Self-Defence

'Curt, Curt.'

'Why?'

'Because she wouldn't put out! He wanted her, and she wouldn't, so he slammed her under her jaw and she fell back and hit her head and then he- did her. Then we couldn't wake her up. I was there! You won't find me making up stories and denying that! We were partying. The three of us.'

'Which three?'

'Curt, me, and her. Trafficant was entertaining his own fan club. Mellors was tagging after Lowell, as usual, bloody sycophant.'

'What about Spretzel?'

'I don't know; I told you he was a faggot. Probably chasing boys.'

'Ah,' said Milo.

'Yes, I was with her, but I never hurt her. I did nothing other than make a little time with her.'

'What kind of time?' said Leah.

'Kissy-kissy, grope-grope. She was on my lap, the old trousers rubadub. I was the one she liked, my mustache- I had one back then- and my accent; she said it reminded her of Mick Jagger. She would have put out for me. It made Curt jealous.'

Touching his mouth, he spoke through his fingers.

'He was used to tarts, easy lays. 'Slip 'em the 'ludes and you can slip 'em anything else,' he always said. She wasn't easy; she was a virgin, for God's sake.' To Leah Schwartz: 'Don't look at me like that. You want the truth, I'm giving it to you. That's the way things were back then- free love, no viruses, people doing their own thing.'

'I'll take your word for it,' said Leah, inspecting her nails.

That inflamed him. 'What were you doing back then?'

She looked up from her nails and smiled. 'Going to school. Fourth grade.'

Graydon-Jones shut his mouth.

'Is that it?' said Milo. 'That's your story?'

'It's the truth. Curt got all pissed because she wouldn't climb off my lap into his. When he tried to put his tongue in her mouth, she turned her head and said 'Yuck.' Just like that. 'Yuck.' Like she'd tasted something bad. So he bopped her and she fell back. It all happened in one second. I'll swear to it in court.'

'Chris,' said Stratton. To Leah: 'I want it clear that my client's statement by no means represents a formal offer to testify.'

Leah shrugged.

Milo leaned forward. 'So that's your story.'

'That's what my client just said,' said Stratton.

'Then I'll ask your client what I asked Mr. App this morning: If you had nothing to do with killing Karen, why get involved in the cover-up?'

Graydon-Jones chewed his lip. His hands played with one another. A full minute passed, then another.

Milo sat back.

Leah looked at her watch and got up. To Milo: 'Win some, lose some.'

Graydon-Jones said, 'I did it because Curt supported me.'

'Supported you how?' said Leah.

'Emotionally. Financially. The day before that bloody party, he promised to buy six of my sculptures. And to commission a huge atrium piece for his insurance company. I was a bleeding pauper. I hadn't sold anything since arriving from England. If you were an artist, you'd understand. Curt offered to open up a whole new area of opportunity for me- I thought he was a true patron. It wasn't as if he intended to kill her. She blew him off and he hit her- one of those stupid things. And nothing I did would bring her back. I figured, why should he be ruined because of something stupid like that?'

'You did it for a job?' said Milo.

'Not a job.' Graydon-Jones's voice was strangled. 'A career.'

Leah looked at Milo. 'I'm sorry, sir. That's a little hard to believe. I'd never go to court with that.'

'But it's true!' Dropping his head. 'All right, all right, there was one more thing, though it's no big issue.'

'What's that?' said Leah.

'The dope. The quaaludes he gave her. They were mine. Prescription for nerves. I was working mad hours at the foundry, my biorhythms were off-'

'Bull,' I said into the mike.

'Just for sleep, huh?' said Milo, smiling and shaking his head.

Graydon-Jones flinched. 'All right, for sex, too, the chicks loved it- no big crime. As I said, I had a prescription.'

'And you shared your prescription drugs with Karen.'

'She didn't protest- she wanted to try- wanted to try everything… except doing Curt. God, he was pissed. After he hit her, I said, 'What the bloody hell did you do that for?' and he said, 'Don't get all righteous with me,' and started to unzip his trousers. Then he… when she didn't wake up, I panicked, tried to leave. He said, 'You've got a problem, Chris. She was in your lap when it happened, you were holding her, she was stoned on your dope.' Telling me if she was found, they'd learn she was on 'ludes and it could be traced to me. He said as far as the law was concerned, I was every bit as guilty as he.'

'And you believed that?' said Leah.

'I didn't know American law. I was a fucking starving limey just off the boat!'

'Did you consult an attorney?'

'Right,' said Graydon-Jones, 'and expose the whole thing- we buried her, for God's sake. It was over.'

I said to the mike, 'Ask him why he stopped sculpting.'

Milo said, 'How'd you get from art to the business world?'

'Curt offered me a job at Enterprise. Get paid to learn. As Marlon Brando would say, an offer too good to refuse.'

'He also offered you sculpting commissions. Why didn't you take them?'

Graydon-Jones looked away.

Stratton said, 'I fail to see what-'

'It all goes to the heart of the matter, Jeff,' said Leah. 'Namely, your client's credibility.'

Graydon-Jones said something unintelligible.

'What's that?' said Leah.

'I lost interest.'

'In what?'

'Art. All the pretentiousness. The bullshit. Business is the ultimate art.'

Talking fast to conceal the real reason: he'd blocked. And App had been ready to exploit it, just as he had with Lowell.

One night of deception rewarded by twenty years of comfort and status. Success the ultimate dope. Just as it was for Gwen and Tom Shea.

Uneasy alliances held together by sin and guilt.

It had taken a dream to blow them down.

Graydon-Jones was talking to Leah's stoic face. 'Don't you see? Curt reversed the entire bloody thing in order to shaft me. All I did was furnish the 'ludes. He hit her- take a closer look at those bones, you'll find something on her jaw- believe me, I was there. He's the killer, not me. He's killed other people-'

'Hold on,' said Stratton sharply.

'I've got to prove myself, Jeff!'

'Just hold on, Chris.' To us: 'Another conference, please. And make sure there are no open mikes