Rebecca Schwartz 05 - Other People's Skeletons

Nick. “That’s why I brought all this up. But they were only that. You know, some people really are just that way. It’s their nature.”
    “Darling,” said Susie, “do you think we ought to tell them…” She stopped there, waiting for him to make the connection.
    “About Tommy?” he said, and she nodded.
    “You two know who Tommy La Barre is?”
    “The guy who owns Dante’s?”
    The Rodenboms nodded.
    Rob whistled. “That’s big medicine.”
    It was. Dante’s was a well-known, fairly new, extremely popular San Francisco restaurant. Like some of the City’s oldest restaurants, it had private dining rooms upstairs. However, it had turned out that more than dining was happening there. A high-stakes poker game—very high stakes— occurred every Friday night. That was one thing. The other was the young ladies. Like the poker game, they were available only to certain clientele— but they were most certainly available. Or so the D.A. claimed. But the case was still pending, and somehow, Tommy was keeping his restaurant open.
    There had been so much publicity that whatever Tommy’s original story, if he hadn’t by now become a pimp and gambling host he was missing a great opportunity— anyone with money who wanted some action now knew where to go.
    “How does he fit in?” I asked.
    “He was a friend of Jason’s,” said Susie. “A close friend. Jason was fascinated with him, but then who wouldn’t be? I admit I am myself. We even begged Jase to let us take him to dinner at Dante’s, so we could meet him, but somehow he never got around to it.”
    She stopped and sighed. “When I’m done with the cats, I think I might do gentlemen thugs. What do you think?”
    But Rob and I were too riveted to answer.
    In the car he said, “You know, he’s got to be mob. Where there’s gambling and whores, there’s mob.”
    “And usually drugs. And where there’s drugs, there’s murder.”
    “He might not be mob. It’s such a small operation over there— maybe he’s just a weird dude with a yen to please his rich friends.”
    “And make a few bucks on the side. The exclusivity of the thing argues for that. Anyway, let’s put mob aside for a minute and just say Tommy thickens the plot pretty irresistibly. Jason had some kind of weird sex thing going, right?”
    “Not necessarily— he might have been gay. Or involved with Adrienne.”
    “Okay, let me rephrase. He was probably hiding something about sex.”
    “Granted.”
    “Well, La Barre was perfect. He could get Jason whatever he wanted— discreetly.”
    “Like what?”
    “I don’t know— ladies who’d beat him or ladies who’d wear a dog collar and walk on a leash. Ladies who’d talk dirty or watch him beat off or let him watch them— whatever he was into.”
    “It certainly opens up a world of possibilities, but still. What was the motive? And here’s a tougher one. How would a guy like Tommy La Barre know Chris?”
    “I thought you’d never ask.”
    The response was gratifying, but he nearly wrecked the car. What happened was, he turned to stare and forgot to watch the road. After we nearly got creamed by a taxi, and I nearly blew his eardrums out with a terrified screech, and he’d straightened the car out, and said, “don’t do that to me,” I told him what I knew. “He came to see Chris a few months ago—”
    “To get her to take the case!”
    “No. A little twist on it— to get her to do his divorce. A well-known feminist lawyer would be ideal, wouldn’t she? For something like that. For a guy with his reputation. Anyway, she slept on it, and that was what she decided he must be thinking, and she felt used. Also, she realized he made her feel like she was covered with motor oil.”
    “So she turned him down.”
    “Yes, and he yelled at her and insulted her. I guess it’s the sort of thing you pretty much forget the next day— she was just glad to have him out of her life— but if he was a pretty sick guy…”
    “Oh, man. This could be it.”

Chapter Seven
    Chris was sure it was. Before Rob took me home, we dropped by her house and made her day. She covered her right eye with one hand, in the careless and, to me, supremely Southern gesture she made when she was overcome with amazement.
    “Oh my God. He said things like, ‘You can’t do this to me. Nobody shines Tommy La Barre on.’ Then he sort of did this slow, disgusted glance around and said, ‘Look at your office. You can’t afford to turn me