Sympathy for the Devil

by Jerrilyn Farmer

  “Well, Bruno may have liked him, but he still screwed Wes out some money. The cops figure Wes was pretty upset.”

  “Oh, but Bruno was planning some big surprise. He was very excited to see your reaction.”

  “What are you talking about? What surprise?”

  “He wouldn’t tell me the details. Just how happy you would be. You and Wesley.”

  I didn’t need any more mysteries. What Bruno thought was a wonderful surprise could be downright scary to contemplate.

  “Carmen, now you can see why I need to find out who really did kill Bruno. Are you sure you don’t know something that would help get Wesley out of trouble?”

  “Why, no. My goodness, my mother thought I told you much too much as it was. When she found out your friend was arrested, she…” Her voice trailed off.

  “What?”

  “Please don’t be angry. It’s only natural that she would feel relieved that the police won’t bother us anymore.”

  How could I get angry? If the cops had arrested Carmen’s mother, I know I’d have felt relieved for Wes.

  “I wonder if you could tell me something,” Carmen said tentatively. “Did Lily lose her inheritance?”

  So this was the real reason Carmen had chosen to call. She was scouting information herself.

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “Gray. He called me a few hours ago and told me to come home. He’s been after me ever since I left. But this time he said things had changed. He said that Lily had been cheating on Bruno and now the entire estate will go to the brothers. He’s worked a deal with Bru, Jr. so that we’ll get control of his father’s company and all the land in Los Feliz. Bru needs cash. They worked out an agreeable arrangement.”

  “So you might own the land you wanted after all?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t believe it’s true. My mother said you’d tell me if Graydon is just dreaming.”

  “According to Lily, I’m afraid it’s true.”

  “Oh my god.” I could hear the mixture of emotions in Carmen’s voice.

  “So will you go back to him?” I asked.

  “Mother thinks I should.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “It’s just that I’m not sure I could take it anymore. Graydon was always trying to control me. Always deciding who I could see for lunch, or if I could commit to taking a dance class. He wouldn’t even let me join a gym.”

  “Carmen, since we’re trading information, I’d like to get the chronology straight. Bruno and Lily got married about six years ago. And then, you married Gray…when?”

  “Let’s see. Graydon and I got married the next year. They had little Lewis the year after that.”

  “When did you and Bruno start…?” Not exactly delicate, but she had no trouble following me.

  “Three years ago.”

  “So that was a year after Lewis was born. Did Bruno ever talk about what Lily and he went through to have a baby?”

  “No. Of course, that was before Bruno and I got together. But I do remember there was some talk in the family. Lily couldn’t get pregnant. And then there was the contest.”

  “What contest?”

  “Bru, Jr.’s wife Missy and I used to laugh at those men sometimes. The Huntley men. They thought they were so macho! It was kind of funny. I remember not long after I’d been married, Gray said he couldn’t sleep with me for a week. This had something to do with a contest his dad had set up.”

  “What kind of contest?”

  “Lily was going to some fancy doctor in Beverly Hills. Bruno told his older boys that he’d had his sperm tested as part of the process to see what was wrong with Lily. Anyway, Bruno said that the doctor had never seen sperm with such high numbers. You know, for all the weird stuff they test sperm for. Bruno bragged that he had scored the highest ever on this doctor’s sperm tests.”

  Wait. Back up a moment. This had to be impossible. And then I got it. Of course. This was the very way Bruno used to embellish things. A man with a vasectomy claiming to have a high sperm count! Brother.

  “Somehow, Bruno thought up this funny challenge and got the boys to agree. He offered a thousand dollars to the son who could top his scores on the sperm count.”

  “He wanted his sons to get their sperm tested?”

  “Right. He dared them to compete with their old man. Missy and I thought they were out of their minds, but it was a male bonding ritual, Huntley-style. They met one morning in the parking lot attached to the Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. The boys were to do their business into these cups, and then Bruno would take them up to the doctor to get tested.”

  “Wait a minute. You mean Bru, Jr. and Graydon actually drove to a parking lot, sat in their cars and…”

  “Gave a sample, yes. Missy called it the Jerk Olympics. Get it?”

  “Yes.” In every sense of the word.

  “See, Graydon was so competitive he insisted we couldn’t sleep together for a week. In order to build up his sperm.”

  My head was spinning. I was beginning to believe Bruno devised this bizarre family contest for the sole purpose of gathering sperm samples. It seemed he’d dipped into his very own gene pool to inseminate his unsuspecting wife. And that meant Lewis Huntley’s half-brothers were actually, biologically, his two dads. Amazing.

  “Who won the contest?” I had to ask.

  “Bru’s sperm count was about 150 million per cc of semen and Graydon had only about 100 million.”

  “One hundred million sperm? Per cubic centimeter of semen?” I asked. (I made a mental note to get my diaphragm checked.)

  “That doesn’t tell you how lively the sperm are swimming. Now what do they call that? ‘Mobility’ I think,” she guessed.

  Upward? I smiled at my own joke.

  “Motility?” I suggested.

  “Something like that. Anyway, Bruno declared Bru the winner and Gray was demanding a recount.” She was laughing. “Typical.”

  “That’s one odd family you married into.”

  “All families are odd, aren’t they? When you get to know their secrets?” Carmen, with her own bitter family sorrows and strange sexual alliances, was clearly beyond being shocked by mere macho posturing.

  As I hung up, Holly entered my office and slumped in the comfortable chair that faces my desk. She carelessly tossed one of her legs over the rolled arm of the chair. Today she had on black leggings and a black leather bra. She dangled a heavy clog from the foot that was looped over the chair.

  “No luck with the sperm banks,” she sadly offered. “They have this confidentiality thing.”

  “I figured. But the sperm question may be answered.” I filled her in on the Jerk Olympics. Where I had been sort of stunned at the madness of it all, she was totally amused.

  “It’s not such a bad idea,” she said. “Maybe when we get serious with a guy we should insist he get his sperm checked. I mean, it could be pretty important information if you want to have children.”

  “So what do you do if the guy you’re in love with has problem sperm?” I challenged.

  “Toss him,” Holly said, unconcerned with trivial issues like love.

  “Right. Say Christian Slater asked you to marry him and it turned out his sperm was lazy? Low motility, say. What you gonna do?”

  Holly’s eyes flashed at me. She untangled herself from my office furniture and rose to her full six feet. “Oh, throw Christian Slater at me, huh? Think that will win your argument?”

  She walked to the door and then turned. “Well, I’d tell Chris and his slow-assed sperm to take a hike!”

  The wind had picked up and was beginning to rattle the glass in the multipaned windows. The sky had turned the bruised shade of smoke, and as I fastened the doors that led out to the patio from the living room, I saw the first fat drops pelt the glass.

  It was nearing six o’clock, and I told Holly she should go already. Although we were critically short on bookings, she’d had a full day of work, what with cance
lling food orders for parties we would not be catering, and paying bills with money we probably didn’t have. Before Holly had a chance to give me the bottom line, I shushed her and told her I’d rather hear the bad news tomorrow. She took the hint.

  I decided I’d go over to Lily’s and unload my sperm theories on her tonight. Why wait? Especially if her stepsons were kindly packing up her p.j.s and escorting her out of her home this very evening. I quickly changed into warmer clothes. As I stepped outside, I yanked up the hood of my camel-colored parka and wondered if I should go back for an umbrella.

  I jumped into my car. Chewed-up wiper blades clicked like a metronome without much success at wiping anything. With thirty thousand dollars stashed in my underwear drawer, you’d think I’d get around to having my car fixed.

  On second thought, maybe I could find an all-night service station. With a virtuous stab at my dragon of procrastination, I jumped out of my trusty Wagoneer and went back for the cash.

  Chapter 30

  I consider myself a pretty good driver. Except when it’s dark, and the rain is pouring down in sheets and I’ve got less than one-quarter of a functioning wiper. I was going slow, my whole body tensed forward, trying to get closer to the windshield, as if that would clear up this mess.

  By the time I arrived at the house, I was exhausted. Ahead, on the last turn of Winding Oaks Drive, stood two enormous trucks, parked on the wrong side of the street, as close as they could get to the bottom of the Huntley driveway. I saw moving men pushing dollies, walking slowly as if undisturbed by the heavy rainfall. I parked, pointing the Wagoneer uphill, headlight to headlight with the bottom-most truck, saying a silent prayer to the god of parking brakes.

  Mud and debris trickled down the steep road, making it impossible to avoid getting filthy, although I stepped as best I could around the worst of the puddles. As I hiked up the driveway, I noticed a number of cars had made it up the hill on this wet night and parked on the circular driveway in front of the Huntley mansion.

  I thought I recognized Bru, Jr.’s Jaguar, and perhaps that BMW525 belonged to Graydon, and there were others. As I ran to the front door, damp just about everywhere my hip-length parka was not, I thought I saw a profile in one of the parked cars. Startled, I turned back to get a better look.

  Sitting in the front passenger seat of a Bentley was Angelica Sands. Now what possible need would anyone have for a fake soothsayer on this particular night?

  I thought about going up to the car and getting her attention. But the wind was yanking at my jacket like a particularly annoying three-year-old, and I chose instead to leave my questions to a drier time and place.

  The door of the house was opened by Rosalinda Luquin, the Huntleys’ nanny.

  “Oh, hi!” I said, stepping in and shaking myself like a retriever, droplets of water spraying the lovely Turkish carpet in the entry hall. What the hell? The Huntley boys could afford to get it cleaned. “How are you, Rosa?”

  “Too bad,” she told me, earnestly.

  “Too bad about what?”

  “It is too bad tonight, Miss Madeline. Too bad in this house. I must quit my job. Only I don’t want to tell Mrs. Lily. She is having problems, you understand? Many problems in her life.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Now my Babalu, he is hiding from me. Ay, such a boy!”

  “I’m sure Lewis will be found soon.”

  Rosalinda was dressed in a heavy coat and carried an umbrella. I also saw a suitcase tucked near the door.

  “I guess you’re leaving, then.”

  “I see the face. The face of a man. I see this face in the bushes by the fountain. I was looking for Babalu outside. I don’t want to leave without saying goodbye to my boy, but then I see this face.”

  “Who was outside?”

  “An old man. Skinny with long gray hair. I get scared. It is the one thing too many for me. This house it is too busy with witches.” She took her umbrella and picked up her suitcase. “Mrs. Lily stay in a hotel tonight. I go now to my sister.” I saw sadness in her determined face as she moved past me and out the door into the black rain.

  Coming up the drive past Rosalinda as she left were two men from the moving company. They had dollied up a huge stack of large unassembled cardboard boxes. As I held the door open for them, they sloshed through the entry hall and into the living room. I followed them and found more than a few Huntley family members.

  The workers set about constructing the cardboard boxes. Lily asked them politely to remove their boots as they were muddying up her floor. Before she could see me, I tiptoed back to the entry and removed my wet rubber-soled shoes.

  It was then that I became aware of voices coming from the study. One was the unmistakable whine of Bru, Jr.

  “See, the thing is, is everything’s okay now. I’ve got the money, so don’t worry.”

  “Don’t worry? I don’t worry when I’ve got the money, you imbecile. Get it?”

  “All right! All right! Let go!”

  I had to see who was threatening Bru. Just a peek. Movies can’t be trusted for accuracy and I was curious to see what an “enforcer” really looked like.

  He looked like Perry Hirsh.

  I stepped back before either of them saw me.

  “I want the money tonight, Bozo,” Hirsh was saying.

  “Tonight? I can’t get it tonight, Perry. I mean, I just inherited it. You know? It takes a little time for the paperwork, but I’m good for it, man. You know that.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Hey, didn’t I get your sister that audition she wanted?”

  “That was my cousin, Doofuss. And you’re right. I forgot to thank you. She met up with your old man and he really thought she had talent. Yeah, he wanted to put her in one of his movies. Too bad the guy winds up dead, eh? Now she won’t be able to use that valuable contact, will she, shithead? You think I owe you, asshole? You think you done Perry some big favor? You’ve done me exactly squat!”

  “Madeline? Is that you?”

  I spun around to see Lily, standing in the archway of the living room.

  “Hi. I hope I’m not coming at a bad time.” Although I didn’t see how there could be a worse one.

  “No, of course not. Would you like some hot coffee? You look drenched.” Ever the perfect hostess as her family and fortress crumble around her.

  “No thanks. I just came over for a minute. I’ve found out a few things that may help you with the lawyers.”

  “As you can see, it’s probably too late for anything like that, but I appreciate the thought.”

  “It’s really not…” I let the sentence just hang there as Donnie walked through the living room into the entry hall and up to Lily. He stood about an inch closer to her than I would have thought platonic, but who can judge by an inch?

  “Hi,” he said to me. Then to Lily, “The guys want to know if they can start packing?”

  Just then, Bru, Jr. walked out of the study and screamed, “Hey, stupid! Don’t ask her! I own this house now, got it? Tell them just her personal stuff. She can take her clothes and that’s…”

  “You’re pathetic, you know that?” Donnie cut him off with a look of disgust.

  “You’re fired, Don! You know that? You’re out of here! Get out!”

  “Stop it.” Lily did not exactly raise her voice, but she was firmer than usual. “Donnie is here as a friend.”

  “Hey, man, what’s your problem?” Donnie was getting riled, but it was in Lily’s defense. “The movers are all over the place. Lewis is missing. Lily’s got her hands full.”

  “I’ve got no problem,” Bru snarled. “Just find Lewis and get the hell out!”

  To this ugly scene entered Graydon and Carmen, coming from the back hallway that leads to the kitchen.

  “What’s all this about Lewis?” Gray wanted to know.

  “Don here is real concerned about him,” Bru said in a syrupy tone. “We all know that Dad wasn’t Lewis’s real father. So who was? Hey, Don!
Want to fess up?”

  I looked up to see Lily blush. Donnie was steaming now, and he pulled back to take a swing. I’d been doing a bit of boxing training to work out, so I knew to brace myself in a more balanced stance, in case Donnie needed backup.

  Before the punches could start, Carmen said, “Can’t we just act like grownups? Don’t you boys know how to behave when you win?”

  It was an odd moment. Standing there in the entry were Bru, Jr., Graydon, Carmen, Lily, Donnie, and myself. Off to one side were the sounds of moving men making boxes. Off to another lurked Perry Hirsh, out of sight in the study. No one spoke.

  Then, the doorbell rang. Who wasn’t here? I wondered. The answer, as Lily moved to open the door, was Mark Baker, the attorney for Bruno Huntley’s estate. I figured he was here to oversee the orderly change of possession of the property. It was about as orderly as a seventh-grade boys’ locker room.

  “Well. Look who we have here.” He smiled as he entered, clearly not an expert in the kind of tension you could cut with a Sabatier. Lawyers.

  “Hello, Mark,” Lily said. “Don’t worry. I was just about to leave. Only Babalu…that’s my son Lewis, is missing. The nanny is looking for him now. Otherwise I would have been gone already.”

  “Good thing you’re not.” Mark Baker stood there, dripping onto the entry rug. I felt a little better about my own mess. “Ahem. Could we all step into the living room? There have been some developments.”

  “Of course.” Lily took charge of the moment, and we all shuffled into the living room and just stood there.

  “Sit down,” Baker suggested, taking time to get comfortable in the armchair he’d used on Sunday at the reading of the will.

  A few of us did, but I noticed that Bru and Gray remained standing. Bru’s arms were crossed over his chest. Gray had that lost look that so often accompanied him wherever he went.

  “Don’t tell us that anything’s changed, because it hasn’t,” Bru asserted. “You lawyers agreed that the estate goes to my brother and me. That’s final.”

  “No, nothing has changed in that regard,” Baker agreed.