A ROW OF pepper trees lined one side of North Bentley Avenue, with low branches that hung over the sidewalk like a riverbank willow. Nessheim parked further down the hill, then walked and waited under one of them, shaded from the descending sun and from view, resting against a drystone wall that bordered the front of one of the big Bel Air properties. He heard a shout and, turning, saw two kids there, throwing a football on a lawn the size of two gridirons.
He tried to be patient as he waited now, his back turned to the playing kids, telling himself this was unfinished business he needed to wrap up before he went north to San Francisco. But it was another twenty minutes before he saw the small, dark-haired figure moving down the hill. She really was very pretty, he thought, as he watched her again, striding on strong brown legs in the sunshine down the hill from the tree-shaded edge of Pearl’s property. He thought of Elizaveta, her sudden touch in the pond.
She was only ten yards away when she saw him. She started at first, then looked straight ahead and kept walking. He pushed off from the drystone wall.
‘Anita, I need to talk with you.’
She kept going.
‘I don’t work for Mr Pearl, Anita. I’m with the FBI.’
This time she stopped. Peering in under the overhanging branch, she regarded him with distaste.
‘Why are you bugging me then, G-Man?’
‘Just a couple of questions. It won’t take two minutes.’
Her sigh was undramatic, but sounded heartfelt. He sensed he was in a long line of white men who had pushed her around. She ducked under the branch and joined him. ‘I don’t want to be seen talking to you. I’m on thin ice already.’
‘Because of TD? Is he still … bothering you?’
She snorted. ‘Is that what you call it – bothering?’ She laughed again, without inviting him to laugh as well. ‘But the answer’s no – TD’s got himself a girlfriend now. Some actress.’
‘Good for TD. But that’s not what I wanted to ask you about. His father was looking for a guy – suddenly he’s not looking any more. I need to know why.’
She gave him a fierce look. ‘How would I know about that? You think Mr Pearl told me his secrets while he was breathing heavy in my ear?’
He took the photo of Billy from his jacket pocket. ‘Was this the guy?’
He could see at once that she recognised the picture.
‘Does Mr Pearl know?’ he asked.
‘About what?’
She looked at him with a pretence of innocence, but there was something in his gaze, fixed and not willing to be deterred, that seemed to sink home.
Eventually, she nodded.
‘And he went bananas?’
She nodded again, more quickly. ‘But Missus denied it and Mr Pearl couldn’t prove it.’
He thought about this momentarily. ‘Listen, Anita, I think Pearl was after this guy. I know the fella. He’s not a bad sort.’ Then he added softly, ‘All I want to know is whether Pearl found him.’
‘I don’t know. All I know is that all summer long Pearl and his wife were arguing, but now they’re lovebirds again. If you ask me I think something’s happened to make it okay between them. He keeps talking about a big picture he wants to make.’
I bet he does, thought Nessheim.
‘You want a ride home?’ he asked, trying not to look at any part of Anita except her eyes.
She looked at him as if he’d said something comical, then shrugged. ‘You think there’ll be something at the other end?’
‘I’m just offering you a ride,’ he said and she smiled sceptically.
They stepped out together on to the unshaded pavement and he motioned towards his car down the block.
She nodded knowingly, then suddenly her almond- shaped eyes widened and she jumped back under the overhanging branch. He looked up and saw a blue convertible speeding down the hill. It was flying and at the wheel he glimpsed a handsome woman in sunglasses, a scarf knotted round her throat. Mrs Pearl.
He watched as the car went down the hill.
‘You can come out now,’ he said cheerfully.
Anita looked shaken as she emerged into the sunlight again.
She said, ‘I think I’ll take the bus home.’