Motion to Dismiss (15 page)

"Someone you still care about?"

"Someone I'm trying very hard
not
to care about." He tapped the wheel with his fingers. "So, how's it feel to be back in the Bay Area?"

"Wonderful and unsettling at the same time. Of course the situation itself is odd."

"I can imagine. Nina must be having a tough time of it."

I nodded. "She is. But it's not just Nina I was talking about." I hesitated before adding, "Marc and I were seeing each other for a while during law school."

"Uh-ooh." He glanced in my direction. "Painful breakup?"

"He was engaged to someone else at the time, and I didn't know it."

Hal clicked his tongue. "Such stellar behavior. When did you find out?"

It was a story not many people knew, but I'd always found Hal an easy person to talk to. "Marc had been away interviewing at firms in the East," I told him. "The day he was returning was his birthday, so I talked the apartment manager into letting me into his place to decorate. I put up banners and streamers, and taped big red hearts on all the mirrors and cupboards, even inside the refrigerator. All the places that Marc would normally look. And on every one of them I wrote in silver pen, 'I love you.'"

I swallowed. The raw shock of discovery was vivid still in my mind. "Janice called just as I was arranging candy hearts on his pillow. She left a long and rather passionate message on his answering machine."

"Janice?"

"His fiancee."

"Ouch. That's brutal."

"Yeah, it was. For a while anyway."

"What happened to the girl?"

"He married her. It lasted four years. I never knew her. Nina says I would have liked her."

"Must be weird working with the guy now. Is it going okay?"

"Yeah. Surprisingly, it is." Our working together hadn't been the problem I'd expected. What
was
a problem for me, or at least something of a puzzle, was the chemistry between us. Despite Marc's past sins and despite the fact that he sometimes irritated the hell out of me, I found myself attracted to him.

Hal looked at me, catching something in my expression. "You haven't been pining away for him ever since law school, have you?"

I laughed. "Hardly. But I seem to have a knack for getting involved with the wrong men."

"Easy to do."

"That's part of the reason I decided to come back here and help Nina. To give myself some distance from the guy I was seeing in Silver Creek."

"He turn out to be engaged too?"

"Married. He went back to his wife."

"And here I thought all the bad luck was mine."

"Guess I'm still looking for the right man."

Hal chuckled. "That makes two of us."

Hal parked in front of Tony Rodale's home, a sprawling Mediterranean-style house situated near the Claremont Country Club. While much of the surrounding area to the east was still scarred by the devastation of the 'ninety-one firestorm, the stretch of streets surrounding Rodale's was lush with green foliage and mature trees.

"What makes you think he's home?" I asked.

"I called." Hal rubbed his chin. "Fancy digs. Rodale must have the golden touch with investments."

I nodded. Real estate near the country club was pricy, and his was one of the bigger houses on the street.

Rodale answered the door himself. He was about my height, with a thick, muscular build. He was wearing soft-drape wool slacks and a silk shirt open at the neck, revealing a chunky gold chain. His dark hair was thick and glossy, his eyes a little too small for the rest of his face. He wasn't unattractive, but neither was he the urbane financier I'd been expecting.

While Hal offered introductions and the reason for our visit, I handed over one of my cards. Rodale stuck it in his pocket without a glance.

"I'd be happy to help," he said with studied sincerity. "But I'm afraid there's very little I can tell you."

"We won't take long. Mind if we come in?" Hal had begun moving through the open doorway while he spoke. Inside, he whistled softly. "Nice place. Looks like something out of
Architectural Digest
."

I thought it looked more like something out of Hollywood for Wanna-bes. The couches and chairs were massive and upholstered in heavy black leather. The tables were ultramodern works of glass and chrome. A projection-style television screen covered the wall at the far end of the room. The remaining walls were hung with large abstract oil paintings favoring blobs and dribbles in bold primary colors.

"Guess you must have a green thumb for investments," Hal said.

Rodale laughed, flashing a set of perfect white teeth. "What can I say? I've been lucky. Can I get you a soda or something?"

I shook my head, but Hal was the one who spoke. "Sure, that sounds great."

Rodale went to the wet bar at the other side of the room, reached under the counter, and pulled out three cans of Diet Coke. He handed them to us, unopened. His sense of decorum was on a par with his decor.

Rodale took the slingback chair, leaving us the L-shaped sectional. He let his eyes run up and down my body for a moment before speaking, a move I suspected he intended as flattery.

"So," he said, popping the tab on his soda. "What is it you think I can help you with?"

"This allegation of rape Deirdre Nichols made against our client," Hal said. "Did you believe it?"

Rodale laughed uneasily. "I didn't have an opinion one way or the other. Not that it matters any more. I understand the charges were dropped."

"Did she talk to you about it?"

"Only in passing." He shifted in his chair. "Ours wasn't one of those bare-your-soul relationships."

Hal propped a foot on the glass surface of the coffee table. I wasn't sure if he'd done it intentionally to see how Rodale responded, or if he was simply, like many men, oblivious of such things.

"What kind of relationship
was
it?" Hal asked.

Rodale shrugged. "We had some good times."

"And some not-so-good times?"

Rodale gave another shrug. "Women, you know. Nothing's perfect."

"Had you known Deirdre long?" I asked.

"About six months. It was hot and heavy for a while, but never" -- he paused, using the fingers of both hands to make quotation marks in the air -- "never
serious
. I date a lot of women. That's the way I like it."

"Did she date other men?"

His smile was one of indifference. "I wouldn't know."

"So it wouldn't have bothered you if she did?"

"I never gave it much thought." Rodale leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingertips pressed together steeple fashion. "What you gotta understand is, Deirdre was the one who got jealous. Not me. It was her that wanted things to be different between us."

Hal took a swig of soda. "Meaning she wanted more commitment?"

"Yeah. I'm no fool though. She liked the lifestyle I could give her, the presents I bought her, the kind of people I socialize with. She wanted that for keeps. Since I was part of the package, she wanted me too. But it was the package that got her attention."

I could understand how Deirdre might have been attracted at least as much by the accessories as the man. What surprised me, though, was the absence of any bitterness in Rodale's words. I wondered if he was being truthful.

He leaned back. "Deirdre was a good woman. You know, fun to be around. I felt bad for her about the rape, assuming that's what really happened, and I'm real sorry she's dead. But we weren't seeing all that much of each other there at the end. I kinda put a stop to it."

"When was the last time you talked to her?" I asked.

"That Saturday morning, the day she was killed. She'd heard I was taking Gabrielle to New Orleans with me, wanted to know if it was true."

"Who's Gabrielle?" I asked at the same time Hal said, "Was it?"

Rodale ignored my question. "Yes, I was planning to take her to New Orleans."

"Deirdre was upset?" Hal asked.

Rodale shrugged. "With women, who can tell?"

Hal pressed the soda can with his thumb. "I gather the police questioned you about Deirdre's death?"

"Of course."

"You have an alibi?"

"I was here. Fortunately for me, a neighbor saw my car in the driveway that evening." Rodale smiled at us. "I don't think I was ever a serious suspect."

"That so?" Hal drummed his fingers against his knee. "I'd have thought after the cops hauled you in for knocking Deirdre around, you'd be at the top of their list."

Rodale laughed uncomfortably. "That was all Deirdre's doing. I never touched her; she fell. But she was pissed at me because I wouldn't take her along when I was sailing down to Mexico with some friends. The charges were dropped anyway."

"Because she wouldn't testify."

"Guess she came to her senses."

Yeah, sure. Like all the other battered women who are afraid to speak out. But I didn't push it. Instead, I asked, "Do you have any idea who might have had reason to kill her?"

Another flash of white teeth. "Your client."

"Aside from Grady Barrett."

"His is the only name that comes to mind." Rodale stood. "Now you'll have to excuse me. I've got an important conference call scheduled."

He walked us to the door and promised to be in touch if he thought of anything else.

Hal was silent until we turned onto Broadway Terrace. "The guy sure went out of his way to make us believe Deirdre wasn't anything special to him."

"Maybe she wasn't. Rodale strikes me as the kind of guy for whom no one is special."

"Except that he likes to be the one calling the shots."

I nodded. "It was interesting what he said about Gabrielle. According to Deirdre's coworkers, she was in good spirits the day she died. Happier than she'd been for weeks. Doesn't sound like a jealous woman."

Hal tugged on an earlobe. "I wonder why the police let Rodale off so easy?"

"I guess they found his alibi sufficient."

"Doesn't strike me as rock solid. But then, they were focusing their energy on Grady, so maybe they never looked too hard."

"Rodale isn't someone I'd go out of my way to be friends with," I said. "But I'm not sure we'll have much luck trying to cast him as the killer."

Hal frowned. "Maybe not. But there's something about him that doesn't ring true."

"Remind me again why we have to do this," Marc grumbled as I slid onto the soft leather upholstery of his Lexus.

I buckled my seat belt. "
We
don't have to.
I
wanted to, and you insisted on coming along."

While I'd worn jeans and a turtleneck, Marc had dressed for the evening in a blue blazer, razor-pleat slacks, and white rayon shirt. However inappropriate his attire, he looked good. But he did not look happy.

"This is the kind of grunt work your friend Hal should be handling," he said.

"Hal is tied up tonight, remember?"

Marc was barely able to contain a snicker. "Into S and M, is he?"

I gave Marc a withering look, which he might have missed in the darkness of the night.

"Wouldn't surprise me." Marc gunned the engine pulling out of the parking spot.

"Enough, already. Hal's a friend of mine."

"You've made that clear. In fact, I get the feeling you two are pretty chummy." Marc looked over at me with a raised eyebrow. "He isn't bi, is he? Like maybe it's more than friends."

"We're friends, period. What's with you anyway?"

The hint of a smile softened Marc's expression. "Just checking."

"Anyway," I said, getting back to the evening's mission, "if Grady's serious about not waiving time, we've got less than two weeks before the hearing. We have to find the kids tonight. Next weekend will be too late."

"So while Hal's getting laid, we're crawling through the underbrush like the Hardy Boys. I still say there's something wrong with this picture."

"Think of it as an adventure," I suggested.

He made a pretense of sneering, but I caught the glimmer of a smile underneath. "On the bright side," Marc said after a moment, "I get to spend an evening with you."

I couldn't tell if he was teasing, so I let the comment pass.

We stopped at a red light. Marc sucked his cheek. "I'd rather be taking you to dinner though."

"There's always another night."

"You'd go out with me if I asked you?" He sounded surprised.

I rubbed my chin. "Depends on the restaurant."

"No joke, Kali. Would you?" There was a serious edge to his voice I didn't expect.

"I might."

The light changed and we pulled away in another stretch of silence.

"Back when we were in school -- " He stopped and started again. "I never meant to hurt you."

The brittle anguish of betrayal had dulled over the years, but I felt anger rising in my throat anew. "How could I
not
be hurt? We were sleeping together. We told each other our secrets and our dreams. And you never bothered to tell me you were engaged to someone else?"

"It does sound stupid in retrospect."

"Damn right it does."

"But it's the truth. All those things I told you -- I wasn't lying. My feelings for you were genuine."

"But not very deep."

He shook his head. "That's where you're wrong."

I gave a skeptical snort.

"I was confused. Young, scared -- "

"And selfish," I added.

He offered an apologetic smile. "That too. Hell, I don't like the guy I was back then any more than you do. I'd redraw him in a minute if I could, but I'm stuck with him."

When I didn't say anything, Marc continued. "I think I knew then that Janice wasn't right for me. The fact that I got involved with you should certainly have made that clear."

"One would think so."

"But we'd been together so long. Our families were friends, had been for years. It just seemed like one of those things that
was
. It never dawned on me to question it."

"Nor did it stop you from playing around while she was back in Cincinnati, or wherever she lived, planning your wedding."

"Cleveland." He paused. "I'm sorry, Kali. I know that's too little too late. But I mean it. The older I get, the more I realize how vulnerable we all are. At the time, I thought it was just me."