“Teddy in a nutshell. Why’d she pick you?”
“She said she wanted to hire a woman because she thought she’d find a sympathetic ear. This was one of the few things she said that still rings true in retrospect. She also said she needed a go-between so she could keep her name out of it. I think that was true as well.”
I could see the charade didn’t make any more sense to him than it had to me. I went on to describe how I acquired the contact information on Christian Satterfield, which I sent her in my report; that having found out the bills she’d paid me were marked, I then went back to the property, hoping to pick up a lead to her whereabouts, but the place was clean except for a paper clip I found on the deck. “That was the end of it as far as I was concerned.
“They must have been keeping an eye on him because he was spotted in a dive called Lou’s having a long, intense conversation with a woman Nash thought might be Hallie Bettancourt. He called the next day to tell me Satterfield was parked outside the Shores in a limousine. On the off chance he was waiting for the mysterious Ms. Bettancourt, he suggested I check it out. Instead of Hallie, the woman who showed up was Kim Bass. The limousine took off for Los Angeles and I followed.”
“Kim is Teddy’s friend from way back. I hear she and Teddy are bunkmates these days.”
“Someone told me her husband’s in prison for embezzlement. Do you know where he’s incarcerated?”
“Lompoc. It’s been rough on her. I’d say she was homeless, but that’s only because she’s become a serial house sitter to avoid paying rent. She’s hanging in with him, but who knows why. The guy’s scum. The company he worked for went belly-up after the news came out. He’s probably the one who put Teddy together with Satterfield, because how else would she hear about a bum like him? What’s she want with that low-life kid anyway?”
“I thought that’s why we were putting our heads together, to see if we could figure it out.”
“She could be getting back at me for my little misstep with Stella. Sounds like the age difference is about the same.”
“I don’t think there’s anything romantic going on. At the Rodeo-Wilshire, the three of them were in separate rooms. Next morning, she took him to a stylist and then bought him a new wardrobe.”
“Boy toy,” he said. He powered down the treadmill and stepped off the track. “Flip that if you would,” he said, indicating the glowing power switch on the front of the machine.
I bent and flipped it to the Off position.
He said, “She’s come back to the house a couple of times, acting like she still owns the place. I told the staff to keep a close eye on her and escort her to the door as soon as possible. So far, I don’t think she’s walked away with anything, but I got tired of fending her off. I finally changed the locks and alarm codes and then beefed up the rest of my security.”
“Can’t your attorney step in and put a stop to it?”
“Who can afford to complain? I get billed the minute he picks up the phone.”
“I don’t understand why you’re still at each other’s throats. I thought divorce was supposed to cure that.”
“That’s what Stella says. I tell her, hey, it’s not me. It’s her.” He stood and toweled off the sweat. “Thing about Teddy is she’s smart. There are people who’re smart and people who just think they’re smart. She’s the real deal. She came up from nothing, same way I did. I’m not a sophisticated guy. Neither of us has a college degree, but Teddy’s got a head on her and she studies up. Anything she doesn’t know, she learns.”
He went on with his commentary, which was largely critical, but underscored by a grudging admiration. As he detailed her many faults—grasping, insatiable, and spoiling for a fight—the unconscious smile that played across his face spoke more of veneration than distaste.
“What kicked off this latest round?” I asked.
“I’ve been wondering about that myself, and here’s what I think it was. She calls me a couple of weeks ago and starts kissing up. Says water under the bridge, bygones be bygones, and I’m like, ‘What? No hard feelings? Are you kidding me? Never in a million years.’”
I said “Uh-huh” to show I was listening.
“She says she’s been thinking about the condominium because she netted a big chunk of change and she knows I got the short end of the stick. She feels bad about it, she says. So then she says if I want to work out a side deal, she’d be willing to discuss it.”
“What kind of side deal? You said all you ended up with was used furniture.”
“My question exactly, so I asked her outright. I said, ‘What’s so interesting about the shit that was in the condo?’ Most of that stuff’s been sitting in the basement for years.”
“There must be something of real value.”
“Agreed. Don’t ask me what because we never did a formal inventory. Stuff’s been appraised, but I don’t know what’s what. The previous owners came over here from England just before the turn of the century. I don’t know how the guy made his money, but there was plenty of it. The house was passed down I don’t know how many times. The day the last family member died, the attorney locked the doors and left it just like it was. We bought it fully equipped and decked out, right down to the Oriental rugs. Anyway, Teddy backed away from the subject, which doesn’t mean she’s giving up. If I know her, she’ll just come at it from a different direction.”
“Any chance she’s sincere about making amends?”
He laughed. “Nice idea, but no. Reason I thought the two of us should talk is that whole Beverly Hills scene between her and the ex-con. Nash lays it out for me and it makes no sense. I figured he must have missed a beat, which is why I wanted to hear it from you.”
I said, “Why don’t you just leave well enough alone? Are you hoping for a fight?”
“Hey, not me. That’s Teddy’s MO. We finally hammered out an agreement. Everything’s divided up right down to the penny. I get this. She gets that. Sign on the dotted line and we have a deal. She signs. I sign. Now she wants something else. What the hell is that about?”
“Did you ever stop to think this is a conditioned response on your part?” I said. “You’re so accustomed to Teddy besting you, you can’t accept peace when she offers it.”
“You want a drink? Iced tea?”
“Sure.”
“Wait here.” He moved to the doorway, where I could see an intercom mounted on the wall. He pressed a button.
“Yes, sir?”
“Tell Maurie to bring us a couple iced teas, and not that mint shit.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll be right back,” he said. He paused to pull off his running shoes and padded into the next room in his sock feet. A moment later I heard a shower running.
Three minutes later he was back wearing fresh clothes and running a pocket comb through his hair. We went out onto the patio and sat down. Maurie, who’d met me at the door, made her way down from the main house bearing a silver tray on which she’d set two tall glasses of iced tea. When she reached us, she placed the tray on the wrought-iron table between our two chairs. She’d included a silver creamer, a sugar bowl, and real linen cocktail napkins monogrammed with an X.
While we sipped our tea, we sat and looked out at the property. The gardener’s leaf blower punctuated the otherwise still air.
I said, “How do you keep the lawn so green?”
“I have water trucked in.”
“Ah.”
I thought he had finished bad-mouthing Teddy, but he’d clearly been brooding that I hadn’t been brought around to his point of view. He took up his list of grievances as though I gave a shit.
“Okay, here. I should have told you this. Typical. She gets the sterling silver flatware? Six hundred and thirty-nine pieces that price out at three hundred ninety-eight thousand five hundred. She sold it to an antique dealer in New
Orleans and got top dollar. I know because the dealer called me to make sure it was on the up-and-up. Are you following?”
I was following, but I didn’t think he was going anywhere. This recital constituted a peculiar form of bragging. He was elevating himself by enumerating the dollar amounts of everything he’d lost to her. “It sounds like she’s stockpiling cash,” I said.
“Why would she do that?”
“You still have earning power. She doesn’t, unless she has a skill set you haven’t mentioned yet,” I said. “Who got the house?”
He seemed surprised. “This house? I did. Because she couldn’t afford the property taxes or the upkeep.”
“It has to be worth millions.”
“Twelve, but that’s down from what it was. Market’s flat.”
“What else did you get?”
“Well, you know. Half the stocks and bonds. I did get a Tiffany necklace she’d kill for. It was an anniversary gift, our tenth, but the judge put it in my column to offset the art she was claiming on her side. She put up a fuss like the jewelry had sentimental value, but that was strictly a negotiating tool.”
“What’s it worth?” I could tell I was adapting to his view of the world; every subject mentioned had a dollar sign attached.
“The necklace? A bundle. These are diamonds and emerald-cut aquamarines, a hundred and ninety carats total. Value on that beauty is four hundred and fifty thousand, and she’s crying ‘poor me’ because I got it and she didn’t.”
“Where do you keep something like that?”
“I got the perfect place I’ll show you in a bit. Maurie caught Teddy in my study week before last, so she probably figured I had it in the wall safe. She’s ballsy. She’ll try anything.”
I wasn’t interested in contributing to the Teddy-trashing, but I thought if I signaled agreement with him, it might put an end to it. “She’s devious. I’ll give you that.”
“She sure succeeded in faking you out. And why is that? Because otherwise it’s no fun. Teddy’s not happy unless she’s putting one over on you. With her, everything’s a shell game. You see my problem here?”
“I do and it’s a tough one.”
“I’m seriously thinking about canceling the honeymoon. I can’t take the chance that I’ll be off somewhere. Minute my back is turned, she’ll get in high gear. I come back, half the stuff’ll be gone.”
“When do you leave?”
“Friday, providing I don’t scratch the trip. I’d lose twenty-five grand in deposits, which I’m willing to eat. Stella’s pissed I’d even consider pulling the plug. I haven’t done it yet, but I’m this close.”
“Maybe that’s Teddy’s hope. To mess up your travel plans.”
He looked at me. “You think that’s it?”
“I’m just throwing out possibilities,” I said. I felt a twinge of guilt because he’d brightened at the notion when I’d tossed it out off the top of my head.
“I got a great idea. Here’s something just occurred to me. Why don’t you tail the woman for two days and see what she does? It might be very educational.”
“No, thanks.”
“I’m serious. I don’t have the savvy or the wherewithal. Nash tells me you’re a whiz.”
“I don’t do domestic. No good ever comes of it.”
“How much do you charge? I’m talking about your hourly rate.”
“What difference does it make? I’m not for hire.”
“Pay you a hundred bucks an hour.”
“No.”
“Two hundred.”
“No.”
“Okay, two-fifty, but that’s as high as I go.”
I laughed. “Listen, Ari, as much as I admire your bargaining skills, I’m really not interested.”
“Here’s another idea. Off point, but I could have the kid picked up. That would put a crimp in her plan, don’t you think? If the police arrest the guy?”
“For doing what?”
“Parole violation. He’s a convicted felon, so drugs or alcohol. Possession of firearms. Rat him out to his parole officer.”
“You have him arrested and she’ll just go out and find another ex-con.”
“Maybe so, maybe not. He’s a good-looking dude, right?”
“That is true,” I said.
“Which brings us back to the boy toy idea. She’s trying to get my goat. Retaliate for Stella.”
“Why would she pick an ex-con? You think there aren’t dozens of good-looking guys out there cruising for patronage?”
“Ex-con’s easier to control. Come on. Why don’t you help me out? You follow her for two days and put an end to the debate.”
“No, thanks.”
“Don’t say no right off the bat,” he said irritably. “Think about it.”
Ari insisted on giving me a tour of his security system, which did seem to be state-of-the-art. In the endless stretches of basement, there was a room dedicated to closed-circuit television sets, where banks of monitors showed a succession of pictures from cameras that covered views of each room, shots of the corridors, shots of the entrances and exits, and wide-angle shots that covered the exterior. While I looked on, the views flipped like a slide show, first one room and then the next. It was hard to focus on all the screens as they rotated through.
“You have someone who actually sits and monitors these?”
“I just hired a guy. Couple of blind spots in there, but good otherwise.”
“Impressive,” I said.
“Glad you think so. Come take a look at this.”
I followed him through the gloom to a side room about the size of a broom closet. He flipped on the overhead light and a forty-watt bulb illuminated a massive round brass-and-steel safe that resembled an oversize antique diver’s helmet on a chunky base. The faceplate was jeweled and the combination lock sat in the center of the round door. A large hand crank was affixed to the front and the hinges were hefty.
“Called a Diebold Cannonball Safe. Thirty-six hundred pounds. Three time-locks you can set so the mechanism can’t be opened for as much as seventy-two hours. It was the latest technology of its time.”
“Which was when?”
“Late 1800s. It was in the house when we bought it.”
“Is it in working order?”
“Oh sure. I had to have a guy come in and open it the first time. I had this fantasy of gold pieces. It was empty. Just my tough luck, but it’s come in handy since.”
“That’s where you keep the necklace?”
“Better here than that dinky wall safe upstairs. Besides, Teddy knows the combination to that one. Not this.”
“You didn’t change the combination to the safe upstairs?”
“What good would it do? She knows how my mind works. She could probably figure this one out now that I think about it.”
He flicked off the light and led the way out of the basement. I’d have thought the shadowy chambers would be spooky but the whole of it was tidy and dry, with nary a spider in sight. We took the elevator up. Walking back through the hallway, I could see that additional pieces of furniture had been brought up, some swaddled in sheets. Worker bees were still on the scene. A two-man team wrapped and packed blue-and-white glazed ceramic pieces, part of a collection of Chinese porcelains. There was no sign of Stella.
I made my exit, exhausted by the entire encounter. In spite of myself, I liked the guy. He was a bit of a blowhard, but he had a sweetness about him. I wondered if Stella had any idea what she was up against. Ari wasn’t complicated. He was still in love with his wife.
While I’d continued to decline his offer of paid work, I did consider his proposal for thirty seconds on my way home. I had said no in part because sometime soon I’d need to have a talk with Christian Satterfield and I didn’t want to do so with Ari’s employment offer hanging over my
head. One thing I’ve learned about money: the guy who pays has the power. Saying no kept our relationship equitable and on an even keel.
34
On my way to Taryn’s office, I stopped off at a delicatessen, where I bought one tuna salad sandwich on rye and one egg salad on whole wheat, plus Fritos and the Pepperidge Farm Milanos on which my mental health is so often dependent. I hadn’t mentioned dinner in our phone conversation, but I was hungry and I took a chance she’d be hungry as well. If she already had dinner plans, I’d take the leftovers home with me. I parked in the lot behind her building. I’d barely settled on the love seat when she came out to the waiting room.
“Your timing’s great. Turns out my last client canceled, so I managed to get caught up. Come on in.”
She wore tight jeans with a pair of spike heels and a dark red blazer that was open as far as the first button, her cleavage modestly veiled by a lacy white camisole. She wore the same big hoop earrings and the messy hairdo that somehow looked chic. Her lipstick was bright red and looked like it wouldn’t come off on the lip of her coffee cup the first time she took a sip. I report this in detail because she’s the sort of woman I want to be when I grow up. No chance of it at this late date, but all the same . . .
I held up the paper bag. “Dinner. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Perfect. I should have thought of it myself.”
I unloaded my purchases and arranged the deli items on the coffee table. We traded sandwiches so we each had half a tuna salad and half an egg salad. She kept cans of Diet Pepsi in a mini-fridge and she popped the tops on two. She kicked off her heels and propped her feet on the coffee table. She wore panty hose, and the nylon soles were pristine.
I sat on the floor with my back against one of her two upholstered chairs. We both salted the shit out of the egg salad and then munched happily, engaged in small talk. She finally crumpled the empty paper wrappers and made an accurate overhand shot to the wastebasket before she turned back to me.
“So what’s up, buttercup?”
“I need a reality check and I don’t know who else to talk to. I’d like to run a few things by you and make sure I’m on the right track.”