Jonathan Kellerman - Time Bomb

“Anyway,” he said, “the dope we’re gonna find might keep you in lockup for a while, but it’s the least of your problems. Let’s not forget those two gentlemen out back.”

She shook her head. “Nuh-uh. I don’t know a thing about them- about what happened.”

“You knew them. ”

“Professionally, that’s all.”

“Professionally,” said Milo. He lifted a satinized purple business card from a cloisonné holder. “Cheryl Jane Nuveen. Recreational Counselor . Recreation, huh? Sounds like shuffleboard on deck.”

The cigarette dangled from her fingers, dripping ashes onto the zebra skin.

Milo said, “Enough small talk. What’s the lawyer’s number? Got to be a five-five exchange, right? Beverly Hills. Or Century City. Two hundred, two-fifty an hour. I figure the initial tab’s gonna run you three, maybe four thousand, minimum. And that’s only filing the papers. Once we book you, the meter really starts running-”

“Book me on what? Calling nine-one-one?”

“- and those guys like retainers, don’t they? Got payments on the Mercedes, keep the account going at Morton’s. Meanwhile you’ve got no recreation to counsel and your own payments keep coming. What’s the mortgage on this building you own, couple of thou a month? Meanwhile, you’re in storage with girls from the old neighborhood- they’re gonna be real happy to see someone made good, owns the whole building. They’re gonna relate very friendly to that.”

She raised her voice: “Book me on what ?”

“My turn to ask questions. Your turn to shut up or answer.”

She stabbed a crystal ashtray with her cigarette. Kept stabbing after the glow had died. “Nothing to answer about.”

“Two bodies in your backyard and nothing to answer about?”

She rolled her eyes. “I told you I don’t know about that.”

“You knew them .”

“Professionally.”

“Who else besides you knew they were coming here tonight to play?”

“No one.”

“No one?”

“That’s right. I’m discreet- my business is based on it.”

“No one,” said Milo, “except the guy you called tonight in order to set ’em up.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Oh, no- oh, no- no way you’re gonna-”

“Cute deal, Cheri. You give him time to get away, then call nine-one-one and play good citizen: you think there’s been a shooting. You think there’s maybe two guys- prowlers- lying out dead in your backyard.”

“That’s the truth! I mean, about not knowing they were dead. How’m I gonna know they were dead or not? You think I’m gonna go out there to feel a pulse!”

“Making it sound as if they were strangers.”

“What’s the diff? I called, didn’t I?”

“Who else knew they were here, Cheri?”

“No one. I told you-”

“Too bad,” he said. “Officers Burdette and Pelletier told me you weren’t gonna be helpful, but I decided to keep an open mind. Looks like-”

“Burdette? That the house nigger with the attitude? That boy was rude to me, gave me that look- that… that…”

“Patronizing look?”

“Yes,” she said, “ Patronizing. He was extremely patronizing. To the nth. Had an attitude. Like he was some King Hoohah and I’m some little sister who’s stepped out of line, it’s his job to knock me down. And the other one, she’s nothing but a diesel dyke- staring at my attributes whenever she got the chance. You guys shouldn’t be hiring perverts.”

“Attributes?” said Milo.

“Yeah.” She bent low in illustration, threw back her shoulders, suddenly confident again. She smiled at Milo, received a blank stare in return, and switched her attention to me.

Her smile was inviting and though I knew it was artifice, I had to look away to keep from reciprocating. When I did, she cursed under her breath.

Milo said, “Okay, we’ll take you downtown. You make the call from there. Get ready for a little nostalgia, Cheri. Sucking in AIDS breath in a holding cage full of five-dollar strawberries while getting your attributes checked out.”

She looked at me again, spread her legs slightly while keeping them crossed at the ankles. Confirming Burdette’s assessment of what was- or wasn’t- under the kimono.

I looked away again.

She said, “Okay. Fuck the lawyer. I didn’t do a thing wrong- don’t need to buy him another Mercedes. Give me one of those polygraphs. Crank it up- I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Milo said, “Polygraphs can’t stand up to smooth criminals. Anyone comfortable with lying can pass.”

Anger mottled her face like a rash. “So what the fuck do you want ?”

“Just straight talk, Cheri. How you hooked up with Massengil and Dobbs in the first place. How long it’s been going on- everything that’s been going on. And everything connected to what happened tonight.”

She smiled through the anger. “Everything, huh? Sure your little policeman’s heart can take it?”

He hooked a finger at me. “Case it can’t, he knows CPR.”

“Okay,” she said, crossing her legs again. “You pitch, I’ll catch.”

Milo said, “Let me make sure I’m getting this clear. You’re saying you want to talk about the events of this evening- December 6, 1988? Give a statement of your own free will, no attorney present?”

“Uh-huh.” She gave a wide smile full of big, perfect, milk-white teeth. Ran her tongue between them, sat up straight, touched her bosom.

“Yeah. Yes. Sure I’ll talk. To you . Cause you are the King Hoohah. You’re the real thing, chief, that’s for sure. And Cheri doesn’t go for facsimiles .”

She said, “Sacramento- that’s the beginning.”

She put another cigarette in her mouth. Milo lit it for her.

She smoked for a while.

Milo said, “Sacramento.”

“Yeah. That’s where I met him. I had a place there. My own place, smaller and not as quality as this one, but my own, also.”

Milo said, “Always been an independent, have you, Cheri?”

Her mouth tightened. “Not always. But I learn. I pride myself on that- learning from my mistakes.”

“How long ago?”

“Three years ago.”

“Where?”

“O Street, right up near the Capitol.”

“Doing your bit for good government?”

“You bet. More of them would a took more of what I gave, there’d be less strife, believe me.”

“Where you from originally?”

“Here. Inglewood.”

“How’d you get up to Sacramento?”

“I was in San Francisco first- three years. Moved ’cause I wanted things more quiet. And something I could do myself. Someone told me politicians were always wanting it- you had a seller’s market.”

“Recreation.”

She smiled. “Yeah. Being close to the action meant they could make their speeches in the morning, drop by for a lunchtime party, and go back to their speeches with a smile on their faces.”

“They,” said Milo. “How many others besides Massengil?”

“Lots, chief. It’s a company town. Not that fearless leaders was all I did. You had your doctors and your bankers, like any other place. But being there in that place, you did see lots of political types- aides, lobbyists, administrative assistants, all that shit. You learn to talk like them after a while.”

“Fun bunch?”

She grimaced. “Not hardly. I mean, they were free with the buck- expense accounts. But as a group, they had inclinations. If you know what I’m saying.”

“I don’t.”

“Kinky,” she said, as if talking to an idiot. “Mostly for tying-up. Bondage. Always wanting to be tied up or tying me up. Nearly every one of them. Got so when I took one on that I knew was political, I had the neckties and the ropes all ready. A few of them even wanted to be… embarrassed. Dirty stuff. Never seen so many people wanting to tie or to be tied. All horny about who was in charge. Then you’d turn on the TV, see those same faces you just saw all wrinkled up or wearing a leather mask, crying and pleading not to spank ’em, even though that’s what they really wanted- you’d see ’em giving speeches on the TV, going on about law and order, the American way, all that shit. Meanwhile, you’re knowing their idea of law and order is being hog-trussed.”