13

Ohls showed the slick-haired guy at the door his buzzer and said he was here to see Dr. Bonsentir. The slick-haired guy gave me the fisheye and said to Ohls, “May I enquire what it’s about, officer?”

“Lieutenant,” Ohls said, “not officer. And it’s about police business which ain’t your business so hustle it up.”

The slick-haired man ushered us into the foyer and excused himself and walked away with his shoulders hunched in a stiff angle.

“You’ve hurt his feelings,” I said.

“I do that,” Ohls said.

We waited in front of the founder’s picture for a couple of minutes and then the slick-haired guy brought his hurt feelings back into the foyer and with him came the Muscle Beach boy that I’d last seen snoozing on a chaise in the backyard.

He gave me a long stare and then said to Ohls, “What is it you want, Lieutenant?”

Ohls looked tired.

“Not you,” he said to the beachboy. “I wanted you, I’d go out to Venice. I could get fifty like you in Venice.”

“You think so?” the beachboy said.

“Listen, sonny, if you would like to go downtown and dance with me in the back room where the boys pitch pennies against the wall, you keep talking to me like I wasn’t a cop. I want to see your boss, and it better be very damned quick.”

The beachboy reddened, but he didn’t say anything. He turned and went back in through the big door that led to Bonsentir’s office, and in another minute he returned and beckoned us to follow.

Bonsentir was at his desk again. His tie up tight, his vest buttoned, his white coat spotless. He was on the phone. He hung up as we entered.

“I have very little time,” he said. “Please make this as brief as possible.”

“I’m investigating a murder,” Ohls said. “Marlowe here is helping me. Not heavyweight stuff like you do, but it keeps me from hanging around poolrooms. Carmen Sternwood is a possible witness in the murder and I want to question her.”

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant... Ohls is it? Miss Sternwood has been discharged.”

“In whose care?” I said.

“In her own, Mr. Marlowe.” Bonsentir’s face was beatific. He had his fingers steepled near the point of his chin.

“She’s fully cured of her problems.”

“How about Mrs. Swayze?” I said. “We’ll talk with her, then.”

“Mrs. Swayze too has been discharged,” Bonsentir said. “We have great success in returning our patients to the pursuit of a normal healthy life.”

“I’ll bet you do,” Ohls said.

“Did you turn Mrs. Swayze loose on her own?” I said.

“Certainly. She’s a grown woman with no further mental problems.”

“I think we might just amble around a little,” Ohls said.

“Without a warrant?” Bonsentir said.

“Well, well,” Ohls said.

The phone rang, Bonsentir picked it up and spoke. Then he listened a moment and looked at Ohls. He held the phone out.

“It’s for you, Lieutenant,” he said. His face looked benevolent.

Ohls took the phone and listened. His face didn’t change expression. He didn’t speak.

Then he said, “Right,” and hung up the phone and handed it back to Bonsentir.

“Are you satisfied, Lieutenant?” Bonsentir said.

Ohls ignored him.

“Come on, Marlowe,” Ohls said. “We’re leaving.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Like that,” I said.

“Like that,” Ohls said. “You got a lot of weight,” he said to Bonsentir. “But that doesn’t mean it’s over.”

Bonsentir nodded over his tented fingertips.

“Race,” he said to the beachboy, “show these gentlemen out.”

The beachboy stepped forward and took Ohls by the arm.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s go.”

Almost negligently Ohls chopped the edge of a right hand against the beachboy’s Adam’s apple. He turned sort of absentmindedly and took the beachboy’s right wrist in his left hand. He put his right hand up under the beachboy’s armpit, leaned in with his right shoulder and threw the beachboy into the fireplace.

“We can find the way,” Ohls said and went out of the room. I smiled a friendly smile at Bonsentir. And followed Ohls out.

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