Okay, good.
Bobby’s car was parked in the narrow one-car spot that clung to the sloping roadway above his house. Justine parked on the verge of the hill, walked through the gate, and rang the bell. When Bobby didn’t answer right away, she took the familiar stone path around to the vast back lawn with its extraordinary canyon view.
She slipped off her shoes and let her feet feel lush grass.
Then she saw him. Bobby was in the hot tub, so Justine called out, “Bob. I’m returning your call.”
He stood up in a self-conscious crouch-and that’s when Justine saw that a woman was in the hot tub with Bobby. She was naked.
Chapter 76
Justine took it all in at once. The woman in the tub screamed, then covered her small breasts with both hands. Bobby’s face contorted with anger as he called out, “Justine. Stay right there.”
He patted the edge of the hot tub for his glasses while his “date,” bright pink from the heat, shouted at him, “Get me my robe. Please, I need my robe!”
Justine recognized the naked woman now. She was Bobby’s wife, Marissa, the woman he’d separated from over a year ago, the one he didn’t love anymore, the one who had moved to Phoenix and was ready to sign the divorce papers any day.
Justine’s guts liquefied, then froze. She was so disappointed and so hurt.
She wanted to run, but it would be better to do the hard thing. Face the truth. Get answers.
She had a pretty good idea why Marissa Petino was here, but she had to ask anyway.
Justine’s feet carried her within speaking range of the hot tub. She said to Marissa Petino, “I’m Justine Smith. I’m sorry to interrupt. I thought Bobby would be alone.”
Marissa clutched a robe to her chest, turned blazing eyes on her husband.
“Bobby, who is this?”
Justine said, “Bobby and I have been seeing each other for-what, Bobby? About a year?”
Bobby had tucked a towel around his waist. His glasses were perched at a cockeyed angle on his nose. He looked as though he’d lost his cool in the hot tub, and Bobby hated that. The man had to be in control.
“Justine, damn it. This is damned crazy, you know that? Let’s go. I’ll walk you to the gate.”
Justine ignored Bobby and said to Marissa, “Just bear with me, please. Did Bobby tell you he’s running for governor?”
“What do you mean? Of course he told me. You mean you’re seeing him now?”
Bobby stood between Marissa and Justine, his face so red that Justine thought he was going to try and punch her.
“I wouldn’t have told you this way,” he said. “You shouldn’t have come here without calling.”
“I loved you,” said Justine. “I trusted you.”
“I never promised you anything. I never lied to you.”
Justine slapped him and saw her handprint white against his cheek. “Everything was a lie,” she said. “Don’t you even understand that?”
Marissa Petino cinched her robe and faced her husband. “I get it now, Bobby. Running for governor with your wife plays better than running with your girlfriend.”
“Please, Marissa, please let’s talk about this later,” Bobby said.
“I don’t want a ‘later.’ And thanks, Justine. I appreciate the reminder of what a snake my soon-to-be-ex husband is.”
“My pleasure,” said Justine.
“Can you give me a lift?” Marissa asked Justine. “My car is at the Beverly Hilton. I can be dressed in two minutes. Bobby, I hope you freaking get leprosy and die.”
“My car is parked on the side of the road,” Justine said to Marissa. “Blue Jaguar. I’ll be waiting for you.” She turned back to Bobby. “Lots of luck in the gubernatorial race, Bob. Don’t ever call me again.”
Part Four
Chapter 77
A “DO NOT DISTURB” card hung from the doorknob of Andy’s third-floor suite at the famed, or perhaps infamous, Chateau Marmont off Sunset. It was almost eleven a.m. I pounded and pounded on the solid wood door.
“Andy. It’s Jack. Let me in.”
“Go away,” Andy said from the other side of the door. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying it.”
“Come on, bozo. I’ve already told the manager you’re on a suicide watch. He’s going to key me in if you don’t open up.”
The door finally opened.
Andy was in rumpled pajamas, holding a half-full bottle of Chivas by the neck. His hair was standing straight up, as if he hadn’t combed or washed it in a while.
“I fired you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you did, asshole. I’m not billing you anymore. I’m here because I’m your best friend.”
I followed Andy into the sitting room. The room was dark, curtains pulled closed.
An old Harrison Ford movie was on the television, Witness. The suite looked like a set from the 1930s, or a West Side apartment in New York, except for the open pizza box lying on a chair next to the extralarge TV. I took the pizza box to the kitchenette and dumped it into the trash. Then I returned to the sitting room and sat down.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
“Fucking fine and dandy, can’t you tell?”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Andy took a pull off the bottle and said, “So what now, Jack? Last time I saw you, you told me that my wife was a whore. What else have you got for me?”
“She was using.”
“What? What did you say?”
“She was a crack addict. Maybe heroin too.”
“Hey, fuck you, Jack. Oh, for God’s sake. I mean, who cares, anyway? She’s dead, Jack. Dead. And look what she left me. I got cops on my ass all day and night. Friends avoiding me, for good reason, I guess. And this fricking room is costing a bomb and a half. All because of my whore-junkie wife.”
“The thing is, Andy, her being a user maybe explains a few things about Shelby. Why she had a secret life, for instance. Why she needed the money. Maybe why she couldn’t tell you the truth.”
Andy picked up the TV’s remote control and surfed around while I talked. His eyes were vacant. He was already a lost soul.
“It’s also a lead of sorts,” I told him. “We already have a line on her dealer. As I’ve been saying, if we find out who killed Shelby, you stop being a suspect.”
Andy finally looked up at me. “Come here, Jack. I want to give you a big wet kiss.”
I got up and took the remote out of his hand. Turned off the tube.
“I didn’t do this to you. I’m trying to help you.”
