The Museum of Desire: An Alex Delaware Novel(90)

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to be evasive again.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “But obviously if the police send a psychologist, it’s got to be something nasty and bizarre. Good. I want the full weight of the law brought down upon her. I want her to reap the fruits of her rotten character.”

Angry words but a serene tone.

I said, “Something happened at the fundraiser.”

“The fundraiser is important to our cause—more than that, it’s vital. The moneys we raise go straight into research. We underwrite every bit of overhead, not a penny goes toward administration. Last January we welcomed a small but promising crop of potential donors. The fundraiser was our opportunity to put on our best face and she nearly ruined it and for that I can never forgive her.”

“What did she do?”

“She allowed some of her low-life friends to crash and they…oh, why beat around the bush, they had an orgy.”

“Really.”

“Well,” she said, “perhaps that’s an exaggeration, but not much of one.”

She took a deep breath, placed a hand on her chest. “Everything was going along swimmingly. I run a tight ship, brief speeches, no dead time, a wonderful band versed in the American Song Book. Ample drink as well but everyone tipples in moderation. We’re a mature group, Doctor. That’s our hallmark. Maturity. I shouldn’t have listened to her in the first place.”

“About what?”

“About allowing her to get involved. She was pushy, that alone should’ve been the tip-off, I don’t do pushy. But she caught me at a bad time. Karen was just out—no matter, she convinced me. The first thing she screwed up was the venue. In the past, we’ve used members’ homes, so many of our members have lovely homes. She convinced me to try something new. That hideous pseudo-castle, she knew the owners because they’d bought art from her and that tight-sphinctered husband of hers so we could get it at deep discount. When she told me the figure, I said, why not, be adventurous. Because with members’ homes we have to take out serious insurance.”

“How did Candace come to the group?”

“She emailed me, said breast cancer research was their passion, a first wife of his had died of it. So when I met him at the fundraiser I offered my sympathy and empathy but he gave me a blank look. As if he had no idea what I was talking about. Then, as if he was trying to cover for himself, he said oh, yes, that was terrible, Gertrude would be so pleased. That should’ve tipped me off. Gertrude? When’s the last time you heard of a woman under eighty named Gertrude? But as I said, I was distracted. Plus I give people the benefit.”

Her jaws clenched. “Until they prove otherwise. After that?” She rubbed her palms together then let each hand fly. “Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

I said, “The party crashers—”

“Two of them. A lounge lizard and a floozy with blue hair and a Pillsbury Doughboy face. Clearly neither of them was one of us. She let them in, the layout of that hideous dump, it was impossible to monitor. All the cars jamming up on Benedict—have you seen the place?”

“I have.”

“Vulgar. The interior was gloomy and the outside lighting skimpy. Lesson learned, next year we’ll be using one of our members’ manses in the Palisades designed by Wallace Neff. Wesley and Denise have their own personal vineyard and we’ll be tasting their private reserves—try the bleu, Doctor. It really is yum.”

She watched with satisfaction as I obliged. After swallowing the dry morsel, I said, “This orgy—”

Jane Leavitt’s eyes danced with merriment. “I suppose I must get into details.”

She took her time selecting a macadamia nut from a bowl, bit it in half, and chewed one fragment thoughtfully. The other she placed on her plate.

“I discovered it by mere chance. Looking for her. She’d promised me more than enough Chardonnay and we were falling short and I wondered if it was stashed somewhere in that vault of a place.”

A tongue-tip moistened her lips. “I looked all over that dreadful property, finally spotted something going on at the back. Correction, I heard something. Such poor lighting, one couldn’t see until one got up close.”

Deep sigh. “Now you’ll want to know what I heard. All right, here goes. Grunts, gutturals, vulgar heavy breathing.” Another sigh, longer, louder. “I suppose I must get into further details.”

“Not if it makes you uncomfortable—”

“I volunteer with cancer patients, Doctor. Nothing makes me uncomfortable.”

Another tongue flick.

“What I saw was a disgusting scene. Lounge lizard and floozy were…” She gave a limp wave. “No sense shilly-shallying, Karen’s always telling me to be direct, it’s the modern way.” Wink wink. “What I saw was the two of them standing up and fucking like bunny rabbits.”

Moving her index finger back and forward. “They were panting like heart attack victims. His family jewels were jiggling. Then I saw it wasn’t just the two of them. She was kneeling behind him with her head up there like a badger nosing for bugs.”

“Candace Kierstead.”

“That’s who we’re talking about, right?” said Jane Leavitt, inching back and luxuriating in the memory. Another half a macadamia nut entered her mouth to be slowly pulverized.