Postcard killers

Chapter 104

Carlos Rodriguez and his wife, Carmela, had lived in the smal gatekeeper's lodge at the Mansion ever since he returned from the Vietnam War in the spring of 1975. Both of their children had grown up there.

"Children are the future," Rodriguez said. "Do you have children?"

"No," Jacob said, putting his ID back in his wal et. "But I'm interested in the Rudolphs' children. What happened to them after the murder?"

The gardener sucked his teeth.

"The twins were looked after by Senor Blython," he said. "He took them down to Los Angeles, to the big house he bought in Beverly Hil s."

The man moved closer to Jacob and lowered his voice, as if someone might overhear him.

"Senorita and Junior didn't real y want to move," he said. "They wanted to stay in their house here, but it was up to Senor Blython to decide. He was 138 their legal guardian, after al."

"Who owns this place these days?" Jacob asked.

He remembered that Lyndon said it had been in the hands of a bankruptcy agency.

Rodriguez's face darkened.

"The children inherited it, along with everything else: paintings, jewelry, stock shares, and small businesses. Senor Blython was charged with managing these assets until the children were twenty-one. But when that day came, the money was gone."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "Their guardian defrauded them?"

"He took every last penny. The house was sold at an executive auction.

The company that bought it was going to turn it into a conference center. But they went bankrupt in the financial crisis."

"What did Sylvia and Malcolm Rudolph say about what happened?"

The man's gaze wavered.

"They couldn't stay on at UCLA. There was no money, not even for the fees. So they had to get jobs. But they managed," he said. "They're very resourceful."

Jacob's jaw tightened. If the old man only knew.

"When did you last see them?" he asked.

Carlos Rodriguez didn't need to think about the answer. "The weekend before the house was sold at auction," he said. "They came to col ect a few mementos, photo albums and things like that."

"They were both here?"

"And Sandra," the gardener said. "Sandra Schulman, Sylvia's best friend.

They only stayed a few hours on that last visit, and then they left, in the middle of the night…"

"And then Senor Blython was murdered," Jacob said.

Carlos Rodriguez snorted.

"If you hang around with putas in Los Angeles…," he said.

Jacob nodded and let the subject drop. The gardener had told him more than he had expected.

"The main building," he said, "is it stil here?"

Carlos Rodriguez's face broke into a smile again.

"Pero claro que si! I'm not formal y employed anymore, of course. I get a little from the bank. Mostly we live on my pension. But I look after the Mansion."

"Could you show me around?" Jacob asked.

"Si, claro! Of course I can."