Pearls of Asia: A Love Story (24 page)

THE TRANSAMERICA PYRAMID IS
the tallest and most recognizable skyscraper in San Francisco. Located at the base of Columbus Avenue and Montgomery and Washington streets, the building is a stone’s throw from the Financial District, Chinatown, and the city’s Italian North Beach neighborhood, where pasta and red wine are considered two of the four major food groups. The building has two unique design features. The first is the “wings” on the east and west sides of the building, used to accommodate an elevator shaft and a stairwell. The other is the size of the floors. The higher the floor, the smaller the space. The top floor, the forty-eighth, is barely big enough for a pool table.

Mac and Mayes rode up to the sixth-floor offices of the prestigious law firm of Goddard and Goddard, where Jim Grisham was a senior partner. Fifteen years earlier, Goddard and Goddard was located on the twenty-first floor. The firm doubled in size during the next five years and moved down to the twelfth floor. Two years ago, after merging with another law firm, Goddard and Goddard moved down to the sixth floor. Unlike most buildings in San Francisco, where the most successful firms moved higher to improve their views of the scenic Bay Area, the more prosperous you were working in the Pyramid, the closer you got to the parking garage.

“Mr. Grisham, what was going on between your wife and Michelle Osher?” asked Mayes, refusing Grisham’s offer to take a seat.

Grisham walked over to a window in his corner office and stared down the steel and concrete canyon better known as Montgomery Street. “What do you think was going on, Inspector?”

“You tell me, Mr. Grisham. Michelle Osher has been renting the same suite at the Fairmont Hotel every Tuesday for the last three years, and those hotel key cards we found in your apartment have your wife’s fingerprints all over them. What reason would two women living one floor from each other have to get together at a hotel room one block from their apartments?”

A pained look etched across Grisham’s face. “Because they were lovers.”

The awkward silence in Grisham’s office was punctured by the wailing siren of a fire engine rushing through the intersection of Montgomery and Clay.

“They started seeing each other several years ago,” continued Grisham, moving from the window to his glass-covered contemporary desk. “It started out very innocently. Paul Osher is a client, and we would get together with the Oshers to play tennis.” Grisham pointed to a photo on his wall of Paul Osher and Sonia Grisham. Both were on the same side of the net and dressed in their fashionably correct whites. Sonia was up at the net, holding her racket with both hands, while Paul Osher was returning a serve, smoking his ever-familiar cigar. “We’d have animated discussions over dinner, a bunch of wealthy conservatives working each other into a frenzy. Then Sonia and Michelle started spending time together, just the two of them. They spent hours walking Michelle’s dog. They even arranged for several ‘girls only’ trips to the Canyon Ranch spa in Tucson. It was after one of those trips that Sonia told me she had fallen in love with Michelle.”

“How did you feel about that, Mr. Grisham?” asked Mac. “That must have been one hell of a shock to your system.”

“I was floored. I’ll never forget that night. Sonia told me to fix myself a stiff drink and sit down because she had a story she needed to tell me.”

“Do you mind sharing it with us?”

Grisham leaned back in his chair, folded his hands behind his head, and put his feet up on his desk. “I might as well. You’re going to find out anyway. The first thing you need to know is that the Osher’s marriage was nothing but a facade. Michelle Osher was gay.”

Mac was too flabbergasted to ask a follow up question. Mayes, meanwhile, who had been exposed to more of life’s peccadilloes while a student at UC Berkeley, was unfazed. “You mean it’s not legal?” he asked.

“Oh I assure you, Inspector, it’s all legal. Michelle Osher was all about being politically correct. However, she thought it wouldn’t look right for a former Miss America to come out as a lesbian, so she wanted to get married to maintain her image. The problem was finding the right guy who would go along with her charade. Then she met Paul Osher at a cocktail party, and after too many vodka martinis she spilled the beans on her lifestyle. Paul viewed Michelle’s predicament as an opportunity, so he offered to marry her. Their union had all the romance of a corporate merger. It was only after marrying him that she learned about his unique ‘hobbies.’ Yet they somehow managed to make it work. Throughout their marriage, they’ve had only one hard and fast rule; that one spouse’s behavior doesn’t embarrass the other. That’s why Michelle rented the room at The Fairmont.”

“So Michelle Osher was adopted and gay,” pondered Mayes. “Man, this woman sure liked to keep secrets. We’re they planning on getting married, Mr. Grisham? Is that the real reason Michelle Osher changed her mind and became a supporter of gay marriage?”

“I know they talked about it many times. Michelle wanted to leave Paul and marry Sonia, but Sonia would never leave me.”

“Why not?”

“Because we love each other. Sonia and I have been married for over thirty years. We have a good marriage. It’s just not very traditional, that’s all. I never knew Sonia was bisexual, and quite frankly, neither did she. Sometimes you learn things about yourself later in life, but it’s no reason to destroy what two people have spent a lifetime building together. Like the Oshers, we figured out a way to make it work.”

Mac’s mind went numb trying to comprehend the lifestyles of the rich and bizarre. Even Mayes, who was as open-minded as they come, was taken aback by Jim Grisham’s revelations. The 1969 free love movie
Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice
seemed like Sesame Street compared to the worlds of Jim and Sonia and Paul and Michelle.

Mayes brought the discussion back to the murder case. “Mr. Grisham, why did your wife leave town after Michelle Osher was murdered?”

“I don’t know why. And I also lied to you when I said she flew to New York. The truth is I don’t know where she is. I went back to sleep after you left Thursday morning, and when I woke up around noon I opened the door of the guest room and discovered Sonia was gone. All she left was a note on the bed saying she needed to be by herself. I haven’t heard from her since. You can check our phone records.”

“Mr. Grisham, you’re an attorney. For God’s sake, why would you lie to us about your wife’s disappearance?”

“Because she’s done this before, that’s why. Sonia’s a very emotional woman, and her first instinct when she’s under a lot of stress is to get away and be by herself. She’s not normally gone this long, however. I pray that Michelle’s death hasn’t pushed her over the edge.”

“Do you have any idea where she is, or where she could be?” asked Mac.

“I don’t know. I’m telling you the truth. To be perfectly frank, I’m worried sick about her. I hope she hasn’t done anything stupid.”

Mayes jumped on his phone and contacted the F.B.I., informing them of Sonia Grisham’s disappearance. Mac thumbed through his notepad, and then slapped it on his knee in a moment of frustration. “Mr. Grisham, I still don’t understand why you denigrated Michelle Osher the morning after her murder. You made it clear you didn’t like her.”

Grisham’s face turned red, and began to fill with rage. “Again, I might as well tell you because you’ll find out anyway. I was angry at Michelle. The Sunday before her murder, Michelle told Sonia she wanted to end their romantic relationship. She said she had met someone else, a much younger woman who worked at the news bureau. Sonia was very upset, as you can imagine. She cried for days. I even stayed home from work last Tuesday to help console her. That was the day I saw Michelle in the elevator. I lied when I told you I had invited her to my party. Instead, I confronted her about breaking up with Sonia. She said she was sorry, but that she had already moved on.” Grisham pounded his fist on his desk. “That bitch! I hate what she did to my wife.”

“We need to talk to your wife, Mr. Grisham,” insisted Mac. “Now.”

“I understand, Inspector, and I know what you’re thinking. Sonia may have been upset with Michelle, but she would never kill her. I can assure you of that.”

Mayes pulled a pen from his coat pocket. He had a spark in his eye, the kind of look he gets when his brilliant mind slips into overdrive. “A couple more questions, Mr. Grisham. Did you and your wife ever own a dog?”

“No. Never. I can’t stand pets.”

“What about Sonia? Does she like dogs?”

“She loves them. She’s like a godmother to Misha. Sonia likes to carry that miniature mutt whenever she and Michelle go on their walks. Sonia takes care of Misha when the Oshers go out of town. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” answered Mayes, writing furiously in his notebook.

MAC DROVE THE SUB
through the Transamerica garage and waited for a large red metal plate, installed after 9/11 and thick enough to shield a nuclear bomb, to lower so they could exit the premises. “You heard something in there, Mayes. What was it?”

“You don’t play tennis, do you?”

“No,” replied Mac. “You know I don’t consider anything a sport if the uniform costs more than the equipment. Why?”

“That picture Grisham pointed out to us? Sonia Grisham was holding her racket with both hands, but her left hand was on the bottom. Only lefties do that. See, I’m getting to be almost as observant as you.”

“Okay, Mr. Eagle Eyes. What’s with asking Grisham about whether his wife had a thing for dogs?”

“Remember our conversation about what kind of person kills for passion, and I said sometimes it’s the other woman?”

“Yeah. So?”

“Well, we may have just found her. And hotel key cards may not be the only souvenirs she collects.”

MAC TRIED TO REACH
Nadia, or Damian Puti, all day long. A squad car parked outside her apartment on Upper Terrace Drive never saw her return from Sacramento, so Mac stopped by
Pearls of Asia
to find her. Ashley, wearing a deep pink backless sequined cocktail dress that was too short, too tight, and too much, was seated on a bar stool in front of a reservations computer, working the front door as a hostess. She was rubbing her legs together, like two chopsticks ready to attack a plate of chow mien. A long gold necklace with a V-shaped charm gave directions to the diamond stickpin piercing her belly button.

“Well, if it isn’t Big Mac,” announced Ashley, holding out her hand. “Sheyla told us about your date last night. In case you’ve forgotten, my name is Ashley.”

“Tonight it’s Ashley,” responded Mac, doing his best to ignore Ashley’s dazzling body wrapped inside her even more dazzling outfit. “Last week it was Savannah. How can you keep track of them all?”

“I don’t. Nadia and I were just having fun, that’s all. She told me she had mentioned something to you about the party.”

“Of course she did. Doesn’t everyone at
Pearls of Asia
know what color underwear everyone else is wearing? Who else is working tonight?”

“Sheyla and Reyna. They’re in the dressing room downstairs getting ready. Diamond was on the schedule to work tonight, but she didn’t show up. Strange, but no one’s seen her since she left for Mexico. She hasn’t even bothered to call in. I can’t say I’m surprised, though. She’s such a tramp.”

“I thought she was a diva?”

“Diamond’s a diva alright, but she’s also a ‘tramp,’ which in our crazy world stands for ‘Transsexual American Princess.’ I’ve only been here two weeks and already I can’t stand her.”