Jonathan Kellerman - Guilt

“It’s not a matter of mad,” said Banfer. “It’s a matter of excommunication. Do you know how powerful those two are?”

“A-list.”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Banfer’s hand arced above his head, like a kid playing airplane. “ Miles above A-list. It’s like pissing off the queen of En gland.”

“Last I checked the queen hadn’t excommunicated anyone, Floyd.”

“Okay,” said the lawyer, “perhaps I engaged in a bit of hyperbole, but still. If word gets out that Jack somehow violated a confidence, the results could be professionally and financially devastating.”

“Jack and Daisy signed a gag clause.”

Banfer frowned. “Standard operating procedure when dealing with clients at that level.”

“Maybe so, but we already know Jack sent Adriana Betts to work at Premadonny’s compound and we’re fairly certain he did the same for a couple of other people who may be connected to Adriana Betts’s murder. Did you read today’s Times ?”

“Of course,” said Banfer. “That’s why I called you.”

“The reporter’s itching for anything I can give her. I’ve been holding her off but that could change.”

“You’re threatening to leak my clients’ identities?”

“You called the meeting, Floyd. I’m letting you know how things stand.”

Banfer clicked his teeth. “Lieutenant Sturgis,” he said, as if hearing the title for the first time. “Do you by chance have legal training?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment though I’m not sure I should. The answer is just what I’ve learned on the job.”

“Well, you’re a wily man, Milo. Not what I’d expect. Because frankly most of the cops I encounter aren’t what you’d call intellectual giants.”

“You encounter a lot of cops?”

“I do my share of workers’ comp, have represented several of your compatriots, learned how they tick. Typically their long-term goals don’t stretch beyond a brand-new motorcycle and a Hawaiian vacation.”

“Oh, those crazy kids in blue.”

“It was meant as a compliment. You seem different, Milo. A careful planner.”

“Accepted and appreciated, Floyd. So what is it you’d like to tell me in the hope that Jack and Daisy remain bulletproof?”

Banfer stopped, took hold of the bulb at the end of his nose and twisted. His breath had grown ragged. He said, “Let’s sit down.”

Beverly Hills park benches are complex creations, curvy and black and wrought iron with a center divider that makes it difficult for more than two people to sit. Milo motioned Banfer to the left. A flick of his head directed me to the right.

Leaving him on his feet, looming.

Another homeless man shambled by, eyes rolling, stumbling.

Banfer said, “That’s probably where they got the idea for that picture- Down and Out in Beverly Hills . They prettied it up, but that’s the Industry … okay, back to business: Jack and Daisy are-”

“Wonderful people. Acknowledged, Floyd.”

“Ethical people,” Banfer corrected. “Jack made some mistakes, granted, but the basic core is ethical so there’s no reason for you to worry about them.”

“Mistakes as in hiring Adriana Betts without vetting her.”

Banfer rubbed his temples. “Facts can only tell you so much when you’re dealing with human beings, Milo. Jack’s come to trust his instincts and Ms. Betts impressed him as a decent young woman.”

I said, “Plus it was an urgent situation.”

Banfer clicked his teeth again. “Allegedly.”

“You have your doubts?”

“The origin of that supposition was a call Jack received from another employee at the compound. Someone he’d placed a while back. She-there was an assertion that the clients needed additional child care as soon as possible, Jack was to come up with someone immediately. This individual knew someone who fit the bill perfectly-the right training and experience. Jack’s a people-pleaser, he got into the business to fill human need. It seemed like an ideal arrangement.”

Milo said, “Don’t see a big problem there, Floyd. If he had checked Adriana out he would’ve learned she was squeaky-clean.”

Banfer crossed his legs, tugged a sock up a hairless shin. “Well, that’s good to hear.”

“On the other hand, Floyd, if the employee who recommended her was Qeesha D’Embo, that complicates matters.”

“I’m not familiar with that name.”

“How about Charlene Chambers?”

“Nor that one.”

Milo produced the mug shot.

Banfer sagged.

“How do you know her, Floyd?”

“She represented herself to Jack and Daisy as Simone Chambord. That’s the name Jack and Daisy used to check her out and she came up spotless.”

“When was she hired?”

“Twenty-three months ago.”

Soon after leaving Boise.

I said, “What was she hired for?”

The question seemed to puzzle Banfer. “Child care, of course.” He tapped the photo. “After you showed that to Jack and he called me in a panic, I took a closer look at her. Specifically, I traced the Social Security number she’d used when she applied for the job. It matches a Simone Chambord, all right, but that person turns out to be an eighty-nine-year-old woman living in a rest home in New Orleans. I called over there and the director informed me Mrs. Chambord had advanced Alzheimer’s, had been that way for five years.”

“Jack and Daisy’s search didn’t pull that up?”

“They were focused on relevant criteria. Criminal record, poor credit.”

“Good point,” I said. “Advanced Alzheimer’s would sure inhibit criminality.”

Banfer shook his head. “The potential ramifications for Gold Standard are obvious but no harm was intended.”

Milo said, “Your clients provided a con artist as a nanny for movie stars’ kids, did the same for a woman who ended up dead. Yeah, I’d say those are ramifications.”

“That’s a tiny proportion of all the wonderful people Jack and Daisy have connected with wonderful clients.”

Recited with all the conviction of a gulag loyalty pledge.

I said, “Unfortunately, you’re only as good as your last picture.”

Banfer sighed. “I’ve advised Jack to sit tight, but obviously he’s on pins and needles. To make matters worse, Daisy knew nothing about any of this.”

Milo said, “Unhappy wife, unhappy life.”

“It’s a mess, all right. By the way, I did check out Ms. Betts’s Social Security and it comes back to her. Have I missed something? Because she and Chambord seem an unlikely pairing.”

Milo said, “Nothing crooked has turned up on Adriana.”

“That baby found at the park-those bones-what’s the connection?”

“Don’t know yet, Floyd. That’s why we wanted to talk to Jack and Daisy.”

“Well, they certainly can’t tell you anything about that .”

“Qeesha-Simone-was hired twenty-three months ago. What about Adriana?”

“Recently. Around three, four months ago according to Jack.”

“He can’t be more precise?”

Banfer stared straight ahead.

Milo said, “He destroyed the files?”

“I can’t get into that.”

“Your client got rid of potential evidence. If you advised him to do that you could be facing obstruction charges.”

“Same answer, I’m afraid.”

Banfer turned to Milo. Milo glared and Banfer faced forward again. “Let’s put this in context: I’ve been more forthcoming than I need to be, given the circumstances.”

“What circumstances are those, Floyd?”

“No charges have been filed against anyone, you’re at the supposition stage, fishing around, and neither I nor my client is obligated to talk to you about anything. However, we chose to cooperate volitionally because we’re not obstructionistic. And in terms of files, I’m unaware of any statute requiring a small businessman to cope with needless paper buildup.”