Cold Heart

Chapter 4

Later, Lorraine realized that the discovery of the bullet might mean nothing, because Nathan had been known to shoot at birds. It was quite possible that there would be a number of bullets in the grounds. But if this one fitted the murder weapon, Cindy had told the truth. The question still remained as to whether or not Cindy had fired the gun.

Lorraine showered, changed, and put some disinfectant on the scratches that covered her arms and legs, and the two on her face. Tiger had been disgruntled — he’d been left alone most of the day — but Lorraine had fed and walked him now. He had perked up when she decided he could ride with her to the hospital. It was after ten by the time she turned off San Vincente Boulevard and drove between the imposing towers of Cedars-Sinai Medical Centre, lit up like a liner at night. She went to the emergency rooms to enquire about Cindy Nathan, and was told that Cindy had been admitted to a medical ward on the eighth floor.

When Lorraine asked at the nurses’ station if she could see Mrs Nathan, they refused. Cindy had been sedated and was not allowed visitors. ‘If you would like to leave your number, Mrs Page, I will tell her you came to see her when she wakes,’ the night nurse said authoritatively, a challenging look in her eyes. The unit was frequently used by celebrities and their families, and it was clear that the staff were well versed in keeping unwanted attention away from them. Lorraine checked her watch, thought about waiting around, but decided to go home. She had a lot of new developments to get on top of, and she was tired.

‘What time can I see her in the morning?’

‘That will depend on the doctor and the patient. She’s in a private room with a phone, so I’m sure she’ll call you if she wants to. Now, if you will excuse me...’ and the nurse set off down the corridor.

Two clerical staff were behind their desks at the administration station, and Lorraine moved closer. ‘Excuse me, do you know if Mrs Cindy Nathan has had any visitors since she was admitted?’

One woman, with permed hair, looked over her half-moon glasses, apparently irritated to be distracted from her copy of the National Enquirer. ‘Are you a relative?’

‘No, I spoke to you earlier.’

‘I’m sorry, we’re not allowed to give any personal details to anyone not related to the patient.’

‘What if I said I was her sister?’

‘But you just said you weren’t related,’ the woman snapped.

Lorraine threw up her hands. ‘I’m a close friend, and she’s just miscarried her baby. At a time like this she’ll need a lot of comfort and, above all, the support of her friends, right? And I would like to contact—’

‘No visitors,’ the perm said.

‘Thank you for your co-operation,’ Lorraine replied sarcastically, and walked out. She was, she thought, probably the only person who did care about poor little Cindy, for she felt genuinely sorry for her, but at the same time, she was relieved to be going home again.

Back at the car, Tiger had eaten his leather lead, and Lorraine was so absorbed in scolding him that she didn’t see the two-toned Mitsubishi jeep pull into a space just a short distance away. She was still berating Tiger as a woman got out, carrying grapes and a bunch of flowers. But Kendall Nathan had seen Lorraine and stood in the shadows, keeping well out of view, watching her drive out.

Kendall did not get such short shrift from the receptionist: as she had the same surname as Cindy, the perm presumed she was a relative and allowed her to talk to the night nurse monitoring Cindy. She was told that Cindy was still sleeping, and, although not critically ill, in a deeply depressed state. Kendall was about to leave her gifts and go, when the nurse offered to check if Cindy was awake.

She showed Kendall into the plush private room, with its dimmed lights, controlled atmosphere and television mounted on a bracket on the wall. Kendall leaned over and smiled: Cindy was awake, but very drowsy.

‘I came as soon as I heard. I talked to Jose and he told me — I’m so sorry.’

Slowly Cindy turned away her face. ‘I bet you are,’ she whispered, so softly as to be barely audible.

Kendall turned and smiled sweetly at the nurse. ‘I’ll just sit with her for a few moments.’

The nurse hesitated, but Kendall looked hard at her, and she nodded. ‘I’ll check on the other patients and come back, but you mustn’t stay long.’

‘Thank you so much,’ Kendall said softly. As soon as the door closed the sickening smile froze on her mouth. She moved to stand at the end of the bed, unhooked the notes attached to the foot and flicked through them before she spoke.

‘How are you, darling? I was so sorry to hear you lost the baby.’ She put the clipboard back. ‘You must really regret the abortions now.’

Cindy glared at her. ‘I never had any abortions.’

‘Oh,’ Kendall smiled, ‘it must be a mistake. I’ll tell the nurse to alter this “previous pregnancies” thing on my way out.’

Cindy said nothing.

‘I didn’t even think it was true, the baby,’ Kendall continued. ‘Whose was it?’

Cindy closed her eyes.

‘It wasn’t likely to be Harry’s, you little whore. You screwed anything in pants.’

Cindy opened her eyes again. ‘You mean like you did to get yourself pregnant? That was why he married you, wasn’t it?’

Kendall’s eyes slanted like a snake’s as she cocked her head to one side. ‘If you hadn’t shot him he’d have kicked you out, and you know it.’

‘The way he kicked you out?’

‘You’re a poisonous little bitch, aren’t you?’

‘Takes one to know one.’

‘My, my, that was quite a fast retort — unusual for you. That chemical garbage you stuff yourself with usually makes you totally fucking off the wall. But I’m sorry, really I am. It won’t be quite so heart-rending now, will it? “Pregnant wife on trial for her husband’s murder” would have been quite a sexy angle.’

‘Go away. Leave me alone.’

Kendall pursed her lips. ‘Was it Harry’s?’

‘Yes. And that must have really pissed you off.’

Kendall recomposed her features into what she hoped was a pleasant smile. ‘Look, Cindy, that’s all water under the bridge. I’m sorry for... teasing you — I guess I’m just jealous, you know, about you and the baby and all.’ She gave a sigh, as though of sorrow at the realization of her own human weakness, and her expression grew still more saccharine-sweet. ‘Let’s you and me not fight,’ she went on. ‘I mean, we’ve both suffered such a terrible loss and we’re both in the same boat about a lot of things — Harry, and the will, and... well, you know there’s just a few little videotapes out at the house I think both of us would rather not watch with our moms.’

‘What?’ Cindy said weakly. ‘Harry... did stuff with you too?’

‘Harry did stuff with the Koi carp and the juice extractor, darling.’ Kendall’s voice was more businesslike now. ‘Did you get the key to the office?’

‘No. But somebody else did. Somebody broke in — there were tapes all over the floor, but just his movies and stuff, they didn’t take any. I can’t find the private ones. I looked all over.’

‘They must be still at the house, and Feinstein’s in charge now while you’re lying here, Cindy. You don’t want him finding them and sitting around whacking off to them, now do you?’

‘I guess not.’

Well, then, call Jose and Juana and tell them to let me in to collect them. I won’t take anything else.’

‘Like fuck you won’t, Kendall.’ Even Cindy was not too dumb to be taken in by that ploy. ‘I know you’d walk out with a couple of Jackson de Koonings, or whatever they are, tucked in your tights.’

‘Cindy, I don’t intend to discuss this with you at this time,’ Kendall said prissily. ‘You got my attorney’s letter and you know that the collection of art works at the house, which Harry and I built up, was jointly owned. My paintings do not form part of the contents of the house, and I can prove it because I paid the insurance premiums — which shows Harry acknowledged before he died that I had a proprietary interest. And what the fuck would you do with a lot of Jackson Pollocks!’

‘Sell them, Kendall, same as you. And I have news for you. If you’re banking on that premium business to set up your case, you’re in a whole lot of trouble because he never paid the insurance. I just found that out.’

‘What?’ Kendall said, her expression reverting to its former undisguised anger and greed. ‘How do you know?’

‘I found the letters telling him that the policy had expired, last chance to renew kind of thing. He never paid a penny in insurance in the last two years.’

Kendall was speechless with rage and shock. ‘But I gave him about two million fucking dollars in that time. What did he do with it?’

‘The usual things, I guess,’ Cindy said succinctly. ‘His dick or his nose. And I have something else to tell you—’

‘What?’ Kendall snapped.

‘I’m kind of tired now, Kendall,’ Cindy said, with a yawn. ‘Maybe I’ll tell you some other time.’

Kendall jolted the bed. ‘You straighten out with me right now, Cindy, or I’ll slap your face!’

Cindy struggled to sit up. ‘You lay one finger on me and I’ll scream the place down. I just lost my fucking baby, for Chrissakes.’

Kendall returned with an effort to sweet-reason mode. ‘Look, Cindy, we’re just playing into the lawyers’ hands by fighting each other. If there’s some other problems with the art, I think you should tell me. Otherwise it will just go to Feinstein and he’ll make ten billion dollars while we get zip.’

Cindy could never stand up to a more aggressive person for long. ‘Well,’ she said, sinking back on her pillows, ‘you know that Chinese vase? The family of roses or whatever? In his bedroom? It fell off its perch.’

‘You broke it?

‘Not on purpose, but... how old did you say it was? Only, for something so old, how come it’s got a sticker inside?’

Cindy enjoying seeing Kendall froth at the mouth. ‘Yeah, a sticker with a dealer’s name on it, right inside the thing. Some company called Classic something or other.’

‘Classic Reproductions,’ Kendall said, between gritted teeth.

‘Oh, that’s it.’ Cindy faked surprise with all her Paradise Motel skill. ‘I knew you’d have heard of them.’

Kendall picked up her purse. ‘Look, there’s no point in us talking any more now, I have to go. I’ll check things out with the insurance brokers tomorrow and call you.’

As the other woman turned away Cindy said, ‘I didn’t kill him, Kendall. I don’t think I did, an’ that’s the truth. I even thought that maybe...’

‘Maybe what?’ Kendall was heading for the door.

‘Maybe you did. Where were you when he got shot?’

‘I was at home.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ Cindy said quietly. ‘Got a witness, have you?’ She turned back to her pillow and closed her eyes. Before Kendall could reply the nurse walked in, hurried to Cindy’s bedside, and turned in surprise at the sound of the door slamming shut.

Cindy gave a weak smile. ‘If Mrs Nathan comes again tell her I’m too tired to see her — she drains my energy centres. Can you get me something to help me sleep?’

‘I’ll check with the doctor. Oh, you had another visitor, a Mrs Lorraine Page. She left her card.’ The nurse handed it to Cindy and went to see about sedation.

Kendall Nathan sat in her jeep, gripping the steering wheel. She was sure Cindy was lying about the vase, but the only way to be certain was to go to the house and see for herself. She knew Harry was a thief and a conman, but would he have conned her, too, after all she had done for him? She had a terrible, sinking feeling that he just might have.

Half an hour later she was still shaking as she sipped hot water and lemon juice, and paced the black Astroturf with which she had carpeted her bedroom; the building’s beautifully preserved thirties exterior had not deterred Kendall from filling her apartment with screamingly modern design as near to the décor of the Nathan house as she could afford. The sight of all these things now, which had previously given her such satisfaction, filled her with fury as the possibility of Harry Nathan’s treachery sank in.

She wanted to scream, wanted to get back into the jeep and get over to the Nathans’ house, but she knew she had to be calm. If the famille rose vase was a fake, what had happened to the original, worth three quarters of a million dollars? She had to find out without betraying how important it was to her. And it was important: the vase represented part of an art collection worth twenty million dollars, half of which she knew was hers. Eventually she slumped onto her bed, and nausea swept over her.

Lorraine was in her bathrobe, eating chicken with spinach and walnut salad. She had just settled down in front of the video recorder to play some of Harry Nathan’s tapes when the phone rang. She looked at the clock — it was almost eleven, and she wondered who was calling so late.

‘Lorraine? It’s me, Cindy Nathan.’

‘Oh, hello. I came by the hospital earlier — how are you?’

‘I’m okay. They give me somethin’ for the pain, but it’s the one in my heart that hurts more. I lost my baby.’

‘Yes, I know, I’m so sorry.’

‘So am I, and I would have liked to talk to you.’

‘I’ll come by tomorrow — I need to talk to you too.’

‘There’s a reason I called, but I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. It’s just I know something about, well, I think I know somebody with a motive for shooting Harry. I think it might be Kendall.’

Lorraine reached for her cigarette pack. ‘Can you just answer me one thing? You know the telephone tapes, the ones you sent over to my office? Who else did you tell that you were sending them to me?’

‘I didn’t tell anyone else — well, not exactly. You see, there’s a locked room, Harry’s office, and I couldn’t find the key. It’s one of those plastic card things, you know — some hotels use them. I couldn’t find it, an’ I didn’t know how to get into the room.’

‘Did Jose and Juana know?’

‘Hell, no. I wouldn’t tell those two nothin’. I called Harry’s wife, Sonja, and she said she didn’t even know there was a locked room. Well, she wouldn’t have, she hadn’t been living there for a long time, so then I called Kendall.’

‘Did you mention the telephone recordings to either of them?’

‘Yes, well, maybe I did, I can’t remember.’

Lorraine wondered if this was true, or whether the girl was trying to throw suspicion on the other two wives — she had seemed certain before that nobody else knew about the tapes. ‘I’m sorry, I got to go now. I’m too tired to talk. They give me something to help me sleep.’

‘Well, I’ll come by in the morning. You sure only Mr Nathan’s ex-wives knew about the tapes?’

‘Yeah. I didn’t tell anyone else. G’night now.’

The phone went dead. Lorraine moved back to her new white sofa, which Tiger was now occupying. ‘Get off.’ He gave a low growl. ‘Hey, man, cut that out. You’ve moved in on the office and don’t try it here. Get off.’ He got up and padded into the bedroom. ‘Not on the bed either, Tiger,’ but he had already disappeared.

She pressed Play on the remote control and settled back, only noticing as she lifted the fork to eat her supper that the chicken leg had been removed. She was about to go after Tiger when the tape started, a shot clearly set up in Nathan’s bedroom. Cindy was spread-eagled naked and face down on the bed, and Nathan was working her over.

Lorraine felt sick as she watched three more videos, two showing explicit sex acts with Cindy, one with Kendall, each more violent and degrading than the last. Cindy was made to beg on all fours, while Nathan beat her with a thonged leather strap. He was into S and M in a big way, screwing her so violently, every muscle straining, that the sweat dripped from his body and matted his dark hair. He had tied Kendall over the back of a chair in a way that enabled him, with a jerk of the rope, to splay her legs wide apart, then insert a selection of objects, animal, mineral and vegetable, into various orifices, while some unknown female friend shrieked in the background with hyena-like laughter.

Worse was to come. Threesomes featuring not only Cindy but other very young girls were next on the tape, then a sickening sequence starring Raymond Vallance. In this session, Nathan sat watching, grinning and jerking off as the girls strapped on black, studded dildoes and forced Vallance down on all fours. Lorraine couldn’t watch another minute of it and went to bed. What she had seen might provide Cindy with a provocation defence, or at least a position from which to bargain down the charge, but it also gave both her and Kendall Nathan a motive and a half: both women had been subjected to the grossest abuse.

Tiger lay sprawled across one side of the bed and didn’t move an inch when Lorraine got under the duvet. He sighed with contentment when he realized that she wasn’t going to push him off.

It was the first time in her life that Lorraine had owned a dog, and she understood now what it meant to have something that asked nothing from her but a half-share of her bed. Tiger had the love she found so difficult to give elsewhere, but he could not fill the void inside her — and it was a void. Lorraine was more lonely than she had ever been, and although she was financially secure, it frightened her to think about her future. Only Tiger heard her fears, and only he saw the vulnerable side of Lorraine that she showed to no one else — so in need of love, and so afraid she would never find it.

Decker had swept up the nightly shower of ficus leaves, had placed a fresh vase of lilies in Reception, and a jug of coffee was percolating. He had already sorted the office mail, mostly bills and circulars, when Lorraine arrived at eight thirty.

‘Morning. Another lovely sunny day,’ he said brightly, watching Tiger set off in search of a blue rubber boxing glove Decker had bought him, which he adored chewing and flinging about. ‘He seems fit and well.’

‘Yeah, so he should. He had a good two miles’ walk this morning, ate half my supper last night and demolished his own.’ She threw her hands up. ‘Shit! What is happening to me? He’s a goddamned dog! He’s taking up too much of my life!’ The boxing glove was hurled across the room, and Lorraine laughed.

‘You know, Mrs Page, you have a wonderful laugh,’ Decker said.

‘Yeah, just not a lot to laugh about. You want to come in with the coffee and I’ll give you an update, before I go to see Cindy. She’s in hospital.’

‘What’s the matter with her?’

‘Get the coffee and I’ll tell you.’

The curtains had been pulled back from the windows that formed one whole wall of Cindy Nathan’s hospital room, giving her a beautiful view of the early-morning haze clearing from the Hollywood Hills. In daylight, the room looked even more like a luxury hotel to Lorraine, and the breakfast on the tray table could certainly have come straight from room service.

Cindy was sitting up, a bed-jacket draped round her shoulders, eating orange and date muffins and fruit compote.

Lorraine drew a chair close to the bed. ‘Right, tell me about Kendall Nathan.’

‘She’s a vicious bitch for a start-off. She claims she owns half of Harry’s art collection, so I don’t get it along with the house.’

‘Has Feinstein told you the value of the estate?’ Lorraine asked.

‘Well, there’s not nearly as much money in the company as anyone thought — Harry hadn’t made a film that did any business since Mutant Au-Pairs, so the art’s likely to be the big thing.’ Lorraine waited, noting that the girl seemed much recovered and even quite cheerful. ‘Means I don’t have as much of a motive, do I?’ she said cheerfully. ‘Assuming I knew he was pretty broke, which I didn’t, of course.’ Cindy was a prosecuting attorney’s wet dream.

Lorraine waited as she carried on with her breakfast, pouring some juice and drinking it thirstily before she lay back on the pillows.

‘Harry was a con merchant, and anythin’ he could steal he did. He used everybody — that’s how he got his kicks, right?’

Lorraine remembered the videos — he had got his kicks in a lot of other ways as well.

‘The gallery was real expensive — I mean, it’s on Beverly Drive, right? Clients got a lot of money, and they paid through the nose. But I think he and Kendall were up to something crooked.’

Lorraine sat back. ‘Go on.’

‘Well, all those paintings at the house, they had to be insured. Lot of dough for the premiums, which is why we got such high security — all the stuff in there is the real thing, unlike what those other poor schmucks have got. Harry got the lot — that’s including pre-Columbian stuff, and there’s a Giaca—’ She hesitated. ‘A Giacaroni and stuff like that. You with me? ‘

‘Yes.’

‘Okay. Now, Kendall was paying Harry the money for the insurance premiums, which she says is because they had agreed that half the art was hers — like, in her dreams.’ Cindy licked up the wheatgerm still adhering to the rim of the juice glass with a practised flick of her tongue. ‘Still with me?’

‘Yes.’ Lorraine sighed — it wasn’t too taxing to keep up with Cindy’s thought process.

‘She asked me to find the insurance certificates. I didn’t know then it was for some scheme that she and her lawyer have cooked up to show she owns the stuff, so I got ’em out. But the only ones I could find were out of date, which means he hadn’t been paying the cover. So ask yourself why.’

‘Perhaps you’d tell me.’

‘Well, look at the security at the house. The place is jam-full of lasers — you move one of them things off the wall and it’s the full orchestra, you know what I mean?’ Lorraine nodded.

‘Well, I checked the dates when he stopped paying the insurance — it was when he got all the security in and started taping all the phone calls. I only checked because I knocked this vase off its stand. This is some Chinese rose vase supposed to be worth three quarters of a million dollars.’

Lorraine smiled encouragingly.

‘It fell off the plinth, an’ I got real worried. I thought the fucking alarms would start screaming, but nothing happened. It just broke.’

‘Yes, I saw it.’ Lorraine was wondering where all this was leading.

‘Broke into lots of pieces,’ Cindy said.

‘I noticed. Go on.’

Cindy held up her hand. ‘One: no alarms. Two: I find a sticker inside it, a modern sticker like a price thing — the vase had this long, thin neck so that normally you would never see inside. There was a name scrawled on it — Classic Reproductions. I dunno who they are, but what’s their name doing inside some piece of porcelain that’s supposed to be a billion years old?’

‘It’s a fake.’

‘Right. Which brings me to Kendall Nathan.’

Lorraine waited while Cindy licked her lips.

‘She thinks she owns half the so-called art stuff, and she thinks it’s all legit, but if it’s not it means Harry sold the real art on, took the money and didn’t tell her. Now if she found that out, it’s one hell of a motive to kill somebody, wouldn’t you say? It’s called being fucked over twice. He ditched her for me, then ripped off all her money. She was paying him to cover the insurance and he took that as well. You see what I mean, Lorraine?’

‘Do the police know this?’

‘Hell, no. I only just worked it out myself when the vase fell off its perch. I started to put it all together and then—’

‘Then?’

‘I lost my baby.’

Lorraine’s mind worked furiously. Having seen the videos, and learned that Cindy and Raymond Vallance had been having an affair under Nathan’s nose, the possibility that either Cindy or her lover had shot him seemed, as Decker had said, the obvious conclusion. She wondered if Cindy was dragging out all these ideas about art in an effort to throw her off the scent. She said, ‘Cindy, I won’t press you if you’re feeling low, but when you called me, you said somebody was at the house. I saw the rooms were wrecked.’

Cindy nodded. ‘I thought I saw someone, like a young black guy, going down the stairs to the gym. Then I went upstairs and saw the place had been trashed. It really freaked me out.’

Another convenient mystery burglar, Lorraine thought sceptically, but it wasn’t out of the question that the same person who had destroyed the tapes in her office could have broken into the Nathan house. ‘You didn’t mention that when you called me.’

Cindy plucked a tissue from the box at her bedside. ‘Didn’t I? I guess I wasn’t that together — I mean, it was just before...’ She gestured weakly at her belly. She blew her nose, then turned her gaze back to Lorraine. ‘I know things look bad, but I swear I think somebody’s framing me, because I’m sure now I didn’t kill Harry, I know I didn’t.’ Cindy lay back again, and put her hand over her eyes.

‘Cindy, there’s a couple of things I need to ask you about,’ Lorraine said quietly.

‘Sure,’ Cindy said, blinking back tears.

‘I found some videotapes, hidden in a wall in Harry’s office.’ There was a pause: Cindy wouldn’t look at her. ‘I’m sure you know the ones I’m talking about. I think your lawyers should see them, plus—’

‘No way,’ Cindy said, crumpling the tissue in her hand. ‘I won’t allow anyone to see them, especially not those fuckin’ lawyers. I hate ’em.’

‘But you were subjected to extreme violence and a lot of sexual abuse.’

‘Yeah, I sure as hell was.’ Lorraine watched the girl pluck at the tissue. ‘Me and God knows how many more.’

‘Like Kendall Nathan and Raymond Vallance, for example,’ Lorraine said casually. ‘Jose and Juana seem to think that you and Mr Vallance were... close. Is that true?’

Cindy said nothing for ten, twenty seconds, then, ‘Yeah, we had a thing. Lasted all of five minutes and then he pissed on me too. It’s like I have a sign round my neck, which only guys like him and Harry can see, that says, “Fuck Me and Dump Me” — oh, and “Beat Up on Me While You’re There.”’ She began to cry in earnest.

Lorraine was surprised that Cindy had admitted the affair so readily — it made things look even blacker against her. Vallance had a key to the house, and he could easily have been responsible for the damage, particularly since there was no sign of forced entry, but Cindy seemed determined to cast suspicion elsewhere, first by the sudden mention of an unknown black youth — and now she was back to Nathan’s ex-wife.

‘What’s gonna happen to me, Lorraine?’ she wept. ‘I know it looks like I had more reason than anyone to kill him, but I swear I didn’t do it. It’s Kendall Nathan who’s pulling all the strings here, I just know it. She has no alibi for the time Harry was shot, and if the art thing’s true, she’s got a motive as well.’

‘I’ll go to the gallery just as soon as I can and see if I can talk to her,’ Lorraine said soothingly, reaching out to give Cindy’s hand a squeeze. ‘Did the hospital have anyone photograph your bruises, by the way?’

Cindy nodded.

‘Well, when you next see your lawyers, at least mention it to them, and also that Nathan had been violent to you on many previous occasions. I take it you haven’t told the police any of this?’

‘No, nothin’. A cop, a real bastard, asked me a lot of questions, but I told him nothin’.’

‘You don’t recall his name, by any chance?’

‘Yeah, Sharkey.’

So he was still on the case. Lorraine walked to the door. ‘I’ll be in touch. You try to get some rest, and call me when you’re discharged. Do you know how long you’ll be here?’

‘Depends on the doctor — could be out later today.’

Just as Lorraine opened the door, Cindy spoke again. ‘I did love him at the beginning. I was only eighteen, he was so nice and he made me all these promises, about being in one of his movies. But they were as fucking sick as he was — he was just making porn.’ She pulled herself up on her elbows to look Lorraine in the eye. ‘You think I killed him now, don’t you?’

Lorraine met the girl’s gaze before she replied, ‘No, Cindy, I don’t believe I do. Take care now.’

She went out and closed the door quietly after her. She had made no mention of the bullet she had found, or Jose’s revelation about the parked jeep that could have been Kendall’s. She didn’t want to raise Cindy’s hopes, because unless Lorraine could clear her name, Cindy Nathan would have to stand trial for the murder of her husband.

As soon as Lorraine got back to the office she asked Decker to check out Jose’s story about the jeep. ‘Find out if anyone else saw it there. Talk to any residents close to where he said it was parked.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Yeah, can you get me any newspaper coverage of fine art auctions or galleries selling top quality paintings?’

‘Sure.’

‘Maybe come on as a buyer. Don’t act up the investigator.’

‘As if I would,’ he said, with a camp flick of the wrist.

Lorraine grinned at him. ‘Get out of here — go on.’

‘On my way,’ and he left with a prancing swagger.

Lorraine began to thumb through notes of her last interview with Cindy, in which she had underlined the name of Detective Sharkey.

Jim Sharkey, the officer she had worked with on her first case in Pasadena. She was sure she’d be able to get some inside info on the police inquiry — if she paid for it. She called the police department, asked for Sharkey. It was a while before he came to the phone.

‘Sharkey,’ he said abruptly.

‘Lorraine Page,’ she replied politely.

‘Yeah, they said.’

She could tell he was smoking as she could hear him inhale, then hiss the smoke out from his lungs. ‘Can we meet? ‘

‘Not right now, I’m busy.’

‘So am I — but I think we should meet. I may have some information for you in regard to the Nathan inquiry,’ she said, still keeping her voice over-polite, almost coaxing. ‘What about lunch? I’d prefer to discuss it away from the station.’

‘Like I said, I’m busy.’ His voice sounded tense and irritated. ‘Mrs Page, if you have anything relevant to my present investigation, then you should come in and talk to my lieutenant.’

‘I’d prefer to discuss it with you. Surely you don’t want me to spell it out.’

‘Spell what out, Mrs Page?’

‘Oh, come on. Stop playing games with me. You know I’m working for Cindy Nathan, I know you’re on the case. Now, if you don’t want to meet, then you can go fuck yourself. If, on the other hand, you want to have a cup of coffee with me, I’ll be at the Silver Spoon, corner of Santa Monica and Havenhurst, about two.’ She put the phone down. Detective Jim Sharkey had been given a lot of backhanders by Rooney, and now he was coming on all pompous and squeaky clean. It infuriated her, as she knew just how much money Rooney had palmed the man in return for access to police files for the last murder case she had worked on.

The phone rang and, still angry, she snatched it up to hear the bleeps of a payphone. ‘Mrs Page?’ It was Sharkey again.

‘Speaking.’

‘Don’t ring the fuckin’ office — I got the Captain at my fucking elbow listening in on every word you said.’

‘All I said was I wanted a meet.’

‘Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna give you my mobile number. You want me in future you call that, not the station, and I’ll see you at two at the Silver Spoon.’ He dictated the number and hung up. Lorraine checked the time. Still only eleven — she would have time to see Kendall Nathan first.