A Death In Beverly Hills (28 page)

Chapter Forty-Three

Just after lunch Steve found Barry McGee alone in the barn at the Norcross Academy, shoveling horse shit. Remembering their last meeting and McGee's feigned friendship for Travis, Steve thought it was an appropriate task.

"Hey, Barry, how you doing?" Steve asked pleasantly.

McGee looked up, a shovel of crap in mid-air, and scowled. He tossed the manure onto a pile a couple of feet to Steve's left.

"I don't have time to waste with you," he said coldly and scraped the blade across the concrete floor. "I work for a living."

"This won't take long."

"It won't take any time at all." This time the crap landed a foot closer to Janson.

Steve ignored the toss. "You know, you left out a few things the last time we talked."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" The manure missed him by six inches.

"Like the fact that I'm going to make you eat that horseshit if you get it any closer to me."

McGee straightened and gave Janson a menacing grin. Steve extended his hand and wiggled his fingers in a 'come-on' motion. McGee's smile grew broader and the shovel rose to port arms. Steve smiled back. Barry fainted with the butt, then choked up and swung the blade end, counting on Steve to flinch away from the steel. Janson stood flatfooted and waited until McGee had committed to the swing, then kicked out with his left foot catching the flat of the blade with his heel. If McGee had been smart he'd have let it go and barreled forward while Steve was off balance but instead he clung to the weapon and fell off to his right.

Before he could recover, Steve moved in close, grabbed the center of the shaft with his left hand, immobilizing it, and, as McGee wasted time struggling to pull it free, smashed the center of the stuntman's face with short right jab.

Steve felt McGee's nose crack and swiftly punched him again in the same place. McGee's grip on the shovel went limp and Steve tossed it away. Blood streaming down his face, McGee struggled to straighten and raise his left to block a third blow. With his own left hand now free, Steve smashed a crushing left hook into the side of McGee's face and Barry toppled to the floor.

"Don't get up," Steve ordered. Half leaning against the side of a stall, McGee tried to set his hands to lever himself up. "If your butt leaves the floor, you're going out of here in an ambulance." McGee paused, his face a mask of blood, and gave Steve an evil stare. "Stay down or I'm going to hurt you," Steve warned in a flat, deadly tone. McGee gave him one more long stare, figured the odds, and slumped back against the stall.

"What's all the hostility about?" Steve asked when it was clear McGee was done.

"I checked up on you," McGee said, wiping a sleeve across his bloody face.

"So?"

"You used to be cop."

"And?"

"I don't like cops," McGee said with a malevolent smile.

"So you're going to take a swing at every cop you meet?"

Another broader smile. "Only the ones who aren't carrying tin anymore. I figure if I catch one of you guys as a private citizen, maybe it'll be a fair fight, even the odds a little."

Steve stared at Barry as if examining a crazy man. "Maybe that'll work out better for you next time."

"Maybe," McGee agreed, his smile even wider, then he spit a gob of blood at Steve's shoes, and missed.

"You didn't tell me Tom Travis got you busted for drug dealing."

"You didn't ask." McGee started to shift position. Steve wagged a finger and McGee froze.

"Kind of makes me wonder what else you didn't tell me." McGee shrugged. "What were you doing the day Marian Travis disappeared?"

"Ha!" McGee laughed. "Now you're tryin' to put it on me? Think again. I was in Ensenada. Drove down on Thursday, came back on Sunday. Cheap booze, cheap whores."

"Can you prove that?"

"If I have to. The credit card company probablys still got some records in their computer someplace. Find another patsy."

Steve gave McGee a calculating stare.

"Are we done?"

"I was just thinking -- all those times you doubled for Travis, him making five, ten million a movie and you taking all the risks for a few hundred a day and a life of broken bones. Tom's sitting on his ass in his Bentley and you're hustling just to keep your Camaro in spare parts. Then you provide all that valuable stud service to make Tom look good in the bedroom and what do you get for it? Thanks and a Christmas card? Tell me, did Tom Travis ever do anything to make that up to you?"

McGee spit another gob of blood. "What do you think?"

"Yeah, that sounds like Tom."

"Stop pretending you're on my side."

"I'm not on your side. I'm not on Travis's side. I'm just doing a job. I don't have to like the guy. Hell, he hit on my wife. A thing like that doesn't make me all warm and fuzzy about him."

"You had nothing to worry about. What the hell was he gonna do with her if she said yes?"

Steve kicked a piece of crap in McGee's direction. "This was after Viagra. . . .You ever ask him to help you out with anything?"

"I'm no beggar."

"I never thought you were. I'm talking about you getting what you earned. He ever pay you back any of that?"

"He didn't give me shit," McGee cursed.

"He's not the volunteer type. Did you ever ask?"

"He's the selfish-prick type. All I needed was a loan. I had the chance to go halves on a prop rental outfit, for TV movies and stuff like that. The owner was an old guy, he'd had the business for forty years. I put in fifty, my partner puts in fifty, the old guy trusts us for the rest. All I needed was a little help. I'd have paid Tom back, with interest."

"Only fifty K? And he turned you down? I don't believe it."

"Believe it! You know what that is to him? That son of bitch makes fifty grand in one day from one of his fucking paintings. One day! All I asked him to do was sell one stupid picture and loan me the money. I'd have had a shot at a real life. How the hell long can you go on falling off horses and crashing cars before you're fucked-up crippled for good!"

"Hell of a thing to end up crippled, old, and broke. What excuse did he give you?"

"That's the right word, 'excuse.' The same old bullshit. He had a deal with the bank, he didn't loan money and they didn't make movies. Ha ha! I told him I'd put up my share of the business, my car, everything I had. You know what the son of a bitch said? 'What am I gonna do with a '92 Camaro?' Like I had already lost his money and he had taken my car and left me with nothin', like everything I had in the whole world wasn't good enough for him to piss on."

"What did you tell him?"

McGee glared. "You think I was gonna beg him? Shit, I don't kiss nobody's ass. 'Sure, Tom, fine, I'll get it some other way. Have a nice day in Hell, you prick.'" McGee smiled. "I left off the prick part, out loud anyway."

"That's why you were dealing speed," Steve said, the pieces suddenly falling into place. "That's how you were going to get the money for the business."

McGee started to get up and Steve took a menacing step forward. Barry gave him a lopsided grin and sat back down.

"You know, Barry, there's one thing I don't get. Why? Why would Tom Travis go to all that trouble to put you in the slam? When you were asking him for that loan, did you happen to mention what might happen if he didn't give it to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, like maybe if he didn't help you out that you might have to get the money by selling a few stories to the tabloids about your stud work or maybe getting some ghost writer to help you come up with a tell-all book?" McGee held his hands palms up in surrender and gave Steve a toothy grin. "Yeah, that's what I thought. So when you were telling me that you and Tom were old pals, and that you thought he was innocent . . . ?"

"You're working for the man. I told you what you wanted to hear."

"Now you're telling me you think he did it?"

"You don't know Tom Travis like I do. The one thing in the world he can't stand is losing anything to anybody. You know that bun in his wife's oven wasn't his. Well, so did Tom. Every day he saw her, her stomach out to here," McGee gestured with his bloody hands, "he thought about it being some other guy's kid, how she'd made a sucker out of him because he was such a pussy in the Man department. Man, it was like acid in his veins. You think Tom and me weren't pals? You ask Tom. He still thinks we're buddies, everybody is his pal, as long as stuff goes one way, from them to him and not from him to them. To him that year I spent in the County lockup is like a mirage. Out of sight, out of mind. As far as Tom's concerned, it never happened.

"He gave me his hundred dollar scotch like we were blood brothers all over again. He couldn't wait to whine to me that it had been ten months since he'd fucked his wife. He wanted to throw her out on her ass but she told him if he did it all would come out in court. Tom could never stand for that. Not Mr. Ego. Now you know why he killed her. Are you happy now?"

The blood from McGee's nose had slowed to a trickle. He wiped it with a stained handkerchief, saw Steve staring and smiled. "No big deal. A bloody nose for me is like a scuffed shoe for you." McGee nodded at Steve's black wingtips.

"You think he killed her because--"

"Because she didn't give him any other way out. He couldn't kick her out. He couldn't stop her from fucking other guys. He couldn't touch her himself. To all her friends his running around with Kaitlen made her the wronged wife and if he looked at her cross-eyed she'd tell everybody that he was such a bad fuck she had kicked him out for her boyfriend because he knew how to put it to her good. In his own fucked-up head Old Tom is a macho hero. She opens her mouth and he turns him into a limp-dick loser. If that happens, as far as he's concerned, his life is over. Sure he killed her," McGee said, getting to his feet and spitting into the matted hay. "I was tryin' to be a nice guy and keep that to myself, but not anymore. Now I'm gonna tell the jury."

"What?"

McGee gave him an alligator smile. "Yup, I'm gonna tell them the real reason why Tom Travis killed his wife. I go on the stand Wednesday afternoon. Got my subpoena and everything. Some old cop by the name of Katz came by my place yesterday and him and me had a nice long talk. And, asshole," he hissed, glaring at Steve, "I'm gonna tell 'em how Tom's pet killer beat me up trying to scare me off the case. This here broken nose is Exhibit A, sucker!"

Steve took a quick step forward and McGee half ducked. Now it was Steve's turn to smile.

"See you around, tough guy." Janson half turned then lurched back toward McGee. "Boo!" Barry flinched against the stall and almost fell. Steve grinned.

"Laugh now, asshole. We'll see who's laughing when they come in with the verdict. He's gonna fry! Thanks to you I'm gonna see to it that that son of a bitch burns in Hell. You see if he don't!"

"Have a nice day, Barry," Steve called over his shoulder, "and make sure you watch where you step. There's a lot of horseshit around here."

Steve's smile disappeared as soon as McGee was out of view. If it hadn't been for his nosing around Katz would never would have followed up with Barry McGee. But he pushed it, acted as if Markham was going to tell the jury that McGee might have done it. So Katz did the only thing he could do. Came down here and checked out McGee's story. Now if Steve didn't find some real evidence clearing Travis, and fast, Barry McGee was going to pound the final nail into Tom Travis' coffin.

Chapter Forty-Four

Steve, Markham and Travis were back in the concrete-walled interview room. The guard had brought in a third chair though it bothered him to have anything in the room that wasn't bolted down.

"I'm guessing you've found something," Travis said hopefully.

Steve figured there was no point sugar-coating it. "I talked to Barry McGee."

"What the Hell did you do that for?" Tom snapped.

"Because he's--"

"He's full of shit."

"He told me--"

"Everything he told you is crap. This is the last guy you want to talk to. If you set him off, who knows what he'll say. He tried to shake me down and I told him to pound sand. He's been out to get me ever since."

"He's going to testify tomorrow afternoon--"

"He's going to testify! Fucking Barry McGee's going to testify! What the Hell have you done to me, Steve? Why don't you just get a God damned gun and shoot me right now!" Travis glared at Steve then looked away. "I don't believe this."

"Tom," Steve continued uneasily, "McGee's going to testify that you are or were impotent--"

"That's a God Damned lie!"

". . . and that you told him that you weren't the father of Marian's baby." Travis started to reply and Steve held up his hand. "He'll testify that you invited him over for a drink a few days before Marian disappeared and you told him that Marian had kicked you out of her bedroom and threatened to go public with sensitive personal information if you didn't do what she wanted." Steve paused and nodded for Travis to respond.

"Lies, lies, lies," Tom said bitterly.

"Were you the father of the child?"

Travis shrugged. "Who runs a DNA test on their own wife?" For an unguarded instant Steve remembered holding Lynn's card and being afraid to read it, afraid to learn if she was going to leave him. Angrily he pushed the thought away. He looked back at Travis who gave him a challenging stare. It was unbelievable. The stupid son of a bitch was going to lie himself onto to death row.

"Tom, you can't afford this bullshit any more." Travis frowned and looked away. "You can be sure that right now the DA is having a DNA test run on the fetus. What's that test going to say?"

"He can't do that, can he?" Tom asked Markham.

"He can and he will."

Travis slumped in surrender, head down.

"Did she threaten to go public with your personal information?"

"No! Marian wasn't like that."

"Tom, Robert Garsen told me--"

"Who?"

"Her boyfriend." Travis worked at showing no emotion and almost succeeded. "He told me that you and Marian had agreed on a quiet divorce after the baby was born, that she wasn't going to ask for any money and that you were going to give her and Garsen sole custody of the child. Is that true?"

Travis looked around like a trapped animal, then nodded. "Yeah, it's true. This all happened because she wanted kids and I didn't. Anything McGee said about . . . about anything else is bullshit."

Unbelievable. He was still lying.

"You made up the whole story you told us about child support and alimony and the rest of it?"

"I had to. How the Hell was I going to explain paying no child support?"

"By telling us the truth right at the beginning?"

"You didn't need to know! None of this has anything to do with Marian's murder. It's, what do you guys say, 'irrelevant.'"

Steve took a deep breath and turned to Markham as if to say, 'Can you get through to him?'

"It provides a motive for Marian's murder," Greg said softly.

"A motive for
me
to murder her! All the more reason for me to keep my mouth shut."

Greg looked at Steve.
Your turn
.

"Garsen said you told Marian that you were sterile," Steve said reluctantly.

Travis didn't reply and the silence dragged. Finally, after almost half a minute, Tom whispered "Shit," and bent his head.

"Tom, please, we've got to focus here. The D.A.'s going to argue that Marian's pregnancy by another man and her plans to leave you for him and her alleged threat to expose your sexual problems were a constant source of irritation and that over the holidays you finally snapped and, in a fit of jealous rage, you strangled her with the lamp cord then buried her in the desert. McGee is going to claim you told him that you and Marian were fighting and that you were desperate to get even with her for her infidelity but that her threats amounted to blackmail that kept you from doing anything."

"That's not the way it was," Travis said, his voice beginning to crack. "Marian was a very decent person. She would never . . . threaten anyone. It was all my fault, all right! Jesus! What does any of this have to do with anything? It was all my fault! Is that what you want to hear?" Travis gave Markham a pleading stare and his eyes began to glisten. "I lied to her about being able to have kids. I had," he flapped his hands, "measles or something when I was a kid. It made me sterile. Movie tough guy and I'm shooting blanks. Big joke, right! Have yourselves a good laugh!" Travis rubbed his eyes.

"She wanted kids. She told me so before we were married and I lied to her. I figured we could adopt or something, I don't know. I just didn't want to lose her. When the truth finally came out we . . . worked out a deal. I got Kaitlen and she got that . . . Garsen, I guess. She never threatened me. She was never mean to me. She was a very sweet person. She just stopped treating me like . . . a husband. It was like we were roommates or something. She did her thing. I did mine." Travis gave Steve a blazing stare. "I would never hurt her!"

Embarrassed, Markham glanced at Steve then fiddled with his file and scratched a few notes.

"Shit, shit, shit! This is why I didn't tell you about any of this stuff. This is exactly what I didn't want to have happen. This is why I didn't mention Barry McGee. I knew that if you started sniffing around him, you'd get him all excited and all this crap would come out. Why the Hell didn't you leave well enough alone, Steve?" Travis turned to Greg. "You can tear him up on the stand, can't you?" Travis demanded. "He's a drug dealer for Christ's sake."

"It's not that simple."

"They're going to believe a drug-dealing blackmailer over me?"

"I'm not sure it's a good idea to put you on the stand," Markham said uneasily.

"Then what the Hell are you going to do?"

Markham glanced at Steve.

"Garsen can tell your story," Steve said.

"You're going to put my wife's lover on the stand and that's going to help me?"

"Tom," Markham began in a reasonable tone, "the jury's going to find out about Garsen no matter what we do."

"Thanks to you!" Travis screamed at Steve.

Markham ignored the interruption and continued, "McGee may be a lying piece of shit but his story about you admitting you were sterile and not being the father of the baby is true. They'll have DNA to back it up. One of the neighbors saw McGee's car in front of your house so we can't claim he was never there. At least Garsen can testify that you and Marian had worked everything out, that you weren't fighting, that she wasn't blackmailing you, that you had no reason to hurt her. He's the vice president of an insurance company and he'll come across as a lot more believable than Barry McGee."

"But he'll back up McGee's story," Travis complained.

Markham held up his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "He's all we've got. Better that they believe half of McGee's story than all of it."

"Shit! Shit! Shit! If you had only left well enough alone. There was a reason I didn't tell you about Barry. But no, you had to poke the bear," Travis murmured, his head in his hands. "I'm screwed." Suddenly he reached across the table and grabbed Markham's hands. "Greg, you've got to get me out of this. I didn't do it. I swear I didn't do it!" Travis pleaded on the verge of tears.

"I believe you."

"Steve . . . ."

It had finally sunk home, Steve realized. The moment of truth. Tom Travis had finally figured out that this wasn't about bad publicity or embarrassing revelations or an inconvenient interruption of his movie career. People hated him and were seriously out to take his life and they were likely going to succeed. As a prosecutor, Steve had seen it dozens of times, usually when the judge was about to pronounce the sentence. The bigger the ego the more impossible it was for the accused to actually believe that something bad was going happen to him.

"I know you didn't do it, Tom, but I need evidence to prove it. If I had another suspect--"

"McGee hates my guts. Maybe you're right. Maybe he did it. He's got a record."

Steve gave his shoulders a little shake. "He claims there are credit card records proving he was in Mexico."

"Did he show them to you?"

"No."

"Then he's lying. He's a bullshitter from way back.

"I'll see if we can track down the VISA charges, but that could take some time." Steve frowned.

"What?"

"The problem is that McGee's no master criminal. You had a good security system. Good locks. He couldn't have gotten in without breaking something and there was no evidence of a forced entry."

"We left the alarm off during the day when we were home."

"But he would still have needed a key to get through the gate."

"Maybe Marian let him in."

Steve shook his head. "Tom, you don't park a red Camaro in front of a mansion in Beverly Hills, ring the bell, walk in, murder someone, load them in your back seat and drive away in broad daylight without people noticing. Nobody plans a crime that way, not even a guy like McGee. That's amateur hour."

"Greg?" Travis pleaded.

"How could McGee have gotten into your house without anyone seeing him? That Camaro of his wouldn't have gone unnoticed."

"So he borrowed another car. Is that so hard?"

"And he climbed the wall? Then what? I don't see him picking those locks. And for what? Do you think he went to your house with a plan to murder your wife and blame it on you? That's just plain nuts. How did he know she'd be home and you wouldn't? How do you plan something like that? And how could he be sure the cops would tag you for it? He's not a
Mission Impossible
kind of guy and that's what it would take to pull off a plan like that."

"Okay, then who was it?"

"Jesus, Tom, that's what we've been asking you for weeks. Is there anybody else who you haven't told us about?"

"No, I swear to God."

Markham sighed. "Then were back to one of Bobby Berdue's friends. Are you sure you didn't piss one of them off?"

"I told you I didn't."

"Did you have anything going with any mafia people? Borrow any money, hit on some mob guy's girlfriend? Get into some deal--"

"I've told you a dozen times, no! Shit, we've been through this!"

"Tom, it's just--"

"God damn it, Tom!" Steve cut in. "We've been asking you for weeks who might have had it in for you and the name Barry McGee never passed your lips. It's only after I break my butt chasing down every lead I can find that I discover Barry McGee and then all of a sudden you tell us, 'Oh, yeah, he hates my guts. Sorry, I was hoping nobody would find out about him but now that the cops have called him as a witness, gee, maybe it was him. No? Well, gee, then I don't have a clue.' Well, Fuck You Very Much, that doesn't cut it!"

"Steve . . . ." Markham put his hand on Janson's arm but Steve pulled away and paced the room.

"Jesus H. Christ, Tom. You didn't tell us about Barry McGee because you were afraid he would tells us some embarrassing stuff about you? What else haven't you told us?"

"I didn't tell you because none of that stuff has anything to do with the case and because I didn't want you to drive McGee into the hands of the cops or the tabloids, which is exactly what you did!"

"We're on your side for God's sake! What else didn't you tell us?"

"Nothing!" Travis shouted. "That's it."

"That's it? Really? That's it? How about the fact that you were buddies with Jack Furley and got him to bust McGee for dealing drugs? How about the fact that you and Furley, one of the lead detectives who built the case against you, used to hit the clubs together? How about the fact that you and McGee used to take on the girls two at a time but McGee fucked them while you just watched?" Travis's glare wilted and his head dropped to the table. "Jesus Christ, Tom, what else haven't you told us!" Janson shouted.

At first Markham counted the cinder blocks in the wall then, as the silence stretched, he opened his file and pretended to read.

His face flushed, heart pounding, Steve paced the floor looking anywhere but at Tom Travis whose head remained slumped over the steel table. Finally, Travis looked up and awkwardly wiped tears from his eyes,.

"You're right, Steve," he said softly, all of his defiance finally gone. "I didn't want people I liked to know I've been living a lie. I didn't want people I respected to find out that I'm not a real man. So, okay, you've found out all my secrets. There's nothing left. The truth is, I don't know who my friends or my enemies are. Everybody lies to you in this town. Fuck, I thought
you
were my friend." Travis gave his head a sad shake. "All I can tell you is that I didn't kill Marian and I don't know who did. You say Barry wasn't smart enough to have pulled it off," another shrug, "Okay. I just don't know. You want this Garsen guy to testify, fine. I'll do whatever you tell me."