Jonathan Kellerman - Self-Defence

It had taken an hour to get that far.

Leah said, "Detective Sturgis?"

Milo said, "Mr. Graydon-Jones, from your résumé, you seem like an intelligent guy-"

"Hold on," said Stratton amiably. "Is this going to get personal?"

Leah said, "Of course, Jeff, doesn't it always?" She looked at her watch. "Listen, I'm really pressed. If we can't plow through this quickly, let's just forget it and we'll let your client take his chance with not knowing what's going on until pretrial discovery."

"Mellow out, Lee," said Stratton. Every white hair was in place, flowing over his ears. His tie was printed with golf clubs. He wore a wrist bandage. "No need for sarcasm or egregious vituperativeness."

Leah looked at Milo. "Try to watch your vituperativeness, detective. For all our sakes."

Milo frowned at her.

"Go on," she said impatiently.

Stratton smiled. Graydon-Jones maintained a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

"Okay," said Milo, placing both hands on the table. They covered a good part of it. Stratton tried not to stare at them.

"Okay… Mr.- um, Graydon-Jones, like I said, you've got an impressive résumé, people in the know say you're a real insurance demon. So we're a little puzzled as to why you keep letting Curtis App call the shots."

Graydon-Jones glanced at Stratton.

Stratton shook his head.

Graydon-Jones said nothing.

Leah looked at her watch.

Graydon-Jones looked up at the ceiling.

I said, "Go for it," into the mike.

Milo said, "He's blaming everything on you, friend. Including the drugs. He says you're the one got him into dope. You were a big user during the seventies. You corrupted him. He also says it was your idea to launder dope through Advent and Enterprise and that you interfaced with narcotics dealers in England and France and Holland and sold them insurance policies that helped them organize their money laundering-"

"Bloody lies!" said Graydon-Jones. "That was just a contract like any other, I had no idea who they were. Curt sent them-"

Stratton touched his hand, and he stopped talking.

Milo said, "I'm just telling you what App says. He also claims he had nothing to do with Karen Best's death, that he wasn't even present when she died, and that you and Terry Trafficant and Joachim Spretzel strangled her-"

"Oh, bloody bullshit. Spretzel was a faggot, and Trafficant wasn't even-"

Another touch from Stratton.

"Trafficant wasn't even there?" said Milo.

No answer.

"Okay, let me finish App's story: He and the three of you were partying with Karen, he left to urinate, and when he came back she was dead in your arms and the rest of you confessed to killing her. He says- hold on-" Pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, he held it out of everyone's view. "Um, um, um- here we go: He says the only reason he got involved in covering up her death was that he was worried someone had seen Karen with him and that you threatened to expose his drug usage to his wife and to tell her he'd been fooling around with Karen and some other young girls. He panicked because he'd been doping and drinking and thought he'd be criminally liable and when M. Bayard Lowell and Denton Mellors came in, shortly after, unexpectedly, and Lowell said Karen should be buried and forgotten about, he went along with it. He's willing to plea-bargain to aiding and abetting and a suspended sentence, in exchange for testifying against you in Karen Best's homicide. He's also willing to trade information on your drug peddling in return for reduction of his drug charges."

He put the paper back in his pocket.

Graydon-Jones said, "Bullshit. He never said any of that."

"Call his lawyer," said Milo. To Stratton: "See if he takes your call."

Stratton said, "Maybe I will."

Leah looked at her watch.

"Bloody lies," said Graydon-Jones.

"I have to say App's story makes sense, Mr. Graydon-Jones," said Leah. "You were the one who drove up to Sanctum with all those tools and garbage bags. You were the one who attempted to murder three people so they wouldn't excavate Karen Best's grave. If you had nothing to hide about Karen Best, why risk all that?"

"Because Curt told me-"

Stratton said, "My client has nothing further to say."

I whispered, "Let it ride."

Milo yawned. Leah crossed her legs.

Graydon-Jones shook his head. Suddenly he laughed. "All on me, lovely, lovely. So what now, counselor, do I defend myself or keep that low profile and allow these arseholes to railroad me?"

Stratton said, "I need to conference with my client."

Leah looked at her watch and clucked. "Last one," she said, collecting her things.

Five minutes later, she and Milo were back in the room.

Stratton nodded at Graydon-Jones. Graydon-Jones was looking at Leah, not him.

Stratton said, "Chris?"

Graydon-Jones said, "First off, it's all bloody lies. I didn't strangle her, no one did."

"We've got bones," said Milo. "Cervical vertebrae that show evidence of-"

"I don't care what the fuck you've got, no one strangled her! No one! She was hit! He hit her. In the jaw."

Demonstrating an uppercut.

"In the bloody jaw," he said.

"Who hit her?" said Milo.

"Curt, Curt."

"Why?"

"Because she wouldn't put out ! He wanted her, and she wouldn't, so he slammed her under her jaw and she fell back and hit her head and then he- did her. Then we couldn't wake her up. I was there! You won't find me making up stories and denying that! We were partying. The three of us."

"Which three?"

"Curt, me, and her. Trafficant was entertaining his own fan club. Mellors was tagging after Lowell, as usual, bloody sycophant."

"What about Spretzel?"

"I don't know; I told you he was a faggot. Probably chasing boys."

"Ah," said Milo.

"Yes, I was with her, but I never hurt her. I did nothing other than make a little time with her."

"What kind of time?" said Leah.

"Kissy-kissy, grope-grope. She was on my lap, the old trousers rubadub. I was the one she liked, my mustache- I had one back then- and my accent; she said it reminded her of Mick Jagger. She would have put out for me. It made Curt jealous."

Touching his mouth, he spoke through his fingers.

"He was used to tarts, easy lays. "Slip 'em the 'ludes and you can slip 'em anything else,' he always said. She wasn't easy; she was a virgin, for God's sake." To Leah Schwartz: "Don't look at me like that. You want the truth, I'm giving it to you. That's the way things were back then- free love, no viruses, people doing their own thing."

"I'll take your word for it," said Leah, inspecting her nails.

That inflamed him. "What were you doing back then?"

She looked up from her nails and smiled. "Going to school. Fourth grade."

Graydon-Jones shut his mouth.

"Is that it?" said Milo. "That's your story?"

"It's the truth. Curt got all pissed because she wouldn't climb off my lap into his. When he tried to put his tongue in her mouth, she turned her head and said "Yuck.' Just like that. "Yuck.' Like she'd tasted something bad. So he bopped her and she fell back. It all happened in one second. I'll swear to it in court."

"Chris," said Stratton. To Leah: "I want it clear that my client's statement by no means represents a formal offer to testify."

Leah shrugged.

Milo leaned forward. "So that's your story."

"That's what my client just said," said Stratton.

"Then I'll ask your client what I asked Mr. App this morning: If you had nothing to do with killing Karen, why get involved in the cover-up?"