Jonathan Kellerman - Capital Crimes

Shifting from “gentlemen” to “guys.” This one parceled out the charm. Lamar wondered how much she’d rehearsed, and knew Baker was thinking the same thing.

Baker put on his nice voice and leaned forward. “We have no intention of causing you stress, ma’am. But we do need to compile data.”

She stared at him, as if seeing him for the first time. Shifted back to Lamar. “College basketball?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Sorry, that was inappropriate. It’s just that my son’s into sports- basketball, football, baseball, you name it. He just started at college. I’m here all alone. Feeling really alone.”

“Vanderbilt?”

“Oh, no,” she said, with some fervor. “Vanderbilt would’ve been great, he could’ve stayed in a dorm room, he knows I’d never meddle, but he’d still have the opportunity to come home on weekends to dump laundry, maybe grant me a few ‘Hi, Moms.’ No, Tristan’s at Brown in Rhode Island. Smallest state in the union and there’s where he picks.”

“Supposed to be a good school,” said Lamar. “Ivy League, right?”

“Right, but so what? My husband went to Chico State College and he was the most successful man I’ve ever met. Granted, Tristan’s an excellent student, his SATs were terrific, and all his varsity letters were impressive. His guidance counselor said he was Ivy League material from the git-go. But Vanderbilt’s just as good. Now he’s never here. Never. ”

Raising her volume so by the last word it was like hearing someone else’s voice- shrill, angry. A deeper flush took hold of her face and wrinkles started to show around the edges of her makeup, like fault lines.

One of those mood-disorder things? Lamar wondered. Or is she trying to tell us something? Because this one sets things up like a stage director. From the way she plants her trees and arranges her expensive furniture to bringing us lemonade we don’t ask for.

Staying in control.

But if there was a message beyond the fact that she missed her kid, he wasn’t picking it up. And for a new widow, he supposed that was a normal reaction.

Still, there was something about her…He said, “Must be tough, alone in a big house.”

“Alone,” said Cathy Poulson, “is tough, anywhere.”

Baker smiled. “Could I use your restroom, please, ma’am?”

He glanced at the mantel as he left, and was gone for a while. Lamar digressed by commenting on Cathy Poulson’s paintings. She jumped at the opportunity to walk him around the room, announcing titles and artists and describing how and where and when her deceased husband had acquired each picture. When they got to the mantel, he saw mostly pictures of her with a token nod to a few snapshots with the husband. Nothing of the kid.

Baker came back, looking sharp-eyed and ready to say something.

Cathy Poulson got there first, saying, “Okay, I’ll be open and tell you everything. If you pledge that you’ll do your best not to violate my privacy.”

Baker said, “We’ll do our utmost best, ma’am.” Looking relaxed- too loose, Lamar could tell there was something on his partner’s mind.

The three of them sat back down.

Cathy Poulson said, “Jack and I had a relationship- ancient history, before I met Lloyd. I’m from California, too. LA. That’s where I met Jack.”

Another West Coast connection, like the shrink. Lamar wondered if Delaware knew her, then told himself he was being stupid. Ginormous city like LA, what were the chances…

Cathy Poulson said, “That’s it.”

Baker said, “A relationship.”

“Yes.”

“Why’d you decide to meet last night?”

“Jack called me to let me know he was in town. Out of the blue, you could’ve knocked me over with a feather. He said he’d heard about Lloyd’s passing and was real sweet about it- Jack could be like that. He said he’d had some rough patches himself but of course nothing comparable to what I was going through…which I thought was extremely empathic. I’d heard a bit about what Jack had gone through- from the media, not personally. The lifestyle issues, the career ups and downs. For him to put all that aside and consider my pain, I thought that was…kind.”

Baker said, “So he called to say hi.”

“We talked a bit. He said he’d had a terrible fear of flying after that helicopter thing- I read about that, too. He said he’d lived with his fear for years, finally decided to conquer it and get some therapy. The flight to Nashville was a big accomplishment. He sounded so incredibly proud. As if he’d just had a number one hit. I told him that was wonderful. Then we talked some more about Lloyd. Then he asked if I wanted to get together. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised, but it caught me off guard. I didn’t know how I felt about that.”

“Not sure you wanted to see him.”

“To tell the truth,” she said, “we didn’t part on great terms. Back in the old days, Jack could be tough.”

“How so?” said Baker.

“Mercurial- moody. Drugs made it worse. Then there were all those women. Groupies- do they still call them that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Lamar. Thinking: All those gigs I played, never saw a single one.

“All those groupies,” said Cathy Poulson, “you can’t really expect a man to be faithful…anyway, it was jarring, hearing from him so many years later. Maybe my grief was what led me to say okay, I’m still not sure. He told me there was a club he was going to, over on First, could we meet there. I agreed. But right after I hung up, I regretted it. What in the world was it going to accomplish? I considered calling him back and canceling, but didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Especially with his conquering his fear- I didn’t want to set him back. Can you understand that?”

“Sure,” said Baker.

“I mean that would make me feel guilty, stressing him to the point where he backslid.” She glanced to the side. “Back in the good old days, I had plenty of experience with backsliding.”

“Drugs,” said Baker.

“The whole crazy scene,” she said. “Funny thing was, no one really saw it as crazy except me. I never indulged. Not once, never . I respect myself way too much for that. Jack, of course, was another story. I spent many a night walking him around. When a doctor needed to be called, I was usually the one who did it.”

“You had a close relationship,” said Lamar.

“Such as it was. But ancient, ancient history, gentlemen. That’s why I wasn’t sure I wanted to play the reminiscence game with him. Still, I didn’t want to upset Jack, so I didn’t cancel. Instead, I showed up late.” A glassy smile, almost intoxicated. “I thought that was the perfect solution.”

“Showing up late?”

“Of course. That way, we’d have minimal contact but I’d have fulfilled my obligation.”

Once again Lamar thought of Cathy as a master director. Baker said, “You’d say hi, nice to see you, then you’d go your separate ways.”

“Exactly,” said Cathy Poulson. “Frankly, when I saw Jack I was shocked and that made it easier. My image of him was stuck back in the time when we were together. He had been a handsome man. Now…”

She shrugged.

“Not too well preserved,” said Lamar.

“That makes him sound like a lab specimen but I’m afraid you’re right.” She sighed. “Poor Jack. Time hadn’t been kind to him. I drove there expecting a good-looking man- which was foolish after all those years had passed. What I saw was a heavy old bald man.”

Not unlike her late husband, thought Lamar.

She picked up her glass of lemonade. “We had a little hug, chatted briefly, then parted ways. I will tell you this: Jack wasn’t upset, the entire encounter was friendly. I got a clear sense that he felt the same way I did.”