Johnithan Kellerman – Bad Love

As I got out of the car, I noticed the TV camera above the lintel. The air was hot and smelled sterile.

I got out and went over to Robin’s truck.

She smiled. “Looks like a motel, doesn’t it?”

“Long as the owner’s not named Norman.”

The black van dieseled as its ignition shut down. The three beef-boys exited and threw open the rear doors. Tarped machines filled the cabin. The boys did some squats and grunts and began unloading.

Milo said something to them, then waved to us. His jacket was off but he still wore his gun. The heat had returned.

“Crazy weather,” I said.

Robin got out and lifted the dog out of the pickup. We walked to the front door, and Milo let us into the house.

The floor was white marble streaked with pink, the furniture teakwood and ebony and bright blue velour. The far wall was taken up by single, light French doors. All the others were covered with paintings-hung frame to frame, so that only scraps of white plaster were visible.

The doors looked out onto a yard encircled by a nearly invisible fenceglass panes in thin iron frames. A strip of sod-grass separated a cement patio from a long, narrow lap pool. The pool had been dug at the edge of the lotsomeone aiming for a mergewith-the-sky effect. But the water was blue and the sky was gray and the whole thing ended up looking like an off-balance cubist sculpture.

The dog ran to the French doors and tapped the glass with his paws.

Milo let him out and he squatted in the grass before returning.

“Make yourself right at home, why don’t you.” To us: “Called London, everything’s set up. There’ll be a token rent, but you don’t have to worry about it until he gets back.”

We thanked him. He dusted off one of the couches and I studied the art.

Impressionist pictures that looked French and important nudged up against PreRaphaelite mythology. Syrupy, Orientalist harem scenes neighbored with English hunt paintings. Modern pieces, too: a Mondrian, a Frank Stella chevron, a Red Grooms subway cartoon, something amorphous fashioned out of neon.

The dining area was all Maxfield Parrish: cobalt skies, heavenly forests, and beautiful blond boys.

Lots of nude male statuary, too. A lamp whose black granite base was a limbless, muscular torso-Venus de Milo in drag. A framed cover from The Advocatc commemorating the Christopher Street riot side by side with a Paul Cadmus drawing of a reclining Adonis. A framed Arrow Man shirt ad from an old issue of Collier’s kept company with a black-and-white gelatin print of a Paul Newman lookalike in nothing but a G-string. I felt less comfortable than I would have expected. Or maybe it was just the suddenness of the move.

Milo brought us back to the door and demonstrated the closed-circuit surveillance system. Two cameras-one in front, the other panning the rear of the house, two black-and-white monitors mounted over the door.

One of them captured the three behemoths, shlepping and swearing.

Milo opened the door and shouted, “Careful!” Closing it, he said, “What do you think?”

“Great,” I said. “Plenty of space-thanks a lot.”

“Beautiful view,” said Robin. “Really gorgeous.”

We followed him into the kitchen and he opened the door of a Sub-Zero cooler. Empty except for a bottle of cooking sherry. “I’ll get you some provisions.”

Robin said, “Don’t worry, I can take care of that.”

“Whatever. … Let’s get you a bedroom-you’ve got your choice of three.”

He took us down a wide, windowless hallway lined with prints. A wall clock in a mother-of-pearl case read two thirty-five. In less than an hour, I was expected in Sunland.

Robin read my mind: “Your afternoon appointment?”

“What time?” said Milo.

“Three-thirty,” I said.

“Where?”

“Wallace’s mother-in-law. I’m supposed to see the girls out there. No reason not to go, is there?”

He thought for a moment. “None that I can see.”

Robin caught the hesitation. “Why should there be a reason?”

“This particular case,” I said, “is potentially ugly. Two little girls, their father killed their mother and now wants visitation-” “That’s absurd.”

“Among other things. The court asked me to evaluate and make a recommendation. In the very beginning Milo and I talked about the father possibly being behind the tape. Trying to intimidate me. He’s got a criminal record and hangs with an outlaw motorcycle gang that’s been known to use strongarm tactics.”