“Apparently, my son needs to learn that lesson.”

“You’re going to leave your son hanging out to dry on this, Bruce?” Dixon asked. “I didn’t peg you for that.”

“He has to take responsibility for his own actions.”

“Oh, he has,” Mendez said.

“Then there you have it.”

“Last night he owned up to being gay.”

Bordain came halfway out of his chair and jabbed a finger at Mendez. “That’s a fucking lie!”

“It would be if it wasn’t true,” Mendez said.

“My son is not a faggot! He’s—He’s—He’s just trying to get out of this!” he said, pointing to the file folder. “It’s his kid. The woman called him and told him she was pregnant. He sent her a check to get an abortion. She didn’t do it. Then she showed up here with the baby. I’m not having my son marry some hippy artist with a love child. He’s got a future to think about.”

“So you paid her off,” Dixon said. “Does Milo know why she’s writing those checks?”

“Of course she knows.”

“And she’s fine with that?”

“Milo knows her job. She’s protecting her son.”

“That’ll be the best spin you can put on the story,” Dixon said. “Darren got a woman pregnant. Boys will be boys. And that definitely proves he’s a boy’s boy. Then the family took the woman and child in to support them. Very magnanimous. Definitely the right thing to do.

“The problem is, Bruce, the girl is dead.”

“I didn’t do it,” Bordain said. “I was in Vegas.”

“With access to a private jet and a bevy of handsomely paid alibi witnesses,” Mendez said. “Is that going to hold up?”

“Like the fucking Hoover Dam,” Bordain said. “Because it’s true.”

“And Darren couldn’t have done it,” Mendez said. “Because he was busy fucking his gay lover.”

A huge vein bulged out on Bordain’s forehead, throbbing. “That’s a lie! You shut the fuck up!”

“You can’t have it both ways—so to speak,” Mendez said dryly. “Either Darren fathered this woman’s child, got tired of the blackmail and killed her, or he couldn’t have killed her because he was in bed with his boyfriend. Which is it, Mr. Bordain? Which of those is the lesser of evils for you?”

“You could both take a paternity test,” Dixon said. “Then there’s no question who did what to whom.”

“Last I knew we had an amendment to the Constitution protecting us against self-incrimination,” Bordain said.

He stood up again. This time he really meant it. “We’re through here. If you want to speak about this further, Cal, call my attorney. He’s in the phone book under ‘Fuck You.’”

Chapter 88

88