Milo said, “Kiddie Jail?”
“County facility,” said Sterling. “Alleged safekeeping for toddlers. Jarr-o looked okay physically but he was totally blitzed emotionally and when he saw me he latched onto me like one of those monkeys you see in those nature shows my twins used to watch. For a long time he was quiet, spaced out, waking up in the middle of the night. Couple of years later, he’s okay. I got him into a Montessori preschool not far from here, very highly rated. I had my mom check, she used to be a teacher and she gave the thumbs-up. So he seems okay. For the most part. But sitting in that fucking boat for what, an hour?”
He rolled his hands into fists. “If I knew who was behind it, I’d... not going to say what I’d do.”
Milo said, “Horrible situation.”
“Beyond horrible,” said Sterling. “So why’s LAPD all of a sudden involved?”
“Whitney’s murder may be related to one of ours.”
“How so?”
“Sorry, sir, can’t get into that.”
“Yeah, yeah, got it. But the truth is, I don’t have any more to tell you than I would’ve with those clowns if they had talked to me. So sorry if you wasted your time.”
I said, “Could you tell us about the relationship between Whitney and yourself?”
“Not relevant, but sure, why not?” said Sterling. Another attempt at a leg-cross. Another reversal. Finding it difficult to get comfortable. He swung his legs up and lay across the couch.
“Like at the shrink’s office,” he said. “Our relationship, such as it was, started when Whitney came to do the books at the company. They tell me a CPA’s coming, I’m expecting some mumbly bald dude and she walks in. I assume you’ve seen pictures of her.”
“We have.”
“So you know. Gorgeous. Hotter than hot. But different from your typical L.A. woman. Like she didn’t care about being hot. Later I found, she just didn’t care what you thought of her, period. She was different from the get-go. All business, no flirty-flirt. But man, I was smitten. I’d been divorced for twelve years, first wife’s the typical L.A. woman, probably running up a major-league Botox bill on the sucker she snagged. Not that Whitney needed Botox. She was young. Fresh. I just fell, man. I was hers, whatever she wanted.”
He sniffed. Dried his eyes again. “First CPA thing visit, I held back. Second, I asked her out and she said yes. Like she’d been expecting it. I’m planning to take it slow, be a gentleman, she’s clearly one of those who needs time. But she didn’t. That night was... her idea, she ran the whole show. I assumed she was taking birth control, why wouldn’t I? Turns out Jarrod was conceived that night. She didn’t tell me for a couple of months. When she did obviously I was freaked out but happy. ’Cause I was really into her. And she seemed into me. Then she wasn’t. Why? She wouldn’t say. It was like a switch got flipped. You’re on, Jay, now you’re off. By then I realized how different she really was. Personality-wise. Not into expressing her feelings. Icy calm. If she wasn’t so hot she’d be tagged as a nerd. Even with that, basically a loner.”
“When you broke up,” I said, “was she still pregnant?”
“Yup, seven months,” said Sterling. “And we didn’t break up. She dumped me. Just stopped taking my calls. I thought it might be hormones, once she had the kid it would change. But it didn’t. She never wavered. That was Whitney, once she made up her mind, don’t waste your breath.”
“Was child support—”
“Not an issue, my friend. I’d been paying for the twins for twelve years, never missed a month, am still footing their tuition. So what was another kid? Problem was, Whitney started out letting me see Jarr-o, then she flipped another switch. Canceling appointments, changing her number and not giving it to me. I go by her apartment, no answer. I’m like what the fuck’s going on? Is she isolating him or something? Then I started to think, she’s different, maybe she wants Jarrod to be different in the same way.”
“Not social.”
“Totally asocial. I’m telling you, she had no friends, not a one. Said she hated her mother. Which I couldn’t relate to, I love my mother. I’ve got tons of friends. I didn’t want my son brought up to be a loner weirdo, so I called my attorney and he got me a good family lawyer and I sued to get joint custody, physical and legal — there’s a difference. Then when I found out I was moving to the Big Apple, I amended it to full custody. Lawyer said I didn’t have much chance but I could probably get joint and because Jarrod was so young, there could be mandated transportation.”
He swung back to a sitting position. “It went on for nearly two years. And that’s where it stood when it happened. See what I mean about sending in the clowns?”
Milo said, “Not exactly.”
“C’mon,” said Jay Sterling. “Custody battle, one party gets mysteriously killed and the other ends up with the kid? You wouldn’t suspect me? You’d be happy with a five-minute phone call and no follow-up?” He shook his head. “You say yes, please leave.”
“You wanted to be investigated thoroughly.”
“It’s not a matter of that. Lieutenant.” As if unsure the title was merited. “I had nothing to do with it but at least try, okay? Then I know you’re going to be trying every other thing.”
“Makes sense,” said Milo. “So you’re okay with letting us examine your financial records.”
“Don’t you need a court order or something for that?”
“Not if you voluntarily grant permission.” Milo tapped his attaché case. “We could write up a release, here and now.”
“Financial records,” said Sterling, shifting his body back and forth. “What exactly are we talking about?”
“Bank and brokerage accounts, anything else that might produce interesting withdrawals.”
“To pay someone to shoot my girlfriend? I’m that kind of murderous fuckhead, I’m going to leave a trail?”
Milo smiled. “How would you go about it, then? Speaking theoretically.”
“I don’t know,” said Sterling. “Because I’ve never hired anyone to shoot anyone, including Whitney. But sure, you want to look at my finances, go right ahead. Give me your form and I’ll sign it right now.”
Snapping open the case, Milo drew out a sheet of paper and used the hard top as a writing surface. A few minutes later, he was up on his feet and handing the sheet to Sterling.
Sterling lifted his glasses, perched them on his nose, and read. “This is it? No official form?”
“No need to get complicated, sir.”
“You’re right about that, Lieutenant.” No doubt about the title now. Jay Sterling was grinning. “I think I could possibly like you. I think if anyone can figure out who the fuck shot Whitney it could possibly be you.”
He scrawled, held out the paper. “Signed and dated, do your thing.”
Milo said, “Please list all your accounts at the bottom.”
“It’s not like there’s a collection of them,” said Sterling. “Got a checking at Chase and a brokerage dealie at Morgan Stanley.”
“Please supply the account numbers.”
“You think I know those by heart? Hold on.” He stood, grimaced in pain, muttered, “Bursitis,” and went up the stairs, gripping the banister. Several minutes passed, during which the sound of Sterling’s deep voice filtered down. Lecturing about the fine points of vacuuming.
He returned with a pale-blue Post-it that he handed to Milo along with the impromptu release.
“Ms. OCD, found her doing the same thing up there. Dusting one spot over and over.”
Milo said, “Thanks, sir,” and placed the papers back in the attaché case.