Jonathan Kellerman - Compulsion

I said, “Where the koi are bred.”

She beamed. “Yes, exactly. We have a fabulous pond, show quality.”

Susan said, “My daughter’s on the Archer School swim team and needs the full lap length to work on her stroke.”

Barb said, “Everyone is way past the age where drowning’s an issue. We’ll even work with the lot-tie affidavit requirement. Though we don’t think it’s necessary. But we would like for you to exert some influence here, and smooth the process.”

“With the zoning commission,” said Milo.

“One agency talks to another,” said Susan. “That’s what Hal says.”

Barb said, “Have some big shot in your department or, better yet, the fire department because there’s an abatement issue as well – have someone call the head of the building division and smooth things out for us. It’s the least you can do.”

“That,” said Milo, “is feasible.”

Susan said, “It is?”

Her sister shot her a sharp glance. “Of course it is. When there’s a will.”

Milo said, “I’ll talk to the police chief personally. We’re having a meeting soon.”

“Fantastic,” said Barb, shifting her body closer to him.

Milo said, “Go ahead, please.”

Barb said, “Okay. When you called Sue and asked about that Bright person, she said she didn’t know him. Because she doesn’t. Neither of us do. But then we got to talking and we realized there was something that happened that we thought was a little creepy.”

Holding her hand out to Susan.

Susan said, “There was this person who tried to get our husbands to invest with him. Took us out to dinner at Cut – that’s Wolfgang’s new place at the Beverly Wilshire. Spent a lot on wine, very hotsy-totsy.”

“Four Seasons Beverly Wilshire,” said Barb. “Now we’ve got two Four Seasons, a mile apart, must be so confusing for the tourists.”

Susan said, “This person really laid on the sales pitch. Visited us at home. My house, because Barb’s kitchen was being renovated and she and Mike and Lacey were eating all their meals with us. Our husbands were still considering his offer so when we had the cocktail party, he was invited.”

“A benefit for MOCA,” said Barb. “My sister and I planned the entire event. The lot was set up with a tent and a band, people had a great time.”

“Everything was prepared in my kitchen,” said Susan. “We moved the furniture, people had a choice to come upstairs and see the view from the living room.”

“Great party,” said Barb. “People were talking about it for weeks. The only creepy thing was him. Something he said to both of us and the crazy thing is we never knew that until yesterday when we compared notes.”

Susan said, “So obviously it wasn’t just a casual comment.”

Milo said, “Obviously.”

Barb said, “First, he asked about the lot, seemed really interested in it. But plenty of people are like that because nowadays who has open land in the middle of Bel Air? And no one can understand how Sue and I share so wonderfully. So that alone wouldn’t have stood out. But then, after he found out the details-”

“About the pool,” Susan broke in. “Even though I’d already told him, he had the same conversation with Barb-”

“Playing games, as if we’d never compare notes,” said Barb.

“I guess we didn’t,” said Susan.

“Whatever. The point is, after talking about the pool, he gave this strange creepy smile.”

“Lecherous, if you must know,” said Barb. “I felt he’d been coming on to me all night.”

“Me, too,” said Susan.

“It was nothing you could call him on, Lieutenant, but you know – the handshake that lasts too long? The kiss on the cheek that moves a leetle too close to the lips?”

“Not too smart of him, seeing as he was chasing after Hal and Mike to invest with him. What did he think, we’d be turned on and work on the guys?”

“For a second I thought he was actually going to plant one on me,” said Barb. “Instead he whispered in my ear, ‘It would make a great family plot.’ I said, ‘Pardon?’ And he said, ‘A plot. For burial. Lots of wealthy families in Europe have them, it’s a mark of aristocracy.’”

“As if that was supposed to impress us,” said Susan. Blue eyes widened. “He told me the exact same thing, word for word.”

“We both ignored him and never mentioned it to anyone,” said Barb. “There was no need because Hal and Mike decided not to invest with him. They did some background checking, couldn’t find any.”

“Any background?” said Milo.

“Exactly. His excuse was he’d been living in Europe, all his projects were overseas. Mike said that sounded like four-plus bullshit.”

“So did Hal. So there was no reason to think about what he said. He was off our list.”

Barb said, “But now seeing as that poor girl was… ”

Milo said, “What’s this guy’s name?”

Susan said, “Our identities will really be confidential unless there’s a trial?”

“One hundred percent.”

Another silent sisterly consultation.

Barb Bruno said, “He’s a real smoothie. Drives a Bentley, wears nice suits. For all we know it’s not even his real name.”

Milo waited.

Susan Appel said, “Tell them.”

Barb Bruno said, “He goes by Nick. Nicholas St. Heubel.”

Milo paced the interview room.

The sisters had just left, reminding him not to forget “our zoning issues.”

He’d pressed them for details on the man they knew as Nicholas St. Heubel. Barb Bruno thought her rude guest played tennis. Susan Appel believed the game of choice to be golf. Both women admired his clothes, but thought him “way too smooth.”

Both had discarded his address and phone number.

Milo cited the Brentwood street where we’d encountered Heubel and the Bentley and they said, “That’s it,” in unison.

He asked for their husbands’ work numbers.

“Mike wants nothing to do with this.”

“Same for Hal.”

“Thanks, ladies, you really are heroes.”

“Heubel.” Working his shoulder and torturing his hair.

I said, “He’s the right age and height. Thinner than the descriptions we’ve gotten of Bright but nothing a diet couldn’t accomplish.”

“Able to keep it off.” One hand grazed his belt. “That alone makes him a goddamn criminal.”

“Tasha described ‘ Tweed ’ as having a puffy face and Heubel has a pouchy mouth, as if someone’s compressing his cheeks.”

“Kissy-poo,” he said.

“Kissing off the world,” I said.

He slapped a wall hard enough to send vibrations through the floor. “Bastard called in the Bentley to stir it up face-to-face. He’s that confident the cops are stupid.”

“He’s been getting away with serious bad deeds since childhood, thinks he’s invincible.”

“No more St. Heubel – what’s that, another game? I’m really not so pure ?”

“It’s all about games,” I said. “He played with the sisters’ heads, returned months later and buried a body under their noses. The image of a backhoe churning up Kat’s bones gave him serious jollies.”

“Putting on the frightened-citizen act, I’m calming him down.” Frown. “I was worried he might know the mayor.”

“He might. Rosalynn Carter partied with John Gacy.”

“Oh, man,” he said.

Three more circuits.

“Asshole stalks Kat in his own wheels, spins a yarn about theft and recovery, leaves blood. All that just to jerk us around.”

“Using his own wheels was the perfect cover,” I said. “The Bentley’s a conspicuous car, even at that hour he had to consider someone might see it. But so what? He’d be the last person to suspect. If he hadn’t made the sisters nervous, he’d never have been connected to any of it.”