Jonathan Kellerman - Guilt

“Ten years.”

“Bought the building fifteen years ago,” said Felix. “Followed it up by buying the rest of this side of the block.”

“There you go again,” said Grace. “Making like a tycoon.”

“Just citing facts, sweetie.” Working to steady his hand, he put his cup down. Bone china rattled. Coffee sloshed and spilled. His lips moved the same way Milo’s do when he wants to curse.

Grace Monahan bit her lip, returned to smiling at nothing in particular.

Felix Monahan said, “The original plan was to tear the entire block down and build one big luxury condo but the city proved obdurate so we kept the block as is and went into the landlord business. The last thing on our minds was actually moving here, we had a fine Wallace Neff on Mountain Drive above Sunset. Then our daughter moved to England and we said, what do we need thirty rooms for, let’s downsize. The house sold quickly, those were the days, caught us off-guard and we hadn’t found a new one. This apartment was vacant so we said let’s bunk down temporarily.”

Grace said, “We found out we liked the simplicity and here we are.”

“Tell him the real reason, sweetie.”

“Convenience, darling?”

“Walking distance to shopping for someone who’s not me. By the way, Neiman phoned. They’re prepared to offer you a daily chauffeur if strolling three blocks proves too strenuous.”

“Stop being terrible, Felix.” To me: “I buy only for the grandkids. We’re in our post-acquisitional stage.”

I said, “Perfect time to sell the car.”

Felix said, “On the contrary, perfect time to keep it. And all the others. One day the entire collection will go to a deserving museum, but Blue Belle is taking her leave because we believe cars are to be driven and she’s gotten too valuable for that.” His eyes softened. “She’s lovely.”

I said, “Dr. Asherwood was a generous man.”

“ Generous doesn’t do him justice,” said Grace. “Uncle Jimmy was selfless and I mean that literally. Nothing for himself, everything for others. He left every penny to charity and no one was resentful because we respected him, he’d given us so much during his lifetime.”

“I read about the donations in his obituary.”

“His obituary doesn’t begin to describe it, Dr. Delaware. Well before Jimmy passed he was giving away money and things.”

I said, “I used to work at Western Pediatric and I noticed the hospital on the list of beneficiaries. Did he attend there?”

“No,” she said, “but he cared about the little ones.” Scooting back on the couch, she sat up straight. “Why are you curious about him?”

Her voice remained pleasant but her stare was piercing.

Know the person you want to influence . The real reason she’d wanted a face-to-face.

I said, “Did you read about a baby’s skeleton being dug up in Cheviot Hills?”

“That? Yes, I did, tragic. What in the world would Jimmy have to do with such a thing?”

“Probably nothing,” I said. “The burial date was traced to a period when a woman named Eleanor Green lived in the house.”

I waited for a reaction. Grace Monahan remained still. Felix’s hand seemed to shake a bit more.

He said, “You think this woman was the mother?”

“If we could learn more about her, we might find out,” I said. “Unfortunately, she seems to be somewhat of a phantom-no public records, no indication where she went after moving. Dr. Asherwood’s name came up because his Duesenberg was spotted parked in her driveway on more than one occasion.”

Grace said, “Eleanor Green. No, doesn’t ring a bell.” She turned to her husband.

“Hmm … don’t believe so.”

His palsy had definitely grown more pronounced. Her fingers had stiffened.

She said, “Sorry we can’t help you, Doctor. Jimmy knew lots of women. He was an extremely handsome man.”

She crossed the room to a low bookshelf, took out a leather album, paged through and handed it to me.

The man in the scallop-edged black-and-white photo was tall, narrow, fine-featured, with a downy pencil mustache under an upturned nose and pale, downslanted eyes. He wore a cinch-waisted, pin-striped, double-breasted suit, black-and-white wingtips, a polka-dot handkerchief that threatened to tumble from his breast pocket, a soft fedora set slightly askew. He’d been photographed leaning against the swooping front fender of a low-slung, bubble-topped coupe.

“Not the Duesenberg, obviously,” said Felix Monahan. “That’s a Talbot-Lago. Jimmy brought it over from France immediately after the war. It was decaying in some Nazi bastard’s lair, Jimmy rescued it and brought it back to life.”

Grace said, “He was barely out of med school when he enlisted, was assigned to an infantry unit as a field surgeon, served in the Battle of the Bulge, raided Utah Beach. He was injured on D-Day, earned a Purple Heart and a host of other medals.”

“A hero,” said Felix. “The real deal.”

Grace said, “Now, would you like to see Blue Belle? She’s downstairs in the garage.”

As smooth a dismissal as any I’d heard. I said, “She’s here?”

“Why not?” said Felix. “A garage is a garage.”

“Is a garage,” said Grace. “To paraphrase Alice B. Toklas.”

I said, “I’d love to see the car but could we talk a bit more?”

“About what?”

“Your uncle’s medical practice.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. After his wounds healed, he delivered babies.”

“Then he quit,” I said.

“No,” she said, “he retired. Quitting implies a character flaw. Jimmy left medicine because his father, my grandfather Walter, was ill and his mother, my nana Beatrice, was terminal. Someone had to take care of them.”

“Jimmy had no wife or children.”

Quick glances passed between them.

“That’s true,” said Grace. “If you ask me why I’ll tell you I don’t know, it was none of my business.”

“Never met the right woman,” said Felix. “That would be my guess.”

“That’s not what he’s after, darling. He’s looking for dirt on poor Jimmy.”

“Not at all, Mrs. Monahan.”

“No?” she said. “You work with the police, they dig dirt-granted it’s generally for a good cause. You’ve been involved in over a score of very nasty cases, have probably come to see the world as a terrible place. But that doesn’t apply to Jimmy.”

A score . Serious research on her part.

I said, “I’d like to think I keep a pretty balanced view of the world.”

Rosy spots radiated through her makeup. “Forgive me, that was rude. It’s just that I adored Uncle Jimmy. And-I confess to being a bit of a snoop myself, Dr. Delaware. After you called, I inquired about you at Western Peds. We donate there. Everyone had good things to say about you. That’s why we’re talking.” She caught her breath. “If that offends you, I’m sorry.”

“Girl Scout heritage,” said Felix. “Be prepared and all that.”

“Brownie,” she corrected. “But yes, I do respect a logical plan. As I’m sure you do, Dr. Delaware. But trust me, Jimmy led a quiet, noble life and I can’t have his name sullied.”

“Mrs. Monahan, I’m sorry if I-”

“Actually,” Felix broke in, “it’s Doctor Monahan.”

“No, it’s not!” she snapped.

He flinched.

She said, “Sorry, darling, sorry,” and touched his hand. He remained still. “Forgive me, Felix, but all this talk about Uncle Jimmy has made me edgy.”

He said, “Nothing to forgive, sweetie.” To me: “She doesn’t like tooting her own horn but she is a doctor. Full M.D., trained and qualified. Women’s medicine, same as Jimmy.”