Питер Робинсон: No Cure for Love

“A policeman?”

“Uh-huh. He can at least have a look at the letter, reassure you there’s nothing to worry about. It’s his job. He deals with shit like this all the time. He’s an expert.”

“Okay,” said Sarah.

Mark came back and asked them about dessert. Sarah only wanted a decaf cappuccino, but Stuart went for the pink gingered pear compote with cassis, which was duly delivered.

“Now,” he said when Mark had vanished again. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to do this Nora in this... what is it?”

“ A Doll’s House . Ibsen.”

“Right. Are you sure it’s a good idea to do this thing on Broadway?”

“I should be so lucky. Jane Fonda played her in a movie.”

“That’s right,” Stuart said. “That’s right, she did. Now I recall.” He paused, ate a spoonful of compote, then fixed her with a serious gaze and said, “But, Sarah, sweetheart, think about it. Do you really want to end up making exercise videos and marrying a millionaire tycoon?”

“Well, I suppose there are worse things in life,” she said, laughing. But her laughter had a brittle, nervous edge.

So what do you think?” Maria asked, looking at her watch.

Arvo shrugged. “Give him fifteen, twenty minutes, then we’re out of here.”

It was almost three o’clock in the afternoon. Detectives Arvo Hughes and Maria Hernandez, from the Threat Management Unit of the LAPD, had been sitting in a diner near Sunset and Vine for almost two hours waiting for Sandi Gaines’s self-styled boyfriend, Chuck, to turn up.

Last week, Sandi, who worked as a waitress in the diner, had been referred to the TMU by Hollywood Division. A guy called Chuck, whom she had dated casually once or twice and then ditched, had been pestering her, phoning and making threats and racist insults. He had also walked into the diner the last two Tuesdays, just after the lunchtime rush, and acted weirdly, threatening to kill her and himself if she didn’t give him another chance.

On both occasions, Sandi had been able to persuade him to leave without much trouble, but she was shaken and worried. So Arvo and Maria were here to talk to him. The detectives on the TMU usually worked alone, except on interventions like this. Arvo didn’t expect any trouble, and rarely got any, but you had to be careful. The simple obsessionals — the ones you had known and been emotionally involved with — were by far the most dangerous kind of stalkers.

The diner was an old-style bar and grill, with a lot of brass around the bar and booths separated by dark wood panels. The tablecloths were starched white linen, the benches plush red leather, and paintings of coastal scenes hung on the burgundy walls.

The owners had made a couple of seasonal concessions, including a fold-out Santa Claus on the wall, a few streamers on the ceiling, fluttering in the draft from the air conditioner, and red and green napkins on the tables.

A shabby Christmas tree, about three feet high, stood in the corner near the entrance to the men’s room. One or two gift-wrapped packages had been placed underneath it, presents from staff members to one another, most likely. Or empty boxes. It wouldn’t do to leave your Christmas presents lying around in open view in a place like this.

“So tell me about Nyreen while we’re waiting,” Maria said. “You never did tell me how you met.”

Arvo laughed. “On a stake-out. Can you believe it?”

“Like this one?”

“No. No, this was a Hollywood job.” He looked around. “I mean celebrity Hollywood, not like this place. This soap star, he’d been getting weird letters from a female fan for about a year. She’d send him locks of her hair, toenail clippings, you know the routine. Once she even sent him a used tampon.”

Maria wrinkled her nose.

“Anyway, she approached him a few times at public events and eventually he found her lurking around his neighbourhood, going through his trash, that sort of thing. We’re not talking Beverly Hills security here, you understand. The guy wasn’t that big. I think he lived in West LA, if I remember correctly. Anyway, when he got a temporary restraining order against her, she sent him a death threat, said she’d carry it out where all his friends could see. So what does he do? He holds this big birthday bash at The Bistro, and we’re there running interference in case she turns up.”

“Did she?”

Arvo shook his head. “Nope. While we were soaking up the Parisian ambience and stuffing ourselves with gravlax and swordfish, she was hanging herself in Orange County with the cord from her bathrobe. A neighbor found her two days later.”

Maria shook her head. Her mass of shiny black curls bounced around her shoulders. She had a dark complexion, with warm hazel eyes where humor and sadness mingled, a small, straight nose and full lips that looked as if they were shaped for long, lingering kisses.

Arvo could make out the outline of her white bra under the cotton blouse, cupping her full breasts, and though he couldn’t see at the moment, he knew that her small waist swelled gently into hips that looked sensational in tight jeans. So sensational, in fact, that he thought she should be doing ads. Maybe she should audition, get an agent. Lots of cops moonlighted.

Arvo pulled himself up short. Only in LA from Detroit three years himself and already starting to think like a native. Scary.

Some of the guys said Maria was gay, but Arvo suspected that was because they had made their pitches and struck out. She was funny and smart as well as being a great-looking woman, and a lot of men felt threatened by that. Born into a large, poor immigrant family — her father was a cab driver in San Diego — she had worked her way through school as a waitress and got a degree in psychology. Now, at the age of twenty-nine, she was a valuable member of the TMU. Nobody talked down to Maria Hernandez and got away with it.

Sandi came by and topped up their coffees. From where Arvo sat, he could see the door. He always liked to sit with his back to a wall and his eyes on the door. Sandi said she’d give him the nod when Chuck walked in. It was ten after three now, and the crowd had thinned out since lunch. Apart from one group of five celebrating someone’s birthday at the table near the window, the place was empty.

Arvo looked at his watch. “Is he likely to come this late?” he asked.

Sandi nodded. “Says where he works they sometimes have late lunches.”

“But he didn’t say where he worked?”

Sandi shook her head. “Nope. Just said he worked in movies, that’s all, the lying creep.”

Jesus, Arvo thought, looking at the statuesque Sandi in her micro-skirt and white silk blouse, with her model-school posture and chocolate-colored, beauty-clinic skin, does everyone around here want to get in the movies?

“I just hope you catch the bastard trying something that’ll land his ass in jail and out of my face, that’s all,” Sandi said, turning away.

It was an unfortunate turn of phrase, Arvo thought. He looked at Maria, who raised her eyes and smiled. “What about when you met Nyreen?” she asked. “You didn’t get to that.”

Arvo sighed. “Ah, Nyreen. Well, she was at that party I was telling you about. She worked in public relations for the studio.” He held his hands out, palms up. “What can I say? I fell for her right there and then. Love at first sight. She was blond and beautiful. She seemed bright and she had a great body. She was also full of life and vitality, and she laughed a lot. Two weeks later we were married, and nine months later it was over.”

“Two weeks?”

“Well... yeah.”

“I didn’t know that. So you really waited till you’d got to know each other first, right?”