Before our butts hit the chairs, she said, “So someone murdered Rick Gurnsey. Wouldn’t have thought it.”
Milo said, “He didn’t seem the type to get murdered?”
“Too easygoing. Does that sound ridiculous to you?”
“Of course not—”
“It probably does. I understand that anyone can get killed, I was in Iraq. What I meant was Rick always seemed utterly inoffensive. Can’t see him generating that level of hostility.”
Joan Blunt smiled. Her eyes didn’t. “You’re talking to everyone he knew?”
“Something like that.”
“Or maybe just everyone he dated?”
“That, too.”
Joan Blunt said, “So it wasn’t a street robbery or something like that, it was personal.”
We said nothing.
“Got to keep it close to the vest, huh? Now’s when you’re going to ask how I met him and the nature of our relationship?”
“That would be helpful.”
“It won’t be,” she said. “There’s no there there. But fine, here’s the whole sordid tale: My husband cheated on me so I filed for divorce and began the process of taking as much from him as I could and bucking myself up with mindless sex.”
“Rick was—”
“A vehicle. One of several. How’d you connect him to me? His phone?”
“Yes.”
“So you know we spoke a total of—what—ten times? Making dates, breaking them, a bit of flirting, why not? The breaking was always me. Something coming up here at the office or I needed suddenly to travel. Rick was a nine-to-fiver.”
Milo said, “Where did the two of you meet?”
Joan Blunt said, “I thought I answered that. I was on the prowl, he was an easy catch.”
“That’s how. We’d like to know where.”
“Why?”
“It might help us understand Rick. His social habits.”
“You think they got him killed?”
“At this point, we’ve got more questions than answers, Ms.—Joan.”
Blunt’s smile spread slowly. A woman used to calling the shots. “Can you tell me when he was murdered?”
“Sometime Saturday morning.”
“Six days ago,” said Blunt. “And you still don’t know his habits?”
“It’s a tough case, Joan.”
“Guess so but Ricky never impressed me as a mystery man. Where did we meet? He picked me up at Coast, the lounge at Shutters. When I left my husband I moved from our house in the Valley to an apartment in Pacific Palisades. But you probably know that.”
“Actually, we don’t.”
“Oh,” said Blunt. “Of course, I haven’t changed my DMV, better do that soon so my churl of an ex doesn’t get hold of my registration and throw it out. Anyway, I’m in a tiny little place with no charm but at least it’s close to the beach so Shutters seemed like a practical choice for meeting men. I didn’t want to do the online thing, too many unknowns. I trust my own intuition and ability to read people. Not that it was easy, I’d been out of circulation for a while. But at some point, you just dive in.”
Brief, furious glower. “Unlike the churl, who circulated the whole time—sorry, I’m doing what I despise, bleeding in public. My dad was a colonel in the air force. He’d be giving me the death-stare.”
Milo said, “You and Rick both happened to be at Coast?”
“Yup. He was already at the bar when I arrived. Cute, nicely dressed, well built. Nice hands with clean well-shaped nails, I always look at the nails. And he was obviously interested.”
Another smile, this one broader, flashing luminous teeth. “The moment I sat down he was sneaking looks at me. Then I allowed him to catch my eye and he smiled. The second time, I smiled back. The third time, he bought me a drink. Then he came over. Pretty boilerplate, but I was primed and ready.”
I said, “You were both interested—”
“For him sex was probably a state of being. For me, it was a mission and I was horny as hell. And lonely. The churl had taken our daughter to visit his parents. That night, I was going to meet someone and Rick was the cutest guy in the lounge. I talked to him long enough to decide he was safe and brought him to my apartment. Before the door closed we were up against the living room wall.”
Blue eyes turned to gas flames. Daring us to judge.
“I’d seen it in the movies but never did it that way. Not the most comfortable position but I figured time to be open-minded. In the end I was okay with it but had to eventually lie down. Rick loved it. And afterward he was so well behaved. Soft-spoken, solicitous, not one of those where-are-the-frozen-waffles troglodytes. We hooked up maybe…six, seven times, essentially the same deal: drinks, sometimes a light dinner, and…I don’t need to spell it out. The seventh time he tried to explore me anatomically in a way I didn’t welcome and that was it.”
“Did he get pushy about it?”
Joan Blunt smiled. “Literally or figuratively? No, he started poking around, I said uh-uh, he pouted a little so I…gave him compensation. But that was enough for me, he’d become boring. Not a genius. I told him it had been fun but now it was over. It’s the kind of thing guys do to women all the time. That’s not a political statement, merely fact.”
I said, “Time to chart another course.”
Joan Blunt cocked her head to the side and touched a fingertip to her lips. “That’s rather insightful or you’re faking it well. Are you single?”
“Sorry, no.”
She laughed. “At least you’re apologizing.”
Milo said, “How did Rick take to being dumped?”
“He sent me a couple of weepy-face emojis, called a couple of times, are you sure, Joanie, we can just do it the regular way. I told him it had nothing to do with that and he gave up. As much as I’d like to think of myself as irresistible, I knew he’d just find another green pasture.”
“Why?”
“Handsome, inoffensive, reliable erection, good stamina. He was made for dalliance.”
I said, “Did he ever talk about having conflict with anyone?”
“Never. He didn’t talk much period, thank God. I wasn’t interested in learning about his psyche or his family or his aches and pains. This was all about reassuring myself.”