“They’re viewed as inferior?”
“Not inferior,” said Weathers. “Different.”
“Donny Rader started off as a golf caddie and houseboy for a producer.”
“That’s the official story.”
“Not true?”
Weathers sneered. “I don’t know what’s true, what’s not. I don’t know anyone’s narrative.”
Floyd Banfer said, “It’s all a matter of information control. We hear what they want us to hear.”
“Stars,” said Milo.
“Anyone in power.”
I said, “So you have no problem hiring wannabes.”
Jack Weathers said, “Not if they learn their proper place and do the damn job.”
“Did Simone Chambord learn?”
“Never heard about problems.”
“Far as you know, she’s still working for Premadonny.”
“I’d assume.”
“What else do you remember about her?”
“Good-looking,” said Weathers. “Extremely attractive. In that fresh way. Great figure … she could carry on a conversation, said she loved kids, showed me a child-development book she was reading.”
“She was hired as a nanny.”
“No,” said Weathers. “As a child-care assistant.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Pay scale, for starts. When the client insists on an official nanny, we hire British girls who take formal training at one of the schools they have over there. They’ve got the book learning but some of them can be a little uptight. Some clients like that. Others want something more relaxed.”
“Prema Moon and Donny Rader have a relaxed attitude.”
“I’d assume.”
“How many other people have you sent to them?”
“Couldn’t say,” said Weathers.
Milo said, “Wild guess.”
Weathers looked at Banfer. Banfer nodded.
“Wild guess? I’d say half a dozen.”
“What jobs did you fill for them?”
“I believe there were a couple of domestics. Housekeepers. We don’t do that anymore, can’t compete with the domestic-specialty agencies, all those ads they run in the Spanish papers. But back then we did, so probably that’s it. Couple of domestics.”
He turned to Banfer. “This is okay?”
“So far, Jack.”
Milo said, “You’re worried about Premadonny’s gag clause?”
“Hell, yeah,” said Weathers. “We’re talking damn stringent.”
“As opposed to …”
Banfer said, “Clauses that are less stringent.” He smiled at his own obfuscation.
Milo said, “Educate me, Counselor.”
“It’s nothing complicated, Milo. Default is generally a ban on talking to the media, publishing a book, that kind of thing. This particular clause covers virtually every single syllable uttered about Premadonny to anyone on any topic. Is it legally binding? Probably not, but testing that theory would bring considerable anguish. In any event, Jack’s told you everything he knows about the Chambord woman and Ms. Betts.”
“Then on to the next topic,” said Milo, pulling out the enlargement of Melvin Jaron Wedd’s DMV photo.
Floyd Banfer’s face remained blank.
Jack Weathers said, “Oh, shit.”
CHAPTER 38
Floyd Banfer placed a hand on Jack Weathers’s cashmere sleeve. “He’s also one of yours?”
Milo said, “Who is he, Jack?”
Weathers wrung his hands. “A guy … M.J.”
Milo said, “Melvin Jaron Wedd. When did you place him at the compound?”
Weathers muttered something.
“Speak up, Jack.”
“Three years ago. Give or take.”
“What’s his job title?”
“Estate manager,” said Weathers. “I’d placed him before, similar thing.”
“Whose estate did he manage before?”
“Saudi family, gigantic place in Bel Air. Four, five years ago.”
“And before then?”
“No, that was the first. They had no problems with him-the Arabs. They moved back to Riyadh.”
“So you sent him to Premadonny.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Who solicited your help?”
“Business manager.”
“Who’s that?”
Weathers’s eyes traveled to the right. “Not the manager directly, some assistant.”
Floyd Banfer said, “Or some assistant’s assistant.”
Weathers regarded his nephew crossly. “That’s the way it goes with people at their level.”
Milo said, “Who’s their business manager?”
“Apex Management. They handle a lot of the biggies.”
“What do you remember about M.J.?”
“A guy,” said Weathers. “I think he had some bookkeeping experience. Him I
“Maybe nothing, Jack.”
“Maybe nothing but you’re carrying around his picture?”
“His name came up.”
“Meaning?”
“His name came up.”
Weathers waved a hand. “Frankly, I don’t want to know. Now can I go and try to pay some bills? I’m no civil servant, got no cushy pension and overtime.”
Milo said, “Sure. Have a nice day.”
“Sure?”
“Unless you’ve got something more to tell us, Jack.”
“I’ve got nothing. To tell or to hide or to relate or report. I’m in the service business, I find service people for clients who need service. What they do once they’re hired is their business.”
Bracing himself on the bench’s center divider, he got to his feet, buttoned his blazer. Banfer stood and took him by the elbow. Weathers shook off the support with surprising fury. “Not ready for a scooter yet, Floyd, let’s get breakfast, Nate ’n Al, Bagel Nosh, whatever.”
Working hard at casual.
Banfer tapped his Rolex Oyster. “Sorry, appointments.”
“Busy guy,” said Weathers. “Everyone’s busy. I should be busy.”
He hobbled away.
