Rebecca Schwartz 05 - Other People's Skeletons (23 page)

“How about the vow of chastity?”

“There’s a question, huh? I don’t know if we’ll ever get to the bottom of it, but one thing’s obvious. This was a guy who was eaten up with guilt. That’s what his whole life was about. Guilt. Being manipulated by Adrienne. Giving everything he made to the Dunsons. Not being able to get on with it. I think that whole A Team/B Team thing was about that. He wanted the A-Team women, but he didn’t think he deserved them.” She gave me a weird look and started to focus.

“Chris, please don’t close your eyes while you’re driving.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It just sounded so right I was seeing if I could get a little open-eye hit.”

“Did you?”

“Well, no. I’ll try it later with my eyes closed. Anyway, it might have been more than that. Maybe he didn’t consciously think he didn’t deserve them. Maybe his body made certain decisions for him.”

“Meaning he couldn’t get it up.”

“Meaning exactly that.”

“But what he did with the B Team was pretty cruel.”

“Well, maybe he didn’t feel too good about it. He did have that episode with Tami the prostitute. Maybe he was trying to see if that would work.”

“I guess it didn’t, though.”

“The women he did get involved with were broken wings, just like him. I don’t know what a shrink would do with that.”

“Well, I think I can almost get it,” I said. “If he identified with them, then they were bound to keep getting hurt. Because that was
his
life.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. But that couldn’t-get-it-up business sure sounds likely. I mean—”

I laughed and finished for her, “Knowing men and all.”

But the other part would remain forever as mysterious to us as it had probably been to Jason.

“What in the hell are we going to do about Adrienne?” she said.

“Well, I don’t know that we have to do anything. The cops are probably looking for her already. If they aren’t now, they will be after we tell them what Michael said.”

“Actually, uh— could you indulge me?”

I was getting a sinking feeling. “Indulge you how?”

“I had the group read about it. I think we have to find her.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know why. They said it was the right action.”

I didn’t say anything, thinking it through.

“I’m involved in this thing, and I can’t just drop out. She may have committed murder with my car and tried to frame me. I can’t explain it exactly— it’s not revenge or anything— I just need to bring the thing full circle.”

Well, hell. I had crazy obsessions too— usually involving far more trivial matters than this one. “Far be it from me,” I said, “to argue with the cosmos.”

“Thanks.” Her shoulders sagged, signaling how tense they’d been, how much she’d needed me to say yes.

“There’s only one thing— we don’t know where to look. Or did the Raiders tell you?”

“I wish.”

“Well, let’s go get some cappuccino and see if it jogs anything.”

“You lawyers. Drugs, drugs, drugs.” I didn’t see her arguing, though.

The stuff didn’t make us brilliant, but it did get us jump-started.

Assessing what we had to go on, there were only two possible leads— Adrienne’s dad and Danno. Since her dad had reported her missing, it didn’t seem likely he was hiding her. So Danno first, if we could find him. We called Rob for his address, but he wasn’t home.

In that case, there was one thing to do— go back to Adrienne’s apartment, the one she’d shared with Jason, and look for a Rolodex. Rob and I had broken in once before, and I had no doubt I could do it again.

Chris was appalled but invaluable at boosting me through the window, which, in the excitement, no one had thought to board up. She climbed in after me, and our noses told us immediately that this was an unlived-in place, a place starting to mildew and settle into its own bacterial, mossy smells. A quick check revealed we were right— if Adrienne had been back, there was no sign of it.

There was no Rolodex, though, either in the bedroom or the living room. Impatient, I went into the kitchen to call Rob again on the wall phone in there. A list of ten numbers programmed into the phone had been stuck neatly underneath a plastic envelope provided on the receiver. Number One was “Jason at work,” Number Two was “Dad,” and Number Three was “Danno.”

“Eureka!” I shouted, but didn’t yet press the button. This was delicate— required face-to-face contact— and I wasn’t at all sure he’d simply invite us over.

“I’ve got it,” said Chris, grabbing the receiver and pressing the button. “Hi,” she said, “is this Daniel, uh … Piperis. Is the last name right? I couldn’t quite read it. This is UPS, and we have a package for you, but it looks as if it got wet— the ink’s so smeared we can’t make out the address.

“Where’s it from? Let me look again. New York, it looks like.” Short pause. “Well, I can’t read that either. Look, do you want the package or not? … Okay.” She gestured for a pencil and took down an address. For a minute I thought she was going to have the chutzpah to ask directions, but she hung up. “What a grouch. But no one can resist a mysterious package.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

It would certainly have been no shock to me to learn that Danno lived in a loft South of Market, but in fact he inhabited a shabby building not far from Chinatown and cheek by jowl with the Tenderloin, a slightly unsavory area that drew people who were new in town, who hadn’t much money or time to find a better place.

Sleepily, he said, “I’ll be right down,” and when he appeared he looked like someone who’d just gotten home from a rave and hadn’t yet come down from it. He said, “Oh. I thought you were UPS.”

“We’re looking for Adrienne.”

“I remember you. Look, I already told you— I don’t know where she is.”

“Danno, remember telling us about her brother? The one who was so ill?”

“Sure; Sean. Adrienne and I were together when he died. She was real, real upset about that.”

“We think she might have flipped out. Do you know what happened to Sean? Why he was brain-damaged?”

“Some accident, I thought. When he was a baby.”

“An accident caused by Jason McKendrick.”

He whistled.

“You know what we think that means?”

He nodded. “First her mother, now her.”

“Her mother?”

“Well, Sean’s death flipped her out. The whole family’s kind of … oh, well, I guess they had reason. What do you want Adrienne for?”

Chris said, “Whoever killed McKendrick did it with my car.”

“Oh. Well.”

“And then, a couple of nights ago, we were with some friends, and someone shot at us. It happened the day Adrienne ran away from the hospital.”

“Boy, she’s really flipped.” It was a telling reaction, I thought. He might as easily have said, “Adrienne wouldn’t do a thing like that.”

“Can you think of anywhere she might have gone? Is there anyone she felt she could trust? Who’d take care of her?”

He scratched his nose. “Well, now that you mention it, yeah. Yeah, I think there might be somebody. But it might have been just one of Adrienne’s stories. She always brought up this ex-boyfriend when she was mad at me. She said the guy would take her back in a minute; she liked to point out how rich he was. And famous— he’s real famous, too. For a gangster.”

“What’s his name?”

“Tommy La Barre.”

“Holy shit.” I’d be a lousy poker player.

“Yeah. I never quite believed her on that one.” He shrugged. “But you never knew with Adrienne. Maybe it was true.”

Confronting a guy like Tommy La Barre wasn’t my idea of a fun afternoon, but the fact that he’d seen me with Rob would help. At least he wouldn’t kill someone so close to a reporter.

Where the hell
was
Rob, anyhow? I phoned him again; again no answer.

“I’m starving,” said Chris. It was nearly two. “Why don’t we drop in to Dante’s for a little something?”

“Sure. Maybe Adrienne’s waiting tables over there.” La Barre was sitting in exactly the same place Rob and I had found him before.

I hailed him. “Tommy. Remember me?”

“Sure. The cub reporter. How’s it going?”

“I got a weird tip. I heard you were involved with Jason McKendrick’s assistant.”

His nasty little eyes glittered at me. “You heard that, did you?”

“Yeah. I heard that.”

He didn’t answer, just kept staring. For a while I held his gaze, but then I remembered that in my rational moments I think staring contests are stupid. I smiled. “Is it true?”

“No, it’s not true.”

I said, “Tommy, I think she killed Jason,” and regretted it almost immediately. What if the two of them were in it together? I’d been so caught up in the idea of Adrienne as flipped-out freak I hadn’t even thought of it.

But something changed in his face, flickered in his hard eyes. He said, “I loved that guy, you know?” and I almost believed him. “Look, okay, she brought him in here— that time he came to lunch— but I only saw her once. I guess in a way she introduced me to Jason, so I owe her. But if you mean this…”

“She brought him in here? Why would she bring him if you didn’t even know her?”

“Because she knew all about me, and I knew all about her. She wanted to meet me, she had some thing about me, she even told people we were involved.” He shook his head. “Shit. Christ. I wouldn’t be involved with somebody that young. Uh-uh. Not this boy. Women are like wine, you know what I mean? I like a gal with some vintage on her.” He leered, as he had the first time we met. It was probably a habit.

“I feel like we’re getting off the subject. How did you two know all about each other?”

“Because my brother was fuckin’ her.”

“Your brother!”

“Shit, I don’t care what happens to her. I don’t even care what happens to him.” He stared at his glass and brooded. “Dumb schmuck. Jason was my buddy.”

“Are your brother and Adrienne in touch?”

“You mean now? Fuck no, she left him for some faggoty kid.”

“The kid says your brother wanted her back, he told her he’d always take care of her. Only the kid thought he was talking about you.”

Unexpectedly, Tommy La Barre leaned back and gave a hard, bitter laugh. I had no idea what was so funny. “Why don’t you look him up? Why don’t you girls just go ask him? Fuck, I don’t give a shit.” He wrote a name and address on one of his business cards.

As we turned toward the door, Chris said, “No lunch?”

“I can’t eat on drugs.”

“The coffee? Mine’s worn off.”

“Adrenaline. I think we’re getting close.”

She sighed. “I wish I did.”

I looked at the address. It was in the avenues, a funny place, I thought, for a gangster’s brother to live. It was one of those stucco built-over-a-garage places that line the streets out there, that stretch in unrelieved columns for miles, that make you want to lose your lunch with the sameness, the grim plainness of it all.

Yet they’re perfectly nice houses, suitable for raising sprawling urban families, and it came to me, as I looked at the card with Tommy’s brother’s name on it— Edward La Barre— that Edward might not be a bachelor.

Unfortunately, the thought was a little late, having come a second or two after ringing the doorbell. The woman who answered wore jeans and a tunic-length T-shirt that looked as if it had been selected to hide a belly curve that had arrived with a baby. Her hair was black and curly, but slightly unkempt, as if she didn’t have time for grooming. It looked good that way, but I was sure she couldn’t be convinced of it, was probably embarrassed at having been caught in weekend mode. She was a handsome woman, substantial in weight, with a deep, maternal bosom, against which she held what was probably the latest of many babies.

“We’re looking for Edward La Barre,” I said.

“Tommy called.” Anger flared from her eyes. “How dare you invade my house? How can you be so low?”

We started to back away.

“Coming to a person’s house like this, after some punked-out little slut— how can you do a thing like that?”

How could Tommy La Barre set us up like this? That was the question. “I guess we made a mistake.”

“Get out of here! Get out of here right now, goddamn it! Just leave. Just get out of here.” The baby set up a howl I felt like joining.

“Okay, we’re going. It’s okay.” We were more or less backing down the steps, but we didn’t dare turn our backs.

Finally she slammed the door, and we turned toward each other to gibber in amazement at the thing that had befallen us. We had parked across the street, and I am quite sure no cars were in sight as we stepped off the curb, but we were caught slightly off guard, as we were much more interested in each other than the street. A light-colored car, no more than a blur of heavy machinery, bore down suddenly, motor purring, wind fairly whistling around it. We jumped backward, and the car flew past. It kept speeding, remained a blur, and by this time we were interested in examining our skin, making sure it was intact; getting the license number was the last thing either of us thought of.

Yet when the shock had started to wear off— about thirty seconds down the line— we started to realize what had happened.

“Is it me,” said Chris, “or did someone just try to run us down?”

“I think they must have pulled out of a parking place— that’s why we didn’t see them before.”

“Does this have a familiar ring?”

It could have been Jason McKendrick all over again;
we
could have. But before I could speak, Mrs. La Barre came tearing out of the house. “Are you all right? Did she get you?”

“You saw the driver?”

“Who would it be but the slut? Look. Go talk to Eddie. What do I care? He doesn’t see her anyway. He has way too much sense for the little bitch. He took the kids to the park. Go. Go see him.”

“Thanks.” I wasn’t much in the mood, but I managed a kind of smile. “What park?”

“Golden Gate. Kristin likes the garden.” She turned back.

“Could you tell us what your husband looks like?”

“No. No, I couldn’t.”

But a moment later she must have regretted her rudeness. “Just be careful,” she called. “The slut’s a killer.”

“How do you know that?”

“Tommy told me you told him.”