Obsession

Fortuno removed a loafer, slipped a finger between his toes, dug and scratched, produced something that seemed to intrigue him.

Petra said, “Mary Whitbread.”

“Her given name is Maria Baker. Her hometown is Chicago.”

“Old neighbor?” said Petra.

“We grew up in different neighborhoods. I became acquainted with Maria through my activities in law enforcement.”

“You were a cop?”

“I contemplated becoming one. Only briefly, all the perfidy and corruption…no offense, assorted gendarmes, but Chicago was quite a city back then and sometimes it was difficult to differentiate the good guys from the miscreants.”

“What was your association with the cops?”

“I did some security consulting to various political figures. Occasionally that led me to interface with your Windy City counterparts. Because of my familiarity with various individuals of Italian ancestry-”

“Uh-uh, nope,” said Wanamaker.

“Wesley,” said Fortuno, “at some point you need to develop a sense of trust. I have no intention of breaching our agreement, if for no other reason than a breach would not be in my best interests. The events that interest Detective Connor predate any you’d be concerned with and I am simply providing context-”

“Provide it another way.”

Fortuno drew back his lips, scratched pale, pink gum. “I met Maria Baker over thirty years ago.”

“Where?” said Petra.

“If my recollection serves me well, the first time was at a club called The Hi Hat. Maria danced there, as well as at other nighteries.” Lizard-smile. “Sans clothing. The Hat and the others were owned by various individuals of…a certain Mediterranean descent. From time to time, Maria became romantically entangled with some of these various individuals as well as with other individuals.”

“Other?”

Fortuno smiled. “Comedians, drummers, assorted riffraff. Maria was rather…easy to please. Unfortunately, there came a time when one of the individuals-of a certain descent-became deceased in a highly non-natural manner and Maria Baker became concerned for her personal safety. I, having just moved to Los Angeles, and through my associations with law enforcement in both cities, was able to facilitate her passage here. Maria took well to the climate. Meteorologically and professionally.”

“The profession being stripping.”

“As well as other aspects of show business.”

Milo said, “She became a casting agent.”

Fortuno broke into laughter.

“What’s funny?” said Petra.

“Who told you that?”

“She did.”

“Maria, Maria,” said Fortuno. Humming a few bars from the West Side Story tune. “That was music, Leonard Bernstein…Detectives, the primary aspect of casting that Maria Baker ever encountered was removing her clothing for gentlemen in Canoga Park.”

“Porn actress?” said Petra.

“I’m sure none of us are devotees of the genre,” said Fortuno. “However, we all know that the real Hollywood is Canoga Park.”

“Mary Whitbread was her stage name? That doesn’t sound too sexy.”

“The genre relies upon cliches, Detective. Or used to, back when the product was shown in theaters and plots were believed essential. One common motif is the innocent maid debauched. One rather successful film was a full- length feature titled Losing Her Innocence. The story line was hackneyed but effective. A Victorian chambermaid travels to London and is seduced by lords and dukes and the like.”

“The maid was Mary Whitbread.”

“Thirty years ago,” said Fortuno, “she had girl-next-door looks. The director thought she was so perfect that he used her real name as the basis for her nom de film.”

“Baker to Whitbread.”

Fortuno closed his eyes. “The essence of wide-eyed Victorian purity. Even as her orifices were explored.”

“Who was the director?”

“A gentleman named Salvatore Grasso. Deceased.”

“In a highly unnatural manner?”

“If you consider a stroke unnatural.”

“Wide-eyed purity,” said Milo. “You’re a fan of her work.”

“On the contrary, Lieutenant Sturgis. It bores me.” Half shutting his lids. “As I’m sure it does you.”

“Did your relationship with Mary ever turn personal?”

“With me,” said Fortuno, “everything is personal.” Turning away from Milo he faced Petra and leered. “Did I fuck her?”

She didn’t budge.

“The answer is yes. I fucked her. I fucked her at will, every which way, on numerous occasions. That doesn’t make me the member of an exclusive club. Nor was the relationship emotional.”

“Casual sex.”

“Your generation didn’t invent it, dear.”

“Tell us about the relationship.”

“I just did.”

“You helped her move to L.A., set her up in the porn business, and sampled the wares.”

“I didn’t set her up. I introduced her to various individuals. My sampling of the wares was by mutual consent.”

“Blaise De Paine is twenty-eight. You’ve known him since he was born.”

“I have.”

“What can you tell us about him?”

“Nothing more than I already have.”

“What’s the relationship between De Paine and his mother like.”

“Such as it is.”

“They don’t get along?”

“Mary probably thinks she’s a wonderful mother.”

“She isn’t?”

“Actresses,” said Fortuno. “It’s all about them.”

“Who’s his father?”

Fortuno held up his palms.

“There’s something you don’t know?” said Petra.

“There are many, many things I don’t know, Detective Connor. In this case, paternity would be difficult to ascertain. As I said, Mary was eclectic.”

“Was?”

“I haven’t had contact with her in a while.”

“Why’s that?”

“She lost her interest in courtesanship and found a substitute passion.”

“What’s that?” said Petra.

“Real estate. She owns buildings, collects rent, believes that makes her nobility.”

“How’d she get the money to buy buildings?”

“The old-fashioned way,” said Fortuno. “She fucked for it.”

“Any person in particular?”

“Quite the opposite.”