mistakes as in hiring Adriana Betts without vetting her.”

Banfer rubbed his temples. “Facts can only tell you so much when you’re dealing with human beings, Milo. Jack’s come to trust his instincts and Ms. Betts impressed him as a decent young woman.”

I said, “Plus it was an urgent situation.”

Banfer clicked his teeth again. “Allegedly.”

“You have your doubts?”

“The origin of that supposition was a call Jack received from another employee at the compound. Someone he’d placed a while back. She—there was an assertion that the clients needed additional child care as soon as possible, Jack was to come up with someone immediately. This individual knew someone who fit the bill perfectly—the right training and experience. Jack’s a people-pleaser, he got into the business to fill human need. It seemed like an ideal arrangement.”

Milo said, “Don’t see a big problem there, Floyd. If he had checked Adriana out he would’ve learned she was squeaky-clean.”

Banfer crossed his legs, tugged a sock up a hairless shin. “Well, that’s good to hear.”

“On the other hand, Floyd, if the employee who recommended her was Qeesha D’Embo, that complicates matters.”

“I’m not familiar with that name.”

“How about Charlene Chambers?”

“Nor that one.”

Milo produced the mug shot.

Banfer sagged.

“How do you know her, Floyd?”

“She represented herself to Jack and Daisy as Simone Chambord. That’s the name Jack and Daisy used to check her out and she came up spotless.”

“When was she hired?”

“Twenty-three months ago.”

Soon after leaving Boise.

I said, “What was she hired for?”

The question seemed to puzzle Banfer. “Child care, of course.” He tapped the photo. “After you showed that to Jack and he called me in a panic, I took a closer look at her. Specifically, I traced the Social Security number she’d used when she applied for the job. It matches a Simone Chambord, all right, but that person turns out to be an eighty-nine-year-old woman living in a rest home in New Orleans. I called over
there and the director informed me Mrs. Chambord had advanced Alzheimer’s, had been that way for five years.”

“Jack and Daisy’s search didn’t pull that up?”

“They were focused on relevant criteria. Criminal record, poor credit.”

“Good point,” I said. “Advanced Alzheimer’s would sure inhibit criminality.”

Banfer shook his head. “The potential ramifications for Gold Standard are obvious but no harm was intended.”

Milo said, “Your clients provided a con artist as a nanny for movie stars’ kids, did the same for a woman who ended up dead. Yeah, I’d say those are ramifications.”

“That’s a tiny proportion of all the wonderful people Jack and Daisy have connected with wonderful clients.”

Recited with all the conviction of a gulag loyalty pledge.

I said, “Unfortunately, you’re only as good as your last picture.”

Banfer sighed. “I’ve advised Jack to sit tight, but obviously he’s on pins and needles. To make matters worse, Daisy knew nothing about any of this.”

Milo said, “Unhappy wife, unhappy life.”

“It’s a mess, all right. By the way, I did check out Ms. Betts’s Social Security and it comes back to her. Have I missed something? Because she and Chambord seem an unlikely pairing.”

Milo said, “Nothing crooked has turned up on Adriana.”

“That baby found at the park—those bones—what’s the connection?”

“Don’t know yet, Floyd. That’s why we wanted to talk to Jack and Daisy.”

“Well, they certainly can’t tell you anything about
that
.”

“Qeesha—Simone—was hired twenty-three months ago. What about Adriana?”

“Recently. Around three, four months ago according to Jack.”

“He can’t be more precise?”

Banfer stared straight ahead.

Milo said, “He destroyed the files?”

“I can’t get into that.”

“Your client got rid of potential evidence. If you advised him to do that you could be facing obstruction charges.”