Bad Love

I said, "She made a point of telling me she didn't do therapy anymore- another mind game… why didn't the fact that she was working with Hewitt ever come out after Becky's murder?"

The hand went over his face. "We didn't ask, and no one volunteered. Why would they? Everyone saw it as psycho kills girl. And we killed the psycho. No one suspected a damn thing- none of the staffers at the center or Dick Jeffers. He's pretty freaked out now. Coming to grips with the monster he's been living with. Says he's willing to testify against her- whether or not he sticks with that remains to be seen."

"An affair," I said. "So goddamned mundane. Jean sleeps with Coburg for five years, but Becky gets the death penalty… typical psychopathic thinking, the ego out of control: you hurt me, I kill you."

"Yeah," he said, drinking and licking his lips. "So tell me, specifically, how would you get a nut like Hewitt to kill?"

"I'd pick someone with strong paranoid tendencies whose fantasies got violent when he was off his medicine. Then I'd get him off his medicine, either by convincing him to stop taking it or by substituting a placebo, and try to get as much control as I could over his psyche as he deteriorated. Maybe use some age-regression techniques- hypnosis or free association, bring him back to his childhood- get him to confront the helplessness of childhood. To feel it. The pain, the rage."

"The screams," he said.

I nodded. "That's probably why they taped him. They got him to scream out his pain, played it back for him- you remember how hard it was to listen to. Can you imagine a schizophrenic dealing with that? Meanwhile, they're also teaching him about bad love, evil shrinks- indoctrinating him, telling him he's been a victim. And insinuating Becky into the delusion, as a major-league evil shrink- the purveyor of bad love. They continue to increase his paranoia by praising him for it. Convincing him he's some kind of soldier on a mission: get Becky. Then they transfer him to her. But I'll bet Jean continued to see him on the side. Prepping him, directing him. Backed up by Coburg- another authority figure for Hewitt. And the beauty of it is even if Hewitt hadn't been killed at the scene and had talked, who would have believed him? He was crazy."

"That's about the way I had it," he said. "But hearing you organize it that way helps."

"It's not hard evidence."

"I know, but the circumstantial case is building up, bit by bit. The DA's going to let Coburg's attorney know how extensively Jeffers is ratting him out, then offer a deal: no death penalty in return for Coburg ratting on Jeffers over Becky. My bet is Coburg takes it. We'll get both of them."

"Poor Becky."

"Yeah. Guess how she and Dick got started? Jean had Becky over for di

"Mrs. Basille said she thought Becky had a new beau. Becky wouldn't talk about it, which led Mrs. Basille to suspect it was someone she wouldn't have approved of- what she called a loser. Becky'd gone with married men before- guys who promised to get divorced but never did. Dick was exactly her type- married and disabled."

"What does disabled have to do with it?"

"Becky had a thing for guys with problems. Wounded birds. Jeffers' missing leg meshed nicely with that."

"He's missing a leg? That's what the limp is?"

"He wears a prosthesis. Becky's dad was diabetic. Lost some of his limbs."

"Jesus." He smoked. "So maybe there is something to this psychology stuff, huh?"

I thought about Becky Basille, trapped in a locked room with a madman. "Everything Jean and Coburg did was part of the ritual. Like forging Becky's therapy notes and scripting them to make it seem Becky was having an affair with Hewitt. In addition to diverting us, once more, to Gritz, it added insult to injury by humiliating Becky. As if that could undo the humiliation Becky'd caused Jean."

He stubbed out his cigar. "Speaking of Gritz, I think I found him. Once I realized Coburg and Jeffers were probably using him as a distraction, I figured the poor sucker's life expectancy wasn't too great and started to call around at morgues. Long Beach has someone who fits his description perfectly. Multiple stab wounds and ligature around the neck- a guitar string."

"The next Elvis. I'd check Coburg's guitar case."

"Del Hardy already did. Coburg's got a bunch of guitars. And a phase shifter and other recording stuff. In one of the cases was a set of brand-new strings. Missing the low E. The other interesting things that came up were a man's shirt too small to be Coburg's, torn up and used for a rag, still stinking of booze. And an old Corrective School attendance roster with nineteen seventy-three ripped out."

"Small shirt," I said. "Gritz was a little man."

He nodded. "And a client of the law center. Coburg had gotten him off a theft thing, too, couple of months ago."

"Any indication he ever knew Hewitt?"

"No."

"Poor guy," I said. "They probably lured him with notions of being a recording star- let him play with the guitars and the gizmos, make a demo. That's why he talked about getting rich. Then they killed him and used him as a red herring. No family co

"Near the harbor. Naked, no ID, quite a bit worse for wear. He'd been in one of their coolers with a John Doe toe tag. They figure he's been dead anywhere from four days to a week."

"Right around the time you called Jeffers and asked her to speak to me. You said she thought she recognized my name. When I got there she pretended it was because of the Casa de los NiÑos case. But she knew it from Coburg's hit list- it must have shocked them, their next victim in their face, like that. Your making the co

"There was no way to know," he said. "These people are from another planet."

"That lunch with Jeffers," I said, feeling suddenly chilled. "She sat across from me- touching my hand, letting loose the tears. Bringing Dick along was another ritual: Becky vanquished, Jean was showing off her spoils. After we were finished eating, she insisted on walking me to my car. Stood on the sidewalk, misbuttoned her sweater, and had to redo it. Probably a signal to Coburg, waiting somewhere across the street. She stayed with me all the way to the Seville- tagging the car for Coburg. He followed me up to Benedict and learned where I was hiding out."

He shook his head. "We hadn'ta caught them, they'd probably run for office."

"At lunch, I told Jeffers that I was going to Santa Barbara the next day to talk to Katarina. That got them worried I'd learn something- maybe even bring back the school roster. So they were forced to break sequence- Coburg beat me up there and killed Katarina before me. And tossed the house. Any idea why Coburg called himself Silk and Merino?"

"I asked the asshole. He didn't answer, just smiled that creepy smile. I started to walk out and then he said, "Look it up.' So I did. In the dictionary. "Coburg' is an old English word for imitation silk or wool… Enough of this, my head's splitting… How are you and Robin doing?"