Питер Робинсон - No Cure for Love

He sneered at Maria. “Women like men to fight over them, sure they do. Like those two guys in the club tonight, when you came over. You must’ve seen what was happening there. Fucking peacocks preening themselves. Strutting their stuff.”

“Like to see some blood flow, do they?”

“Sure they do.”

“Is that what you like, too, Mitch. See a little blood flow? Is that why you hit me?”

“Look, I already explained about that. Sorry, my mistake.”

Maria sat back and let Arvo pick up the reins again. Cameron glanced between the two of them. He was getting so he didn’t know where to look. “Gary didn’t treat Sal very well, did he?” Arvo asked.

Cameron crossed his arms again. “They weren’t getting along. They were close to splitting up by then.”

“Way I heard it is he liked to humiliate her, force her to go with other guys. Even women. Do threesomes, gangbangs, that sort of thing.”

“This is bullshit, man. I don’t have to listen to this.” Cameron stood up but Joe pushed him back down again. “You’re not free to go,” he said. “Sit down.”

“Hey, that’s police brutality.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” said Joe. “Stay seated and answer the man’s questions.”

Arvo went on. “You admit that Gary didn’t treat Sal well, and that bothered you, made you protective toward her?”

“I’m not saying anything against Gary. Look, some guys just have problems relating to women, you know. That’s all.”

Arvo scratched his cheek and Maria took over again. “What do you mean by that, Mitch?” she asked. “Exactly what do you mean?”

He glanced at her quickly, then looked down at the table. “Well, Gary was a genius, right? He wasn’t like you and me.”

“And that gives him permission to humiliate women, does it?”

“I’m not saying that. You’re twisting my words. That’s just what a fucking woman would say.”

“What are you saying, then?” Maria pressed on. “I’m just trying to understand where you’re coming from, Mitch.”

“Just that people like Gary are different, that’s all. You can’t judge them by ordinary standards. Like Miles Davis. He was another genius, but I read a biography said he wasn’t that much of a gentleman to the women in his life either.” He looked up at Maria again and fixed her with his eyes.

Maria didn’t even blink. She just went on slowly, softly and insistently. “So being a genius allows men to beat and degrade women. Is that what you’re saying?”

“No. I’m not saying that. What I’m saying is that people like Gary are different, and sometimes they have, like, problems relating to women. They’re a bit fucked up, that’s all. Genius and madness, they’re pretty closely related. I’m not saying it should be condoned or anything.”

“That’s an interesting point, Mitch. How would you describe yourself: genius or madman?”

Cameron shrugged.

“Or maybe it doesn’t matter. The way you just described it, they’re pretty much the same, aren’t they?”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m no crazy.”

“Did you want to make up to Sal for the way Gary treated her?”

“I never thought about it that way. I was just being nice, you know. It’s my nature.”

Arvo picked up the questioning again. “What happened after she went away? Did you lose touch with her?”

“ Everyone lost touch with her, man.”

“Ever try to find her?”

“No. Why would I do that?”

“Maybe you just couldn’t stop thinking about her?”

“What?”

“Watch much TV, Mitch?”

“Not a lot, no.”

“We noticed you got two TVs in the house. Big screen in the living room and a smaller one in your bedroom.”

“My what?”

“Your bedroom. The room with all your computer stuff. All the weird pictures on the wall. The room you keep locked.” Arvo sat forward, lowered his voice and rested his hands on the table. “See, we know all about you, Mitch. Maybe you’d like to talk about that now, the pictures, the little altar to Sarah Broughton? Want to tell us about that now, Mitch?”

Cameron turned pale and his jaw dropped. “You guys went to my house, broke into the bedroom?”

“We had a legal search warrant.”

“And you broke into the bedroom, the room with the lock on?”

“Yes. Like I said, we had a warrant. We had to break in. There was nobody there to let us in.”

Cameron shook his head. “Look,” he said, “I don’t understand any of this, and I don’t care about your fucking warrant. Is this what this is all about? All that stuff about me and Sal?” He glanced back and forth between Arvo and Maria. “You saw the photos on the wall?”

“More than that,” said Arvo. “You’ve got to admit, it’s pretty weird, Mitch: the altar, the fanzines, all those collages. Pretty bizarre. Want to tell us about it?”

Cameron started to laugh.

“Want to tell us about it?” Arvo repeated.

“Sure, I’d love to tell you about it. Problem is, I don’t know much about it. I’ve hardly even been past the door.”

Arvo frowned. All of a sudden, he felt his heart lurch and his mouth go dry. “What do you mean?”

“What I say. The room’s not mine, and unlike you assholes, I respect people’s privacy.” He leaned forward and rested his hands on the table.

“Mitch, you’re feeding us a line. What do we look like, Boy Scouts? It’s your house, Mitch. You rent it.”

“Sure I rent it. But I sleep on the sofa-bed in the front room. That other room’s Mark’s. He lives with me. And the lease is in his name, too. You guys should do a bit more investigating before you come around rousting innocent people, maybe losing them their jobs.”

“Mark? Your half-brother.”

“Yeah. Mark Lister. I don’t fucking believe this, man. I don’t believe it. Are you trying to tell me you think Mark’s been killing people because he’s a fan of Sal’s? No way. Sure, the kid has an active fantasy life. What’s wrong with that? It’s harmless enough, a few photos on the wall. All kids do that. He never had much else going for him except computers. He’s a real whiz with those.” He shook his head. “This is crazy.”

“Are you saying that you didn’t rent a silver Toyota from Dollar Rentals out at LAX?”

“Sure I’m saying that. What are you talking about?”

“Because we talked to the rental company and they told us it was you, Mitch. Mitchell Lorne Cameron rented that car on January 2 and returned it January 3. You saying that’s not you, Mitch? You saying you didn’t rent a car just like Sarah’s bodyguard’s, run him off the road, then stab Stuart Kleigman out in Brentwood?”

“The fuck I didn’t. Little asshole must’ve borrowed my driver’s licence again.”

“But he’s blind.”

“Who’s blind?”

“Mark.”

“Like fuck he is. Listen, I’m telling you, man, I didn’t rent no car. Mark doesn’t have his own licence so he does that sometimes, even though I told him he could get us in trouble.”

Arvo felt it slipping away from him. Martha, back in San Francisco, had told him she thought Mitch’s brother had some physical disability, but she had only guessed that it was blindness. Arvo had swallowed the assumption. “What does Mark look like?” he asked.

“We’re only half-brothers, but we both take after our mother. And Mark sort of looks up to me and copies me, you know, like dyeing his hair blond, working out, wearing the same kind of clothes and shit. I guess we look sort of alike. Enough so he can get away with using my driver’s licence. Look, this is really crazy, man. I can’t believe that Mark—”

“You’ve been taking care of him since Eureka?”