But you’re telling us.

I said, “When did this happen?”

“A month after they were married. Barely back from their honeymoon. I was also married, and the four of us spent a weekend in Arrowhead- my first husband’s family owned a place on the lake, great place with a double dock. Everything was rolling along nicely until one day Sheila went down for a nap- she runs out of steam easily- and my then-hubby had to go to town on business- he was an investment banker. That left just Jerry and me. I went down to sun on the dock in my bikini, and a few minutes later, Jerry came by. We weren’t alone ten minutes before he made his move. And I’m not talking subtle. Hand down the bikini bottom.” She clawed her hand, made a swooping motion. “He does not have a gentle touch.”

The plate of hard cookies arrived along with our espressos. Eileen Paxton patted the waiter’s hand, selected a crescent, broke it in half, nibbled the tip.

“What did you do?” I said.

“I yanked Jerry’s goddamn hand out of there, told him what I’d do to his balls if he ever tried that again. He’s despised me ever since, and the feeling’s mutual. Not just because of that. Because of what he does to my sister.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s cheated on her consistently throughout the marriage.”

I didn’t answer.

She said, “Trust me, I know the bum. All those business trips, doing God knows what. The looks he gives me when we’re alone. Gives other women- the girls he hires as secretaries.”

“What about them?”

“Sluts. They’re supposed to be doing secretarial work, but don’t look as if they know how to type. He goes off doing his thing, doing God knows what, and Sheila basically lives alone. She has no friends, no social network. Which is the way it was when we were growing up. I always had a huge social circle. Sheila had trouble relating.”

I said, “Doing God knows what. Sheila said he was a metals dealer.”

“So I’ve heard,” Paxton said airily. She chewed on a biscotti.

“You have doubts?”

“He must do something, the bills get paid. Yes, he travels around trading aluminum, whatever. But when my husband- my new one- tried to talk to him about investing, Jerry wasn’t interested. And Ted’s a fabulous broker, someone who could help Jerry. My sense is Jerry isn’t great at what he does, has to hustle just to keep his head above. He moves his office every few years, travels all the time.”

“Hires sluts as secretaries.”

She hesitated. “Maybe I was being a little harsh. I just know what he did to me on the dock that day. And the way his eyes rove.”

I said, “You’re thinking this could be related to Gavin.”

“I want you guys to have all the facts, and I know no one else will give them to you. The family’s screwed up, and Gavin was a weirdo. I know Sheila and Jerry are going to tell you he was just a regular kid before the accident, but that’s not the way it was. Gavin had problems.”

“What kinds of problems?”

Eileen Paxton rubbed the biscotti against her top teeth, as if caressing the enamel. Her tongue snaked out and tickled the pastry, then she took a hard bite and chewed slowly.

“I wouldn’t be telling you this except I don’t want you misled.”

“We appreciate that, ma’am,” said Milo.

“Well, good,” said Paxton. “Because I do feel uncomfortable, divulging family issues.” She sipped latte like a cautious cat, licked foam from her upper lip.

“What kinds of problems did Gavin have?” I said.

“Like father, like son.”

“He was sexually predatory?”

“That sounds too harsh,” she said. “Gavin hadn’t developed into a predator. Yet. But he was… okay, there’s no reason not to tell you: Last year, Gavin ran into some legal problems over a woman.”

“Beth Gallegos,” said Milo.

Paxton’s face slackened with disappointment. “So you know.”

“It came up recently, ma’am. In fact, we were just talking about it to your sister.”

“You’re serious? Sheila must have gone bonkers. She blamed the victim, right?”

“Exactly, ma’am.”

“That’s always been her way of dealing with stress,” said Paxton. “My poor sister lives on another planet- well, yes, that was part of what I was going to tell you. But that was only Gavin’s most serious problem, there have been others.”

“Other women he stalked?”

“I know of at least one girl he harassed, and my guess would be more. Because that kind of behavior’s a pattern, right?”

“Sure,” said Milo. “Who’s the other victim?”

“Gavin had a girlfriend- some rich kid from the Flats, I only met her once, skinny little blond thing with a nose like a hawk. I found her kind of snotty. Her father’s a prominent jingle writer. Gavin got sexually aggressive with her, and she dumped him.”

“How do you know about this, ma’am?”

“Because Gavin told me.”

“Gavin talked to you about his personal issues?”

“From time to time.” Paxton smiled and caressed her own neck. “The young, hip aunt. He liked the fact that I’m in the industry, more in touch with pop culture than his parents. We’d chat from time to time. The time he told me about Little Miss Beverly Hills- I think her name was Katya, something like that- we were all out to dinner- right up the block at Il Principe, the food’s divine.”

“I’ll have to try it,” said Milo. “So this was a family dinner?”

“Gavin, Sheila, and I. Jerry was out of town. As usual.”

“How long ago?”

“Um, I’d say half a year, maybe more. Anyway, there we were enjoying the fabulous food- they cook sea bass in a wood oven, make their own pasta from scratch- and all of a sudden, Sheila wasn’t feeling well- another typical Sheila thing, she can’t enjoy anything, not even a good meal, without suffering- and she ran to the little girls’ room and stayed there for a while. Gavin started talking to me, he’d been looking kind of tense all night. Finally, I pried it out of him. He’d lost his girlfriend because she wasn’t interested in sex. He called her a ‘compulsive virgin.’ ”

She propped the chewed-down biscotti between her index fingers. Rolled it. Placed it on her plate. “I asked him what had happened, and he told me. While he was telling it, he really worked himself up. It was clear he was angry and frustrated.”

“About losing the relationship.”

“No, that was the thing. He said he couldn’t care less about having a girlfriend, it was not getting sex that griped him. It really made him angry.”

“This was after the accident.”

“Shortly after- maybe it was eight months ago. But Gavin was always easily frustrated. As a little boy he threw all kinds of tantrums.”

“Excitable,” I said. “And now he was all worked up about not getting sex.”

“He talked about sex as if it was his right. Said he and the girl, Katya, had been going together on and off since high school, it was about time she put out. Like there was a schedule you adhered to. Then he said everyone else was ‘fucking themselves blind,’ the whole world was one big fuckfest swimming in jizz and he deserved to swim, too, and she could just go to hell, he’d find someone else.”

“Lots of anger,” I said.

“He always had a bad temper. It got worse after the accident. It was like his emotional barometer was off- he just did or said what was on his mind. I mean, I’m his aunt and he’s talking about jizz in a booth at Il Principe. I was mortified. Important people dine at that place.”

“Gavin was talking loud?”

“His voice kept rising, and I had to keep telling him to lower it. I tried to reason with him, told him women weren’t machines, they needed to be cared for, sex could be fun, but it had to be mutual. He listened, actually seemed to be taking it in. Then he slid over in the booth, and said, ‘Eileen, thanks. You’re awesome.’ Then he grabbed my breast in one hand, the back of my head with the other, and tried to shove his tongue down my throat- Gio? A refill, please.”