Mystery (18 page)

That one featured a full-color illustration.

Markham and Leona Suss, flanked by two sons and daughters-in-law, had posed in front of an array of vitreous abstraction.

Tara Sly’s Sugar Daddy wore a navy blazer, aqua T-shirt, and indigo jeans. Trim man but the shirt stretched over a paunch that he seemed to flaunt.

Leona Suss was tall, bony, black-haired, around her husband’s age. Her pink leather jumpsuit was body-conscious. Enormous horn-rimmed glasses distracted from the rest of her face.

The tendency for son to favor father continued with Dr. Franklin Suss, bald, lean-but-potbellied, dressed identically to Markham but for a maroon T-shirt. Clutching his arm was Dr. Isabel Suss, a short, compact brunette in an olive-drab pantsuit.

The genetic train ground to a halt at Philip Suss, who appeared around the same age as his brother. Several inches taller than Markham and Frank, he sported a full head of dark wavy hair, a thicker, broader build, and a flat belly. A rust-colored caftan-type garment hung nearly to his knees.

His shapely blond wife was attired in an orange sari embroidered with gold thread and was identified as the owner of the glass gallery.

Connie Longellos-Suss.

I searched using her name as a keyword, found nothing. Tried
crystal visions
and learned on an art glass site that the gallery had closed six months ago.

I ran searches on both sons, learned about Isabel in the process. She and Franklin practiced together as dermatologists in Beverly Hills.

If Philip Suss was gainfully employed, the Internet hadn’t found out.

Printing what I needed, I made my way to the kitchen.

Milo was forking spaghetti onto three plates. Blanche nibbled daintily on a Milk-Bone. Robin poured red wine.

She said, “Perfect timing, dinner’s on, baby.”

I said, “And I brought dessert.”

obin was the first to speak. “People find each other on the site by surfing randomly through profiles. But Muhrmann managed to hook Tara up with his cougar girlfriend’s father-in-law?”

I said, “It’s possible Daddies can narrow their searches using keywords.
Cohiba
comes to mind.”

“What’s a Cohiba?”

“High-priced Cuban cigar. Suss mentions enjoying them and Tara says she’s a nonsmoker but she doesn’t mind if her date lights one up. Given what we know, that does seem like conspicuous branding.”

Milo crumpled a still-clean napkin. “Muhrmann and Connie used Tara as a lure for Suss. Wealthy family, it has to be something financial.”

Robin said, “Get your hooks in the old guy and start siphoning cash.”

I said, “Connie’s got a motive. Her gallery went under half a year ago but she had to know well before then that she was failing. Brother Frank’s a doctor but brother Phil doesn’t seem to have a job.”

Robin said, “Maybe Phil’s job was at the underwear company and he felt betrayed when Daddy sold out.”

“Money plus revenge,” said Milo. “A wealth of riches.”

The three of us returned to my office where I searched
markham industries
. Most of the hits reported the sale, seen as a coup for Markham Suss. But predating those was the catalog of a garment trade show in Hong Kong listing the company’s executive staff.

Markham M. Suss, President,
Chairman of the Board, Chief Executive,
Chief Operating Officer
Leona A. Suss, Vice President and Chief Financial Officer
Franklin D. Suss, M.D., Materials Consultant
Philip M. Suss, Design Consultant

Milo said, “Daddy takes four titles for himself, no mistaking who’s in charge. Officially Mommy handles the money and maybe that’s real. Or she gets a salary to stay out of Daddy’s hair. The boys get bullshit titles, maybe a stipend.”

I said, “What I find interesting is that even though Franklin has a career of his own, he tops Phil’s billing. That could turn out just to be alphabetization. But if it’s a sign of favoritism, Connie’s anger quotient just got kicked up.”

Milo said, “Frank’s a skin doctor, for all we know he got paid to certify polyester as dermal-friendly. Phil, on the other hand … yeah, it’s interesting.”

Robin said, “Those kinds of jobs are pretty common in rich families. Nice way to avoid estate and gift tax.”

Both of us turned to her.

“When my father got sick, he told me he wanted me to inherit as much as possible but he knew that no matter what he stipulated in the will Mom would hold everything back for herself. So he incorporated his cabinetry business and made me a majority partner. That gave me legal possession of his tools, his benches, and a whole lot of wood he’d been stockpiling, plus some cash he put into the company account. Without all that, I could’ve never started my own business.”

I said, “How’d Mom react?”

“We never talked about it but I know she was mad, because when I asked for my old bedroom suite that Daddy made for me when I was seven, she said Daddy made sure everything was built-in because he wanted it to remain with the house. I knew he’d just put in elbow bolts for earthquake safety, but what was the point?”

She shrugged. “The point is money’s always mixed in with ego. A family with big money can be a powder keg.”

Milo said, “Frankie and Philly as consultants. Reminds me of the rooster who was pestering the hens so they castrated him and turned him into a consultant. One question, though: If Phil was getting serious dough through the company why would Connie lose her gallery?”

I said, “It’s not what you make, it’s what you keep. Or it’s possible Phil had the means to save Connie but chose not to. Maybe their marriage had run into problems due to Connie’s alcohol issues. If he found out she’d hooked up with Muhrmann in rehab, that could’ve been the tipping point.”

He said, “Yeah, that would squelch spousal enthusiasm.”

“Connie was in a position to know that her father-in-law was looking for love in cyberspace. She and Muhrmann decided to use Tara as bait. And what Robin just said about ego beefs up the motive: On top of financial gain, Connie would be sticking it to the entire family.”

He took a bite of chicken, chewed slowly, enjoyed a pasta chaser, then another. When he put his fork down, he seemed distracted. “How does any of that lead to Tara getting her face blown off? If Markham were still alive, I can see a power struggle as motive. Tara realized she was doing all the dirty work, demanded a bigger share—or tried to go it alone and cut Connie and Muhrmann out. They got pissed, expressed it with a .45 and a shotgun. But with Markham dead, there’s nothing to fight over.”

Robin said, “Unless Markham left some serious assets for Tara in his will and Connie coveted them.”

“Fooling around on the side’s one thing, Rob. Putting it in writing’s a giant step into scandal.”

“Exactly why he would’ve done it as a message from the grave. In his profile, Markham made a big deal about creativity. Setting up his mistress and wreaking havoc on his family could’ve been his last project.”

I said, “With Markham dead, Tara would’ve still had value to Muhrmann and Connie if she agreed to help them snag another Daddy. But what if she refused? And what if her resolve was strengthened precisely because Markham had bequeathed her substantial assets? Connie and Muhrmann would be doubly frustrated. And that syncs perfectly with Muhrmann hitting his mother up for cash right after Markham’s death. Tara got confident and cut him off.”

“Overconfident,” said Robin. “She had no idea who she was fooling with.”

Milo put his fork down. “Thank you, Nick and Nora … none of it feels wrong.” He hauled himself up. “Guess it’s time to learn more about this lovely bunch.”

amantha “Suki” Agajanian’s red Audi TT Roadster zipped into the lot behind her building at ten thirty-five a.m.

Milo knew the car was hers and that her real name was Samantha because he’d spent the early-morning hours researching her and her sister.

Preceding that with a look at the Suss family, using the Web and property tax rolls.

No additional financial details had surfaced following the sale of the company. As a privately held corporation, Markham Industries had done a good job maintaining its privacy.

One surprise: Philip and Franklin’s shared birth date made them twins.

“ ’Bout the least identical I’ve ever seen,” said Milo.

Despite the dissolution of Connie’s gallery and her possible fling with Steven Muhrmann, she and Philip remained married and living together on Portico Place, not far from the Encino Reservoir. The P.O.B. she’d cited in her reference for Muhrmann was a mail-drop a few miles away, long since rented by someone else and the proprietors didn’t remember anything about her.

Drs. Franklin and Isabel Suss were in their tenth year of paying taxes on a North Camden Drive house in the flats of Beverly Hills. Before that, they’d lived in a smaller place on Roxbury, south of Wilshire.

Leona Suss was the sole occupant of a two-acre estate on Hartford Way, just north of the Beverly Hills Hotel, and of a condo in Palm Desert. Both properties had been purchased by a family trust twenty-seven years ago.

None of the Susses had ever been married to more than one spouse.

“Too much goddamn stability, it’s un-American,” said Milo.

The Agajanian sisters, on the other hand, had each been divorced in their twenties, twice in Rosalynn’s case. The founders of SukRose.net had been truthful about owning a Lake Arrowhead cabin but their city digs was a shared Hollywood Hills rental, just south of the bird streets.

Rosalynn drove the same model Audi as her sib, in silver. Columbia, Penn, and the U. verified both women’s educational claims. One parking ticket each, paid punctually, comprised their contact with law enforcement.

The slot I’d found at the far end of the parking lot allowed us to watch Suki as she headed for the building’s back door, pressing an iPhone to her ear. She smiled as she listened, smiled as she talked. Switched to texting and kept up the mirth. A tailored tweed jacket bisected firm, generous buttocks, and skinny jeans made the most of her legs. Five-inch red stilettos caused her to teeter every few steps but the occasional loss of balance did nothing to shake her good cheer.