Jonathan Kellerman - Victims

“No reason, but he’s the first one you thought of.”

Sloat’s brown eyes turned piggishly small as they studied Milo, then me, then Milo again. “George is going through a complicated divorce and she keeps claiming he’s holding back on her. She’s threatening to close down the business if he doesn’t open the books. Last week, she sent around a private investigator pretending to be a customer, dude’s dressed like a dork, starts asking me if I have more of these nice worsted suits in the back. Worsted. What a doofus. I said, ‘Hey, Dan Tana, if you actually want to try something on, let’s do it, if this is a game, go play it elsewhere.’ Guy turned white and got the fuck out.”

Sloat grinned and winked. His bronzed face was smoother than when we’d entered; recounting his dominance put him back in his comfort zone.

Milo said, “I hear you. Well, this has nothing to do with George.”

“What then?”

“It’s about your ex-wife.”

Sloat’s jaw muscles swelled. His pupils expanded. “Vita? What about her?”

“She’s dead.”

“Dead,” said Sloat. “As in police dead? Oh, man. What happened?”

“Someone murdered her.”

“Yeah, I got that. I mean who, how, when?”

Milo ticked his fingers. “Don’t know, nasty, five nights ago.”

Sloat stroked his soul patch. “Wo-ho,” he said, in a soft, almost boyish voice. “Someone finally did the bitch.”

We didn’t respond.

He said, “I need a cigarette, let’s go outside.”

Milo said, “Let’s.”

Grabbing a pack of wheat-colored Nat Shermans from the steel desk, Jay Sloat led us out of the store to the curb, where he positioned himself in front of the display window and lit up with a gold-plated lighter. “Can’t smoke inside, George doesn’t want odor on the merchandise.”

Milo waited until he’d puffed a third of the cigarette before speaking. “Someone did the bitch. So for you it’s not bad news.”

“Me and Vita broke up a long time ago.”

“Fifteen years ago.” Milo cited the date of the final decree.

The detail caused Sloat to recoil. “What, you guys are looking into my past?”

“We’ve researched Vita, Mr. Sloat. Your name came up.”

“So you know about my arrests.”

“We do.”

“Then you also know they were bullshit. Dorks asking for trouble and getting it.”

Neither of us argued.

Sloat said, “I watch those shows, I get it, I’m the ex, you think I did it.”

“What shows?”

“Crime-true crap, puts me to sleep at night.” Sloat grinned. “When I don’t have help getting some nighty-night.”

“You get help often?”

“Get pussy as often as I can, good for the complexion.” He laughed. “Got it every night last week, including five nights ago.”

“From who?”

“A chick who rode me like a rodeo horse and righteously blew my mind.”

“How about a name?”

“How about she’s married.”

“We’re discreet, Jay.”

“Yeah, I bet. On those shows, cops make promises and break them. And anyway, why do I need an alibi? Like you said, it was fifteen years ago. Whatever Vita did since then was out of my life.”

“Fifteen years ago was the divorce,” said Milo. “Our research says the war kept going.”

“Okay,” said Sloat, “so she kept jerking me around for another few. But then it ended. I haven’t seen Vita in a long time.”

“How long is ‘another few,’ Jay?”

“Let’s see… last time the bitch took me to court was… I’d have to say six, maybe seven years ago.”

That matched Nguyen’s failing to come up with anything for five.

“What’d she want?”

“What do you think? More money.”

“She get it?”

“She got some,” said Sloat. “It’s not like I had that much to give.”

“When’s the last time you actually saw her?”

“Right after. Maybe a month. She jerks me around in court, then has the nerve to drop in, middle of the night.”

“What for?”

“What do you think? You go to Jay, you want to play.”

Milo said, “She sues you then does a booty-call.”

“She was crazy,” said Sloat. “Also, old habits die hard.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m a tough habit to break.”

He laughed, smoked greedily. Dry hairline, steady hands, steady lips.

I said, “You’re a tough habit to break but for six, seven years Vita managed.”

Sloat’s face darkened. “She didn’t end it, I did. That time she dropped over, I wouldn’t let her in, told her she ever did that again I’d get a restraining order and sue her ass so fast she wouldn’t know what was reaming her. She knew I meant it, I’m not a guy takes bullshit.”

“Like those guys in the bar.”

“You got it,” said Sloat, “and I ain’t embarrassed about it. Back in Chicago I used to work dispatch for a trucking company. They fucked me over, giving the good shifts to some loser who bribed the supervisor, wanting me to work night shift even though I’d been there ten years. I sued and won. Another time one of our dark-skinned brothers dented my car, I had this little Benz convertible, gray on gray, sweet drive, this dusky fellow isn’t looking where he’s going, pow. Everyone said don’t hassle, those types never have insurance, it’s a lost cause. I said screw that, sued his ass, my lawyer found out his mother owned a house, had given the dude a share. We attached Mommy’s house, moved to evict her, he paid up.”

“You like the court system.”

“What I like is protecting my rights. Which I know I got, right now. In terms of talking to you guys, I don’t have to say squat. But it’s cool, you don’t bother me. I had nothing to do with Vita getting killed. Trust me, the way Vita was, she’d have no trouble arranging it all by herself.”

“You think she organized her own murder?”

“No, no, what I’m saying is Vita was the biggest bitch this side of… I don’t know, Cruella Whatshername? From the cartoon? There’d be tons of people she pissed off. All Vita had to do was go on being Vita. Eventually someone was gonna get pissed off.”

“Any suggestions as to who?”

“Nah, Vita was out of my life, I don’t have a clue who she was hanging with.”

“Think back,” I said. “When you were still seeing her. Did she have any enemies?”

“Enemies?” said Sloat. “Walk down the street and pick people at random. To know her was to hate the bitch.”

“You married her.”

“When I married her, I dug her. Then I hated her.”

“She was different back then.”

“Nope,” said Sloat. “Only I thought she was. She conned me, you know?”

“Being nice,” I said.

“Nah, Vita was never nice. But she hid what a bitch she was by being quiet about it, you know?”

“How?”

“By being cold. Super-frosty, she’d give you this look, this I’m-a-bitch-but-I’ll-still-suck-your-cock look. And she did. There was a time she had talent, still looked pretty good. Tall and cold with sharp edges, I used to call her Miss Everest. Then she stopped faking it. Why bother when you can be a total bitch?”

“The attraction wore off.”

“I was attracted to her tits,” said Sloat. “She had a nice face, too. She took care of herself, plucking the eyebrows, wearing the makeup, doing the platinum-blond hair. Like that actress. Novak, Kim Novak. People old enough to remember said she looked like Kim Novak. I went to see Vertigo. Novak was a helluva lot hotter, give me ten Vitas for one Kim Novak, you’ll still owe me change. But Vita was cute, I’ll grant her that. Good where it counted, also. That part she kept up, even after we broke up. I’ll grant her that.”

“Sexy,” I said.