place like this. He was a sports-bar guy. The way the home was decorated had the unmistakable woman’s touch.
Fayette Scarborough was the woman.
She was about thirty, with wheat-colored hair and gray eyes. The eyes were big and round. Owlish, which is probably why I felt like a field mouse. She didn’t smile or offer any pleasantries. It was like she was daring me to talk.
So I didn’t. I looked the place over until she said, “So is he guilty?”
“The prosecution thinks he is.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I can’t help but observe, Ms. Scarborough, that you don’t seem all that broken up about Eric being in the clink.”
“I don’t think he killed his brother, if that helps. I don’t think he’s that low.”
“Do you think he’s somewhat low?”
“I don’t like the way you’re talking to me.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Frost crackled out of those wide eyes. “What exactly are you here for? What was so important?”
“Let’s sit down.”
“I don’t want to. Just tell me.”
“All right. Eric was with another woman when Carl died.”
She took a long breath. “Who is she?”
“A prostitute, apparently.”
“Well, that’s just wonderful.” She turned and faced the french doors that looked out on the balcony and had a view of Warner Center Park.
I said, “I’m sorry there wasn’t an easier way to tell you.”
“Oh, it’s not your fault. And it’s not surprising. I knew what I was getting into when I married him.”
“So why’d you marry him?”
She turned on me. “Are you married?”
“No.”
“Ever been?”
“No.”
“Gay?”
“It’s been nice chatting with you.”
“It’s all right to be gay.”
“Ms. Scarborough, my sexual orientation has got exactly nothing to do with anything.”
“I’m asking, because you don’t seem to understand what goes into being married these days. It’s all a crap shoot. It’s not like fifty years ago, when you got married and you stayed faithful and you had two and a half kids. It’s not that way anymore. Men have no qualms about going out about town, as the saying used to be.”
“Adultery’s always been around,” I said.
“But it used to be frowned upon, even if one was indulging in it.”
“Why did you marry Eric, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Now you may sit,” she said. I parked myself on a white sofa while she took a soft leather recliner.
“I thought I was in love,” she said. “I should have listened to my parents. They didn’t think Eric was up to their standards.”
“Their standards?”
“It’s called breeding by some, class by others. But it exists. My parents believe I married down. Eric was different than these metrosexuals my parents wanted to fix me up with. Maybe part of it was I wanted to stick it to my parents, if you know what I mean.”
“Not a good way to start a marriage, though.”
“But I worked at it. I did all the heavy lifting. I can’t say Eric did the same.”
“Why didn’t you divorce him?”
“I’m stubborn, I guess. I wanted to make it work. I don’t want a divorce hanging over me. It’s like a failure. And Scarboroughs are not into failure.”
She sat back and closed her eyes. Maybe Scarboroughs weren’t into failure, but they could get discouraged.
“Again, I’m sorry,” I said. “But I guess I want to know if you’re going to be with Eric or against him.”
“If I thought there was any hope for us, maybe I’d be more open to it. I’m not going to cause any problems, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“How about bailing him out after he’s arraigned?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“In jail he can’t get into any more trouble, can he?”
“I don’t want to get all Dr. Phil on you, Ms. Scarborough, but I would think it’s better to work things out face-to-face, instead of through Plexiglas.”
“What you think isn’t any concern of mine. Is that all?”
“Can you think of anyone who might have wanted Carl dead?”
“Oh, who knows? I don’t know anything about his life. I never talked to him. He wasn’t particularly pleasant toward me.”
What a surprise, I thought.
“All the same,” I said, “think about bailing Eric out. I don’t think his mother should have to do it.”
“Why not? She’s the mother hen. That’s what she likes.”
“You make it sound like a bad thing.”
“She overdoes it.”
“She’s a mother,” I said. “With one son dead and another in jail. She deserves some slack.”
Fayette Scarborough just stared at me as if I were a burn mark in her rug. “I think we’re through here,” she said.
I was more than happy to get out of that love nest.
I put a jazz station on in the