Free Steven Bochco by Death by Hollywood

to interview me down at the jail,” she asks, “or would you prefer to come up to the house for a cup of coffee?”
    Dennis says the house would be better, as the screams from all the suspects being beaten up by the cops “down at the jail” might be off-putting.
    Linda laughs. “I like you already, Detective,” and they make an appointment for later in the day.

CHAPTER 13
    Dennis has seen a lot of wealthy people’s homes, but even by the standards of wealth he’s familiar with, the Paulson estate stands alone. On three acres of prime Bel Air real estate, the two-story, thirty-thousand-square-foot house is beautifully situated on the highest point on the property, which also features a guest house, a tennis court, a pool, and separate servants’ quarters.
    Dennis drives through the tall iron gate and tins the armed private security guy in the blue blazer, who calls him sir and directs him up the driveway to the front of the house. At the door, Dennis quickly huffs into his cupped palm to make sure the garlic from the linguini he had at lunch hasn’t hung around past its welcome.
    The door opens, and a uniformed maid greets Dennis and walks him into the library, telling him Mrs. Paulson will join him shortly.
    Looking around, Dennis is prepared to bet his pension no one living here has ever read a single one of the leather-bound volumes lining the walls of the magnificent wood-paneled room.
    â€œI’ve read every one of them,” Linda Paulson says, entering the room, her hand outstretched in greeting, as if she could also read minds. Then, smiling, she says,
“Not.”
    â€œWhat a place,” Dennis says, shaking her hand, and he’s not kidding.
    â€œIt’s bigger than we need, but it was my husband’s before we were married,” and her self-deprecating little shrug says, what’s a girl to do?
    Dennis tells Linda he appreciates her taking the time to see him, he won’t keep her long, but if he could just ask her a couple of questions, he’s interviewing everyone who knew Ramon, he’ll let her get back to her reading.
    His little play off her joke earns him a dazzling smile, and Dennis thinks to himself he wouldn’t mind seeing a tape of Linda Paulson banging
any
one.
    â€œI doubt I can tell you much about him past what you probably have already,” Linda says. “I hardly got to know him at all.”
    â€œHow long were you taking his class?” Dennis asks.
    â€œAbout four months or so. I used to be a working actress in my salad days, before I met Marv, and while I haven’t really pursued my career since then, I thought it would be fun to take some classes, kind of stretch out my acting muscles.”
    She tells Dennis she certainly knew Ramon was something of a womanizer, and while it was none of her business, it was pretty obvious that he’d slept with a number of the girls in his class.
    â€œDid he ever come on to you?” Dennis asks, and Linda laughs.
    â€œNo,” she says. “I don’t think he was very interested. I’m a happily married woman, Detective, and there were a lot of very pretty single girls in class who were half my age.”
    Dennis is willing to bet double or nothing that Ramon
was
very interested, that he was probably all
over
Linda Paulson. What he isn’t sure of is whether
she
was all over
him,
though from having seen pictures of her fat slob husband, Marv, Dennis figures it’s at least fifty-fifty she thought about it.
    Dennis has been around long enough to understand why a beautiful woman like Linda Paulson would hook up with a fat piece of shit like Marv, if you don’t think about it too specifically. If you only think about the fact that, okay, he’s rich, they hang out with lots of celebrities, they have floor seats at the Laker games, there’s a certain cachet in Hollywood that comes from being with a rich, powerful tub like Marv—Dennis