“I was so sure you’d know me,” he said. “A fellow private eye, working for A-list Hollywood clients, you really should be more familiar with your competition.” His tone was mocking, his words too on-the-nose. He knew I wasn’t a private eye.
“You’re the guy working for Inaya,” I said. “What do you want?”
32
“May I come in?” said Ellis Barnes, PI.
“This isn’t my house,” I said, not budging from the doorway. “I don’t have the right to let you in, and I don’t think my friends are too keen on meeting you. State your business and let’s keep this brief.”
“I want to know why you called my client and why you lied to her about who you are.”
“It’s true I’m not a licensed PI,” I admitted, “but I never explicitly said that I was. I am working for Berenbaum and trying to track down John Riven, and that’s really more than you have any need to know.”
“I’m investigating Riven too,” said Ellis slowly, an odd expression on his face. “It seems as though we could help each other.”
“Things aren’t always what they seem. Anyway, I thought you were tailing Berenbaum, not Riven. What was that about this morning, with the screenplay?”
Ellis sighed. “My brother-in-law. He’s obsessed with Beren-baum and likes to tag along when I do surveillance of him. I finally let him make contact because I wanted to get a better read on the relationship between the two of you. I’ll confess I’m intrigued. If Berenbaum were having an affair, he’d hardly flaunt it. So what’s going on there?”
“I’ve already told you more than I need to.”
“What if I had something to tell you in exchange, about John Riven?”
“I have the feeling that between the two of us, I’m probably the one with better dirt on Riven.”
I heard a hissing noise from behind me and turned to see Teo making a slicing motion across his throat. I made a face at him and turned back to Ellis.
Ellis said, “Does your ‘dirt’ include his whereabouts last night?”
I blinked. “No, and neither does yours.”
“Doesn’t it?” Ellis said with a smile. “All right then. I’ll leave you to your day. Here’s my card if you decide you want to talk.” He held it out, and I just glared at him, leaning on my cane. Unfazed, he smiled wider and left the card on the arm of the moldering love seat on the front porch. “Stay in touch,” he said.
I waited until he had driven away, then took the card, went back inside, and bolted the door behind me.
Tjuan had apparently left during my conversation, but Teo was half sitting on the arm of the nearest couch, his eyes narrowed. “What did that dude mean, asking you if you knew where Rivenholt was last night?”
I shrugged. “He needs info about Berenbaum, so he’s trying to get me to slip some. First he weakens me with guilt, then tempts me with dirt. If I weren’t such a stubborn cuss, I’d probably be eating out of his hand.”
“What if it’s for real?”
I rolled my eyes. “He left his card. Take it if you want to call him.” I held it out, but he didn’t take it, so I stuck it in my pocket. “You know, maybe you and I should straighten out who’s Good Cop and who’s Bad Cop.”
Teo made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Until now, I would have said there was no one in the world who would be worse at Good Cop than me. Whatever. I’m gonna go have a smoke.”
“Isn’t that against house rules?”
“I’m not going to smoke in the house, and I don’t keep ’em in the house. If Caryl wants to make a thing out of it, she can change the wording in the contract.”
“Hey, Teo, before you go . . .”
“Yeah?”
“It’s probably against the rules to ask, but . . .”
“Spit it out.”
“Why does Tjuan hate me so much?”
Teo stared at me for a second, then laughed. “You’re kidding, right? The dude’s got massive trust issues. When I first moved here, it took him three months to even answer when I said hi.” He shook his head, walking away. “Not everything’s about you, mija. Really gotta get that into your head.”
After Teo left, I allowed myself a few moments to enjoy the peace and quiet and have a few crackers from the kitchen. The place was a little spooky when not populated, even in the daytime. The cracks in the bathroom tiles, the water stains on the dining room ceiling, the sun discoloration on the carpet by the sliding glass door: all symptoms of a house that wasn’t cared for by its owner. I felt a little sorry for it.
I had just stuffed a handful of crackers in my mouth when I turned and saw Gloria in the kitchen doorway, staring at me with a look of naked contempt.
I coughed, spraying crumbs. “Uh, hi there,” I said.
She smiled, sweet as antifreeze. “Does Caryl know you have plans to become a celebrity?” she said.
“Beg pardon?” I yanked a paper towel off the roll and attended to the mess I’d made.