Jonathan Kellerman - Bones

Reed said, “Did she suspect Huck of any specific financial screwiness?”

Fox shook his head. “With him it was more his creepy personality, worming his way into the family. Kissing Kelvin’s ass, in particular. She claimed he spoiled the kid. Then, when Selena showed up dead, she got downright terrified and called me.”

Reed said, “So far I’m not hearing much that’s new.”

“What’s new, Moses, is she lied to me. Starting with there being another job. Finishing with her deadbeating me. She hasn’t paid a penny of her bill, shut me out completely-no e-mail replies, no return of my phone calls. My bad, I didn’t take a retainer, figured it for a quickie. Which it was and we’re not talking a mega-bill. Still, I like to be paid.”

“So now we’re your collection agency?”

Milo said, “How much are we talking about, Aaron?”

“Four grand, give or take.”

“For Internet research. Not bad.”

“The results of which I passed on to you guys. Then again, maybe you would have found it on your own.”

Milo said, “We’re grateful, Aaron. Is there a punch line approaching the horizon?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Fox. “She annoyed me, which can be a real bad idea. My philosophy is go after every single penny. Really bulldog it, you can’t have word getting out you’re a pussy. So I go after her, starting with a records check. That turned up some interesting stuff: bunch of drug busts when she was eighteen to twenty-two, meth and weed, Daddy’s lawyers got her off with probation.”

“Anything since?”

“Not officially, but wait there’s more, folks. She lied about more than the big job, lying seems to be her M.O. When I met her, she spun me stories about being a singer, a ballerina, a financial analyst for a hedge fund.”

Reed said, “With us, it was just teacher.”

I said, “Remedial teacher.”

Fox said, “That, too. Supposedly, she just loves the tots. But her real love is ‘the ballet.’ ”

Milo wiped his lips. “Tiny dancer, huh?”

“She claimed to have been in the company of the New York Ballet until she hurt her foot and lost a promising career. The company never heard of her.”

He permitted himself a smile. “So much for my reading people. So now my adrenals are buzzing and I start watching her house, check out her garbage.”

Milo said, “Fun part of the job.”

Fox’s grin took on wattage. “But oh so educational. What I learn is she lives on air, I’m talking diet soda and Special K-and not much cereal, at that. She also goes through a helluva lot of prescription decongestants and Ritalin. Now I’m thinking back to those meth busts. She just switched to legal speed.”

I said, “Ritalin could fit with the specialed fantasy. If she had learning disabilities, herself, maybe she fantasizes about a power role. The drug’s also effective in weight control, if you don’t mind the risks. Same for the decongestants. And she did have a role model for her eating disorder.”

“Who?”

I glanced at Milo. He nodded. I described Kelly Vander’s struggle with anorexia.

“Like mother, like daughter,” said Fox. “When I met her I didn’t think much of it. Skeletal is half the girls on the Westside. Yeah, sure, that all makes sense.”

Reed said, “So she’s an undernourished skank. What does it have to do with Huck?”

“I’m setting the stage, Moses. She’s a liar and a possible addict, which says personality problems, right? Which could explain what else I found in her garbage can: framed photo of her dad, her stepmom, and her brother all cut up, the glass all smashed.”

He raised the water glass, as if toasting. “She trashed her family, guys. Literally.”

I said, “Black ties for Dad and son, red gown for Mom?”

“That’s the one.”

“It was sitting on her coffee table. She called our attention to it. ‘That’s my brother, Kelvin. He’s brilliant.’ ”

“Well, now he’s brilliant and defaced,” said Fox. “Literally. Sweet little countenance sliced up into confetti, like someone took a razor to it. To top it off, the damn thing was wrapped in toilet paper. Don’t want to spoil your appetite, but not clean toilet paper. There’s your glamorous side of the job.”

Milo said, “The picture was a prop for our benefit. One happy family.”

Reed said, “Now she doesn’t need it anymore. Because… aw, Jesus. The Vanders haven’t been heard from in two weeks.”

Fox reached for another chapati. “But wait, there’s more. Call in now and you get the Ginzu knife and the automatic veeblefetzer. Given the real bad feeling I was getting from the little deadbeating bitch, I decided to keep shadowing her. First day, she did more of the usual rich-girl shit. Shopping, massage, more shopping. Which is weirdly carefree for someone who claims to be worried about her family. Second day starts off the same way. Neiman Marcus, little walk up Two Rodeo, she checks out the jewelry at Tiffany, Judith Ripka, buys sunglasses at Porsche Design. Then she drives two blocks-because she’s an L.A. girl-to an office building on Wilshire and Canon. Lobby directory says it’s the law firm Daddy uses. Same guys she bad-mouthed to me and she’s visiting them. I sit across the street and wait for her to leave. When she does, it’s not in her Beemer. She’s a passenger in a Mercedes, some guy’s at the wheel. They make a beeline to the Peninsula, Simone’s pal tips the doorman big enough to leave the car in front. Two hours later, the two of them come out with that goofy, no-longer-horny look. Meanwhile, I’ve run the tags on the Mercedes-don’t ask me how, okay?”

Milo said, “Perish the thought.”

Fox said, “Comes back to Alston Weir, Attorney-at-Mischief. Such a greedy scumbag, she wouldn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. Meanwhile he’s her lunch-hour fuck-buddy.”

Reed said, “Is Weir bald?”

“You think, Moses? Is there any other good reason to saddle himself with a big old mess of phony, piss-yellow fake-o hair? I’m talking Halloween, guys. Blond dust mop. What I find weird is the guy knows how to dress. Zegna suit, Ricci tie, Magli shoes. Threads like that and he blows it with a bad rug. Go figure.”

“Maybe he’s got an exaggerated self-image,” said Milo.

“Meaning?”

“Thinks he’s cuter than he really is, ’cause of all the Bondo in his face.”

Fox frowned. “Yeah, that, too. So you know all this? I just blew off a client for nothing?”

No answer.

“Oh, that’s just great. You guys sit there and let me spin my wheels.” To his brother: “Having fun, Moses?”

Reed smiled. But no irony, no resentment. Maybe even something resembling brotherly affection.

“What?” Fox demanded.

“We knew a little, Aaron. You just made it a lot.”

The four of us left the restaurant. Fox and Reed walked side by side, seemed on the verge of conversation. But neither brother initiated.

Milo said, “Did you happen to hold on to Simone’s garbage, Aaron?”

“Lucky for you, I’m a bit of a pat rack, Milo. Moses can verify. His side of the room looked like some ashram, mine was beaucoup toys.”

Reed said, “Beaucoup junk.”

Fox said, “Shall I have it picked up or would you like me to deliver?”

“We’ll come to you, Aaron. And thanks.”

“Figured I had to, the girl’s bad news. Any way to keep my part quiet?”

“We’ll do our best.”

Fox fooled with his pocket square and eyed his Porsche. “Meaning no.”

Milo said, “You know how it goes, Aaron. Depends where it leads. Meanwhile, do us another favor and hold off on trying to collect your bill from Simone.”

“For how long?”