Jonathan Kellerman - Breakdown

Milo said, “Actually, Andrea...”

“You don’t know about that.” Her smile was sour. “Okay, I’ll assume nothing. Regarding the car, I didn’t hear about it from Enow, I got a call from some auto-theft detective instructing me to pick it up at the tow yard. He, of course, had no idea about Rod. I told him to call Enow. Just in case there was no follow-through, I called Enow myself a few days later and wouldn’t you know, they still hadn’t talked. I’m not sure they ever did. Enow said the car didn’t matter. I doubt anything matters to him.”

“Where was the car found?”

“Three blocks from where Rod was found. And not until three weeks later. Someone had left it in a huge industrial parking lot behind a warehouse, it took a while to realize it didn’t belong there. Enow said the time lapse made it meaningless as evidence and even if it had been put there shortly after, all it proved was that Rod had driven there, then taken a walk and...” A tear fell from one eye. She wiped it quickly.

“I don’t care what he says — what anyone says. The notion of suicide is absurd and hideous. Rod swallowing poison? That completely abases Rod spiritually and flies in the face of who he was. Which is what you were asking... okay... no more ranting. Rod was happy, well balanced, optimistic, there’s no possible way he’d ever destroy himself. Enow asked me if we’d dabbled in herbal medicines, worshiped crystals, got involved in ‘counterculture.’ I said of course not and he said okay, he had to ask. I could tell he was patronizing me. He’s got that manner — starts off casual and friendly but turns snide. Like everyone’s got a nasty secret and it’s his job to pass judgment. I know you guys encounter the worst side of humanity all the time but that wasn’t Rod. It wasn’t. If anything, he could be naive.”

I said, “How so?”

“Overly trusting, idealistic.”

“You called the coroner—”

“I was desperate, Enow had stopped answering my calls. I wanted to talk to an expert because the poison thing made no sense, there’s no way Rod would know anything about that, let alone use it on himself. The person I spoke to wasn’t a doctor, just a lab person. Nice enough but he couldn’t tell me much. I left a message for the coroner, passing along the same thing I told Enow, maybe they should look at Rod’s work. I requested a call-back, never received one.”

Milo said, “Let’s talk about the work situation.”

“Let’s,” she said. “First of all, Rod was hired under false pretenses. He was promised at least some training in trusts and estates. His interest was in estate work, he felt it was less confrontational than most other aspects of law. Also, I encouraged it. Thought it would be helpful to have someone in the family with those skills.”

She sighed. “Rod always called me the heiress. Kidded me about his being a hired hand.”

She got to her feet, ran out of the living room and up a short hallway. A door closed sharply, just short of a slam. She remained away long enough for Milo to eat three cookies, before returning with straighter posture and her hair released, a mop of blond cascading over her shoulders. I noticed her eyes for the first time. Gray, sharp, active.

“Sorry,” she said. “It hasn’t gotten easier. What makes it worse is I feel I’ll never know. ”

After she’d settled and drunk some water, I said, “Hired under false pretenses.”

“Oh, yes, that. It was supposed to be a standard legal assistant’s job — doing scut in return for being able to shadow a senior attorney. And at first, Loach made Rod feel welcome. Took Rod out to lunch at the Water Garden, couldn’t have been nicer. But the next day, he was out of the office. Same for the following three days. When he finally showed up on Friday, he stayed an hour and gave Rod nothing to do. Rod was going out of his mind with boredom but Loach didn’t seem to be aware. Or care. He’d just walk by Rod’s desk, clap Rod’s back and leave. Another person might’ve loved getting paid to sit around. For Rod it was torture. He was like one of those dog breeds that needs to work. The second week, he tried to talk to Loach and Loach said there’d been a temporary lull, things would pick up. But it didn’t, Loach continued to be absent with no explanation. After a month of that, Rod tried to raise the issue with another lawyer in the firm and was informed since he was Loach’s assistant, all decisions were made by Loach.”

“Did Loach see any clients at all?”

“Only one,” said Andrea Salton.

“Who’s that?”

“All Rod told me was one, he wouldn’t give me details because of confidentiality.”

Milo said, “Assistants are bound by confidentiality?”

“That’s what I said to Rod. He said it wasn’t a matter of the law, it was the law’s intent, as far as he was concerned anything conducted under the ‘rubric’ of the firm was bound. I must admit I got a little contentious and challenged him. Did that include parking lot attendants? A plumber who came in to fix a toilet? He laughed it off and told me to put it in my dissertation.”

“He did communicate that Loach had only one client.”

“He blurted it out once when he was totally frustrated. ‘Can you believe it, Andrea? He gets a huge corner office, a massive salary and bonus, all for one client.’ Then he made me promise I’d never repeat it. He could be a little overly... I know this is going to sound bad to you guys but I used to tell him he was overly law-abiding. We’re talking about someone who if he came out to his parking meter and saw that he’d overextended his stay and gotten away with it, would reimburse the machine.”

Milo said, “Too many like him, I’d be collecting unemployment.”

Andrea Salton laughed. “Thank you, Lieutenant. That’s the first time I’ve come close to levity in a long, long time.”

I said, “Rules meant a lot to Rod. The worst person to put into such an unstructured situation.”

“Perfectly put.”

“Why didn’t he quit?”

“He felt if he left too soon, it would look bad on his résumé. He and I discussed the minimum time he could stay without appearing flaky. I felt three, four months was enough, he felt it needed to be longer. We agreed on six months, worked out a way to cope. He’d use the time to study his first-year law books in advance, get a head start, maybe be able to free himself up to do research with a professor.”

She smoothed her hair and shook her head. “Six measly months. He never made it.”

I said, “You told the coroner’s assistant you thought his death was work related.”

“I didn’t say that, I was trying to tell him suicide was out of the question, our home life was ideal, the only stress in Rod’s life was work. He was getting lots of studying done but he didn’t feel right about it. I told him Loach had to be a rainmaker. Someone with connections who brings business in and doesn’t have to do much else. My dad plays golf with a guy like that.”

“Anything else we should know?”

“I wish there was. If my remark about work was taken out of context, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” said Milo. “I can’t promise you we’ll solve it but we’ll treat you differently than Enow.”

“I know you will — have some cookies. If you don’t take them, I’ll eat them and that’s the last thing I need.”

She filled a bag and gave it to us. We thanked her and headed for the door.

“You think of anything that might’ve bothered your husband,” said Milo, “you call. Anything at all, for that matter.”

Andrea Salton stood there.

“Ma’am?”

“There is one thing that happened but I can’t see any possible way it’s related.”