Rebecca Schwartz 05 - Other People's Skeletons (14 page)

“Is it a question of leaving Alan and being with this man?”

“Sometimes I think so, and sometimes it just seems preposterous. I don’t know anything anymore.”

I wasn’t used to my little sister as a drama queen. She was usually so sensible— unless you counted the astonishing lapse of judgment that had prompted her to pick Kruzick. I found I wasn’t crazy about being a party to this thing, either— it seemed wildly self-destructive, not to mention unfair to the man’s family. I had a thing about married men who had affairs— meaning I found them beneath contempt. I didn’t at all know how to deal with this. But then, what else was new this week?

I told Mickey things like I was there for her and to let me know if there was anything I could do (as if someone had died) and didn’t even mention The Thing.

On the whole I was glad we’d decided on lunch outside. I needed the walk back to clear my head. I thought about consulting an astrologer— surely the stars must be causing all the chaos; it seemed impossible that mere human beings could be responsible.

Chris came in, calling first to make sure Curry and Martinez weren’t around, and between the two of us we made the place look a lot like a law office for a few hours.

Rob turned up around three. “I spent the day checking out Tommy La Barre. Bad news: he was at the restaurant at eight-thirty the night of the murder. Eight-thirty and all night. Two nights a week he acts as maitre d’ himself, and that was one of them. The night was one of the busiest they’ve had lately, and he was hopping every second— no way in hell he could have slipped out and done the deed.”

“A guy like Tommy La Barre could have hired somebody,” said Chris.

“I’ve been thinking about his giving us Elena’s card. We know McKendrick saw Tami, right? But that doesn’t prove he didn’t also have a scene in one of Tommy’s party rooms. Tommy could have done it to distract us. Rob, listen— is this possible? Maybe McKendrick was just pretending to be friends with La Barre; maybe the whole point was to get a story.”

Rob shook his head. “He’d have had to work with an editor on it— and that person would have put two and two together by now and mentioned it. But the other part of the theory’s still good— let’s don’t count him out. Meanwhile, I don’t know what to do about the Sean thing; I can’t seem to turn up anything. However”— he paused for effect— “not to worry, because the whole thing might be solved. Two new leads— after you left, Chris, I kept looking through the clips, thinking I might run across a Sean. I didn’t, but I found someone McKendrick panned who had access to your car keys; someone who could as easily have driven your car that night as you.”

Chris and I spoke in unison: “Who?”

“Alan Kruzick.”

“Did I hear those three magic syllables?” Alan popped in the door, with something in his hand, probably for Chris or me to sign.

“You never mentioned Jason McKendrick panned you.”

“
Streetcar Named Desire.
” He shrugged. “So I’m no Brando. Big deal.”

“Yes, but the funny thing is, that was the last play you were in before you came to work here. McKendrick broke your spirit, you realized you’d never make it in this town as an actor, so you threw in the towel and went to work. But you were bitter about it— he’d ruined your life and you decided he had to pay for it. You awaited your opportunity. One day, when Chris left her purse unattended, you took her keys and got a duplicate made of her car key. Then one night you followed her— no, better yet, you followed her a lot— but one night she went to a place very near Jason McKendrick’s apartment. You decided to do it that night.”

“I can do better than that,” said Chris. “He knew I was going to that group. I told him. Right, Alan?”

Alan said, “I have the right to remain silent. I am not required to say anything at any time or to answer any questions. Anything I say can be used against me in court. I have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before being questioned and to have her with me during questioning. If I cannot afford a lawyer…”

Chris and I stared at each other. “Will it fly?” she said.

“‘The silence often of pure innocence,” intoned Alan, “persuades when speaking fails.’”

We ignored him. “It’s a little Perry Masonish, but sure— this is it! Rob, you’re a genius.”

“Well, actually, it was only a theory. Don’t you think you’re being a little hasty? I mean, who’s going to type your letters?”

“Nobody’s going to arrest Alan. We’ll just use him to point up the preposterousness of suspecting Chris. He had just as much opportunity and a better motive. Alan could even testify. Hey, how about it?”

“Give me liberty or give me death.”

“That means yes,” I said. “He’s never going to turn down a role like that.”

“Wait a minute,” said Kruzick. “How did I get her name and address into his pocket?”

“Oh, don’t worry. We’ll think of something. Or maybe we just won’t mention it. Do you have an alibi for that night?”

“I was with— uh, no, come to think of it. Mickey wasn’t home that night.”

“Fabulous.” Chris was beaming.

It was at least a better theory than Martinez and Curry had. I planned to give it to them first thing in the morning; maybe it would head them off at the pass.

Rob said, “There’s one more thing. I got a call from a woman who says she knows who killed him.”

Her name was Hilary Winterhalter, and Rob had arranged for us to see her at six-thirty that night. But he didn’t say much else about her, only that she sounded a little hysterical, as if she could be the crazy babe Tommy La Barre had postulated. Afterward, I thought, would be a good time to call on Sarah Byers.

Chris waited for Rob to leave and said that was fine but not to make any plans for Wednesday, the next night— it was the regular meeting of the Raiders of the Lost Art, and Chris had had a little talk with Rosalie. They were going to work on the murder, and I was welcome to sit in.

I was interested. I was starting to wonder if Chris had gotten “innocent” off Tommy La Barre because he’d hired someone rather than done the deed himself. Now that that idea had come up, maybe the Raiders could tell us if it was a productive direction.

Did I mean that?
Was that me thinking that?

Well, anyway, I’d keep an open mind.

That night I drove. Unlike Julio, Rob liked my Jeep—liked riding up high like I did. We’d decided to treat ourselves even though it was a high-profile car for this kind of thing.

Hilary had a ground-floor flat in Bernal Heights with a little porch outside where she was waiting. She was a very small girl and, if the truth be told, no one you’d pick out of a crowd. Nature had been stingy with her, given her tiny features, including a pointy little chin, sallow skin, and thin hair. But she had good taste. “Oooh. Great car,” she said before we were even parked. “Jason’s car was such an old wreck.” Which made us both sigh with relief— Rob hadn’t been sure she’d really known him, that she wasn’t just some nut who read the paper.

Introductions over, she led us into a pleasant enough room, furnished with Pier One wicker and dhurrie rugs. A cheap white desk shone pristine, as if it was never used. An overhead light was only a paper lantern covering a bare bulb. A poster of the Golden Gate Bridge, one I’d seen at a thousand tourist shops, was tacked to a wall. The stark effect would have benefited by a few plants, but Hilary seemed to favor fauna instead. There was a small animal in a cage, a hamster, I thought, and a handsome golden Lab curled up on one of the rugs.

“Do you mind dogs? Jason hated them.”

“Of course not,” I said, and dropped to my knees to pet the Lab. “Hi, fella; what a lovely boy! What a nice boy! What’s your name?” The usual baby talk.

“She’s called Goldie Hawn, actually. But it’s nice of you to notice her.” She sighed. “Jason made me lock her up or he wouldn’t come over.”

“He sounds difficult.”

“Oh, no. He was really fun. He could make me laugh all night. I mean all evening— he never stayed the night.” She sat down, gesturing for us to do the same.

“The two of you dated?”

“I thought we were dating, but now that I think of it, we didn’t go out much. He’d just come over and”— she stared out the window, avoiding eye contact— “fuck me.”

Everything she said indicated she was furious with him. Rob and I exchanged glances: Maybe we were onto something. It seemed best to go slow.

Rob put on his friendly reporter smile. “How’d you meet him?”

“Well, I’m a nurse. He came to the hospital to visit a sick friend.” She had tied her thin hair into a sort of low ponytail, which she pulled over her shoulder and stroked as she spoke. The impression was of someone not used to having the spotlight, nervous at being interviewed. You couldn’t help wondering what had attracted a man like Jason McKendrick to her— what, in fact, had even made him notice her.

“He sort of started kind of blatantly flirting with me, and I thought he was just another asshole. Married, like all of them. So I didn’t respond except to be kind of rude, if you want to know the truth, I guess, and finally he said, ‘You don’t know who I am, do you?’ And I was really afraid I should, like he was somebody that everybody knew but me, and I was really dumb. So I said, ‘Hey, you’re that guy on Channel Four,’ and he and his friend laughed their heads off. I felt so
stupid
. His friend said, ‘Hey, Hillie,’— he called me Hillie— ‘This is Jason McKendrick you’re talking to.’ I just said, ‘Uh, hello,’ and left without even shaking hands I was so embarrassed. Because I’d never even heard of him.” She hung her head as if it were the deepest shame of the culture. But when the pointy chin came up, she was angry again.

“How was I supposed to know about somebody like that? I can’t afford to go to plays or anything. He thought he was so damned important. Anyway, I was at the nurses’ station after that, and I guess he felt bad— that he made me feel bad— so he asked me to have coffee in the cafeteria. And then, the funny thing was we really, really hit it off. He was so
funny
. I mean, he was just so
funny
. I never met anybody like that in my whole life. And then it turned out he was this big-deal columnist or whatever he was.”

“So you started seeing each other.”

“Um-hm. The first time he asked me for a drink and then we came back here. The second time, he said why didn’t he come over and we’d get some Chinese food. And then after that, he’d just kind of call and wait for me to ask him to come over. And then I was supposed to buy this damned expensive Scotch that was all he’d drink. And fuck him. Always on a Monday or a Tuesday night or something. Never a weekend. And stupid me. I didn’t even catch on to what was happening.” She addressed Rob. “You were his friend, right? I bet you had no idea what a shit he was.”

Rob turned to me, silently appealing for help; I wondered what he did when I wasn’t there.

“It certainly sounds like he took advantage,” I said.

“You bet your ass he did.” It sounded shocking coming out of such a small, childlike person, the anger behind it seemingly incongruous. “I was just out of a ten-year marriage— I got married right after high school and never dated anyone but my husband Joey, and that was in the eleventh grade! I didn’t know a thing about men; or dating. Or sex. Well, there are lots of women like me, right?”

“You mean women involved with Jason McKendrick?”

She looked surprised. “I don’t know. Were there?”

“I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t understand what you meant— women like you in what way?”

“Dumb. Naive. Just like there’s lots of men like Jason McKendrick. Assholes.”

Both Rob and I were silent. Goldie Hawn snored.

“I want everybody to know, that’s why I called you. I want people to know what he was really like.”

Rob finally summoned the courage to say, “You seem awfully angry.”

“He fucked me, he got me pregnant, he dumped me.

I gasped. “Oh, you poor thing. How awful— to go through an abortion alone.”

“I didn’t have an abortion. Why would I have an abortion? Joey and I had been trying to get pregnant the whole time we were married. Come look.” She led us down a hall to a closed door. Inside was a nursery, with a sleeping baby in a crib. For the first time since she’d seen my Jeep, Hilary smiled. “This is Shirleen. Shirleen McKendrick.”

“Did Jason help support her?”

“Shhh!” She put her finger to her lips, took us out of the room, and closed the door. She said, “Jason never even came to see her. He said she wasn’t his kid.”

“Why did he say that?”

She didn’t answer till we were back in the living room. “Well, he came over one night, and Joey was here. By the way, you know why I’m telling you this? I want you to know I’m not after any money. I was still married when I was seeing Jason, and Joey came over a couple of times then.” She dropped her eyes. “Once we slept together, but I didn’t get pregnant. I mean, I’m sure of that. Do you understand?” This time she looked hard at me.

I nodded and said what she was too shy to say: “You mean, you got your period afterward?”

She spoke with eyes still down, a faint blush on her cheeks. “Yes. So I know Shirleen’s Jason’s— but look, I know I’d look trashy to some judge. I’m not trying to get money. I just don’t want other women to have to go through this.”

Somehow I didn’t think she’d be canonized for her nobility, but I could see why she’d called Rob. She was furious, and I didn’t blame her. However, there was a tiny point we hadn’t covered. The time had come.

Rob said, “Hilary. On the phone, you said you knew who the murderer was.”

“I do. It was someone like me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Look, I’ve got a motive, haven’t I? There were times when I’d have liked to kill him, God forgive me. I'm a god-fearing woman, Mr. Burns. I go to church every Sunday and always have. And I still felt like I wanted to kill that man. I know it was wrong, but I did. And I know … I just know … that that’s who did it. Someone like me.”

“But who?”

“Well, I don’t know her
name
. I just know her profile. Isn’t that how cops catch people— with profiles?”

“Look, Hilary, have you talked to the police about this?”