Compulsion

“Nessery!”

“Shh, shh-”

“Nesse – ”

“Elena! Shh! What do we say about La Bella?”

The child pouted.

Korvutz said, “In La Bella, we need to be… say it, darling.”

A tear dripped from Elena’s right eye.

Roland Korvutz dried it and kissed her cheek. “Darling, in La Bella we need to be quiet.”

“Darling darling,” said Elena. “That’s Mommy.”

“You’re my darling, too.”

“No!”

Korvutz colored. “Sir, sorry to bother you, you can go back-”

“He’s alonely. Ms. Price say be nice to alonely people.”

“That’s at school, Elena.”

“Ms. Price say always be nice.”

I said, “I can sit until my food comes.”

“Elena, let this man be.”

Korvutz’s voice had risen. Elena’s face crumpled. He muttered something in what sounded like Russian and reached for her. She jumped off her chair sobbing. The young woman at the next table rolled her eyes.

“Elena-”

The child ran to the rear door. “I go, again!”

Korvutz said, “Sir, I apologize. She is very friendly.”

“I think she’s adorable.” Trying not to sound patronizing.

Korvutz’s stare said I hadn’t pulled it off.

I said, “I work with kids.”

“Doing what?”

“Child psychologist.”

“Okay,” he said, with utter disinterest. “Have a nice dinner.” Eyeing my table.

I fished out the brand-new LAPD consultant badge the chief had expressed to my house last night and placed it on the table in front of him. “When you have time, Mr. Korvutz.”

His mouth dropped open. Gray eyes behind thick lenses bulged. Despite the sparse light, his pupils had constricted to pinpoints. “What the-”

I pocketed the badge. “We need to talk. Not about you. About Dale Bright.”

He started to rise from his chair, thought better of it. Both hands clenched but remained on the table. “Get the hell out of-”

“I’ve come three thousand miles to talk to you. Dale Bright may have killed other people. Extremely messy murders.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

I stood, shielding him from scrutiny by the neighboring couple or Gio. Kept a smile on my face to feign friendly conversation.

“Dale Bright. Former chairman of the tenant board on West Thirty-fifth.”

Korvutz’s shoulders crowded his neck. His fingers grazed a butter knife.

“You’re not under suspicion. Bright is. What I need is details, anything that can help locate him.”

Spittle collected at the corner of Korvutz’s mouth. “I know nothing.”

“Just a brief talk at your convenience-”

“Again they torment me.”

“If you cooperate and help us find Bright, it’ll end any-”

“I know nothing.” Extruding the words through clenched lips.

“Even impressions. What he was like, his habits.”

“Dry eye!” announced a voice behind us.

Elena danced to my side, wadded tissue in hand.

Roland Korvutz said, “This man needs to leave.”

“No, Da-”

“Yes!”

“Daddy make me sad!”

Korvutz shot up and took her by the arm. “Life is sad. Even you can learn that.”

He pulled the child, wailing, from the restaurant.

Puzzled, Gio watched the door slam.

The tenor on the soundtrack moaned.

The young woman said, “Bringing a kid to a place like this.”

The young man smoothed a hand-stitched lapel. “Especially that kind of kid. Let’s book.”

CHAPTER 23

Elegant people walked refined dogs on Park Avenue.

Roland Korvutz’s building, on the west side of the street, was ten stories of somber gray stone, each level one apartment wide.

Gleaming brass rods supported a spotless maroon awning. A carpet of some weather-resistant material that looked good enough for my house led to dead-bolted, brass-framed glass doors. The All Visitors Must Be Announced sign was the same gleaming metal. So was the call button.

Inside the lobby, a maroon-clad doorman relaxed in a carved chair and watched me watch him. Hispanic, mustachioed, too young to be the retired cop Polito had spoken to.

As I approached, he stayed put. Light from a crystal chandelier ambered the black-and-white marble checkerboard lobby floor. Dark wood panels glowed like melting chocolate.

The doorman didn’t budge until I pushed the button. Even then, his movements were languid.

He opened the door a couple of inches. “Help you?”

“I’m here for Mr. Korvutz.”

“He expecting you?”

“I sure hope so.”

“Name?”

“Dr. Delaware.”

He closed the door, got on a phone. I cooled my heels under the awning, braced for refusal, maybe a warning to cease and desist. Felt guilty about cutting Elena’s dinner short, then thought about the Safrans and suppressed my regret.

The doorman hung up, cracked the door again. “He’s comin’ down.”

Roland Korvutz emerged moments later in brown shirtsleeves, baggy gray pants, and white sneakers, cradling a tiny white Pomeranian.

I prepared for rage. His face was blank.

The doorman fulfilled his primary job description and Korvutz walked through. He pointed south, kept moving, still holding the dog.

Small man but he pumped his legs fast.

I caught up. The Pomeranian yapped happily. Licked my hand.

Korvutz said, “Everyone thinks you’re a great guy.” Small man with a big baritone. In the comparative quiet his accent was more pronounced.