Self-Defense by JONATHAN KELLERMAN

“Was there a lot of dope and booze?”

“What do you think? But none of the staff messed with it—I had a rule about that. You’re behind a buffet table, spooning out coleslaw, you can’t be freaking out.”

“Was Karen behind the buffet?”

“At first. Then the caterer started screaming for someone to pass around the hors d’oeuvres trays, so I had her do that. That’s the last time I saw her: going into the crowd with a tray. Not that I looked for her. I was like a chicken with my head cut off, it was so crazy. I worked till five in the morning. The cleanup was outrageous; the caterer split with all his Mexicans and left it to Tom and me.”

“Were you back on shift at the Dollar on Sunday?”

“Sunday evening.”

“Was Karen supposed to be on, too?”

“Yes, but like I said, she always took time off, so her not showing up was no big deal.”

“When did you first realize she’d disappeared?”

“A couple of days later, I guess. I didn’t think much about it. I wasn’t her mother.”

“When did Lowell call you?”

“Who said he called me?”

“We know he did, Gwen. To arrange the payoff. Our information is that it was three days after the party. Is that true?”

She turned one of her earrings, then reversed the circuit. “More like four or five, I don’t know.”

“Tell me about his call.”

She turned to Travis. “You okay, baby?”

The boy played with the box and giggled.

I said, “He’s fine, Gwen.”

Another turn of the earring. She cleared her throat, coughed. Picked something out of one nail.

I crossed my legs and smiled at her.

“You’re making a mountain out of a molehill. He didn’t say anything about any payoff,” she said. “He asked for Tom and me to meet him, said he had a bonus for us. For doing such a good job at the party.”

“Where’d you meet him, at Sanctum?”

“No, out in the Valley. On Topanga Canyon Boulevard, just before Ventura.”

Upper-middle-class residential area. “Where on the boulevard?”

“It was—I guess you’d call it a turnoff. A piece of empty land.”

“Right on Topanga?”

“Just off new Topanga, actually. Around the corner from Topanga—some side street. I don’t remember the name but I could probably show it to you.”

“Probably?”

“It’s been a long time. It was dark, almost midnight.”

“You didn’t find his wanting to meet that late strange?”

“I found lots of things strange. He was strange, always yakking; most of the time he made no sense. The party was strange. He wanted to give us money, I didn’t argue.”

“Did he come alone?”

Nod. “He was waiting when we got there, sitting in his car.”

“What kind of car?”

“A Mercedes, I think. I told you I’m not into cars.”

“Just a casual midnight meeting to pick up some money.”

“It would have had to be late because Tom and I were working at the restaurant. Some people have to earn a living.”

“What happened after you got there?”

“He stayed in the car, told us we’d done a great job at the party and he was giving us a bonus.”

Twisting her fingers.

“What else?”

“He said there was something else we needed to talk about. He wasn’t sure, but he thought one of the girls who’d worked for us had gotten into some kind of fight with a guest and had walked off.”

“Did he name Karen?”

“He called her the pretty one.”

“Did he say which guest?”

“No.”

“You’re sure.”

“Yes!”

“Did he mean a physical fight?”

“I assumed he meant just an argument—he might have even said “argument,’ I can’t remember.”

Moisture in her eyes. She stared at me, flaunting the tears.

“What else?”

“Nothing, he just said the girl hadn’t behaved properly, had really stepped out of line, but he wouldn’t hold it against us or complain because, other than that, we’d done a really good job. Then he said we also had to promise not to say anything about the fight. Because the press was out to get him, and any scandal would cause a giant hassle for him. Even if the girl disappeared and people came asking for her. Because when she’d cursed out the guest, she’d said something about being disgusted and splitting town.”

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