The white mustache bristled. “What kind of question is that?”
“A simple one.”
“Our wives didn’t share our passion for the outdoors.”
Lawyerspeak. Factual but evasive. Runyon said, “So there were no women in the photos that were stolen.”
“I just told you our wives never went along, didn’t I?”
Same evasive response. “What about after Lloyd’s divorce?”
“Now what are you asking?”
“He didn’t remarry. I assume he had women friends over the last twenty years of his life. Did he ever take one of them to the hunting camp?”
“No.”
“Was he involved with any particular woman after his divorce?”
“If he was, it’s none of your business.”
“You won’t give me a name?”
“I will not. Why should I?”
“The more people I can talk to…”
“People who know Cliff and Damon, yes. Not those who knew Lloyd.” Brock leaned forward so abruptly his chair back made a sharp cracking noise. “I suggest you concentrate on finding the link between the two sons and the maniac responsible for harassing them. You won’t find it with their father.”
“If you say so, Mr. Brock.”
“I do say so. Now suppose you get on with your business so I can proceed with mine.”
End of interview. Runyon stood up.
“Just remember what I said about looking for dirt,” Brock said. “It won’t get you anywhere you need to go.”
Second time Brock had used the phrase “looking for dirt.” Protesting too much. If there was no dirt to dig up, why keep mentioning it?
G eorge Thanopolous lived in a large ranch-style home on three or four acres atop one of the west-side hills. The elderly woman who answered the door identified herself as Mrs. Thanopolous, and when Runyon told her who he was and why he was there, she said, “It’s awful, isn’t it? Just awful. Those poor boys. But there isn’t anything George or I can tell you. If we knew anything that might help, we would have told the police.”
“I’m sure you would have. But I’d still like to talk to your husband. Is he home?”
“Out back with his bees.”
“Bees?”
“His hobby, you know. Beekeeping and making honey. Just go on around the side of the house and across the terrace. You’ll see the apiary and bee house from there.”
Runyon followed her instructions. The terrace was broad and flagstoned, with a sweeping view of the town spread out below, part of the valley and the bordering hills to the east. Beyond the terrace was a wide grassy field sprinkled here and there with low white boxes that must be the beehives. Nobody was working among them except bees.
A flagstone path led through the field above the hives, to a shedlike building painted the same bright white. The door was open, and as Runyon approached he heard a hammer banging away inside and then spotted the man using it. He stopped outside and called, “Dr. Thanopolous?”
George Thanopolous was well up in his seventies, his face mostly free of wrinkles-small, energetic, brighteyed. He didn’t seem to mind having a stranger turn up unexpectedly at his bee house. Particularly a stranger with Runyon’s credentials and purpose.
The drop-lit interior was cramped and crowded. Workbench, shelves, Peg-Boards of tools and beekeeping equipment-bee veils, smokers, elbow-length gloves, strips of lathe, glue pots, brushes, a bunch of other items Runyon didn’t recognize. The place had a faint odor, partly sweet like melons and partly sour like decaying flesh. Bee venom? Probably. It sure wasn’t clover honey.
Thanopolous indicated the wood strips that he’d been nailing together into a frame. “Don’t mind if I finish making this comb while we talk? Good. Want to get a few more done today. Stool over there if you care to sit down, just move the bee escapes to the bench here.”
“I’ll stand, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” Thanopolous drove another nail with his tack hammer. “Don’t know what I can tell you,” he said. “Cliff and Damon are both good boys, but Ellen and I don’t see much of them anymore. Why anybody’d want to stalk them… don’t have a clue.”
“Both family men. Faithful husbands, honest in their business practices.”
“Absolutely. Their father was strict with them, growing up. Single parent, you know.”
“Yes. There doesn’t seem to be anything in their lives that triggered the attacks. I’m looking into the possibility that the motive may have something to do with Lloyd Henderson.”
“Lloyd? Oh, now, that’s not possible. He passed away some years ago.”
“I know. But the first act was the desecration of his grave.”
“True. That struck me, too. Just so damn senseless.”
“You and Lloyd Henderson were close friends?”
“That’s right. Thirty years… no, thirty-five.”
“Went hunting and fishing together regularly.”
“Up to his camp in the mountains. With his boys and my son sometimes.” A pain shadow crossed Thanopolous’s face, made him pause in his work. “David’s gone now, too. Desert Storm.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
“Wars like that, like the Iraq mess… stupid. Young men are the ones who pay the price.”
“And their families.”
“Yes. Well,” Thanopolous said, and shook himself, and resumed his hammering. “You were asking me about Lloyd.”
“He have any enemies that you know about?”
“Not Lloyd. No, sir. Everybody liked him. Especially the women.”
“Ladies’ man, was he?”
“Lord, yes. Had more than his fair share.” Thanopolous chuckled-a dry sound, almost a cackle. “One thing he used to say. He was a dentist, you know, and he’d say, ‘I fill cavities all day, and when I’m lucky I get to fill one at night.’ My wife doesn’t think that’s funny, but it always made me laugh.”
“Did he always have a roving eye?”
“You asking if he was a faithful husband? That’s not for me to talk about. Nobody’s business, now, anyway.”
“Was he involved with any particular woman after his divorce?”
“Not that lasted more than a few months.”
“So he never came close to marrying again?”
“Wanted nothing more to do with marriage. Divorce soured him on it.”
“His lady friends. I’d appreciate a name or two.”
“Can’t oblige you. Sleeping dogs.” The dry chuckle again. “Not that they were, any of ’em. Dogs. No, sir, he had good taste, Lloyd did.”
Runyon asked, “Did he brag about his conquests?”
“Some, but he wouldn’t give names or details. Gentleman about that.”
“Brag to his sons, too?”
“No, never to the boys. Strict with them, as I told you. Kept his private life and his kids’ lives separate.”
“He ever bring a woman along on one of the hunting trips?”
“No, sir. Men only. Only time a woman ever showed up at the cabin, he chased her off quick.”
“When did that happen?”
“Oh, a long time ago.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“My memory’s not so good anymore. Why?”
