believe, all of us, including Dr. Angel, that she’s going to live to a ripe old age.”
“That’s fantastic.”
“I can’t say enough about Dr. Angel. If anyone fits their name, it’s her… but it’s still an ordeal. Cerise’s treatment. Her body’s sensitive, she reacts to everything. A few weeks ago, she finished another course, had to be hospitalized until her labs stabilized. Finally, we were able to take her home. We live in Playa Del Rey and were on the freeway when Cerise started crying, she was hungry. I got off at the next exit, which was Robertson, mostly fast-food places then this cafe-Bijou-that looked nice. If Cerise was going to eat, we wanted it to be good quality. Also, to be honest, it was lunchtime, my wife and I figured we’d eat, too. Madeleine’s a dance instructor, I’m a golf pro, we try to keep in shape.”
“Makes sense.”
“So we went in and ordered some food and everything was going okay, then Cerise got cranky. I guess we should’ve taken her home right then and there but her labs were really good… your kid goes through hell, she wants something, you give it to her, right?”
“Of course.”
“Still,” said Banforth. “We should’ve known, because sometimes after treatment, Cerise overestimates her strength.” His eyes watered. “She’s been through hell but she’s always trying to be strong.”
Fishing out a wallet, he showed me photos. A chubby-cheeked little girl sporting a mass of brass-colored ringlets, then the same child barely older, bald, paler, why-me eyes rendered huge by the shrinkage of the surrounding face.
I said, “She’s adorable,” was surprised by the catch in my voice.
“You see what I mean, it tugs at your heart, you say yes maybe when you shouldn’t.”
“Of course.”
“So that’s what we did and everything was okay for a while, then Cerise started to get super-cranky. Moaning, at first we thought she was in pain, but when we asked she said no but she couldn’t tell us what was bothering her, sometimes I think she really doesn’t know. Then all of a sudden she said what would make her happy was ice cream. Normally she gets ice cream once she’s finished her dinner, but…”
He made another attempt to cross his legs. Same discomfort and reversal. “Yes, we spoil her. Jared-our son, he’s ten-complains about it all the time. But with everything Cerise has gone through… anyway, we ordered ice cream but when it arrived Cerise changed her mind, started making noise again, the waitress came over and asked if she wanted a fresh donut, she said yes.”
Banforth’s forehead had slicked. He dabbed with a linen handkerchief. “Sure, she manipulates us. We figure it’s the only power she has, when she’s out of the woods, we’ll start to… anyway, at this point we’re thinking we definitely need to pay and leave but before I get my wallet out, the woman in the next booth shoots up like she’s been bitten in the butt, stamps over and glares down at Cerise. Like she hates her. Cerise is sensitive, she freaks out, starts wailing. A normal person would realize and back off. Not this one, she actually glares harder. Like she’s trying to break Cerise’s spirit, just break her in two, you know?”
“Unbelievable,” I said.
“My wife and I are too shocked to react. This woman evil-eyes me. I say, ‘What’s the problem?’ She says, ‘You people are. Sick people eat in hospitals not restaurants.’ I’m tongue-tied, I mean I can’t believe what I just heard, but Madeleine, she’s always rational, she starts to explain and this crazy woman, this terrible woman, waves her off and says, ‘ You people. What makes you think it’s okay to inflict your brat on the rest of us?’ And I just lost it, I mean I really lost it.”
Banforth looked at the floor. “I should’ve known better. I was in the military, trained to withstand pressure. But this was my kid. Calling Cerise a brat. It was like she was mixing up some explosive to make me blow and I understood that but still I lost it. Didn’t touch her, that crazy I’m not but I jumped up, got in her face, I tell you, Doctor, I was this close to doing something stupid but fortunately my army training helped. Also Madeleine’s got hold of my hand and she’s begging me to back off. So I did and the bitch went back to her booth but she kept on smirking at us. Like she won. We got the hell out of there, all three of us are real quiet. Including Cerise. But when we got home, she said, ‘I make everything bad.’ And oh, man, Madeleine and I just lost it in a whole different way. After Cerise went down for a nap we collapsed and bawled like babies.”
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“Yeah, it sucked. But we’re okay, now. And you know what, the next day, Cerise was fine, like it never happened.” He shrugged. “We roll with the punches. Cerise shows us the way.”
He fingered the chain, found the child figurines and touched each one.
“So why,” he said, “did I tell Dr. Angel I wanted to talk to you? Actually, it was her idea after I told her another part of the story, how it was weighing on me. She said she knew a doctor used to work here now works with that particular detective-I’m getting ahead of myself.”
A third leg-crossing endured but Banforth still looked as if he’d been forced into a painful contortion. “Here’s the part that’s going to sound weird. I went back there, Doc.”
“To Bijou.”
“A couple days later. I know it sounds crazy but I’d composed myself, thought maybe I’d go back and if by some chance she was there, I’d try to talk to her rationally. Educate her, you know? About sick kids, how you need to be flexible. I wanted to make it right-to be rational with her no matter how she behaved. So I could prove to myself I had it together.”
He looked to the side. “It was stupid, what can I say? Anyway, I went in and the owner-a long-haired guy with an earring-recognized me and was real nice, saying my family was welcome back anytime, he felt awful about what happened. I thanked him and then I asked if that woman ever came back, maybe one day I could explain to her about sick kids-keeping it friendly. And he got this weird expression and said, ‘Vita? She was murdered.’ I said, ‘Oh, crap, when?’ He said a few days after you were here. I’m speechless. I leave. But later, driving to work, I remember something that happened the day this Vita started up with us. I put it aside, for sure it’s nothing. But it stays in my head and I can’t stop thinking about it and finally I tell Dr. Angel.”
I waited.
John Banforth said, “When we left and reached our car a guy came out behind us. At first he walked the other way. Then he turned and walked toward us, I’m thinking oh no, another nutcase, so I hustle to get Cerise and Madeleine into the car. He comes closer and he’s smiling but I don’t know if it’s a friendly smile or a crazy smile, sometimes you can’t tell. I must’ve tensed up because he stops a few feet away and does this.”
He held both palms frontward. “Like I come in peace. I stay on my guard anyway and he winks and smiles. Friendly but also weird, I can’t tell you why I felt that, he just creeped me out. Then he winks again and gives the V-sign for victory and he walks away. It confused me and creeped me out but my mind was on getting home and settling Cerise. But when I found out this Vita got murdered, I start wondering but I’m like no way, he was just reassuring us, being a nice guy. But the V-sign didn’t fit that, it was like he was saying we were on the same team and we’d won. And that didn’t make sense. So it started bothering me, what if he thought he was doing us a favor? It’s probably nothing, I tend to dwell on stuff. I actually called the police and asked who’s handling the murder of a woman named Vita. It took them a while but finally they said Detective Sturgis, we’ll put you through. I hung up, figured they’d trace me, I’d get a call-back. But it never happened.”
“Police lines don’t have caller I.D.,” I said. “So people won’t be inhibited about giving tips.”
“Oh… makes sense. Anyway, I couldn’t stop wondering if he actually did it, some crazy sonofabitch who thought we were on the same side. Finally, I told Dr. Angel and she said funny thing, you worked with that exact detective and I said, whoa, karma, I definitely need to get this off my chest.”
Shrugging. “So here we are, Doc.”
“Thanks for getting in touch. What did the guy look like?”
“So it is relevant,” said Banforth. “Damn.”
“Not necessarily, John. At this point, the cops look at everything.”
“They don’t have a suspect?”
“They’ve got various bits of information that may or may not be important. What did he look like?”
“White guy,” he said. “Around thirty-five, forty. Heavyset, kind of a round face, that’s about it.”
“Hair color?”
“Brown-short, like it was growing back from a buzz.”
“Eye color?”
