Brown's Requiem - James Ellroy [91]
“What?” Suddenly I was shaking.
“I said Dick Ralston and George were old friends and that we were foster parents to Freddy Baker and his sister. My God, why are you staring at me that way?!” She began to sob. I let her cry while I tried to clear the gathering storm clouds in my own mind. After a minute she controlled herself. She looked at me guiltily, as if ashamed for her show of emotion.
“Mrs. Hansen,” I said, “I understand your connection to Richard Ralston. But you tell me that you and your husband were foster parents to Fat Dog Baker and his sister?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“His sister, Jane Baker?”
“Yes.”
“Who’s about twenty-eight years old now?”
“Yes, that’s about right.”
“My God. When was this?”
“In 1955. Freddy was twelve and Jane was three.”
“How did this come about?”
“A man I knew arranged it. Why I’ll never know. He was a wonderful man, an old friend, and he knew George and I wanted children, but couldn’t have any. He paid us very well to take care of them. We loved them so much. They were orphans. We were their second foster parents. Their first died in a fire the year before.” A fire. Jesus God.
“What was this man’s name, Mrs. Hansen? It’s very important.”
She hesitated. “Sol Kupferman,” she said.
Oh, God. Oh, shit, “And this was in 1955?” I almost screamed it.
“Yes. Why are you getting so upset?”
“I’m sorry, but what you’ve told me—and I believe you—contradicts most of the evidence I’ve gathered so far. How did you know Kupferman?”
“My brother introduced us. Sol was a very rich, glamorous, considerate man. He was supposed to be in the rackets, but I didn’t care. He had just lost the woman he had been living with for years. She committed suicide. He was heartbroken. We comforted each other. Why he was interested in the Baker kids, I’ll never know. He was always doing nice things for people. Anonymously. He told George and I that we must never mention him to the children.”
“And he arranged the adoption through an adoption agency?”
“Yes. The County Agency.”
“And what happened? Finally you gave up the children?”
“We had to. George was drinking heavily and Freddy became a wild, terrible boy. The adoption people took them away from us.”
“And that was the last you saw of the children? Or of Kupferman?”
“No. Sol and Dick Ralston fixed George up with a job cad-dying at Hillcrest. He sent us money at Christmastime. He still does. But I haven’t seen him for over ten years.”
“And Freddy and Jane were sent to other foster homes?”
“Yes.”
“Have you seen them since?”
“Not Jane. Freddy once in a while throughout the years. Not recently. He turned into a terrible, vicious-minded man, and I wanted nothing to do with him. He and George used to caddy at the same tournaments and sometimes he brought Freddy home, but I told him not to. Freddy scares me.”
“So you haven’t seen him recently?”
“No, but I knew he and George still saw each other. They even did ‘business’ together, if you can call it that. About ten days ago Bobby Marchion came by. He dropped off some keys for George from Freddy to his golf ball business. Freddy had sold George thousands of golf balls for four hundred dollars. They were in this cheap hotel room in L.A.”
“Do you still have the keys?”
“Yes.”
“Could I have them? I’ll gladly pay for them.”
“You can have them for free. I’ve had enough of golf bums, golf, and golf balls. I’ve been sober for three years in A.A.; I’ve got a Higher Power in my life, and George, as much as I loved him, was a terrible burden. It’s God’s will now that I move away from my old acquaintances. With George gone, I can do that. So you take the keys, with my best wishes.” She went to a drawer and handed them to me, three of them on a rabbit’s foot chain.
“What’s the name of the hotel?” I asked.
“It’s the Westwood Hotel in West L.A. The room number is on the big key.”
I thanked her and pocketed my prize. “One thing before I go,” I said. “Do you know of a scrapbook that Freddy Baker had?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You