“Piano?”
“Guitar.”
“Huh. So you never fooled with dope, either.”
“A little weed.”
He grinned. “That’s acceptable.”
I said, “So you got the address on Evada and began watching him.”
“I got it but I chickenshitted out of going up to him. It was this real nice neighborhood. A lot nicer than where we ever lived. That seemed so totally wrong, he was a rich guy and Mom was...”
He looked away. “I got kind of a hollow feeling, drove back to Santa Barbara feeling like a total loser. For a long time I thought about... doing a bad thing. I always chickenshitted out. Smoked weed, not going to lie to you, also beer. Trying not to feel, you know?”
“Sure.”
“But I still felt, Doc. Shitty and like a loser and tired. At night, I played at The Carpenter and other bars. During the day I had nothing to do so I hung out on the beach, slept in the Camaro — is it okay? The Camaro?”
“Safe and sound,” I said. After being gone over with an LAPD technical comb. “You mind if it gets a wash and wax?”
Big smile. “Sure. The tags—”
“Taken care of.”
“Wow,” he said.
“So you hung at the beach.”
“Always liked the beach. ’Specially when there wasn’t a lot of people around. Sometimes down in Carpenteria or Oxnard, sometimes back in the city near Stearn’s Wharf. Mom used to take me there, we’d go up to the pier, have fried shrimp, look at the sea lions.”
Brown eyes filmed.
I said, “Stearn’s is where you met Hal.”
“Yeah. He was also hanging out. Sitting on a blanket, I was sitting on sand. I thought he was a pervert because when I looked at him, he smiled. But he didn’t do anything pervy, just looked at the water and drank Diet Coke except if he’d catch me looking, then he’d smile. I still thought he was weird. Then he got up and came over, limping, and said, ‘You okay, son?’ ”
Cory grimaced. “The way he said it. Like he meant it. Like... he could tell I was a messed-up loser. Like he... I didn’t want to tell him anything but I don’t know why, I ended up telling him.”
“About your mom.”
“About her. About him, an evil fucker living in Pacific Palisades. He sat down next to me on the sand, listened and didn’t say nothing. When I was finished, he said, ‘I’m no superhero, kid, but if you’re scared to face him alone, I can go with you.’ I should’ve decided he’s definitely a perv. But I didn’t. Something about the way he — I know I could’ve been totally ripped off but I guess I wasn’t. So I guess I was right.”
“Hal was sincere.”
“But I told him no, thanks. He said, ‘Just putting it out there.’ Then I got a little mad and said why would you do that, you don’t know me? He said, ‘Yeah, it’s pretty stupid and weird but I’ve had my problems, I know what problems are, kid.’ Then he pointed to his leg, said he’d messed it up a long time ago, couldn’t work a real job, was always trying to find usefulness in his life. Or something like that.”
“He wanted his life to be meaningful.”
“That’s the word he used! Meaningful, everyone needed to be meaningful. I told him my meaningful was finding Mom and having the fucking devil punished. I told him I’d given up, now it was just piano that filled in... the spaces in my brain. He said, ‘At least you’re good at one thing, most people aren’t.’ I’m thinking how does he know, he never heard me? But why argue, someone says something nice?”
He choked back a sob. “He was a great guy. I’m so sorry for what happened to him.”
“Not your fault.”
“I let him do it.”
“Talking to Paul was his decision, Cory.”
“That’s all it was supposed to be! Talking. What he called ‘appealing to his humanity.’ I said I don’t think he has any, he said everyone has some. So I gave him the address. He was supposed to call me after he went but he didn’t. I figured he changed his mind and never went. I got mad at him. For being another bullshitter. I knew where he lived because he gave me his address, told me I could crash there if I needed. I went there to talk to him. A bunch of times but chickenshitted out. The last time I really was going to knock on his door but there was this old guy giving me the evil eye so I got out of there. Thinking the Camaro, the tags, if the cops came, I’d lose my home.”
He threw up his undamaged hand, stared at the other, as if it had let him down.
“It was messed up, Doc, I was angry with everyone. Then I decided, take care of your own business, dude. When I had enough gas, I went back to Pacific Palisades, late at night, so no one would see me. Did it a bunch of times, I’d park blocks away and walk and look at his house. I never saw much. That was the bad part of at night. Nothing can happen. Except, then...”
“You did see something.”
“Nothing important, this girl, from next door. She’d come out and look at the other house — on the other side. Sometimes she’d smoke, sometimes she’d just stand there, I thought she was weird.”
I said, “Eventually, you discovered the Marquette house. And the cabin in Arrowhead.”
“Both of them were kind of connected. One night, I was watching and finally, she came out. Not the girl. His new wife. Her.” Grimacing.
“She came out late at night, got into the truck, and left, so I followed. I thought maybe I’d tell her about him, mess him up at least a little. I don’t really know what I was thinking, Doc. I’d already spent so much time watching and nothing happened, I felt like a loser... she drove to the other place. The place where she...”
He shuddered. Limp hair swayed. “It was weird. She drove into the garage but came right out and waited. This was like two in the morning. Soon after, the Range Rover showed up. I recognized it because it was from next door — where the weird girl came out of. But she wasn’t driving, a guy was. I’d seen him, too, coming home in a black Uber or some kind of limo. The guy who lived there, big, he looked like a coach.”
“Chet Corvin.”
“Didn’t know his name, just that he was next door. She got into the Rover and they left. I figured maybe I’d tell him. Your wife’s doing the guy from right next door and you don’t have a clue, you’re a total loser. Turns out, he did have a clue, huh, Doc?”
“You followed them all the way to Arrowhead?”
“Barely made it, barely had gas money but I’d done a few extra gigs at The Carpenter, also a pizza place in Goleta, rich college kids, no one tipping but I had at least some dough. When I hit San Bernardino, I needed to fill up but I was lucky, so did they. I pulled into the same station they did, they never noticed me.”
Smiling. “I’m like that. Invisible.”
“I’m not so sure about that, Cory.”
“No? Hang out with me and you’ll see, I just kind of fade out—” Blushing. “I’m not being weird, Doc.”
“I know that. So you drove to Arrowhead.”
“All the way up to that pointy house. I turned my lights off for the last part of it, pretty hairy driving in the dark except for I could see their taillights. They went into the house, his hand was on her ass, her hand was on his pants, in front, over his dick, it was pretty obvious this was their fuck pad. I’m thinking, Asshole, I’m going to take pictures, want to see the look on your face when I tell you you’re a loser. Then all of a sudden, he shows up.”
“Paul.”
“I don’t even use his name, he’s Mr. Evil... yeah, him, in his Taurus, he drives right past me, I was off the side of the road, it was dark, under some trees, I nearly shit. What if he was there from the beginning and saw me get gas? But I guess he didn’t because he just cruised up the road and sat there looking.”