Jonathan Kellerman - The Clinic

“Yeah. Place sucks, waste of time. You can't learn business in school.” Another sidelong peek at his father. Senior, his head in a cloud of smoke, was staring at the framed awards.

Milo said, “So you thought she was a bitch and she threatened you. Did her threat scare you at all?”

“No way. Like I said, she was full of shit and I was out of there.”

“Did you ever consider taking action against her?”

“Like what?”

“Like anything.”

Senior swiveled and faced Bateman. “Can he get that general, Pierre?”

“Would you care to rephrase your question, Detective?” said Bateman.

“No,” said Milo. “Did you ever consider taking any kind of action against Professor Devane, Kenny?”

Junior looked from his father to Bateman.

Milo tapped a foot.

“Dad?”

Senior gave him a disgusted look.

Milo said, “Shall I repeat the question?”

Bateman said, “Go ahead, Kenny.”

“We- my father and me- we talked about suing her.”

“Suing her,” said Milo.

“For harassment.”

“Which it was,” said Senior. “The whole thing was a complete outrage.”

“It woulda served her right,” said Junior. “But we never did anything.”

“Why not?”

No answer.

“Because she was murdered?” said Milo.

“No, because Dad's got some… he's busy with business complications.”

“So we discussed it,” said Senior, loudly. “So what? Last I heard it's still a free country, or have I missed something?”

Milo kept his eyes on the boy. “Did you ever consider taking any other kind of action against Professor Devane, Kenny?”

“Like what?”

“Anything.”

“Like what?”

“Like getting back at her physically?”

“No way, man. And anyway, if I would've wanted to do that it wouldn'ta been her I'd pound, it would be that wuss with her. I'd never hit a lady.”

“What wuss is that?”

“The faggot with her, he really got on my case, I don't know his name.”

“You considered getting back at him physically.”

Bateman said, “Detective, that's not a-”

Kenny said, “I didn't consider it, but if I did, he would've been the one. He kept going at me, like trying to… outfeminist her.”

“So if you would've planned to hurt someone it would have been him, not Professor Devane.”

Senior said, “He never said he'd hurt anyone.”

“Exactly,” said Junior. “Him, I could've duked it out fair and square with. But she was a woman. I still open doors for women.”

“Car doors,” said Milo. “Like for Cindy?”

The boy's shoulders bunched.

Milo checked the tape.

“Okay. Now let's talk about where you were the night of the murder.”

“ La Jolla.” Quick answer.

“Why?”

“I live there, I work there.”

“Work where?”

“Excalibur Real Estate, the training program. Used to, real estate's in the dumpster.”

“So you quit.”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing, now?”

“Exploring.”

“Exploring what?”

“My options.”

“I see,” said Milo. “But the day of the murder you were still in the Excalibur Real Estate training program.”

“Yeah,” said the boy. “But that day, specifically, I was with friends on the beach.” He ticked off his fingers: “Corey Vellinger, Mark Drummond, Brian Baskins.”

“Friends from La Jolla?”

“No, from here. The Omega house. They came down to see me.”

“How long were you with them?”

“From around ten to five. Then they drove back up to L.A.”

“What did you do at five?”

“Went driving for a while, got a video at Blockbuster, then I think the Wherehouse for some CD's.”

“You bought CD's?”

“No, I just looked.”

“Do you have the receipt for the video?”

“Nope.”

“You pay for it with a credit card?”

“Nope, I was overdue on my card so I left them a deposit, paid cash.”

“What'd you rent?”

“Terminator 2.”

“You go home and watch it?”

“First I went for dinner.”

“Where?”

“Burger King.”

“Is there anyone who can remember you there?”

“Nope, it was drive-through.”

“Where'd you eat?”

“At my place.”

“An apartment?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“The Coral Motel, off Torrey Pines.”

“Anyone see you there?”

“Don't think so, but maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I don't know anyone, it's just this dinky-shit single he was renting for me while I was in the program.”

“Who's he?”

“Dad.”

Senior smoked and looked at the wall. “Month-to-month rent,” he said.

“So you returned with your video and your dinner to your room. What time was this?”

“Six or seven.”

“Then what?”

“I watched TV.”

“What'd you watch?”

“MTV, I think.”

“What was on?”

Kenny laughed. “I dunno, videos, all kinds of shit.”

“Did you go out again that night?”

“Nope.”

“Quiet night, huh?”

“Yeah. I got sunburned at the beach, didn't feel so good.” Smiling, but an uneasiness ruffled the last few words.

“You do anything that night besides watch TV?” said Milo.

Pause. “Nope.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Not really.”

“Not really?”

The boy glanced at his father.

“Kenny?” said Milo.

“Basically that was it.”

“Basically?”

Senior turned to his son and scowled.

“Basically?” Milo repeated.

Kenny touched the pimple on his neck.

“Don't pick at it,” said Senior.

“What else did you do that night?” said Milo.

Junior's answer was nearly inaudible. “Beer.”

“You had a beer?”

“Yeah.”

“Just one?”

“A couple.”

“How many?”

Another glance at Dad. “A couple.”

“Meaning two?” said Milo.

“Maybe three.”

“Or four?”

“Maybe.”

“You get high, son?”

“Nope.” The small eyes were active, now.

“Do anything besides beer?”

“No!”

“Four beers,” said Milo. “Maybe a six-pack?”

“No, there were two left over.”

“So definitely four.”

“Probably.”

“Probably.”

“Maybe I had another in the morning.”

Senior stared at his son, shook his head very slowly.

“Breakfast of champions,” said Milo.

The boy didn't answer.

“Dinner, TV,” said Milo. “Then four beers. What time did you drink the fourth beer?”

“I dunno, maybe eight.”

Leaving enough time for the two-hour ride to L.A. and an hour of stalking. But the dog had turned ill earlier in the evening.

“Then what?” said Milo.

“Then nothing.”

“You went to sleep at eight?”

“No, I… more TV.”

“TV all night?”

“Basically.”

“Be nice to have someone who saw you there, son.”

“It's a small room,” said Kenny, as if that explained it.

“Make any phone calls?”

“Um… I dunno.”

“Maybe?”

“I don't know.”

“It's easy to get a look at your phone records.”

The boy glanced at Bateman.

Bateman said, “We'll have to explore that, Detective.”

“Explore away,” said Milo. “But with no alibi and Kenny's hostile exchange with Professor Devane I'll have no trouble getting a warrant.”

The boy sat higher, then his shoulders fell and he blurted, “I- can I talk to you in private, sir?”

“Kenny?” said his father.

“Sure,” said Milo.

“No way,” said his father. “Pierre?”