Obsession

“Mini-mini-mini, dude, even accounting for the shrivel factor. Bad career choice, Pencil-Dick.”

“Uh, uh, uh-” Exaggerated falsetto. “-is there something in there, Bronco?”

Allen Holzman said, “Good job, guys. Now shut the hell up and someone volunteer for the paperwork.”

The career the cops had mocked was porn actor. Videos found in Mary Whitbread’s apartment documented Robert Fisk’s audition, two years ago, for a Canoga Park outfit called Righteous & Raw Productions.

Financial documents in Mary’s attic showed her to be a shareholder in the company, which had folded thirteen months after incorporation.

No sign Fisk had ever worked for her or anyone else.

Plenty of tapes and CDs from Righteous & Raw’s backlog in a small half basement, but no souvenirs of Mary’s career.

No evidence of excavation there, or in the backyard.

Mary’s terror had left her thighs urine-stained, but she calmed down quickly and asked for a robe while flaunting her body.

Petra found a kimono and helped her slip into it. “Where’s Peterson?”

Mary said, “That little shit? Why would I know? Or care?”

“Robert Fisk is a-”

“No, no, no, no! Stop talking to me, I want my lawyer.”

CHAPTER 40

Robert Fisk didn’t ask for an attorney.

Thanking Petra for getting him the bottled water, he sat Buddha-placid.

The menacing skinhead of his mug shot had been replaced by a neat cap of dark hair. The pallid wicket framing his mouth memorialized a recently shaved mustache. Smallish mouth, delicate like the rest of him. But for the brocade of body ink extending from under his cuffs and snaking above his collar, a nondescript man.

Ramrod posture suggested a dance instructor or personal trainer. So many of those in L.A.

Picking him out on a dark street with only the mug shot as reference spoke volumes about Raul Biro’s skills. Biro sat near Petra, both of them watching Fisk across the table. Milo and I were on the other side of the glass.

Fisk drank his water, put the cup down, smiled. An instant of sharp, wolfish teeth caused Petra to inch back. Fisk might’ve sensed that he’d given something away. He shut his mouth, sat low to make himself smaller.

“Anything else I can get you, Robert?”

“No, I’m fine, Detective Co

“You know why you’re here.”

“Not really, Detective Co

“Care to take a guess?”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Petra shuffled papers and watched him.

Fisk didn’t move.

“Does the name Lester Jordan ring a bell?”

“Of course,” said Fisk. “He was Blaise’s father. Blaise killed him.”

“And you know that because…”

“I was there, Detective Co

“At the murder.”

“Blaise asked me to be there, but what happened took me by surprise.”

“Why’d Blaise ask you to be there?”

“Moral support,” said Fisk. “That’s what I assumed.”

“Why would Blaise need moral support?”

“Lester had hit him before.”

“You saw that?”

“Blaise told me. Lester was an addict. That means unpredictable.”

“How well did you know Lester?”

“I saw him a few times. Always with Blaise.”

“Father-son business transactions.”

“I had nothing to do with that part of it.”

“What part?”

“Narcotics. Never touched dope in my life. Never tasted alcohol, my parents drank, I saw what it did.”

“Clean living.”

“You can do any tests you want,” said Fisk. “My blood is clean. I don’t eat red meat or refined sugars, either. If people didn’t eat meat there’d be no global warming.”

“Really?” said Petra.

“Cows fart and mess up the atmosphere.”

Raul Biro said, “Why don’t we just give ’em Beano?”

Petra smiled. Fisk didn’t.

She said, “Let’s get back to Blaise and Lester. You were there when Blaise went to sell his father drugs.”

Long silence.

“Robert?”

“Blaise didn’t tell me.”

“You went along for protection.”

“Moral support.”

“When you went to Lester’s apartment, you just walked in through the front door with Blaise.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Fisk.

“Hmm,” said Petra. “Then it’s kind of fu

Fisk’s wrists rotated. His new smile was tight-lipped. “That’s weird.”

“Weird but true, Robert.” She slid the AFIS match over to him.

Fisk barely glanced at it. “I’m not picturing this sill.”

“Outside Lester Jordan’s bedroom window.”

“Whoa,” said Fisk. “That’s bizarre.”

“You didn’t enter through the window?”

Fisk gazed at the ceiling. A minute passed, then another. Petra crossed her legs. Raul Biro stared at Fisk.

Fisk said, “Let me ask you something, Detective Co

“Sure, Robert.”

“If a window is already open and you climb in, is that breaking and entering?”

Milo muttered, “Idiot’s up for a murder bust and he’s worried about B and E.”

“Hmm, interesting question,” said Petra, turning to Raul.

Raul said, “Never thought about that.”

“That’s what happened, Robert? The window was left open?”

“Let’s just say.”

“Well,” she said, “I guess it wouldn’t be breaking and entering, because there was no breaking.”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” said Robert Fisk.

“Who left the window open?”

“Blaise.”

“Why’d he do that, Robert?”

“Tactical,” said Fisk. “Like I said, he was scared of Lester, used to get beat by him.”

“And having you come in through the back window helped because…”

“Element of surprise.”

“For when…”

“If something happened.”

“Which it did,” said Petra. “Something definitely happened.”

“I didn’t know that, Detective.”

“Tell me about it, Robert.”

“I came in like Blaise asked me to, stopped and listened, made sure there was no problem.”

“Blaise had reason to think there might be a problem.”

Long silence. “Lester called Blaise to come over, said Blaise was in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Don’t know, but it made Blaise angry.” Fisk’s eyes shifted to the left. Petra didn’t push him. Any undue pressure could evoke the dreaded lawyer request. Mary Whitbread had already been released with no charges filed, an assistant D.A. opining that at most she was vulnerable for obstruction and even that was doubtful.

Petra said, “So you went in and listened. Then what?”

“It was quiet,” said Fisk. “I figure everything’s mellow. Blaise says, ‘I’m in the crapper, Robert.’ I go over, the door’s open, Blaise is standing next to Lester, Lester’s on the can, his spike and spoon and the rest of his works is on the sink, he’s fixed up, totally nodded off.”

“With stuff Blaise brought him.”

“I guess.”

“Then what?”

“Blaise laughs, that crazy bird laugh he does, gives Lester’s cheek a little slap, Lester doesn’t wake up. Blaise slaps him harder, laughs again, says, ‘I fixed him a nuclear-hit, he’s so gone, I could do anything.’”

“Anything,” said Petra.

“I didn’t figure he meant that,” said Fisk.

“What did you think he meant?”

Fisk’s eyes drifted left again. “Actually, that’s not exactly what he said.”

Petra waited.

Fisk said, “It’s kind of gross.”

“I can handle it, Robert. What did Blaise say?”

“‘I could put my dick in his mouth, he wouldn’t know.’”

“Talking about his father like that?”

“I told you it’s gross. They’re not like father and son. More like…Blaise sells him dope, hates him. Blaise hates everyone. He’s insane.”

“That comment,” said Raul. “Is he gay?”

“Du

“You’ve been hanging with the guy for months.”

“I never saw him with a man,” said Fisk. “Or a woman. Mostly, he likes to look and…I don’t want to talk disgusting in front of you, Detective Co