Jonathan Kellerman - Gone

“Female bonding?” I said.

“She’s nice, that’s all.”

“And you talked about the weather.”

“Egomaniac.” She stroked my hair. “I called you Wednesday because I decided to move back. Still want that?”

“Yes.”

“Allison’s okay with it.”

“Didn’t know we needed her permission.”

“She adores you,” said Robin. “But I love you.”

I had no idea what that meant. Had regained enough coherence not to ask.

“I told her to feel free to come by to visit you but she wants to give us some time together. She feels horrible about what happened, Alex.”

“Why?”

“Leading you to Hauser.”

“He had a knife to her throat, she didn’t have much choice. I’m sure Hauser asked around, found out we used to…hang out. Knowing me endangered her. I need to apologize.”

My eyes brimmed with tears. What was that all about?

Robin wiped them. “It’s no one’s fault, Alex, the guy’s obviously unbalanced.”

“Now he’ll be an unbalanced cripple. Wonder when the police are coming by to interview me.”

“ Milo ’s taking care of all that. He says given Hauser’s previous arrest, there shouldn’t be any problem.”

“In a perfect world,” I said.

Cool lips braised my forehead. “It’ll be all right, honey. You need to rest and keep healing- ”

“Allison really blames herself?”

“She feels she should’ve known better, given what you’d told her about Hauser.”

“That’s utterly ridiculous.”

“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to hear that from you. In those exact words.”

I laughed. The bandages around my ribs felt like sashes of ground glass.

“It hurts, honey?”

“Not a bit.”

“You poor lying baby.” She kissed my eyelids, then my mouth. Too damn delicate, I needed something closer to pain, reached around and pressed her head down. When she finally pulled away, she was breathless.

“More, woman!” I said. “Ugha ugha.”

She snaked her hand under the bedcovers, reached down. “One of the parts seems to be in working order.”

“Man of steel,” I said. “You’re really coming back?”

“If you want me to.”

“Of course I want you to.”

“Maybe after the pain goes away, you’ll change your- ”

I placed a finger across her lips. “When are you doing it?”

“A few days.” Pause. “I’m thinking I’ll keep the studio. Like you said, for work.”

“And when you want to get away from me,” I said.

“No, baby, I’ve had plenty of that.”

Iwalked out of the hospital trying to look like someone who worked in a hospital. The cab arrived ten minutes later. I was home by seven p.m.

The Seville was parked in front; something else Milo had taken care of.

The taxi driver had hit several potholes in West Hollywood. The city that loves decorating avoids the unglamorous stuff.

Pain on each impact had been reassuring; I could stand it.

I stashed the Percocet in my medicine cabinet, opened a fresh bottle of extra-strength Advil.

I hadn’t heard from Milo since yesterday’s hospital visit. Maybe that meant progress.

I reached him in his car. “Thanks for getting my wheels home.”

“That wasn’t me, that was Robin. Are you being a good patient?”

“I’m home.”

“Rick okayed that?”

“Rick and I reached a meeting of the minds.”

Silence. “Real smart move, Alex.”

“If you listened to him, you’d be wearing better ties.”

More silence.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Thanks for handling Hauser.”

“As much as I handled.”

“I’ve got problems ahead?”

“There’ll be some shit to deal with, but those in the know say you’ll be okay. Meanwhile, the asshole’s in the jail ward wearing yellow pajamas and looking at inkblots. What happened, he imploded?”

“He made bad decisions and projected them onto me. How badly did I wound him?”

“He won’t be playing soccer any time soon. Allison’s little shooter came in handy, huh?”

“Sure did,” I said. “Did you find any properties Nora Dowd owns in or near 805?”

“Back in the swing,” he said. “Just like that.”

“On sound advice.”

“Whose?”

“My own.”

He laughed. “As a matter of fact, Nora’s got three 805 deeds to her name. Condo in Carpinteria, couple of houses in Goleta. All of which have been leased out long term. Her tenants have never met her but they like her because she keeps the rent low.”

“BNB manages the buildings?”

“No, a Santa Barbara company does. I spoke to the manager. Nora gets checks in the mail, never visits. That’s it, Alex. No tryst-pad, no direct link to Camarillo, no Malibu getaway. Maybe she and Meserve made the calls and took off for that tropical vacation.”

I said, “Do the brothers own anything out there?”

“Why would that matter? Billy’s a mope and Brad hates Meserve. So far looking for Peaty’s hidey-holes has been a big zero. Once I finish with Armando Vasquez, I’ll look into private flights.”

“What’s to do on Vasquez?”

“Second interview. First time was last night, call from Vasquez’s D.P.D. at 11 p.m., Armando wanted to talk. Faithful public servant that I am, I trudged over. The agenda was Vasquez embellishing the phone call story. Claiming the night of the murder wasn’t the first time, same thing happened a week or so before, he can’t remember exactly when or how many times. No hang-ups, just someone whispering that Peaty was a dangerous pervert, could hurt Vasquez’s wife and kids. D.A. wants to blunt any justification defense so I’ve got to stick with it, meanwhile they’ll be pulling a month’s worth of phone records. While I was there I showed Vasquez my photo collection. He’s never seen the Gaidelases, Nora, or Meserve. The thing is, I finally got a shot of Billy, and Vasquez also doesn’t recognize him. But I’m sure Billy’s been to the apartment with Brad. Meaning Vasquez, not being there during the day, is pretty useless. Like everything else I’ve come up with.”

“Anything you need me to do?”

“I need you to heal up and not be a foolish mummy. One other thing that came up is Peaty’s body just got claimed by a cousin from Nevada. She asked to speak to the D in charge, says she left a bunch of messages, thanks again, Idiot Tom. I’m squeezing her in tomorrow afternoon, to see if she can shed some light on Peaty’s psyche, D.A.’s orders. With the defense painting him as a psycho-brute, I’m supposed to learn his good points.”

“Speaking of Idiot Tom.” I recounted Beamish’s disgusted expression.

“Wouldn’t surprise me. Maybe Beamish remembers more stolen fruit…what else…oh, yeah, I called some taxidermy supply houses. No record of Nora or Meserve buying creepy accoutrements. Okay, here I am at Le Grande Lockup ready for Mr. Vasquez. Time to add a few more lies to my daily diet.”

Daybreak brought the worst headache of my life, stiff limbs, a cottony mouth. A palmful of Advils and three cups of black coffee later, I was moving fine. If I kept my breathing shallow.

I phoned Allison, thanked her message tape for its mistress’s presence of mind, apologized for getting her involved in serious ugliness.

I told Robin’s tape I was eager to see its mistress.

No listing for Albert Beamish. I tried his law firm. A crisp-voiced receptionist said, “Mr. Beamish rarely comes in. I think the last time I saw him was…has to be months.”

“Emeritus.”

“Some of the partners have professorships so we like the term.”