close, too close.”
“How long have you owned the property across the street?”
“Seven years eight months.”
“That’s pretty precise, Mr. Belleveaux.”
“I’m a detail-man, Lieutenant. Learned precision in the army, they taught me mechanics, a little mechanical engineering, I didn’t need a college degree to accumulate adequate knowledge. Later when I was out and repairing washing machines and dryers for Sears, what the army inculcated in me came in handy: Only one way to do a job: right. Machine needs three screws, you don’t put in two.”
I said, “The same goes for boxing.”
“Pardon?”
“Your hands. I used to do karate, you pick up the signs someone else is into martial arts.”
“Martial arts?” said Belleveaux. “Nah, none of that for me, I just did a little sparring in the army, then a little more when I got out, light welterweight, used to be skinny. Busted my septum three times and my wife, she was my girlfriend back then, said Stan, you keep scarring yourself to the point where you’re ugly, I’m going to go find myself a pretty boy. She was kidding. Maybe. I wanted out anyway, what kind of life is that, getting knocked around, feeling dizzy for days? The money was terrible.”
He drank some Coke. Licked his lips.
Milo said, “So what can you tell us about Vita Berlin?”
“What can I tell you,” Belleveaux echoed. “That’s a complicated question.”
“Why’s that, sir?”
“She wasn’t the easiest… okay, look, I don’t want to be speaking bad of the dead. ’Specially someone who- what happened to her. No one deserves that. No one, no matter what.”
I said, “She had a difficult personality.”
“So you know what I’m talking about.”
I didn’t deny it. “Being her landlord could get complicated,” I prompted.
Belleveaux picked up the soda can. “Does what I tell you go in some kind of record?”
Milo said, “There’s a problem with that?”
“I don’t want to get sued.”
“By who?”
“Someone in her family.”
“They’re difficult as well?”
“Don’t know,” said Belleveaux. “Never met them. I just believe in being prepared, ounce of prevention and all that.”
“No particular reason you’re worried about being sued.”
“No, but those kinds of things,” said Belleveaux. “Traits. Orneriness. Runs in families, right? Like Emmaline. My mother-in-law. Her sisters are all like her, scrappy, always ready to tussle. It’s like stepping into a cage of badgers.”
“Vita Berlin threatened to sue you?”
“About a million times.”
“What for?”
“Anything that bothered her,” said Belleveaux. “Leaky roof, she doesn’t get a call-back in an hour, I’ll sue you. Torn carpet, I’m at risk of tripping and breaking my neck, fix it fast or I’ll sue you. That’s why I got irked when she demanded I show up for the toilet and wasn’t there when she said she’d be. That’s why I decided to use my key and go in there and fix it. Even though I knew she’d call me up and bitch about entering the premises without her permission. Which the landlord association says I can do at my discretion for just cause. Which includes reasonable repairs requested by the tenant. Turns out the toilet was fine.”
Milo said, “You went into the bathroom?”
“I listened while I was looking at her. I know it’s crazy but I couldn’t move for a few seconds, just stood there trying not to hurl my breakfast. And it was quiet, toilet’s out of whack you hear it. So I thought about that: It wasn’t even broken.”
I said, “Vita enjoyed giving you a hard time.”
“Don’t know if she enjoyed it, but she sure did it.”
“Did you try to evict her?”
Belleveaux laughed. “No grounds, that’s the way the law works. To get evicted, a tenant’s just about got to…” He stopped short. “I was going to say they’ve got to kill someone. Oh, man, this is terrible.”
I said, “Seven years, eight months.”
“I bought the building four years five months ago, she came with it. I thought that meant good, long-term stable tenant. Then I learned different. Basically, she thought she owned it and I was her janitor.”
“Entitled,” I said.
“That’s a nice word for it,” he said.
“Cranky lady.”
“Okay,” he said, “I’ll come out and say it: She was a miserable specimen, didn’t have a good word for anyone. It’s like she had bile in her veins instead of blood. My guess is you’re not going to have too many people crying. Disgusted, yes, scared, yes. But not crying.”
“Disgusted by…”
“What happened to her.” Belleveaux’s eyes clamped shut again. The lids twitched. “Man, no one deserves that.”
“But no one’s going to mourn.”
“Maybe she’s got some family who’ll mourn,” he said. “But no one who had anything to do with her is going to say they miss her. I’m not stating that for a fact, I’m just guessing, but I’d put money on my guess. You want to see what I mean, go over to Bijou, it’s a coffee shop on Robertson. She ate there from time to time, made their lives miserable. Same for the Feldmans, the downstairs tenants. Nice young couple, they’ve been here a year, are ready to move ’cause of her.”
“Neighbors’ dispute.”
“No dispute, she harassed them. They’re on the bottom floor, she’s on top but she’s the one complaining about footsteps. Actually made me come up to her place to listen a bunch of times, all I heard was her bitching, she’s saying, ‘See, hear that, Stan? They’re clomping around like barbarians.’ Then she lies down puts her ear to the carpet, makes me do it. That position, maybe I pick up a little sound but nothing serious. But I lie, tell her I’ll talk to them. Just to keep her out of my hair, you know? I did nothing about it, she dropped it. The next time, it’s something else-they fill the trash bins too high, they park their cars wrong, she thinks they snuck in a cat and it’s a no-pet building. What happened was there was a stray cat came to the back door, looked like it was starving, they gave it some milk. Which is the human thing to do, right? Now the Feldmans are going to leave for sure and I’ll have both units vacant. Should’ve put my pension money in gold bars or something.”
Milo said, “Sounds like Vita was a little paranoid.”
“That’s a word for it,” said Belleveaux. “But it was more like she wanted attention and being mean was a way to get it.”
“She have any friends?”
“None I ever saw.”
“And you live across the street.”
“Part of the problem. She knew where to find me. Here I was thinking the building would be perfect, convenient, no need to drive. Next time I buy, it’s in another state. Not that there’ll be a next time. Market was up, I’d sell everything.”
“What can you tell us about her daily routine?”
“From what I saw she kept to herself, didn’t go out much.”
“Except for meals.”
“Once in a while she’d walk over to Bijou. I know because I’ve been there myself, saw her a couple times. Cheap and good, I’d be there more but the wife’s into cooking, takes lessons, likes to try stuff out. Now it’s French, that’s why I’m not skinny like I used to be.”
Milo said, “Vita eat anywhere else besides Bijou?”
