Jonathan Kellerman - Compulsion

I reached for a cracker. “Please tell me about Dale.”

“What’s to say?”

“What was he like?”

Sonia Glusevitch said, “Nice. Helpful. He liked to help people.”

“He helped you?”

“Oh, yes.”

“With what?”

“My lines, how I talked, doing the eyes. It’s different.”

“What is?”

“The myakeup for the theater. You must make a styatement.”

“Dale told you that.”

Nod.

I said, “Dale had experience with theatrical makeup.”

“Experience, I don’t knyow. He was very, very good. Artistic.”

“Did the two of you meet doing Dark Nose Holiday ?”

“Oh, yes. I was Neurona – a traveler in the brain – and Dyale was Sir Axon. He showed me how to use the light and the dyark.” Touching an eyelid. “To look mystyerious on styage. To make the face dramatic.”

Roland Korvutz had described actors completely shrouded by dark robes.

I said, “So the two of you became friends.”

Sonia Glusevitch drank wine. “Dyale was a real friendly guy.”

“You don’t seem that surprised that he’d be a murder suspect.”

“Everything can be a surprise. Or nothing, depends.”

“On what?”

She cocked her head to one side. “If you trust people, you get surprised.”

“You don’t?”

“No more,” she said. “Every day, my husband told me he loved me. Every single day, six thirty, first thing he woke up, even before the toothbrush. ‘I love you, Sonny.’ Covering his mouth so the bad breath didn’t bother me.” The hand drifted to her abdomen, continued to her knee. “He was a syurgeon. Every Friday, he gave me flowers, all the women were jealous. He worked so hard, plastic syurgeon, my Stevie. Long hours. Long long long hours.” Flashing teeth. “He hired pretty little Puerto Rican nurses. Now he is married to one.”

“Ah.”

She recrossed her legs. Fabric shifted, revealing the flank of a meaty white thigh. A sandal bobbled.

I said, “You knew Dale when you were married.”

“Oh, yes.”

“What kind of relationship did the two of you have?”

Crooked grin. “You want to know did I sleep with him? A little, yes, it happened. Stevie was having his nurse fun. The rooster, why not the hen?”

“Only a little?” I said.

“I liked to do it. Dale not so much.”

“No enthusiasm.”

“Enthusiasm, yes,” she said. “When he did it. And he was able. No problem with able, just problem with often. ”

“Any sign he was gay?”

“He told me no.”

“You asked.”

“It was a syad time for me.” Her shoulders sagged. “I found a little Platinum American Express receipt in Stevie’s jacket. Big, expensive dinner, at a place in the Hamptons I’d asked Stevie to take me. He nyever did.”

“What a bum,” I said.

“Oh, yes, Ah-lex. Big-time bum. So I was syad. I cried to Dyale, said please treat me like a woman. Instead, he was nice.”

“Nice?”

“Like a gyirlfriend.”

“Good listener?”

“The hand-hold, the listening, the hugs. The little kiss here. ” Tapping the tip of her nose. “The business? Nyo.”

She shifted her weight, exposed more thigh.

I said, “Hard to believe he turned you down.”

Her eyes moistened. “You are probably lying but I like it anyway.”

She drank wine, looked up at the ceiling. Her chin quivered. She covered her thigh.

I said, “So you asked if he was gay and he said no.”

“Right away, no.”

“Did the question bother him?”

“Not at all,” she said. “He laughed. Changed the subject.”

“To what topic?”

“‘You are so beautiful, Sonny.’” Deep sigh.

“Was he effeminate?”

“Nyo,” she said. “I’d say nyo.”

“You’re not sure.”

“Yes, I’m sure, definite nyo. Dyale was not girly, just a sensitive guy.”

“Helpful.”

She winked. “Not like a nyormal man, eh?”

I laughed.

“Another way he was different,” she said. “Very neat and clean, always smelled fresh. And no toys. I don’t talk about sex toys, I mean fast car, big watches, big TV, big stereo. Stevie likes the toys.”

“Dale didn’t own any of that.”

“Dyale had nyothing. Futon for sleeping, jeans and sweaters in the closet, nyo real food in the ’frigerator, just juice and water, a backpack, a locker.”

“A locker?”

“A green locker. From the army.”

“Dale told you he was a veteran?”

“Cyaptain, five years.”

“Where’d he serve?”

“Germany. He fixed tanks.”

“Mechanical.”

“Good with his hands,” she said. “One time he fixed my styove, the pilot light. Also, the toilet. Twice, the toilet.”

“We’re talking about your apartment on West Thirty-fifth.”

She flicked a red nail against her goblet. “Ah-lex, I was very, very lonely in the big house, Stevie was working all the time with the little nurses. Roland had a nyew building, I was doing the play, why go back to Long Island every night?”

“You got yourself an apartment, then you got Dale one.”

“I like to help, too.” Smile. “I’m talking to you.”

“I appreciate it. So-”

“How long are you going to be in the city, Ah-lex?”

“Leaving tomorrow.”

She clucked her tongue. “You come back a lot?”

“From time to time.”

“It’s a good city,” she said. “Always excitement.”

“Where was Dale living before he moved into Roland’s building?”

“Hotel.”

“Do you remember a name?”

“Never knyew a name,” she said. “Dyale told me it wasn’t nice. I said, Guess what, I have a solution for you. I talk to Roland, Dyale moves in next to me.”

“What else did he tell you about himself?”

“That’s it.”

“What about his family?”

“He said he didn’t have a family.”

“Why not?”

“The parents died. That’s why he moved to the city.”

“From California.”

“California?” she said. “Washington, D.C.”

“That’s where he told you he was from?”

“He talked about the capital, all the politicians lying all the time. Maybe he was a politician, too, eh?”

“Before moving here, he lived in San Francisco.”

“He never talked about California.”

“Did he mention any sisters or brothers?”

“He said he was an only child.” Smile. “Another tale?”

I nodded.

“Dyale, Dyale, Dyale,” said Sonia Glusevitch. “See what I mean about trusting?”

“What else did he tell you?”

“I just said nothing else, Ah-lex. You didn’t have cheese, it’s good.”

I bit off a corner of the cube. Rubbery and stiff around the edges. “There’s nothing else you can tell me about Dale?”

“Mostly, I talked and Dyale listened. He was a good friend when I needed a good friend. And now maybe he killed someone? Who?”

“Could be several people.”

She flinched. “I was alone with him so many times. He was always nyice.”

“Helpful,” I said.

“So helpful. The most helpful man I ever met.”

She left to go to “the girl’s room,” returned moments later with her jewelry removed, less makeup, hair pinned up.

Looking plainer but younger. “You didn’t move,” she said, remaining on her feet. “Not an inch.”

“Worried I’d steal the silver?”

She laughed. “You are leaving tomorrow? Morning or night?”

“Early-morning flight.”

Eye flicker. “Have a good trip, Ah-lex.”

Extending her hand.

I said, “If you don’t mind, just a few more questions.”

She sighed and sat. “Now you want to talk about the Safrans, right? Roland said you think Dyale killed them.”