P. Parrish - Thicker Than Water

“So their marriage-”

“. . was pretend,” Hayley finished. “You know, like a fairy tale.” She let out a whoop of laughter again.

Louis couldn’t conceal his surprise, and that made Hayley laugh even harder.

“So who was Spencer. .?” he asked.

“Sleeping with?” She smiled. “I don’t have a clue. Do you?”

Louis’s eyes wandered up over the huge white house, across the glistening pool and out over sparkling San Carlos Bay.

He couldn’t think of one more damn thing to ask. Except maybe to Brian Brenner. It was definitely time to go back and talk to the lying divorce lawyer. He looked back at Hayley.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

Hayley wiggled down into the lounge and brought her arms up behind her head. She gave him a big smile.

“Because I’m out and I’m not going to let her put me back in.”

Brenner, Brenner and Brenner. Louis stood in the lobby, looking at the gilt letters on the door. He knew that Brian Brenner had a brother named Scott. The third had to be the father, he guessed.

His eyes caught a portrait on a far wall. It was of three men, all wearing gray suits. Brian was on the left, his somber doughy face made thinner, his wispy hair thicker by the artist’s kindness. The man on the right was about Brian’s age, with thick hair the color of coffee beans and eyes to match. Had to be the older brother, Scott. The artist had given Scott a small smile, but God had obviously given him the looks in the family.

The older man in the middle had to be the father, a distinguished looking white-haired man of about sixty. His eyes were so blue they jumped off the canvas. It was the only spot of real color in the painting.

“What are you doing here?”

Louis turned.

Brian Brenner stood at the door to his office. His suit coat was off, and the collar of his white shirt open, the blue tie loose. He was holding a wadded-up tissue in one hand and a file in the other.

“I was hoping you could see me for a minute.”

“I’m a busy man.”

“So am I.”

Brian tossed the file on the secretary’s desk and went back in his office, leaving the door open. Louis followed him in.

Brian’s office was stacked with files and storage boxes. A conference table near the large window was covered with papers. The two women at the table both looked up at Louis. Brian waved his hand toward his door.

“Give us a minute, would you?” he said to the women.

The women rose slowly and disappeared while Brian noisily blew his nose. He looked terrible.

“Allergies acting up again?” Louis asked.

“Something in bloom,” Brian said, waving a hand at the window.

Another door opened and a man emerged from a bathroom. Louis recognized him from the portrait outside and quickly extended a hand, hoping to warm up Scott Brenner before he assumed the same cool posture as Brian.

“Scott Brenner? I’m Louis Kincaid, private investigator.”

Scott offered his hand and a warm smile.

“He’s working for Outlaw and Jack Cade,” Brian said.

Scott laughed softly. “Chill out, little brother. Everyone has to make a living, even defense lawyers. What can we do for you, Mr. Kincaid?”

“I just have a few questions.”

Brian came back to his desk, still clutching the tissue. He looked like he was choking. Or maybe just having an asthma attack.

Scott perched on the edge of the large desk and leaned a forearm on his knee. It looked like a pose out of a Paul Fredricks catalog. Louis found himself staring at Scott’s gleaming oxblood wingtips. Before he could talk, Scott took the lead.

“Brian told me you asked about Spencer’s divorce. How did you find out about it?” Scott said.

“People talk.”

Scott offered a ten-thousand-dollar smile to match the three-hundred-dollar Bally shoes.

“Yes, they do. Fortunate for us, isn’t it?” he said. “How else would we ever win a case?”

“People lie, too,” Louis said, looking at Brian.

Brian was dabbing at his nose with the tissue. He looked up at Louis.

“Why did you tell me Candace Duvall didn’t know about the divorce?” Louis asked.

Brian frowned, looking at his brother before he came back to Louis. “What are you talking about?”

“I was just over at the Duvall house,” Louis said, not adding that he didn’t talk to Candace.

“I told you the truth,” Brian said. “Candace told you different?”

“No, her lover did.”

Brian’s mouth dropped open. “Candace has a lover?”

“Now you’re going to tell me Duvall didn’t know that?” Louis said.

Brian looked at Scott and shook his head. “Spencer couldn’t have known. He would have mentioned it to me.”

“Did he forget to mention that he was gay, too?” Louis asked.

Brian blinked. “That’s a lie.”

“I don’t think so.”

Scott rose off the desk slowly. “Somehow I don’t think this is what you came here to talk about, Mr. Kincaid. What does this have to do with your case?”

“Maybe nothing, but things like affairs, divorce and sexual secrets make interesting reading for a jury, don’t you think?”

Scott nodded. “Most definitely. Throw enough bullshit at a jury and they’ll acquit every time. Is that Susan Outlaw’s plan?”

Louis was watching Brian Brenner. He had sat down and was pulling at the Kleenex, his eyes on the floor.

“It might work,” Scott said. “Worth a try, anyway. Who do you plan on throwing out as a possible suspect? Candace? Her lover? How about his lover?”

Brian was sitting there like a rock, shredding the Kleenex.

Scott nodded. “Maybe that’s why Spencer was divorcing Candace, to be with his lover. Have you considered that?”

“It occurred to me, yes,” Louis said.

“But you haven’t found Spencer’s friend, I take it.”

“Not yet.”

Scott opened a drawer, pulling out a Hershey’s bar. He unwrapped it slowly, breaking off a piece. He held it out to Louis. Louis shook his head.

“The other woman. . or maybe man,” Scott said, eating the chocolate square by square. “Not bad, not bad. The jury ought to eat it right up, given the way most people look at gays. Homophobia. . what a great defense strategy. Give the good folks of the jury someone even more disgusting than Jack Cade, right?”

Scott was baiting him. Louis was about to reply when he remembered something Brian had said the first time they spoke back at the Brenner mansion: “There is no other woman in Spencer’s life.”

Shit, Brian knew Duvall was gay.

Louis looked over at Brian again. He was just sitting there, watching his older brother, his hand massaging his brow like he had a headache. Louis suddenly remembered a cop back on the force in Ann Arbor, a bigot who was too afraid to say what he thought about blacks but thought nothing of telling Louis that he “could spot a faggot a mile away.”

Louis studied Brian, his clothes, his hair, his posture. He had known a few gay men in college, but they were all guys who were open about it. What about the ones who weren’t?

Brian suddenly met his gaze and Louis looked away.

Shit, Kincaid, there’s no way you can tell from just looking at him.

“Mr. Kincaid?”

Louis looked back at Scott.

“I asked you what it was you wanted to talk about? Why you came here?”

Louis needed to find a way to switch gears. He had a feeling Brian was hiding something, but there was no way to get anything out of him with the big brother here protecting him.

“Jack Cade was planning to sue Spencer Duvall,” Louis said.

Scott nodded. “I heard. Legal malpractice. Fascinating. .”