“She advised you not to file.”

“I was ready to do it, I really was, but she said life would get really complicated faster than I could imagine. So I allowed the bastard to come home, but he’s not allowed to touch me, and I don’t talk to him unless the kids are present.”

Milo said, “That was a month ago. Between then and the night Dr. Koppel was killed, have you driven past her house?”

“All the time.”

“How often?”

“Every other day,” said Patty Gull. “At least. Sometimes every day. It’s on my way to go shopping, whatever, so why not? I figure if I do serve Franco, I might as well pile up the evidence. My friend says even with no-fault divorce, the more you can get, the better.”

“Have you seen his car there, since?”

“No,” she said. “Unfortunately. Maybe they’re doing it in the office. Or at some motel.”

She clenched her eyes shut.

Milo said, “You do think they continued their affair after you discovered them.”

Her eyes flipped open. “That’s what Franco does. Fucks and fucks and fucks. He’s sick.”

“How many other women has he-”

“No,” said Patty Gull. “I don’t want to go there. Some things are private.”

“Were any of them his patients?” said Milo.

“I don’t know about that. Franco’s business was his domain. That was the deal.”

“The deal.”

“The marriage deal. I gave up my career and my entire life for him and had kids, and he went out and provided.”

“He provide pretty well?”

She waved a languid hand around the dark, floral room. “He did okay.”

“Nice place.”

“I conceived it myself. I’m thinking of going back and studying decorating.”

“Mrs. Gull, in terms of the other women-”

“I said I don’t want to go there, okay? What’s the difference? I don’t know if he fucked his patients. I do know he fucked her. But he didn’t kill the bitch. I told you, he wasn’t there that night. And he doesn’t have the guts.”

“Where was he that night?”

“Some hotel, I forget- ask him which one.”

“How do you know he was there?”

“Because he called me and left his room number, and I called him back and he was there- the place on Beverly and Pico, used to be a Ramada, I don’t know what it is now.”

“What’d you guys talk about?”

“Nothing pretty,” she said. “Now please leave. I have things to do.”

“Don’t be offended by this question, ma’am, but where were you-”

“I didn’t kill the bitch either. Guns scare me, I’ve never even touched one. That’s one thing Franco and I have in common. We’re for outlawing guns, just despise what guns have done to our country. Besides, that night Franco wasn’t there with her, so why would I bother paying the bitch a visit?”

“You had reason to resent Dr. Koppel. Why not have a chat?”

“At that hour?”

“You were out driving at that hour.”

“Five minutes, back and forth,” said Patty Gull. “Just to see. I looked for his Benz, didn’t see it, drove back home, took an Ambien, and slept like a baby.”

Milo said nothing.

“Detective, if resentment was enough of a motive, I’d be killing tons of women, not just her.” She laughed, this time with genuine glee. “I’d be one of those serial killers.”

Out came the picture of the dead girl. “Know her, ma’am?”

Patty Gull’s bravado crumbled. Her mouth opened and her jaw shook. “Is she- she is, isn’t she?”

“Yes. Do you know her?”

“No, no, of course not- is she one of Franco’s- did he-”

“Right now, we don’t know who she is.”

“So why are you showing it to me- take it away, it’s horrible.”

Milo began to comply, but her hand shot out and held the photo in place.

“She looks like me. Not as pretty as I was at that age. But pretty enough, she’s a pretty girl.” She placed the photo in her lap, continued to stare.

“She looks like me. It’s horrible.”

CHAPTER 24

We left Patty Gull sitting in the room she’d decorated.

Outside, Milo said, “Scary lady. Am I sweating?”

“She hates her husband but is sure he didn’t kill Koppel, provides what she thinks is an alibi. But her not seeing Gull’s car at Koppel’s the night of the murder says nothing. It’s a two-car garage, he could’ve moved his inside. Especially after being caught once. Or, he made sure to park several blocks away. A third possibility is he checked into the hotel and took a cab.”

“Hell,” he said, “he could’ve walked, it’s a mile and a half.” We headed for the car. “If he did call a taxi, I can find out. Gull interests you, the way he does me?”

“He’s smart enough to cover his tracks the way our boy’s been doing. And even if Patty’s exaggerating, his record with women is interesting. Also, he and Gavin didn’t get along. What if it was more than poor therapeutic rapport? What if Gavin learned something that made him a threat to Gull?”

“Sleeping with a patient,” he said. “Somehow Gavin finds out about it- hanging around the office, being obsessive. He talked about uncovering scandal, now he found one. But then why would Gull kill Koppel? They were lovers.”

“Maybe her indiscretions didn’t extend to murder. She figured out what had happened to Gavin and threatened to turn Gull in. Or the affair was no longer useful to Gull. Or both.”

“You’re talking about one cold guy.”

“Not that cold,” I said. “He sweats easily. I’m talking about a guy who experiences anxiety but still loves taking risks. Someone who sleeps with another woman four blocks from his house, gets busted, and possibly goes back for more.”

“Mary Lou threatening to turn him in… she sure wasn’t forthcoming when I spoke to her. Then again, maybe Gull hadn’t broken it off with her, yet. If he did it a few days later, he’d have two scorned women to deal with… what do you think about Patty’s seeing a resemblance in the dead girl?”

“It didn’t strike me,” I said. “I saw it as Patty having ego problems, but maybe she’s onto something.”

“Gull murdering the old lady symbolically? Right from the beginning you saw this as a symbolic deal.”

“If Gull’s our guy, it could also tie in with Flora Newsome. She was Mary Lou Koppel’s patient, so Gull would have had opportunity to see her. Combine Flora’s feelings of sexual inadequacy, Gull’s view of himself as a cocksman and the prestige of his position, and you’ve got fertile ground for an easy seduction.”

“Gull does her, then kills her. His lover’s patient, talk about taking risks.”

“By the time Flora was killed, she was dating Brian Van Dyne. Maybe Dr. Gull doesn’t take well to rejection. By a patient or a lover.”

“Evil shrink,” he said. “All that sweating. Someone that calculating, you’d think he could keep it under control.”

“It’s one thing to be cool when you’re calling the shots, be it seduction or murder,” I said. “Setting up the scene, choreographing, dominating because you’ve picked submissive partners. Being investigated by the police changes all that. All of a sudden, he’s placed in the one-down position.”

“My charm intimidates him?”

“Something like that.”

“So the best bet is come on strong with the bastard, bulldoze over him.”

“You got it,” I said. “Method acting.”

“The curtain rises,” he said. “Let’s boogie.”

We drove to Franco Gull’s office building, parked in an empty slot next to Gull’s Mercedes, and headed for the rear door. A janitor was vacuuming the ground-floor carpeting. All six doors to the Charitable Planning suite were closed, and the corridor smelled of inactivity and that same popcorn fragrance.

That same feeling of disuse, and I said so to Milo.