Huenengarth frowned. 'Sometimes they are.'
I wondered if he knew what a joke was. Stephanie didn't care if he did; her expression said he danced on water.
'I've got a meeting scheduled at the house tomorrow night,' I said. 'I'll try to change it to the hospital. Can you have your equipment ready by then?'
'Probably. If not, it will be soon after--a day or two. But can you assure me the house will be totally empty? I'm ready to pounce on Daddy, I can't afford any screw-ups.'
I said to Stephanie, 'Why don't you call Chip and Cindy in for a meeting? Tell them something came up on the lab tests, you need to examine Cassie and then speak with them. Once they get there, make sure they stay for a long' time,' she said. 'I'll keep them waiting,
tell them the labs got lost or something.
Action, camera,' said Huenengarth.
'How come you can get Chip included in the warrant?' I asked him. 'Is he involved in his father's financial dealings?'
No answer.
I said, 'I thought we were being frank.'
'He's a sleaze, too, Huenengarth said, irritated.
'The fifty parcels he owns? Is that really one of Chuck's deals?'
He shook his head. 'The land deal's for shit--Chuck's too smart for that. Junior's a loser, can't hold on to a dollar. Gone through plenty of Daddy's already.'
'What's he spending it on besides land?' I said. 'His life-style's pretty ordinary.
'Sure, on the surface it is. But that's just part of the image: Mr. Self-made. It's a crock. That dinky junior college he teaches at pays him twenty-four thousand a year-think you can buy a house in Watts on that, let alone that entire tract? Not that he owns it, anymore.'
'Who does?'
'The bank that financed the deal.'
'Foreclosure?'
Any minute.' Big smile. 'Daddy bought the land at a bargain price, years ago. Gave it to Junior, the idea being that Junior would sell at the right time and get rich on his own. He even told Junior when the right time was, but Junior didn't listen.' The smile became a lottery-winner's grin. 'Not the first time, either. Back when Junior was at Yale, he started his own business: competition with Cliff Notes because he could do it better. Daddy bankrolled him, hundred thousand or so. Down the drain, because apart from its being a harebrained scheme, Junior lost interest. That's his pattern. He has a problem with finishing things. A few years later, when he was in graduate school, he decided he was going to be a publisher-start a sociology magazine for the lay public. Another quarter of a million of Daddy's dough. There've been others, all along the same lines. By my calculation, around a million or so urinated away, not including the land. Not much by Daddy's standards, but you'd figure someone with half a brain could do something constructive with that kind of grubstake, right? Not Junior. He's too creative.'
'What went wrong with the land?' I said.
'Nothing, but we're in a recession and property values dropped.
Instead of cashing in and cutting his losses, Junior decided to go into the construction business. Daddy knew it was stupid and refused to bankroll it, soo Junior went out and got a loan from a bank using Daddy's name as collateral. Junior lost interest as usual, the subcontractors saw they had a real chicken on their hands and started plucking. Those houses are built like garbage.'
'Six phases,' I said, remembering the architectural rendering.
'Not much completed.'
'Maybe half of one phase. The plan was for an entire city.
Junior's own personal Levittown.' He laughed. 'You should see the proposal he wrote up when he sent it to
