She smiled. It didn’t fit the diatribe. Her eyes were dry again.
“Talk about sin,” she said. “Hypocrisy’s the worst sin. Why the hell can’t we get past the bullshit they feed us in childhood and learn to think independently?”
“Conditioning,” I said.
“That’s for lower animals. We’re supposed to be better.”
Milo pulled out his pad. “Do you know of any actual threats against Dr. Mate?”
The specificity of the question—the police routine— seemed to bore her. “If there were, Eldon never told me.”
“What about his attorney, Roy Haiselden. Do you know him, as well?”
“Roy and I have met.”
“Any idea where he is, ma’am? Can’t seem to locate him.”
“Roy’s all over the place,” she said. “He owns laundromats up and down the state.”
“Laundromats?”
“Coin-ops in strip malls. That’s how he makes his money. What he does for Eldon doesn’t pay the bills. It basically killed the rest of his law practice.”
“Have you known him and Dr. Mate for a long time?”
“I’ve known Eldon for five years, Roy a little less.”
“Any reason Mr. Haiselden wouldn’t return our calls?”
“You’d have to ask him that.”
Milo smiled. “Five years. How’d you get to know Dr. Mate?”
“I’d been following his career for a while.” Her turn to smile. “Hearing about him was like a giant lightbulb going on: someone was finally shaking things up, doing what needed to be done. I wrote him a letter. I guess you could call it a fan letter, though that sounds so adolescent. I told him how much I admired his courage. I’d been working with a humanist group, had retired from my job—got retired, actually. I decided to find some meaning in all of it.”
“You were fired because of your views?” I said.
Her shoulders shifted toward me. “Big surprise?” she snapped. “I was working in a hospital and had the nerve to talk about things that needed talking about. That chafed the hides of the assholes in charge.”
“Which hospital?”
“Pasadena Mercy.”
Catholic hospital.
She said, “Leaving that dump was the best thing that ever happened to me. I founded the Socrates Club, kept up with the SHI—my first group. We were having a convention in San Francisco and Eldon had just won another victory in court, so I thought, Who better to deliver the keynote? He answered my invitation with a charming note, accepting.” Blink. “After that, Eldon and I began to see each other—socially but not sexually, since you’re obviously going to ask. Life of the mind; I’d have him over for dinner, we’d discuss things, I’d cook for him. Probably the only decent meals he had.”
“Dr. Mate didn’t care about food?” said Milo.
“Like most geniuses, Eldon tended to ignore his personal needs. I’m a great cook, felt it was the least I could do for a mentor.”
“A mentor,” said Milo. “He was training you?”
“A philosophical guide!” She jabbed a finger at us. “Stop wasting your time with me and catch this fuckhead.”
Milo sat back, sank in, surrendered to gravity. “So the two of you became friends. You seem to be the only female friend he had—”
“He wasn’t gay, if that’s what you’re getting at. Just choosy. He was married and divorced a long time ago. Not an edifying experience.”
“Why not?”
“Eldon didn’t say. I could see he didn’t want to talk
about it and I respected his wishes. Now, is there anything else?”
“Let’s talk about the weekend Dr. Mate was murdered. You—”
“Rented the van? Yes, I did. I’d done it before because when Eldon showed up at the rental company, sometimes there were troubles.”
“They didn’t want to rent to him.”
Zoghbie nodded.
“So,” said Milo, “the night he was murdered, Dr. Mate was planning to help another traveler.”
“I assume.”
“He didn’t tell you who?”
“Of course not. Eldon never discussed his clinical activities. He called and said, ‘Alice, I’ll be needing a van tomorrow.'”
“Why didn’t he discuss his work?” said Milo.
“Ethics, Detective,” Zoghbie said with exaggerated patience. “Patient confidentiality. He was a doctor.”
The phone rang, distant as the clock chime.
“Better get that,” she said, standing. “Could be the press.”