“Two thousand a month,” said Milo.
“I know,” said Kipper. “For a guy with a Ferrari, that’s bullshit. But Julie refused to take any more. I offered to rent her a nice house—somewhere she could have a studio. But she insisted on living in that dump.”
“The two of you stayed attached.”
“Like I said, we had dinner once in a while.” Kipper hung his head. “Sometimes we made love—I know that sounds weird, but sometimes chemistry reared its nasty little head. Maybe we were meant for each other. Wouldn’t that be a laugh?”
“A laugh?”
“Living in a weird limbo,” said Kipper. “I didn’t want to cut her out of my life, why would I? And now she’s gone. And you’re wasting your time, here.”
“Sir—”
“Hey,” said Kipper, “you’ve got carte blanche. Come over to my house and tear up the fucking floorboards. But once you’re through with that, would you do me a favor and get serious about nailing the motherfucker who really did it? And if you do get him, tell him he’s a fucking savage who cut a chunk of beauty out of this fucking world.”
Shouting. Red as a beet, the outsized hands white-knuckled.
Kipper exhaled and slumped.
Milo said, “I have a few more questions.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
“You attended the opening—”
“I attended and bought two paintings.”
“Your ex-wife didn’t mind that?”
“Why would she?”
“Being independent and all that,” said Milo, “weren’t you worried she’d view it as charity?”
“I would’ve been worried, except that Julie and I had discussed the paintings a while back. I’d seen them at her place and told her I really wanted two. She wanted to give them to me for free, but I refused. I said she should hang them at the show, red-dotted. As a strategic move—this is hot stuff, come and get it.”
“How late did you stay at the opening?”
“Until a half hour before closing.”
“Which would be?”
“Nine-thirty, -forty.”
“Where’d you go after you left?”
“Ah,” said Kipper. “The alibi. Well, I don’t have one. I got into my car and took a drive. Sepulveda to San Vicente, over to Seventh and down into Santa Monica Canyon. I know the area because there’s a gas station that sells 100-octane hi-test gas and a supplement that boosts it to 104. There’s one in Pasadena, too. I thought of taking a beach drive, decided I wanted more curves—the Ferrari loves curves—turned around, took Sunset all the way to Benedict Canyon, had myself a little spin.”
“Hi-test,” said Milo. “How much do you pay for that?”
“Right now it’s four-fifty a gallon.”
Milo whistled.
Kipper said, “The Ferrari thrives on it.”
“What model?”
“Testarossa.”
“Work of art,” said Milo.
“Oh, yeah,” said Kipper. “High-maintenance. Like everything else in my life.”
10
“The grieving ex-husband,” said Milo, as I drove away from Century City, drifting past the ABC entertainment center.
“Angry ex-husband. Big, strong hands and a temper, and once he starts talking about the art world he heats up.”
“Leeches on the body artistic.”
“And Julie remained in the body artistic.”
“He bothers you.”
“He’s worth looking at,” I said. “Smart, powerful. And he’d been to the gallery. Even by his account his relationship with Julie was convoluted. A marriage full of upheaval, off-and-on physical intimacy ten years after the divorce. When intimates want to fake sexual assault, they generally fail to go all the way. Pulling the panties down, not off. Kipper claims he had to talk Julie into taking money, but who knows. He could also be a very frustrated guy. He used to have serious artistic aspirations. Letting go of dreams isn’t always easy.”
“Even with a Ferrari to soothe the angst?”
“As he reminded us three times. A Ferrari that he pumps full of high-octane gas. Think about that: He pays a hefty premium to beef up an already high-powered engine. We’re talking an aggressive guy. Toss in a difficult ex-wife whom he continued to sleep with and money issues—”
“Julie told the other artists the split was amicable.”
“How well did they know her? Did she tell anyone about her suicide attempts?”
“No,” he said. “She talked about being in rehab, but didn’t mention that. So, what, Julie reversed the terms and started hitting on Kipper for big money?”