Chapter 33
Chapter
The meeting was called for eight a.m.
No faux-sophisticated club; a smallish interview room down the hall from Milo’s office.
He rarely used the space because the lighting was harsh and nothing rescued the air from chronic staleness.
The furnishings were a small, scarred metal table and four unfriendly folding chairs. On one side, Milo and me. On the other, Bettina Bel Geddes and a nervous-looking Michael Heck. They’d arrived thirteen minutes late. His head was down. Her posture was exaggeratedly erect.
Posturing.
She pointed to me. “What’s he doing here?”
Milo said, “Consulting.”
That seemed to kick up Heck’s anxiety. A faint sheen of sweat had veneered his face. His hands were fisted tight, his eyes jumpy.
He said, “I don’t—”
Bel Geddes quieted him with a throat clear.
Milo said, “Good morning, folks. Here’s the deal, Mike.”
—
As he spoke, Heck shifted his body away from Bel Geddes. Subtly, less than an inch each time. By the time Milo was finished, over a foot gapped their chairs.
She noticed it and frowned. He avoided looking at her.
She said, “All right. I’m going to respond to all that—”
Heck said, “No, I’m going to respond because this comes down on me.”
“Michael, we—”
Heck waved her off. “Here’s the real deal, Lieutenant. I had nothing to do with any murders. Not Sophie’s, not that lady’s, no one’s. Ever. I’m not that person. Just a guy caught up in a…Did I screw up by going to jail for two days? You bet, it wasn’t fun.”
“Michael!” Bel Geddes’s arm landed on his sleeve. He shook it off.
“And for that I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but you need to know it wasn’t my idea in the first place. And I’m still the one who suffered. For real. Even for two days, that shithole is hell on earth, I’m not even going to describe some of—”
He wrung his hands. “Like a bad dream but yeah, I own it, my bad, I shouldn’t have agreed to it but she thought it was a great idea.”
Bel Geddes talked fast and loud. “Oh no you don’t, mister! You do not do that. No, you do not. Whatever ensued was the product of a genuine attorney-client weighing of the relevant—”
“Cut the bullshit, Bettina. You thought of it and you convinced me.”
“I was looking out for you! For your welfare. Because until things were clarified you were going to have to spend at least some—”
“Bullshit, Bettina. You could’ve stopped it cold but you didn’t want your husband to find out what you were doing. Then you thought of the money shit and you went straight for it like a—”
“Shut up, moron!”
“Oh, so now I’m the moron.” Heck laughed.
Bel Geddes sprang to her feet, red-nailed hands curled into talons.
“You stupid, lacking-in-judgment son of a bitch! You should be thanking me, not trying to screw me.”
Michael Heck said, “Screwing’s already been taken care of.”
She moved toward him. Heck’s hands came up protectively.
Milo’s arm got between them. “Stop it. Now.”
Bettina Bel Geddes stood there, red-faced, panting, rocking laterally like a boxer seeking an opening.
“Sit down, Bettina.”
Bel Geddes remained on her feet.
Milo said, “If you’re gonna disrupt, leave. It’s Mike we’re interested in talking to.”
That widened four eyes.
Bettina Bel Geddes said, “You know what? I’m out of here.” To Heck: “You are now officially on your own, moron.”
Heck licked his lips. “Okay, sorry, let’s back it up, Bett—”
“Uh-uh, you crossed the line, Brain-Death.”
She stomped out, slammed the door.
Michael Heck seemed to deflate. “Maybe I should leave, too.”
“Not your choice,” said Milo, “once we book you for all sorts of things.”
Heck’s face lost color. “Book me? C’mon, man, I’ve got no more guiltiness than I did before—okay, what can I do?”
“Bettina claimed she could help us, Mike. We assumed she meant you could help us.”
“Well,” said Heck. “It’s not like it’s…CSI or anything. Maybe it’s nothing. I can’t say for sure.”
Milo smiled. “Would you like something to drink? There’s a bigger room we can use. With coffee—or tea if that’s your thing. Or water or Coke.”
Heck scratched an arm, did the same with the other. “Sure. Let’s get out of here. I’ll take coffee.”
“Got some pastries, too.”
Heck touched his gut. “No way, I’d heave.”
“You never know, Mike. Sometimes the truth heals.”