Beyond Blame

by Stephen Greenleaf

  I chewed my sandwich without enthusiasm and watched the clock tick its way toward seven. The imprecision of my errand still disturbed me. I was supposed to be finding proof that Lawrence Usser was sane and had been when he killed his wife. So far, I’d found nothing at all to indicate he wasn’t, but nothing much to indicate he was.

  Arrayed against me was the very act for which he was imprisoned. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the prosecution claims Professor Usser was sane on the night of the crime. Now I ask you: Would a sane man have done what Lawrence Usser did? Of course not, and thank you very much. Unfortunately for the Renzels, at this point that argument might well prevail against any evidence I could offer against it. I licked a dab of mustard off my lip, got in my Buick and headed back the way I’d come, this time toward the city of Piedmont, a little knoll of wealth between Oakland and Berkeley, one that could hold its own with any of the better-known enclaves of privilege that ringed the bay.

  Everything gets quiet in wealthy neighborhoods. The birds seem stunned by their surroundings, the dogs cowed, the traffic disciplined to be seen and not heard. Trucks are an endangered species. The garbage probably comes in Styrofoam cans and is picked up by a tribe of barefoot Indians, one to a customer. As I wound my way up LaSalle, on Piedmont’s most luscious hill, I wished I’d put a higher octane in the tank.

  The Ussers lived in oddly tasteless splendor behind a prickly holly hedge that allowed only invited guests to see just how wonderful life was treating them. I parked in the street, let myself through the iron gate that broke the forbidding thicket and advanced to the door feeling that someone would soon suggest I use the tradesmen’s entrance.

  It took only two seconds for the door to open behind my knock, which meant a security system had warned of my approach. The man who opened the door looked to be sixty and was probably eighty. He wore black trousers and a light gray jacket and was frail and stooped, just the way movies make them out to be. I told him my name and that Mrs. Usser had told me this was a convenient time to call. He showed me to a parlor off the foyer, said he would be with me shortly, then shuffled out of sight.

  It took him longer than that, long enough for me to inspect the little oils on the wall, the little porcelains on the mantel, the little Wedgwood on the tables. I was admiring what purported to be an original Corot when the old gentleman slid open the parlor door, looked at me and bowed.

  “Mr. Usser, sir.”

  “Thank you, ah …” I raised my brow.

  “Price, sir.”

  “Thank you, Price.”

  Price disappeared, leaving his employer in his stead.

  He was large enough to fill the doorway, and angry enough to punch me in the nose. He advanced on me like an awkward robot, his oiled gray hair flapping from the vigor of his approach, his square jaw as sharp as a destroyer’s prow. He wore a velvet smoking jacket and silk slippers, and carried a Malacca walking stick. When he spoke, his voice reverberated with authority, suggested my quick surrender.

  “I’m Carlton Usser. My wife was somewhat incoherent about your business here. Something about you prowling around in my son’s house this morning, for some mysterious purpose. So perhaps you can enlighten me, Mister, ah …”

  “Tanner. John Marshall Tanner. I’m a private detective.”

  “And your business here? Specifically.”

  “I’m trying to find out why Dianne Renzel died.”

  “I see.” He tapped his stick on the parquet floor. “The police believe she was murdered by my son. Do you agree with them?”

  His hooded eyes challenged me to accuse his offspring, and threatened violent objection if I did. “It’s too soon to believe anyone,” I said. “I’ve only been on this for a day.”

  “Who’s paying your fee?”

  “That’s confidential for now.”

  Usser paused and looked at me with calmer eyes than those he’d brought through the door. He searched my face for the kinds of clues all wheeler-dealers think reside there, then began to tap his stick again, faster and faster, accenting his frustration. The wildness in his eyes indicated that the arrest of his only son had been a bitter hint that his powers had badly faded.

  “Oddly enough I was discussing this matter with my attorney only this morning,” Usser remarked, suddenly affable, reaching some decision. “Clifton Daltry. Do you know him?”

  I shook my head, which irritated him again.

  “He suggested I might employ a detective myself, to help prove my son’s innocence. What do you think of that?”

  I shrugged. “Probably a good idea.”

  “Of course, if you are competent, and if you’re as objective as you suggest, an additional investigator would be redundant.”

  I smiled at Usser’s effort to save himself some money. “Maybe. On the other hand, I don’t claim to be perfect. Another investigator might help out.”

  “So what do you recommend?”

  “It’s up to you. All I can tell you is, you’re not my client. Our interests may or may not conflict. If I find evidence indicating your son did kill his wife, I’ll almost certainly be asked to bring it out. If I find clear and convincing proof that he’s innocent, I’ll probably bring it out myself, without being asked. And if I don’t find anything either way, I’ll probably do whatever my client suggests.”

  Usser seemed not to be listening. “If I were to hire an investigator, whom would you recommend?”

  “I’d recommend you use someone from over here, someone who knows the territory. But there are only three investigators I know well enough to suggest, and none of them are based in the East Bay. So I can’t help you. Maybe your lawyer can.”

  “You’re not very forthcoming.”

  “I am when I have something to come forth with. And when I have someone paying me to do it.”

  Usser scowled again and began to pace, his walking stick brandished more as a weapon than a crutch, his demeanor suggesting he was unused to indecision. “So what do you want from me?” he asked finally.

  “The police are a little vague about the reason your son might have committed the crime. I thought maybe you could help me.”

  “The police are vague, sir, because there is no evidence that he did what they have accused him of. Lawrence is a brilliant, vibrant man. He has everything to live for. A limitless future. There was no conceivable reason for him to do what they say he did.”

  “Are you saying he’s evolved beyond human emotion, Mr. Usser?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I mean what if he learned his wife had taken a lover? Just for example.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Dianne would have no reason to prefer another man to Lawrence. The world does not contain his equal.”

  Usser’s soaring hyperbole momentarily silenced both of us. The cane stopped tapping, then started up again. I was conscious of time slipping away. From all of us. “You aren’t really that naive, are you, Mr. Usser?”

  He frowned. His face wrinkled to accommodate it. “No. I suppose not. But Dianne was not without her principles. She may have devoted her life to the spoiled and the lethargic, but she wouldn’t do something as common as that. Lawrence influenced her at least that much, I’m sure.”

  If half the rumors I’d heard were true, Lawrence Usser’s influence would have made his wife a courtesan. I refrained from pointing that out. Instead, I asked Usser if the police or the D.A. had told him anything about the case they had developed against his son.

  He shook his head disgustedly. “No, except that they seem to be relying entirely on some poor, misguided … Well, never mind about that. When I insisted that I be given details, they refused. My attorney says nothing is made public until the preliminary hearing. And that lawyer Lawrence hired, that Hattie fellow, refuses to return my calls. I hope Lawrence hasn’t made a horrible mistake in engaging him. Perhaps I should interfere.”

  I suppressed an urge to endorse Jake Hattie. “Tell me this, Mr. Usser. Did you see your son fr
equently over the past few months?”

  Usser hesitated. “Once a week, at least. Unless he was away on a lecture tour or in a trial. Larry still values my advice,” Usser added proudly, and perhaps a bit hopefully.

  “Did you sense any change in his behavior of late?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Did he do anything you felt was out of character in recent months? Did he surprise you in any way? Were you worried about him at all?”

  Usser waved a hand impatiently. “No, no and no. The implication is absurd.” Usser came to a stop in front of me. “Is there anything else?”

  “Do you know how much your daughter-in-law’s life was insured for?”

  Usser’s face turned scarlet. “I have no idea. Not that I would tell you if I did. I’ll have Price show you to the door.”

  “Is your wife available? Perhaps I could speak with her again.”

  “She is not available. I’m sorry.”

  “How about Lisa? I’m interested in talking to her, too. Just for a minute.”

  Usser began to fidget, his martial aura crumbling for the first time. “Lisa isn’t here.”

  “When will she be back?”

  “I’m not sure, but it doesn’t matter. She’s not in any condition to speak about what happened. It’s driven her …” Usser swallowed the word he was about to use. “It’s upset her. She is still in a difficult stage of recovery. We are trying to get help for her, to convince her to talk with someone, to straighten out these wild ideas she has.”

  “What ideas are those?”

  Usser’s jaw jutted stubbornly. “They’re no concern of yours.”

  “Who are you sending Lisa to?”

  “Well, Lawrence’s friend, Dr. Lonborg, has told us he would be happy to counsel Lisa. He’s quite insistent about it, in fact, but Lisa refuses to commit herself. Apparently Lonborg was seeing her before Lawrence was, ah, arrested, and he wants to be sure there’s no interruption in treatment. If only we could get Lisa to … well, that’s no concern of yours either. Is there anything else? Or may I get back to my meal?”

  I shook my head. “I hope you’ll tell your wife I’d like a chance to speak with her sometime about all this.”

  “My wife knows nothing that would interest you,” Usser said heavily. “Nothing at all.”

  “Maybe I’d be a better judge of that.”

  “You most certainly would not. That’s an incredibly arrogant statement.” Usser raised his stick as though to strike me, then looked at it as if it were an apparition.

  I stood up. “I’ll stop back in the morning and see if I can catch Lisa before she leaves for school. It won’t take long. I’ll make certain my questions don’t upset her.”

  Usser assembled all his power and directed it to his voice. “Apparently I must make it clear that you are not welcome here, Mr. Tanner. Please leave us with our troubles, to resolve as we see fit. Please. I have been in business all my life; I am used to solving problems. I don’t need your help, or anyone’s. If you persist in trying to communicate with my family I shall call in the authorities.”

  We were almost nose to nose, teeth gritted, eyes locked, debating an assault with further words. The next sortie was about to be launched when Price appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Gable, sir.”

  Usser snapped out of his trance. “Thank you, Price. Show him in. Mr. Tanner was just leaving.”

  I stalled, hoping Howard Gable would want me to stay for the meeting. Assistant district attorneys seldom make house calls, not in my neighborhood at least, so the purpose of the visit might be of interest. I loitered until Gable came through the door, shepherded as I had been by the supercilious Price.

  When he saw me Gable raised a brow. “This is Mr. Tanner,” Usser said to him. “He says he’s investigating the case, though in what capacity I’m not sure.”

  “I know,” Gable said simply.

  “You do?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you approve?”

  Gable shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Unless he interferes with us in some way, he can do what he wants.”

  “But he won’t even disclose his client.”

  “Doesn’t have to do that, either. Yet.” Gable’s smile was thin and just a bit sour. “Let’s get at it, Mr. Usser,” he went on. “You sounded a little frantic on the phone.”

  Usser looked at me. “I want you to leave.”

  I waited long enough for Gable to say something to counter the request. When he didn’t, I walked toward the door. As I passed him Gable winked.

  After I left the room, Carlton Usser shut the door. Price led the way toward the foyer. I lingered, then bent to tie my shoe and listened for anything I could hear. After a few seconds what I heard was Howard Gable’s muffled burst of anger.

  “What? You told me you’d keep track of her. God damn it.”

  Usser said something I couldn’t hear, then Gable spoke again.

  “I don’t care about that, I care about the girl.… It’s no business of yours why I want her.… What makes you think that?… I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Usser.… If that’s the way you want it, sure.… Okay, I’ll take care of it. But for now I need to know where the hell she is. So I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me everything you know.”

  I was about to sneak closer to the door when Price turned and caught me. “This way, sir,” he insisted. I didn’t have the heart to resist.

  It was a long walk to the car. When I got there, I thought up several reasons not to go anyplace for a while.

  FIFTEEN

  I was waiting for Howard Gable, but the first person I saw was Price. He had exchanged his butler’s coat for a linen sports jacket and was strolling down the drive looking very dapper and very spry and very glad to be leaving the Ussers behind.

  When he reached the street, I got out of the car and caught up to him. “Night off?” I asked, matching his stride.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Can I give you a ride someplace?”

  “Oh, no, sir. Thank you very much.”

  “Been working for the Ussers long?”

  “Twenty-seven years.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No, sir. They underwrote my passage to this country.”

  “From where?”

  “Southampton, sir. Originally.”

  “How’d you hook up with the Ussers?”

  “They were traveling. My family has always been in service, and at that time I was offering myself as temporary assistance for those taking holiday in Britain. The Ussers were pleased with my work and offered to take me with them when they left for America. I accepted. Gratefully.”

  “Why?”

  “It seemed to offer a better future.”

  Price’s voice indicated that when his future finally arrived, it didn’t shine as brightly as he’d planned. I started to imagine catering to other people’s whims for twenty-seven years, but I couldn’t do it and didn’t want to. Then I wondered if it was that much different from what I did myself. “So you knew Lawrence Usser as a boy,” I said.

  “Yes, sir. Of course.”

  “Have you seen him often lately? I mean before the arrest?”

  “Not recently, sir. Mr. Lawrence is very busy.”

  “His father told me they still saw each other regularly.”

  “Perhaps at Mr. Lawrence’s home, sir.”

  “So Lawrence never came here?”

  “On Christmas, sir. For the evening meal.”

  “That’s all?”

  “To my knowledge.”

  “Mr. Usser gave me the impression that he and his son were quite close.”

  Price risked a glance back at the Usser house, which by then was out of earshot. “Mr. Usser finds it convenient to take credit for many of Lawrence’s accomplishments, sir,” Price said softly.

  “But Mr. Usser is quite successful in his own right, isn’t he?”

  “I believe the funds are hers, sir. Mrs. Usser, I’m speaking of. Her fami
ly once owned an airline, I believe.”

  I thought that over for a minute and decided it had no meaning. “Did Lawrence and his mother get along?”

  “Oh yes, sir.”

  “Did he and his father ever quarrel?”

  Price came to a stop when we reached the corner. “I really shouldn’t be talking to you, sir. Not without Mr. Usser’s permission.”

  “Just tell me about Lawrence, then. What was he like as a kid?”

  “A very fine young man.”

  “Perfect?”

  “Brilliant, sir.”

  “I know, I know. It seems to be the word of choice when it comes to dear little Lawrence.” I thought over what I’d learned in the past few days, and took a shot in the dark. “Didn’t he get in some trouble one time? With a girl?”

  Price met my eyes. “I know of nothing of that nature, sir. Now, if you will excuse me.”

  “Just one more thing, Price. How about the professor’s wife. Dianne. Were the Ussers happy with her?”

  “I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting Ms. Renzel, sir.”

  “Really? She was never at the house? Not even at Christmas?”

  “Not in my presence. I can’t speak of other times.”

  “But you’re always present, aren’t you, Price?”

  “I am not present now, sir.”

  I bowed and smiled. “Touché, Mr. Price. But why do you think she never visited the Ussers? Surely someone must have talked about it.”

  “I have only hearsay information, sir.”

  I put my hand on his shoulder. “If hearsay’s all you’ve got, hearsay I’ll accept.”

  I thought Price smiled. “It is my understanding that Ms. Renzel overheard Mr. Usser use a word in the presence of the daughter, Lisa, that Ms. Renzel felt was inappropriate. From that day on, she refused to come to the house or to allow her daughter to come here.”

  “What word did Usser use?”

  “I believe the word was nigger, sir. Now I must truly move along. Please.”

  “One last question. I need to talk to Lisa. When’s the best time to find her at home?”

  “Miss Lisa is difficult to locate, sir. I can’t be at all helpful in that regard.”