Noire: Detective of L.A.

Noire: Detective of L.A. Part 12

Noire: Detective of L.A.

Chapter 4: A Marriage Made in Heaven, Part 3

Noire walked up the steps to the Patterson household. He imagined the wife in shock, traumatized. Unable to speak. He braced himself for the worst, as he knocked on the door. The door was answered by a middle-aged woman. She leaned leisurely on the door frame, smiling slightly. "Yes? Hello?"

Noire straightened his hat. "Mrs. Patterson?"

The woman's face fell, and she looked away. "Is this about my husband?"

"We're investigating the incident, ma'am."

"I see." she said, pursing her lips together. "Come in, won't you?"

Noire sat in the chair, facing Mrs. Patterson. She sat on the couch, leaning back. "Can you tell us what happened, ma'am?"

She shrugged. "What's there to tell? He got hit by a car, and now he's dead."

Noire glanced at her. "You don't seem too upset about the fact."

Mrs. Patterson looked at the ceiling, looking bored. "Lester and I met on a furlough in '44. We got married that weekend. People don't understand it now, but it happened a lot back then."

Noire nodded. "I see. So you probably did well to stick it out this long."

Mrs. Patterson sat up, narrowing her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean, mister? I think it's time for you to leave." she said, brushing her skirt off. "I have someone here and I-"

"I beg your pardon?" interrupted Jackson. "You're gonna have to run that one by us again, sister."

"It's okay, Lorna." a husky voice said. A well-dressed man walked in from the bedroom. "I'm Leroy Sabo."

Noire looked at the man with distaste. "Well, well. Nice to see you're comforting the grieving widow, Mr. Sabo."

"Alright wise guy, you have any intelligent questions you would like me to answer?"

"You can confirm Mrs. Patterson's story?"

Sabo have a sigh. "Lester lost at cards. He was kinda hard to control when he'd lost his temper. He turned without looking, and walked right out in front of the car. It wasn't good."

"What is your relationship with Mrs. Patterson, Mr. Sabo?"

"We're friends. Good friends." Sabo said quickly.

"You expect me to believe that?" Noire scoffed.

"Look, I was filing for a divorce." Mrs. Patterson explained. "Mental cruelty. Lester could be a mean son of a bitch."

"And Lester knew about this?" Noire inquired.

Lorna Patterson shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "No, I hadn't told him."

"Well, hasn't this worked out well for the two of you?" Jackson said, disgustedly. "I almost feel bad for busting in on this rendezvous."

"How did the car come to hit Lester?" Noire asked.

"He walked straight into a path of an oncoming car." Mrs. Patterson said, smiling, looking away.

"You expect me to believe that, Lorna? It's all very convenient."

She sighed. "Gambling for Lester was like the needle for a hophead. He was yelling at me. He was yelling at the whole world. I kind of feel sorry for the driver. The poor guy had no chance." she said, smirking.

"You were arguing in the bar and on the sidewalk?"

"We were always arguing. So what?" she snapped.

"Admit it-- you were baiting him, pushing his buttons. We can easily get the full story from the regulars in the bar."

"Alright. Lester was playing cards out back. He lost, of course, and wanted back in. He suggested I earn the money on my back to get him a stake. That was the proposition he was putting on to his so-called buddies, so maybe I was angrier than usual." She stopped to laugh. "Let's just say I took exception to his idea."

"The bartender said that you and Leroy are planning to go into business together. Can you explain where you'll get the money to do that?"

Mrs. Patterson examined her nails. "I have a little money saved up."

Noire knew she was lying now. "You're being rather economical with the truth, Lorna."

"You wanna back that up, little man?" she spat.

"I will. You increased the premium on Lester's life insurance. G. I. insurance policies have a $10,000 payout."

"You've got all figured it out, hm? It was Leroy's idea. Lester lived on the edge. He was always getting into fights, crap games, pinochle, you name it. Turns out, it was pretty good advice."

"It speaks to motive and premeditation, Lorna."

Mrs. Patterson smirked and laughed. "You're forgetting the hit and run, Detective."

Noire stood up and put his notepad in his jacket's pocket. "You and Mr. Sabo have an interesting day." said Noire curtly.

"I'm sure we will, Officer. Now, if you could both leave."

"We're leaving, ma'am. Sorry for your loss." said Jackson, sarcastically. "I can see what a tough time you're having with all this."

Jackson slammed the door behind them. "Lowlife whore." he muttered. Noire secretly agreed. He stepped tiredly into the car. Just then, the radio crackled. "11K, come in."

"This is 11K, come in."

"Message from the coroner: Noire, see me immediately. Results of the Patterson autopsy."

"Roger that, KGPL. 11K out."

Noire turned towards Jackson. "We better get down to Central Morgue."