Jonathan Kellerman - Compulsion

The doorman didn’t budge until I pushed the button. Even then, his movements were languid.

He opened the door a couple of inches. “Help you?”

“I’m here for Mr. Korvutz.”

“He expecting you?”

“I sure hope so.”

“Name?”

“Dr. Delaware.”

He closed the door, got on a phone. I cooled my heels under the awning, braced for refusal, maybe a warning to cease and desist. Felt guilty about cutting Elena’s dinner short, then thought about the Safrans and suppressed my regret.

The doorman hung up, cracked the door again. “He’s comin’ down.”

Roland Korvutz emerged moments later in brown shirtsleeves, baggy gray pants, and white sneakers, cradling a tiny white Pomeranian.

I prepared for rage. His face was blank.

The doorman fulfilled his primary job description and Korvutz walked through. He pointed south, kept moving, still holding the dog.

Small man but he pumped his legs fast.

I caught up. The Pomeranian yapped happily. Licked my hand.

Korvutz said, “Everyone thinks you’re a great guy.” Small man with a big baritone. In the comparative quiet his accent was more pronounced.

“Kids and dogs,” I said. “Sometimes they’re good judges of character.”

“Bullshit,” said Korvutz. “I had rottweiler, love everyone, the worst scumbags.”

“Maybe this dog’s smarter.”

“Gigi,” said Korvutz. “That’s her name.” He fastened a pink leash to the dog’s rhinestone collar, put her down.

“Like in the movie?”

“My wife like the movie.” Shaking his head.

Gigi raced. We covered a block. Korvutz waited as Gigi explored a lamppost.

I said, “Thanks for seeing me.”

No answer.

“Sorry for ruining your dinner.”

“It not you, it woulda been something else. My daughter. She love the place, but she not ready for it.”

“Too much pressure to be quiet.”

“Sometime Elena get what they call overstimulated.”

“I meant what I said. Cute kid by any standards.”

Korvutz stared at me. “You really a shrink?”

“Want to see my license?”

He laughed. “She my only one. Got married late.”

The dog pulled on the pink leash. Korvutz said, “Okay, okay,” and allowed her to lead.

Ten steps later: “That guy Bright really kill someone?”

“Maybe a bunch of people.”

“Crazy.”

“You never suspected him for the Safrans?”

He held up a palm. “Eh-eh, them I don’t talk about, no way. Brought me nothing but bullshit.”

“All I’m concerned with is Bright-”

“Bright I meet twice? Okay? Only thing I remember is he’s a big ass-kisser. Mr. K. this, Mr. K. that. Back then my buildings got four hundred fifty tenants, four seventy-five. I’m supposed to give a shit ‘Mr. K.’ ?”

“What’d he ass-kiss about?”

“Trying to be my best friend, like I don’t know when I’m being rimmed.” Korvutz slowed, watched as the dog sniffed another post. Rearranged his eyeglasses. Gigi changed her mind. We resumed walking. “She take her time doing the business. C’mon, dog. I got homework to do.”

I repeated my question.

Korvutz said, “Bright had ideas. My benefit. ‘Have a tenant board, Mr. K., gonna make things smoother.’ I thought it was bullshit.”

“But you agreed.”

“Someone wanna help, it’s no skin off. I’m figuring Bright’s gonna ask for something, I want, I say no. Turns out it was nothing.”

“He never asked for anything?”

“Go figure.”

“No break on the rent?”

“Hey,” said Korvutz, “that I do before.”

“How much of a discount did you give him?”

“Who remembers – maybe coupla thousand total.”

“Goodness of your heart,” I said.

Korvutz turned to me. “Like I said, I met him twice. He want to help out, why not? In the end, it don’t help. Stupid tenant board.”

“No help with the condo-conversion.”

Scowling, he walked faster. “That building screwed me. Financed it with other properties, shoulda known better than to invest in that piece of shit. Then I got short, rates are getting worse, the banks not gonna lend unless they got you by the – the paperwork get all – crazy time it take this damn city to get something done. What the hell do you care? You want know about Dale Ass-kissey? That’s the story. Period.”

I said, “How’d he come to rent from you?”

“Referral.”

“From who?”

“What’s the difference?”

We walked until Gigi grew fascinated with the scents emanating from a trash can on the corner of Sixty-ninth.

“Go, already,” said Korvutz. “Dog.”

I said, “Who referred Bright to you?”

“Again?”

“What’s the big secret?”

“I didn’t even want new tenants. You convert, you need it empty. Bright get guaranteed no-hassle, I say what the hell, okay. That’s my problem. Soft heart.”

Gigi moved from the trash can. We covered another half a block before I said, “Who guaranteed him?”

“This is a big goddamn deal, huh?”

“Sonia Glusevitch?”

Korvutz licked his lips. “You know Sonia?”

“I know she’s your cousin and she served on the board with Dale.”

“Cousin,” he said, as if learning a new word. “Her mother’s second husband is nephew of one of my stepsisters.”

“She knew Dale and recommended him.”

Reluctant nod.

“Was she involved with him?”

“Sonia was married.”

“Same question,” I said.

“I don’t nosy in other people’s business.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Look,” said Korvutz, “Sonia come to me, say she got friend need a place. I say six months, tops.”

“That could’ve fit Dale Bright’s needs perfectly.”

“What you mean?”

“He moves around,” I said.

“Good for him.”

“There’s no record of him after he left your building. Any idea where he went?”

“I should know?”

“Where’d Sonia meet him?”

“That I know,” said Korvutz. “Doing a show.”

“What kind of show?”

“Sonia want to be actress. That time, she has terrible English, she a little better now. One year I’m here from Belarus, I’m talking perfect. Two years, I got the Puerto Rican Spanish, five years I’m talking to Chinese people. Hasta luego ying chang chung.”

“Sonia has no gift for language.”

“Sonia?” Chuckle. “What they say, not swiftest knife in pantry?”

“But she thought she could act.”

“Wanna be big star.”

“Movies or stage plays?”

“Even now,” said Korvutz, “she go to classes at the New School. Paint pictures, make pots, ashtrays, candleholders.”

“Artistic.”

“Live off divorce money, you got time take lessons.”

“Rich ex.”

“Plastic surgeon. He do her boobies, like what he do, marry her, get to look at it all the time.”

“What’s his name?”

“Who remembers?”

“He marries your cousin and you don’t remember?”

“Jewish guy,” he said. “They get married in Anguilla, no one invited. Five years, she move to a big house in Lawrence, then divorce.”

“She still gets alimony?”

“She live good.”

“Where’s this doctor’s office?”

“Also the Five Towns.”

“Which one?”

“Maybe Lawrence, maybe Cedarhurst.”

“You don’t remember his name.”

“Jew name, some kind of Witz, maybe Markowitz, maybe Leibowitz – no, no, Lefkowitz. Bob Lefkowitz. Plays tennis.” Miming a wide swing.

“So Sonia was seeing Dale Bright while she was married to Dr. Lefkowitz.”

Silence.