Shrug.
Milo said, “Italy was good?”
Brearely said, “Amazing.” To Garrett: “You chilled, you had time to think, you figured it out, here we are.”
“More like you figured it out, babe. You gave me moral clarity.”
“No, doll.” She squeezed his hand. “I just listened. You knew. You know.”
Her smile swung around, encompassing three sides of the table. Every man in the room graced with a share.
“I suppose,” said Garrett. He pressed his wife’s palm to his cheek.
She said, “You opened yourself up.” The smile expanded. “And you also found out you’ve got a great beard. Look at my man’s macho pelt, guys. Just a few days.”
Milo said, “Impressive.”
Garrett gave a mournful look. “Yeah, that’s me, Mr. Macho. Sorry, Lieutenant, no sense delaying. We’re here because we might know something. I might. About what happened. Or maybe not, you be the judge.”
Milo sat back and crossed his legs.
Garrett said, “What we said initially was true. We don’t know her…the victim.”
“We even went over the invite list,” said Brearely. “Even though we knew she definitely wasn’t on. Then we remembered. Someone who almost was going to be there. And when you said Poland.” Heaving chest. “Wow.”
Garrett said, “We’re talking about a friend of my sister. Amanda, not Marilee. She asked us to add him to the list. Last minute. It was annoying, a hassle, we didn’t want to do it but Amanda persisted and got all…”
“Obnoxious,” said Brearely.
Garrett bit his lip. “Amanda can get like that.”
Milo said, “Persistent.”
Brearely said, “Obnoxious and pushy. Who does that at the last minute? The table plans took forever to figure out, we used two separate computer programs. Then five days before, she comes up with that?”
Milo said, “A friend of hers.”
“Some kind of genius,” said Garrett. “She called him The Brain.”
Brearely said, “You’re obnoxious, who cares what your IQ is?”
Milo said, “A friend.”
“Or maybe more like a mentor,” said Garrett. “An academic type.”
I said, “Type?”
“She said she met him at the U., he was brilliant, had done endowed research”—deep inhalation—“in Poland. I said sounds like he’s way older than you and she gave me one of her looks.”
“The death-ray stink-eye,” said Brearely. “We’ve all been on the receiving end. Especially Garrett, he’s so nice to her, she thinks he’s a sucker. But he’s learning. It’s like a learning curve.”
Kissing Garrett’s cheek again. She turned to us. “She’s got anger issues, which she showed when we said no way, it’s five days. Then his mom said couldn’t we do one thing for Amanda, she has no friends.” Sigh. “So we said okay and I had to go at the table charts again thinking OMG what the F am I going to do?”
Garrett said, “Amanda’s different. Always has been. So when she said there was someone she wanted to invite, a guy, even though it was…a little late—I figured maybe she’s turned a corner.”
“Crazy late,” said Brearely, eyes flashing. “A humong-o hassle. But you explained, doll, and what did I say?”
“You said okay, babe.”
“I said sure. And then what happened?”
“Then I went to Amanda and said no problem, give me his name and address—”
Brearely broke in, “He goes to her, I’m working on the chart, you’re not going to believe this, guys, she says, hold on I have to ask him if he wants to come. I mean, think about it, now it’s four days, she’s made demands, pulled a hissy fit, and she hasn’t even asked him? Now poor Garrett has to come and tell me, and yes I kind of freak out.”
Garrett winced, remembering. “You were great, considering.”
Brearely laughed. “I wasn’t fine, I lost it. I mean I’ve been rearranging tables trying to fit some nerd in, he’s probably going to come dressed all wrong, and now she’s telling Gar we need to hold on? So, yeah, I pulled a monster freak.”
Pouting at her husband. “I took it out on you, doll. I’m sorry.”
“No big deal, babe.”
“Because you’re the sweetest.” To us: “You know what it’s like. You guys work with pressure. Don’t you sometimes just say enough?”
Milo and I nodded.
Brearely turned back to her husband. “I was a total bee-atch and you didn’t deserve it but water through the bridge.” Back to us: “Then it got worse. Tell them, doll.”
Garrett sighed. “I didn’t hear from Amanda so two days before the wedding I texted her and asked what the story was.”
“ ’Cause I was pressuring him,” said Brearely. “ ’Cause my mom was pressuring me. Tell them what happened then, Gar.”
“She didn’t answer my text,” said Garrett. Abashed, as if divulging a creepy family secret.
“Two days before,” said Brearely.
“I tried calling,” said Garrett, “got voicemail. Finally, I got hold of her and she made like it wasn’t an issue anymore.”
“No, no, tell them exactly what she said.”
“She said he didn’t want to come. The venue was too—it wasn’t right for him.”
“No, no, no, the exact words, Gar.”
Garrett looked down at the table. “He said it sounded crass.”
“Crass,” said Brearely. “Try to do something a little different and you get ripped apart. He’s a crass ass!”
Tears filled her eyes. “We wanted it to be special. Instead…”
Garrett said, “We made it work. In Rome. That trattoria. All the things we saw.”
She sniffled. “Yes, we had a beautiful time. Our life is going to be beautiful forever.” Shaking her head, she mouthed, Crass.
I said. “The guy sounds like a jerk.”
“A jerk and an asshole and an effin’ shitty-butt-wipe,” said Brearely. “So now I’ve got to take him out of the table arrangement and move people around again. Like those Sudoku things Garrett does. One number doesn’t fit, it effs up everything else.”
Milo said, “You never got a name.”
Dual head shakes.
Brearely: “We didn’t think much about it. Then you guys came to see us at our apartment and you mentioned the Polish thing and I said, ‘Isn’t that weird, honey? Same as that guy your crazy bitch sister hassled us about.’ ”
She squeezed her husband’s hand. “Then I saw your face. You got it right away, like you always do with that big brain of yours. You looked so freaked out, I had to give you my best shiatsu back rub.”
Batting her lashes. Garrett blushed around his stubble.
Milo said, “Did Amanda give you any other details?”
Garrett said, “No, just what I told you.”
I said, “An academic.”
“She didn’t use that word, I guess I assumed it because she met him at the U. and if he’d done endowed research I figured he had to be someone relatively accomplished. My sense is she was a little awed, which is why she tried to arrange it in the first place.”
I said, “How’d she react to his turning her down?”
Garrett said, “She didn’t react at all. But that’s Amanda. Her…she’s different.”
“I’ll say,” said Brearely. “We’re going nuts on the tables and she doesn’t get it. Unbelievable. That girl is all about herself.”
Garrett winced.
I said, “The Polish thing. Do your parents know?”
Brearely said, “They know because I told them. Her. Sandy. So she’d know what her daughter was putting me through. She wasn’t very helpful.”
Garrett said, “You know weddings, guys.”
&nbs
p; I said, “Supposed to be the happiest time, but.”
Brearely said, “But some people act like butts, so it’s anything but happy.”
Garrett said, “What led you to the Poland thing?”
Milo said, “Can’t get into it. So you talked to your parents about it.”
“I called my mom right before we left for Italy. I figured they should know, in case Amanda was involved in something over her head. I’m more concerned about that now because since the wedding she’s totally cut herself off from all of us. Not responding to my or my parents’ texts or calls. My mom called the apartment where she lives and the manager says she’s there, he sees her coming and going on her bike.”
Something Bob Pena had chosen to withhold. Cherry tomatoes rolled along Milo’s jawline. I began working my phone.
He said, “So that’s a big change for Amanda?”
“Not really,” said Brearely. “She’s never even close to friendly.”
Garrett said, “But normally, she would answer my parents. And me. Probably.” Sigh. “She’s a lot younger. Marilee and I were closer in age, we did things together. Amanda probably felt left out.”
Brearely said, “It’s not like you didn’t try. She was always in her little cocoon.”
No argument. Garrett looked ready to cry. “I’m just worried about her. That’s why I wanted to come in and tell you everything. The Polish thing. I’m hoping it’s nothing. I don’t even know what it means to you.”
Milo stood. “Thanks for coming in, you did exactly the right thing.”
Brearely Burdette beamed. “Told you they’d appreciate it, doll.”
Garrett Burdette rocked back and forth. “Great.” Sagging with each movement like an inflatable sock-me doll wounded by a pinhole leak.
Milo said, “Anything else?”
Synchronized head shakes. When they rose, her arm looped around his waist and his rested atop her shoulders.
Milo held the door open and they exited, walking in step.
For all their differences and the horror that had marked the onset of their life together, they’d achieved the kind of mutual ease you see in long-term couples.
Out in the hallway, Garrett stopped and bit his lip. “I really am worried about Amanda. The way she’s cutting herself off. And if this Polish guy is…”
Milo said, “Is what?”
“A bad influence. Trying to dominate her. I mean that could get bad. Right? Could you talk to her?”
Milo said, “We’ll find her and have a chat.”
“Thanks so much, sir. Thanks a million.”
“Thanks even a google,” said Brearely. “That’s like a gazillion. I thought it was just a search engine.” Nudging her new husband. “He taught me that.”
CHAPTER
41
Back in Milo’s office, he said, “Who’d you call in there?”
“I texted Maxine. No answer, yet.”
“About what?”
“Amanda met The Brain at the U. Maybe so did Cassy Booker. The mentors of the DIY program weren’t regular faculty. That could fit if we’re talking about a psychopath.”
“Why?”
“They’re pretentious.”
“He’s claiming to be a prof but isn’t?”
“Unlikely, that would be too easy to disprove. I’m thinking he’s an also-ran who took a temp job and puffed up his credentials with impressionable students, maybe snowed them with verbiage—the world of ideas et cetera.”
“Amanda and Cassy and Susie.”
“She’d be especially vulnerable.”
“But maybe not a total fake-out?” he said. “The endowed fellowship in Poland.”
“Maybe it happened or maybe he was just a tourist in Warsaw who happened to come across Skiwski.”
“Total bullshit artist.”
“I’m not saying high-level psychopaths can’t rise to the top. Look at politics. But this guy aims lower, picking off easy prey. Susie’s learning problems made her feel stupid for most of her life. She found common ground with Peter Kramer and probably others like him. Then along comes The Brain. Maybe he watched her on stage and decided to snag her. However it happened, he made her feel bright and soon it’s bye-bye Peter and she’s bringing textbooks to clubs. In Amanda’s case, the vulnerability came from being socially awkward and confronted with a new environment. Don’t know enough about Cassy but that newspaper photo made her look timid and unsure.”
“So not a professor,” he said. “But if you call him one, he neither confirms nor denies.”
“I could be wrong and he went all the way and got his Ph.D. More likely, if he began graduate studies, he didn’t finish. He lacks the grit and thinks he knows everything anyway. Most important, if he lives in that tower, he’s got money and can play armchair intellectual.”
“Living on the Corridor,” he said. “Psychopaths can also go far in business.”
“That they can,” I said. “But if he has time to take a gig at the U., he’s not working full-time.”
“Trust-fund baby.”
“Some sort of passive wealth.”
My phone pinged.
Maxine texting back: In San Francisco for a conference. Believe it or not, that may work to your benefit.
I typed: Now I’m intrigued. A hint?
The beauty of serendipity—oops—have to give a boring speech. Get back to you asap.
I showed Milo the texts.
He said, “Serendipity. Something came up by accident?” His fingers drummed his desktop. “Okay, now that we know Amanda’s involved, I’m going looking for her. Starting with my own vulnerable prey. Pena, he’s a total beta, right?”
* * *
—
We drove to Strathmore, parked near the cemetery, hurried to the complex. Milo stormed up to Building B, kept his finger on the bell.
A male voice said, “Stop pranking or I’ll call the cops.”
“This is the cops. It’s Lieutenant Sturgis, Bob. Open up.”
“Bob?”
Now it was obvious: deeper voice.
Milo said, “Open the door now. Please.”
“This isn’t a prank?”
“Come out and see for yourself.”
Moments later a tall, athletically built black man wearing a brown polo shirt and khakis strode across the lobby. Younger than Pena—thirty-five or so.
Peering at Milo’s badge through the glass, he opened the door.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was told to expect pranks.”
“By who?” said Milo.
“The management company.”
“Academo.”
“That’s the owner. Management’s through a subsidiary, High-Level Incorporated.” A hand shot out. “Darius Cutter. How can I help you?”
“You’re the new manager?”
“Since yesterday,” said Cutter. “Still getting oriented.”
“What happened to Bob Pena?”
“If he’s the guy before me, what I was told was he quit. Today’s my first full shift, haven’t gone through any paperwork.”
I said, “Mr. Pena made a sudden decision.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Darius Cutter. “Three days ago I was working at the facility in Sacramento. Human resources emails me to call, they incentivize me to come down here A-sap. So here I am.”
Milo said, “When you say ‘the facility,’ we’re talking another Academo setup?”
Cutter nodded. “I went to Sacramento State, got a degree in engineering, got hired by the physical plant on campus—alternative emergency hookups during brownouts, coordinating power feeds. Couple of years ago, Academo built a place up there—bigger than this one—and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
I said, “Good employer.”
“Compet
itive salary, good benefits. But I grew up here, my mom lives in Mid-Wilshire, so moving back was fine.”
“Good job, good benefits,” said Milo. “Wonder why Pena would give that up.”
“You’d have to ask him,” said Darius Cutter. “Who knows why people do the things they do? Is there something I need to know about?”
“Not really.”
“Not really? That sounds kind of worrisome.”
“Let’s leave it at Mr. Pena being a person of interest to us.”
“The company never mentioned anything sketchy, just that he quit. Should I be worried about him?”
“Nah,” said Milo. “He’s a pussycat. Can we get his contact information?”
“If I can find it,” said Cutter. “Come on in.”
CHAPTER
42
We followed Cutter to the office Pena had occupied. No change to the furniture but the desk was barer. An Adidas athletic bag sat in a corner. Cutter said, “If I have time, I’m going to the Equinox in the Village. That’s one thing Sacramento had that this place doesn’t, a gym.”
He opened a file drawer, rummaged awhile. “Nope…nope…nope…nope nothing.” Same results with the next two drawers but the fourth produced a file tabbed Management Personnel.
Cutter shuffled, scanned, pulled out a sheet of paper. “Here you go.”
Robert Edward Pena’s vital stats included his Social Security number, driver’s license, a home address in Culver City, a landline, and the cell he hadn’t responded to.
Milo copied the info. “Thanks, Mr. Cutter. As long as you’ve got that folder, is there anything on Peter Kramer?”
Cutter began shuffling. “Nope…nope…actually there’s nothing in here but Pena. Who’s Kramer?”
“Mr. Pena’s former assistant.”
Cutter frowned. “He had an assistant? They didn’t give me one.”
* * *
—
Cutter walked us back through the lobby. At the door, I said, “Your tenants are mostly students but you do have some faculty living here.”
“That’s also the way it was in Sacramento. But not a lot, mostly visiting faculty and some emeriti—old retired profs who wanted a cheap place close to campus. In terms of who’s here, I have no idea, yet. Why?”
The Wedding Guest Page 29
