Double

“I don’t diagnose people I don’t know. It’s just what he seems like, from what Elaine told me. He maintains a private zoo, not because he likes animals but because they’re exotic, good for show. He owns two expensive cars, and worries excessively about his appearance. That kind of thing.”

For someone who didn’t know the man, she certainly was vehement about him. But if someone like that had been bothering a close friend of mine, I supposed I would have been too. “But why would Woodall come on to Elaine in public like that?”

“He’d been doing it a lot lately. Elaine had gone out with him a few times—”

“Wasn’t he a little young for her? There must have been twenty years’ difference in their ages.”

She gave me a withering look, as if to say I’d grow up someday. “Many women prefer younger men. Anyway, Elaine caught on to Woodall’s false charm quite quickly, and refused to continue seeing him. He construed it as an extreme rejection — and if there’s one thing an I.P. can’t stand, it’s rejection.”

“How do they react?”

“With attention-seeking tactics. They can’t stand to be ignored, so they seek attention of any kind — good or bad. While a normal person is merely regretful that a relationship hasn’t worked out, an I.P. will pull all sorts of tricks, from suicide attempts to what Rich Woodall did.”

“Bothering Elaine in the bar at the hotel where she worked?”

“Oh, that was extreme. In fact, he started off pretty subtly. He’d follow her when she went out shopping and park his car next to hers. Or follow her when she went out to lunch or dinner and sit at a nearby table staring at her. Then it went on to phone calls. God knows where it would have ended up...”

Or did end up, I thought. In the east tower at Casa del Rey? “Where did Elaine meet Woodall?” I asked.

Sugarman’s eyes were on the long ash of her cigarette. She crushed it out in the ashtray, then got up and carried it and her cigarette package to the desk on the opposite side of the room. “No more of these for me. My nerves are shot as is, and I’ve a client coming soon.”

“You were going to tell me where Elaine and Rich met,” I said.

“I was? You know, I’m not really sure.”

I thought of Woodall’s explanation, about the zoo. It hadn’t had an authentic ring to me, so I made a guess and asked, “Could it have been at the club?”

Sugarman turned to face me. “What club?”

“The health club she belonged to, downtown. I got that impression from Woodall—”

“Yes, you’re probably right. He would be a fanatic about his body.”

We were both silent for a moment, Sugarman leaning against the edge of her desk. Then I asked, “And that’s all you know about Woodall and Elaine?”

“Yes. What’s all this leading up to?”

“I’ll explain in a minute. What do you know about Henry Nyland?”

“Nyland. Henry Nyland. He’s a politician, running for city council, I believe.”

“Did you know he was interested in Elaine?”

“No, I didn’t even know she knew him.”

“Apparently he wanted to marry her, but she kept turning him down.” For a moment I considered telling her about the love note I’d found, but decided some things should be allowed to remain private. “I gather he met her at this same club where she met Woodall. That must be some place to work out, with all these proposals — decent and indecent — coming out of it.”

Sugarman didn’t seem to see the humor in the remark. Her eyes were far away, hands knotted together. Finally she said, “Poor Elaine.”

“How do you mean?”

“Everybody wanted her, but she didn’t want any of them.”

“Was this a pattern with her, that men she didn’t care for fell in love with her?”

“All her life,” Sugarman said. She looked at her watch. “I’m afraid that’s all the time I can let you have. I’m going to have to review my client’s file before she gets here. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help to you. Elaine and I were friends, but I really didn’t know much about her personal life.”

I stood up, then remembered June Paxton. “Do you have June’s address, by any chance? It was crossed out of Elaine’s address book.”

“That’s because she just moved.” Sugarman went to her desk, looked it up, and wrote it down on a scratch pad for me.

She followed me out, saying I should call if I had further questions. I went down the stairs from the gallery, past the tinkling little fountain, and out to my car.

The trouble with talking with Elaine’s friends, I thought, was that the kind of constrained relationships she had formed hadn’t permitted any intimacy. Karyn Sugarman had told me nothing I hadn’t known before — except for a bit of interesting psychological analysis of Rich Woodall.

Still, it was odd that Sugarman hadn’t repeated her question about what I was leading up to. Perhaps the kinds of things I had asked her had made it unnecessary.

20: “Wolf”

I called the sheriff’s department from the telephone in my room, but Tom Knowles wasn’t in and wasn’t expected: it was his day off. I left a message for him to get in touch with me in the morning. So much for that and so much for my conscience.