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I had my phone in hand and typed notes as he spoke. He went on.
“I drove down to LA on Monday night and stayed with Rae in Malibu. On Tuesday we picked up Brock on campus at Pepperdine University and went to Venice Beach for the day. Look.” He removed his watch so I could see a tan line.
I didn’t look impressed.
“And then?”
“Then we all went out to dinner, Chinese restaurant en route. I’ll have the name on my credit card receipt if you want it. Then we drove the kid back to school. We didn’t know about Jamie’s death until we got back to Rae’s place. I had another overnight with my ex-wife and we talked about Jamie’s death all night. I was in the kitchen here by eleven fifteen. I can account for my time and Rae’s.”
I asked him to go through his wallet now and give me the toll and restaurant card receipts and he did it.
“I’d like these back, okay?”
“I’ll get them back to you this afternoon. Now, I’d like to know more about Rae and James Fricke.”
“That’s a very long and old story. Let me put some more food in front of us, before I start talking.”
He called the waiter over, spoke a dozen words in fluent French, and turned back to me.
Christophe said, “Sergeant, most of what I know about Jamie comes from Rae. We were brothers-in-law, of course, but I didn’t socialize with him, especially after the divorce. It’s whatchacallit, hearsay, Sarge. Personal stuff through Rae,or what I read in the media. Theory seems to be that the same person killed both Holly and Jamie? Is that true?”
“It’s still a theory. We have no proof.”
A waiter removed our dishes, then put down more surprise food from Christophe. It was a baked ravioli dish. “What is it?”
“Go ahead, Sarge. Taste it,” he said. “Then, you tell me.”
I took a taste and guessed. “Ravioli stuffed with some kind of squash.”
“Very good. Butternut squash.”
“Delicious. So, Christophe …”
“Chris is fine.”
“So, Chris. What do you know about the relationship between Jamie and Rae?”
CHAPTER 101
CHRISTOPHE SAID TO me, “Too late for that long old story now. See that pretty woman who just came in?”
“Short print dress. Long wavy hair?”
“That’s the one. Moira Benet.”
She was coming toward us, right up to the table, when Chris stood up, gave her a good hug, and introduced us.
“Moira Benet,” said Chris, “meet Sergeant Lindsay Boxer. Sergeant, Moira is the heart of gossip central, right, Mo? And Sergeant Boxer is the top cop on the Fricke murder cases.”
“Lindsay Boxer,” Moira said. “Nice to finally meet you.”
“Moira is an old friend of Rae’s,” said Chris. “You two should talk. I have a nice table opening up on the patio. Lunch is on the house.”
We moved to seats at a teakwood table under a striped umbrella outside. Chris moved Moira’s handbag out of the aisle and said, “You need anything, just ask.”
“He’s such a dear,” Moira said of Chris.
Turned out Moira wasn’t one for banter. She took the reinsand talked through the first course. Her key point was that she and Rae were tight.