Part 17 (1/2)
”I don't think that's possible right now,” Hoffmann said. ”But it just happens Dr. Obermeyer is here right now, with Bill. Would you like to see him?”
”I'd like to see Trasker,” Viviase said.
”Well, we'll have to talk to Dr. Obermeyer about that. This way,” said Hoffmann, moving to the stairs and taking them two at a time.
Viviase and I came up at a decidedly slower pace. Hoffmann went past the open door of a bedroom and through the open door of a second bedroom. A man, Trasker, lay in the bed in blue pajamas, a paisley quilt pulled up to his chest. He was clean-shaven. His eyes were closed. He was thin, pale, sunken cheeks, mouth slightly open, skin almost white.
Beside the bed stood a man who was also wearing tennis shorts. His were blue and his s.h.i.+rt was an even lighter blue. There was no emblem on his pocket, just an understanding smile on his face. He was slightly overweight, probably slightly over sixty, and only slightly balding with a professional-looking gray thatch.
”Dr. Obermeyer,” Hoffmann said, softly introducing the man near the bed.
Obermeyer shook our hands.
”Can Mr. Trasker be moved to a hospital?” Viviase asked.
”I wouldn't advise it,” said Obermeyer in a very professional baritone.
”We might want a second opinion,” said Viviase. ”I'd like to talk to him.”
”Mr. Trasker is sedated,” the doctor said. ”I've also given him a rather high dose of pain medication. I don't think he'd be very coherent if we did manage to wake him up.”
Hoffmann was leaning against the wall near the door, his arms folded in front of him. His eyes met mine and he smiled.
”Mr. Trasker asked that he remain here,” Obermeyer said gently but firmly.
”Unless his wife tells me otherwise,” Hoffmann said. ”Whatever Roberta wants is fine with me, but she's already said she thinks it's a good idea.”
”Let's go in the hall,” Viviase said.
We all moved to the hall and I closed the door on the sleeping commissioner.
”When did you last see or talk to Mrs. Trasker?” Viviase asked.
”Roberta?” said Hoffmann. ”This morning. I told her to come over and see Bill after Dr. Obermeyer said it was all right.”
”She's dead,” Viviase said.
”Roberta?”
Hoffmann sounded genuinely surprised, but surprise was only part of it. There seemed to be a real touch of shock or even grief. The man was either innocent or a good actor. I bet on the good actor.
”What happened?” he asked as Obermeyer put his hand on Hoffmann's shoulder to steady him.
”Shot,” said Viviase.
”Robbery?”
”No,” the detective said. ”Nothing taken. Where've you been today?”
”Me? Softball game in Venice early in the morning. Then tennis tournament at the racquet club. Jim and I are partners.”
”Jim?”
”Dr. Obermeyer,” Hoffmann explained. ”We're partners.”
”In tennis,” I said.
”Yes, tennis,” Hoffmann said, turning unfriendly eyes to me. ”We started at eleven and finished just half an hour ago. We haven't even had time for a shower.”
”Who was watching Trasker?”
”My a.s.sistant, Stanley. She's really dead?”
”Yes,” Viviase said. ”I've got a question for you and then I'd like to talk to Stanley. He's here?”
”Probably in his room, the next bedroom,” Hoffmann said, nodding his head down the hall.
”We can talk to him in a few seconds,” said Viviase. ”First, my question. How old are you?”
Hoffmann closed his eyes and shook his head.
”Why doesn't that question surprise me?” he asked. ”Fonesca here told you about my Social Security number.”
”Yes.”
”I've paid all my taxes,” Hoffmann said.
”What's your real name?”
”I'm not wanted for anything,” Hoffmann said.
”How about a direct answer? The question is simple.”
Hoffmann thought for a moment and shook his head no.
”I'll talk to my lawyer first,” he said.
”I think getting a lawyer is a good idea,” said Viviase.
”You think I killed her? Why would I kill...I wouldn't hurt her, but I will guarantee that if you don't find the person who did it, I will, and I have the distinct intuition that the murderer will...I didn't kill her.”
The man was good. If we were in a movie, I'd give serious consideration to nominating him for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar.
”Let's talk to Stanley,” Viviase said.
”I'll stay here,” Obermeyer said, looking down at his patient.
Hoffmann stepped past us and knocked at the closed door of the room next to the one where William Trasker lay sleeping.
”Come in,” Stanley called.