Питер Робинсон: No Cure for Love

“But that’s not the way I heard the story, Mitch. I heard that Lasardi made some joke about you writing your autobiography on the back of a postage stamp, and you sat and drank and sulked and brooded over it all night, then you hit him.”

“I told you, the man was insulting me, insulting my background and my talent.”

“What talent?”

Cameron snorted. “What the fuck do you know about music?”

“But don’t you think that’s a bit strange, Mitch? A little bit odd? Sitting and brooding all evening over some petty remark? Isn’t it a bit of an overreaction? Maybe a bit obsessive ?”

Cameron probed his broken tooth and said nothing.

“Do that a lot, do you?” Arvo asked.

“Do what?”

“Brood. Sit and think about things, get ideas in your head. Ideas you can’t seem to shake, things you just have to follow through on.”

“Are you trying to say I’m some kind of a crazy? And that’s why I killed these people? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Ever suffered from mental illness, Mitch? Ever been treated for schizophrenia?”

“No. What the fuck is this?”

Arvo paused to write some notes on his pad, just for effect, then raised his eyes and asked, “Do you remember Sarah Broughton?”

“Sarah who?”

“Sarah Broughton. The actress. She was Gary’s girlfriend at the time of the tour. You came down to LA with them, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. Sure I remember her now. Sal. She wasn’t called Sarah then. I remember Sal.”

“What was your relationship with her?”

“What do you mean? I didn’t have a relationship with her. She was Gary’s girl.”

“Were you friends?”

“Friendly. I wouldn’t exactly say friends.”

“Did you hold doors open for her?”

“If I did, I was just acting like a gentleman, which is more than I—”

“Did you have pet names for her?”

“I mean, shit, is it a crime to act like a gentleman these days? What you mean, pet names?”

“Did you call her ‘My Lady,’ ‘Princess’?”

“Maybe I did, just for a joke. What’s this—”

“‘Little Star’?”

“Maybe.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you call her ‘Little Star’?”

“It’s the kids’ song. Don’t you know it?” He sang, “‘Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are.’ Sometimes, you know, she seemed about as far away as a star.”

“So you called her ‘Little Star’?”

“I said maybe I did. Where are you going with this? I’m not admitting anything till you tell me what this is all about. First you’re trying to pin murders on me, now you’re talking about Sal. I don’t get it. What’s the connection?”

“Did you address the letters to ‘Little Star’?”

“What letters? What are you talking about?”

Arvo gave a discreet signal to Maria, who slipped a file from her briefcase, opened it and started to read. “‘As I labor to prove myself to you, you will remember me and you will come to me. Then, my love, will we lie together and I will bite your Nipples till the Blood and Milk flow down my chin. We will hack and eat away the Corrupting Flesh, the Rank Pollution of Tissue and Sinew, and go in Moonlight shedding our Skin and spilling our Blood on the Sand through the Mirrors of the Sea where all is Peace and Silence and no one can harm us or tear us apart ever again Forever and Forever.’”

Cameron seemed confused to hear a woman’s voice reading the letter. He frowned at Maria, then looked toward Arvo again.

“I’d call that rather flowery, poetic, if a little overwritten, wouldn’t you?” Arvo said. “Sort of Hallmark gothic. Sounds like just your style to me. Did you write that, Mitch?”

“Fuck, no.”

“How about this?”

Arvo looked toward Maria, who turned to the next sheet of paper and read softly, as if it were a love poem. “‘The boy wanted Death. Every night he cruised the Boulevard looking for Death, for someone who would deliver him to his Destiny. The Boulevard of Death. I put him to sleep like a kind Anesthetist before I performed my Operation. My Knives were sharp. I spent hours sharpening them. I was gentle when I bent over him. He didn’t feel a thing. Please believe me.

The disentanglement of Spirit from Flesh has a Scent and an Aura all of its own, my Love. One day I will show you, let you Smell and Taste it with me. We will disentangle our Spirits from our Gross Bodies and entwine forever, cut away the wretched excess.’”

“This is crazy,” Cameron said.

“Sounds to me like you were talking about John Heimar, the kid you picked up on Santa Monica Boulevard on December 19,” Arvo said.

“I didn’t pick no kid up. And I didn’t write that shit, either. It’s not me, man.”

“How about this one.”

Again Maria read in her low, husky voice. “‘I surround myself with your Image. I stand against my wall and I project your Image onto my Skin. I feel the warmth of the Light brush over me and I think it is you gently caressing me. But you were so far from my Arms and I saw you kiss him. I watched him put his Arms around you. I couldn’t bear it. You know what I can do, you have seen the Fruits of my Labors.’” As she read, the cut opened on her lower lip and a thin trickle of blood oozed down her chin. She wiped it away with a tissue.

“Real purple prose, that one,” said Arvo. “Sound familiar?”

“What is this? This is sick, man.”

“Let’s get back to Sally for a minute. You treated her well, did you?”

“I already told you. I behaved like a gentleman.”

“Why were you so good to her?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why treat her with such respect? You didn’t show the same esteem for Detective Hernandez here. Anyone would think you hated women.”

Cameron glanced at Maria and said nothing.

“But you looked out for Sally, didn’t you?”

“Because there wasn’t anybody else to do it.” He ran his hand over his hair and wiped it on his jeans. “She was a stranger over here. She had that English accent and all, looked lost half the time. And she was so vulnerable.”

“But she had Gary, didn’t she?”

“He couldn’t always be around, could he? Gary was busy. People hit on her, you know, Sal. Good-looking chick like that. People hit on her all the time.”

“And you stopped them?”

“If I could. If I was around.”

“How did she react to that?”

“To what?”

“You using your muscle to keep guys from hitting on her.”

“How would I know? She never said.”

“Was she impressed?”

“I told you, I don’t know.”

“You mean she never even thanked you?”

“That’s not why I did it, man.”

“What’d she do? Just ignore you?”

“Yeah. I guess. I don’t know.”

“But you still protected her to the best of your ability?”

“Yes. But I didn’t kill anyone for her. Is that what you’re getting at. Someone says I killed someone? Is that what this is all about? Well they’re a liar. They’re a fucking liar.” His eyes flashed with anger and he banged his fist on the table.

“Hey,” said Arvo. “Calm down, Mitch. Tell me, how did you feel when you found out that someone else hit on her?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Someone told me she was the tour mattress. Everyone fucked her. Everyone but you. She just ignored you.”

“Hey, I don’t like—”

“I don’t care what you don’t like, Mitch. Tell me how you felt when you knew someone else had fucked her.”

“I didn’t feel anything. Why would I?”

Arvo rested his hand on the table as a signal for Maria to take over. She did it smoothly. “Did you wonder what you could do to make her like you?” she asked softly. “Do you think women are impressed by tough guys, Mitch? Do you think they like it when people kill for them?”