Flipping Out (15 page)

Terry
must have hit it on the head, because Charlie's face went flush. 'Which part of
none of your business
didn't you understand?'

'OK,'
I said. 'So you were having a drink with another woman at the same time your
wife was murdered, which is not something you're anxious to share. And she's probably
married, so you don't want to drag her in unless you're charged. Understood.'

'Thank
you.'

'What
time did you and this compassionate, sympathetic friend start drinking?'

'Five.
Maybe a little before.'

'In
a bar?'

'It
was a little more private than that. Next question.'

'Where
were you between four and five?'

'I
left work at three, went home, put on my party clothes, drove to meet my
friend.'

'Anybody
see you?'

'Not
between three and five,' he said. 'Did the crime lab establish the time of
death?'

I
nodded. 'Between four and six.'

He
smiled. 'So even if I gave up my friend's name, I'd only have half an alibi.'

'Did
you kill your wife and your mother-in-law?' I said.

'No.'

'Do
you have any idea who did?'

'Not
who, but maybe why.'

'You
know something?' Terry said.

'Nothing
specific,' he said. 'It's just my best take as a cop. Three women dead, all
part of the same real estate venture. I didn't know much about who invested
what, or what the details of the business deal were, but if I were working this
case, I'd follow the money.'

'And
where would we pick up the trail?' Terry said.

'Her
publisher and her accountant will have all kinds of financial records, but
nobody's going to just pop open their books unless you guys find a judge, get a
warrant, the usual crap.'

'The
Justice Prevention Department,' Terry said. 'We've been there.'

'Your
best bet is to just ask Martin,' Charlie said. 'He'll know.'

'Martin
Sorensen,' I said. 'Her assistant.'

Charlie
nodded. 'He's a pretty OK guy once you get to know him.'

'You
know him well?'

'We're
not shopping for furniture together, but sometimes after one of those book
parties, he and I would take it across the street and toss down a few beers. I
gotta tell you, in another life, I wouldn't have wound up friendly with this
guy, but we've got a common pain in the ass.'

'Nora,'
I said.

'Yeah.
I mean, she was kind of all right as a mother-in- law, but as a person, it was
a whole other story. She's one of those people who knows it all and wants to
make sure you know she knows it. You should hear Martin go off on her after
he's had a couple of drinks. Poor guy, he was working for her, sleeping with
her...'

'Maybe
killed her?' I said.

Charlie
laughed. 'Hey, you're thinking like a cop. I've been there, but no. If Nora was
the only victim, I'd put him high on the list, but Jo, and...' He took in a
breath and let it out slowly. His voice dropped and his eyes went to the
ceiling. 'Could Nora have driven Martin to shoot her? Sure. But he never would
have killed my wife, Reggie's wife...where's the upside? What's the motive?
Like I said, if this was me on this case, I'd follow the money.'

'Does
Martin have access to her financial records?' Terry said.

'Martin
knows everything about Nora's business,' Charlie said. 'He was with her every
day.' He paused. 'And a hell of a lot of nights.'

We
were on Wilshire, driving to Martin's apartment on South Cochran, about five
minutes away.

'I'm
confused,' I said.

'We
could put in a call to Father Bill,' Terry said. 'He seems to do well with
troubled cops.'

'I'm
not troubled. I'm confused. I don't understand why these people are getting
killed.'

Terry
crossed himself, it's God's will, my son.'

'Quit
dicking around. I'm serious. You heard what Marisol said last night. Nora's
books are what's driving up the price of these houses. So even if it is about
money, why kill the cash cow? Did Marisol hate her partners enough to kill off
her own income stream? As for Charlie, I believe he loved Julia. So why would
he kill her? Why would he kill Nora?'

'Money.
It's your basic age-old motive. With Julia dead, maybe Charlie inherits Nora's
estate.'

'Then
why kill Jo Drabyak?'

Terry
made the turn onto Cochran. 'Good question. Now I'm confused,' he said.

Martin's
apartment was a lot like the man who lived there - neat, orderly, and
efficient.

He
greeted us at the door, a copy of the
LA Times
in his hand.

'I
wonder how Nora would feel if she saw that her book launch party made page one
of every paper in America,' he said. 'How's Marilyn?'

'Totally
spooked,' Terry said. 'I'm surprised you're not a little nervous yourself.'

'I
locked my front door, but I just can't see how I'd be a target. I'm just Nora's
lowly assistant.'

'Cut
the bullshit,' Terry said. 'This is a homicide investigation, not a book party,
so let's skip the social amenities. You were a lot more than her lowly
assistant. You've been banging her for years.'

'It's
part of my job description,' he said. 'Arranging her travel, getting her
coffee, giving her multiple orgasms. Gentlemen, I'm a relatively good-looking,
thirty-seven-year-old assistant working for a sixty-four- year-old
money-machine. This is La-La-Land. Fucking goes with the territory. And for the
record, she was damn good in the sack. It was a hell of a lot more fun than
filing.'

Terry
and I had never seen this candid side of Martin, but of course, we had never
seen him without Nora lurking nearby.

'What
do you know about Nora's financial picture?' I asked.

'Everything.
I see her contracts, I deposit her royalty cheques, I pay her bills - there's
not too much I don't know. She was completely open with me.'

'What
would you say she's worth?'

'Twenty
million. But that was before she went from the arts section to the front page.
A violent death is a big boost to any artist's career. People who never heard
of her will buy her books now. The money will be pouring into her estate for
decades.'

'And
speaking of her estate, who's the beneficiary?'

'Nora
only had one living relative. Julia.'

'So
what happens now that her one living relative is no longer living?'

'You
mean does it all go to her lowly assistant?'

'The
thought did cross my mind that maybe you could be next in line for the twenty
mill.' if only,' he said. 'But alas, Detective Biggs, the University of
California at Santa Barbara has that enviable position. Nora's alma mater is
going to have themselves one generous fellowship fund. Perhaps you should
interrogate them.'

'We're
not done with you,' Terry said. 'When was the last time you saw Nora alive?'

'We
worked from nine till noon yesterday. Then Julia came over and they went
shopping.'

'And
where were you from noon till six?'

'I
was here in my apartment. I arrived at the book launch party precisely at five
forty-five.'

'So
nobody saw you from noon till the time you got to the party.'

'Please,
Detective, tell me you aren't seriously considering me as a suspect,' Martin
said. 'Allow me to refresh your memory. I don't inherit her money.'

'Not
a penny?'

'A
year's salary. Hardly enough to kill for.'

'I've
seen homicides for a lot less,' Terry said. 'Tell me something. Who inherits
Julia's money?'

'Julia
didn't have any money,' Martin said.

'Sure
she did,' Terry said. 'She just didn't have it for long. It appears that Nora
was murdered first, which means Julia automatically inherited her mother's
estate. Unfortunately for her, she wound up dead a minute later. So now the
question is, who gets Julia's money?'

'Probably
her husband, but he'd only get Julia's money. He has no claims to Nora's
estate.'

'Why
not?' Terry said. 'If the crime lab proves that Nora was dead first, her money
would legally go to Julia, not to the university. So technically it's Julia's
estate that will get passed on. Am I right?'

'No,
Detective Biggs, you are wrong. A person does not get to be a multimillionaire
for half a minute then pass it along. Have you ever heard of the simultaneous
death clause?'

Terry
looked at me, and I shook my head. 'Enlighten us,' he said.

'It's
a common clause used in most wills. It states that if Julia were to die within
sixty days of her mother, it's considered that they died at the same time.'

'Keep
enlightening.'

'Let's
say a mother and a daughter are in a car crash. Mom dies at the scene. Without
that clause the daughter would immediately inherit Mom's estate, and Uncle Sam
would automatically be entitled to an estate tax. Now suppose the daughter dies
on her way to the hospital. Then somebody in her will inherits the money. The
IRS can now collect a second estate tax. The purpose of putting in the
simultaneous death clause is to avoid double taxation.'

'So
what you're saying is Charlie doesn't get any of Nora's money.'

'It's
not what I'm
saying.
It's what I
said.
Several times. All Charlie can inherit is whatever money Julia already had, but
I've known her for years, and she writes poetry.'

'I
heard there's big bucks in poetry,' Terry said. 'Didn't Dr Seuss make a
killing?'

'The
only money Julia ever earned came from being part of the LA Flippers. I assume
Charlie will wind up with her share of the real estate profits, but it's not
going to be a ticket on the retirement express.'

'Speaking
of real estate,' I said, 'did any of the partners have any major arguments with
any of the contractors working on this house?'

'Marisol
tangled with a few,' he said. 'She fired two plumbers before she finally found
one she could work with. But let's face it, if contractors shot everyone who
was pissed off at them, they'd be building houses for each other.'

We
talked for ten more minutes. Martin acted a bit self-important, but he was
comfortable, not guarded, and if he did have anything to hide, he was hiding it
well. We thanked him, and I gave him a business card, with the usual
call-us-if-you-think-of-anything parting words. He walked us to the door.

'One
last question,' I said. 'What are your plans, now that you're out of work?'

'I'm
not out of work just yet,' he said. 'It could take me six months to straighten
out all of Nora's business affairs. The estate will pay my salary.'

'And
after that?'

'Maybe
I'll write a book about my seven wonderful years with Nora,' he said, 'but I'm
going to need your help.'

'Us?
For what?'

'You
can't write a murder mystery without telling the reader who the killer is,' he
said, giving us a smug grin. 'Unless you solve it, I won't have an ending.'

Kilcullen
called and told us to meet him for lunch.

'Barney's
Beanery in West Hollywood,' he said, it's more private.'

West
Hollywood is under the jurisdiction of the sheriff's department, so we were
less likely to run into anyone from LAPD at Barney's. But knowing Kilcullen, he
picked it because they've got killer chilli.

He
was already sitting at a table when we got there. He looked at his watch just
in case we didn't know we were two minutes late.

'I
ordered,' he said. 'Hope you want chilli.' He didn't wait for an answer. 'The deputy
chief called me. We've had an outbreak of blue flu.'

It's
illegal for cops to go on strike, so one of the few actions we can take is a
sick-out. The blue flu.

'A
lot of cops called in sick today. Twice as many as on a normal Friday,'
Kilcullen said. 'But it's not a job action.

These
guys are staying home and babysitting their wives.'

'Do
we know that for sure?' I said.

'We
don't know shit for sure, but Nora Bannister's murder is all over the TV this
morning, and some reporters have put two and two together, and they're asking
if there's a guy with a gun out there targeting cops' families. This is exactly
why I told the chief not to issue a department-wide warning. We've got the
makings of a panic. We need answers. What have you got so far?'