Hugger Mugger

FIFTY-THREE

I GOT TO Lamarr with the taste of lipstick from Susan's goodbye kiss no longer lingering, but its memory still insistent. Back in my old digs at the Holiday Inn Lamarr, I unpacked my toothbrush and bullets, slept the night, and at seven the next morning was in the hospital cafeteria with Larry Klein, M.D.

"How are things going?" Klein said as he organized a couple of sausage biscuits on his plate.

"Curiouser and curiouser," I said. "Do you know Sherry Lark?"

Klein smiled.

"Since she was Sherry Clive," he said.

"Have you seen her recently?"

Klein shrugged, and bit into a biscuit.

"You ask a noncommittal question," I said, "you get a noncommittal answer. When's the last time you saw Sherry?"

"Wow, that sounds a little coppish," Klein said. "I thought we were pals."

"I am a little coppish," I said. "And there's a point at which I'm nobody's pal."

"This the point?"

"It's past the point. When did you see her last?"

"May, I think. She came to my office."

"And got right in?" I said.

"We're old friends."

"Social visit?"

"She thought she had a cold. She didn't. She had a seasonal allergy. I gave her some antihistamine samples I had."

"You mention Walter Clive?"

Klein stared at me. I could feel him starting to close down.

"I don't remember. I might have. He's a friend, she's a friend, they used to be married."

I drank some more coffee.

"Here's the thing," I said. "I think Walter Clive was killed because of his DNA tests. I think someone knew he was having them and started the horse shooting as a cover-up pending the outcome of the tests."

"Jesus," Klein said.

"If the tests were negative, the horse shootings would stop and everything would go on as before. If he did have a son, he got shot and the cops think it's the horse shooter."

"For God's sake, Spenser, who would be so… so… Who would plan something like that out?"

"Clive was planning to rewrite his will in favor of male issue, if any."

Klein looked suddenly as if he had bitten into a toad.

"Only you, Clive, and Dolly knew about Clive's blood testing," I said. "Only you and Clive knew the results. He told Dolly. Who did you tell?"

Klein's face had reddened as I talked, and then as I waited for his answer it began to drain, until it was pale and he looked as if he might fall over. If he did, he was in the right place. There'd be a good response to Is there a doctor in the house? I waited.

"I… I've known Sherry half her life," Klein said.

I drank some of my coffee. It wasn't very good coffee. But it was hot and contained caffeine, so it was sufficient.

"I can't believe…" Klein looked at his partly eaten sausage biscuit for a moment and then pushed it away. Good idea.

I waited. His face began to redden again. Good sign. He probably wasn't going to fall over.

"You know," he said without looking at me, "that in every elevator, in the washrooms, and in the medical locker rooms, there are these signs that read, 'Respect Patient Confidentiality.' "

"I've seen them," I said.

Klein shook his head slowly. "Jesus Christ," he said.

"You told her," I said. "Didn't you?"

"Yes."

"You were pretty good friends, and after all it did involve her ex-husband and, indirectly, her daughters, and what harm would it do? For crissake, she lived way out in San Francisco."

"Something like that."

"When did she first know?" I said.

"A little while after Walter arranged for the tests. I was in San Francisco, at an internal medicine conference. We had dinner together, some wine, you know."

"Un-huh. And when did she learn the results?"

"She came to Lamarr that week," Klein said.

"Amazing how things fall into place, isn't it."

"She stopped by my office, like I said."

"And?" I said.

"We talked about this and that for a while… and I guess it came up… and I told her."

"When?"

Klein closed his eyes as if thinking back over the scene.

"Walter's folder was still on my desk. I remember her seeing it, and commenting. It's probably what gave rise to the question."

"Sure," I said.

"You think she came on purpose, to find out?"

"Yes. Why was the folder out?"

"I had called Walter with the results."

"So she knew the same day he did."

"Yes."

My coffee cup was empty. I went up to get some more, and when I came back Klein had his head in his hands.

"Does anyone have to know this?"

"Probably not," I said. "I won't mention it if I don't have to."

"I never thought… You think it led to the murder, don't you?"

"Yes."

"You think Sherry did it?"

"To protect her girls?" I said.

"Oh, I don't think so," Klein said. "She wasn't a dedicated mother."

"I gather. If so, then she had no motive."

"Hatred of Dolly?" Klein said.

I nodded slowly.

"That would be a motive," I said.

"Sherry is very odd," Klein said. "I…" He let it trail away.

I drank some more of the bad coffee.

"Tell me something," I said. "I don't mean to pry, but when you and she were having sex, did she whisper things like 'Right on' and 'Give peace a chance'?"

Klein's head jerked up and he stared at me with his mouth hanging open. He shut it and opened it again and said nothing and shut it.

"None of my business anyway," I said.

"How did you know we had sex?" Klein said hoarsely.

"I'm a detective," I said.

IWENT BACKto my motel, hoping that Dr. Klein didn't have a complicated diagnosis today. It was quarter to nine when I got there. I went to the dining room and had breakfast. In the middle of breakfast I had a thought. I was pleased to have it. I'd had so few recently.

Knowing that Walter was having paternity DNA testing was not enough information to get him killed. Someone would also have to know about the prospective change in his will. I finished breakfast and went to see Rudy Vallone.

"Dalton Becker says that Clive was planning to change his will," I said when I was in his office and seated in front of his desk.

"Always right to the point," Vallone said.

"Always," I said. "Somebody had to know that besides Clive."

"Why?"

"Trust me," I said. "Who could have known Clive's intention besides you?"

"It was merely inquiry, sir. It was not yet an intention."

"Who knew of his inquiry?"

"Whoever he may have told," Vallone said.

"You didn't tell anyone?"

"Of course not."

I had another thought, two in the same morning. And this one was inspired.

"You know Sherry Lark?" I said. "The former Mrs. Clive?"

"Of course," Vallone said.

"You tell her?"

I thought Vallone colored a little bit. That's probably as close as lawyers can get to blushing.

"Of course not," Vallone said. "Why on earth would I tell Sherry?"

"In a fit of passion," I said.

Vallone colored a little more.

"Excuse me?"

"Listen," I said. "I can find this out. It's just time and money and I've got some of both. But why drag it out? Sherry's a free spirit. She probably had reason to want to prove herself desirable, and to do so with her husband's associates. You bopped her, didn't you?"

Vallone struggled for a moment but his essential self won out. He bragged about it. "Her idea," he said. He leaned back in his chair and took out a cigar and began to trim the end with a small silver knife.

"Last time she was in town she came to see me. I knew her from the old days. We, ah, used to get together now and then, and when she came to see me this time, she said she was hoping we could sort of pick up where we left off so long ago."

He paused while he got his cigar burning. "You've seen her?"

I nodded.

"Sherry's still a fine-looking woman to my eye, and…" He shrugged.

I waited.

"Right there on that couch," he said.

"And in those scant moments when you weren't telling each other how it was just like it always was, she might have asked about Walter and you might have let slip that he was thinking of changing his will."

"You know how it is when you're in heat," Vallone said.

"I'm proud to say that I do."

***

AT TEN-THIRTY,WHICH would make it seven-thirty Pacific time, I called Sherry Lark. It was probably too early; my memory was that hippies slept late. But it was as long as I could stand to wait.

When she answered her voice told me I was right. She'd been asleep.

"Spenser," I said, "remember me? Square-jawed, clear-eyed, waffles at Sears?"

"Oh… yeah… sure. Why are you calling me?"

"For this case I'm working on," I said. "Did you tell all your daughters about Walter's DNA results, or just Penny?"

"Whaaat?"

"Come on, Sherry, I know you knew, and I know you told. I'm only asking which ones."

"I'm not about to betray my daughters…"

"I know a homicide cop out there named O'Gar," I said. "If I ask him to, he'll come and haul your flower child butt down to the Hall of Justice and question you in a back room under hot lights."

"I…"

"Who'd you tell, Sherry? It's either me, now, the easy way, or O'Gar, soon, the hard way."

"I only told Penny. She's the only one with the spunk to stand up to her father."

"And you told her he was planning to change his will."

"He was going to give their inheritance to that whore's bastard."

"And you couldn't tolerate her winning like that," I said.

"I'm looking out for my daughters," she said.

"Mother love," I said.

And hung up. I didn't think Sherry Lark had killed Walter Clive. But somebody had, and Penny kept looking better.