Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 17

by The Mercedes Coffin

  Decker wondered what her other misfortunes were.

  Melinda said, “May I ask who offered to donate the money?”

  “Genoa Greeves. She’s the CEO of Timespace.”

  “I’ve heard of Timespace. What was her connection to Ben?”

  “She was his student in the early eighties. She describes herself as a typical geek, and according to her, your husband was the only person other than her parents who ever gave her a word of encouragement. Smart people have long memories.”

  She raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

  “Do you remember her?” Decker asked.

  “Not at all, but her words don’t surprise me. Ben was always doing things for other people. I’ve never met a more altruistic man in my entire life. Sometimes I almost wish I had discovered a drug habit or a mistress. It would have made him more human. By now, the man has reached Godlike stature in my eyes. Everyone falls short. Although I adore Mike, he can never…” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. This is very painful.”

  “I’m sure it is, but if I’m going to do this case correctly, I have to start from the beginning.”

  She dabbed her tears with a Kleenex. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything new to tell.”

  “It would be helpful if you went over the incident for me.”

  A heavy sigh. “Why not? I’ve only told the story about a million times. Ben said he’d be home around seven. When he wasn’t home by ten, I started to worry. I got in the car and went down to Civic Auditorium, trying to find someone from the meeting. Everyone was gone. I drove back home and called the police. They told me to call back in forty-eight hours. A grown man missing is no big deal.”

  “Do you remember who you spoke to on the phone?”

  “Wendell Festes. He wound up apologizing to me for his flippant attitude, but then started saying things like ‘you gotta understand what usually happens.’” Melinda clenched her teeth. “I really didn’t give a damn about what usually happens. The man was rude, and I told the captain that when I spoke to him.”

  Decker nodded. “So what did you do after speaking to Festes?”

  “A few of my friends came over to the house to keep me company. Their husbands went out searching for Ben. They found his car and called the police, and the police found Ben.” She sat down on a leather club chair and made a swipe at the tears in her eyes. “That’s really all I can recall…I’m sorry.”

  “What do you think might have happened that night?” Decker asked.

  Melinda shook her head. “I thought about it endlessly for years. His car was all alone at Clearwater Park. Maybe he got a last-minute phone call and was meeting someone there, although his car phone records didn’t indicate that. But he could have made a call from a phone booth. The cell phones back then weren’t reliable.”

  “Who would he have met?”

  “If he was meeting anyone, it was a student in trouble. I suggested that to the detectives at the time, but that went nowhere.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know how teenagers are, especially the boys. Risk takers. They do stupid stuff and usually get caught. Doing something idiotic doesn’t mean that the kid is a sociopath. Ben was their best advocate. He went the extra mile for them the first time.”

  “And the second time?”

  “Their pleas fell on deaf ears. Ben had a sense of fairness and justice. If you didn’t prove yourself to be trustworthy, you didn’t get trusted.”

  “So it is possible that Ben might have angered the repeat offenders.”

  “The chronic troublemakers would have gotten expelled, anyway, regardless of what Ben might have told the administration. You can’t sell pot continually to your fellow students and expect not to be expelled.”

  “Do you have a specific kid in mind?”

  “Darnell Arlington…a real charmer. One of the few kids who fooled Ben in a big way, but I must tell you, the police checked him out thoroughly. Darnell had moved to Ohio to live with his grandmother. The night of Ben’s murder, he was playing in a basketball game at the local high school. About a hundred people saw him.

  “From what I was led to believe, Darnell was turning his life around. His grandmother was a no-nonsense person. But check him out if you want.”

  “Do you remember any other wayward students?”

  “Not specifically, but there could have been others. I do remember Ben being upset about Darnell even after he moved. For some reason, the kid tugged at his heartstrings.”

  “Did Darnell ever come to the house?”

  “No, not on your life. Ben kept his students away from his family. He never gave out his home phone number or his car phone number.”

  “What about his pager?”

  “From what I recall, no one had paged Ben that evening.”

  Her memory was correct. No activity was recorded on Ben’s pager on the evening of his demise. Still, Decker didn’t have Ben’s pager records for the previous morning and afternoon. It was possible that someone had paged him earlier in the day and Ben used a public phone to return the call that evening. Maybe a hasty meeting was set up. That would explain why Ben was at Clearwater Park, but it wouldn’t shed any light on why Ben hadn’t called his wife.

  “Was Ben familiar with Clearwater Park?”

  “We’d been there before for cookouts when the boys were little.”

  “So Ben had driven the roads around that area before.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “If you were going to Clearwater Park from Civic Auditorium, you’d have to take some small roads and at night. If Ben wasn’t familiar with the park, it would indicate to me that he was driven there by his abductors. If he knew the park well, maybe he was meeting someone.”

  “We’d been there a few times. That’s all I can tell you.” She shrugged.

  “The primary detectives interviewed scores of people, including quite a few students. What did you think of the detectives?”

  “That’s an odd question.”

  Decker didn’t respond.

  “Arnie Lamar and Cal Vitton.” She smiled, but it lacked mirth. “I suppose they were nice enough; they just didn’t get anywhere. It was always Arnie’s contention that it was a carjacking. That didn’t make sense to me.”

  “How so?”

  “First of all, Ben wasn’t a fool. If someone wanted the car, he would have handed over the keys. The other option is that they stole the car and purposely put Ben in the trunk while they went on a joyride.” She made a face. “I don’t see kids driving a stolen car with a dead man in the trunk.”

  “There’s a case in Hollywood right now that’s similar to Ben’s case: a body was discovered in the trunk of his Mercedes. Two teens are currently in custody.”

  Melinda’s hands flew to her mouth. “Do you think they’re connected?”

  “The boys that were arrested weren’t even alive when Ben was murdered,” Decker said. “It’s the boys’ contention that they didn’t know the body was in the trunk when they stole the car for a joyride. But that would be the logical thing to say. The victim’s name was Primo Ekerling. Does the name sound familiar?”

  She thought a moment. “No…no, not at all.”

  “He was around forty. The papers listed him as an independent music producer and an entrepreneur.”

  “That’s L.A. speak for a slacker.”

  “I must admit that nonspecific occupations tweak my antennas. But the case isn’t mine, and Hollywood has plenty of well-trained homicide detectives. I’m sure they have their reasons for arresting the punks.”

  “I’m sure they do.”

  “Still, now that I’ve been assigned your husband’s case, I’d like to know more about the Hollywood carjacking. If I’m going to get anywhere, I can’t just cover old ground.”

  “I agree.”

  “I’m glad you do because there were people who were not interviewed the first time around that I’d like to talk to. Your sons, for instance.”


  “My boys?” Melinda was taken aback. “They were just kids.”

  “Kids have memories, Mrs. Warren. They see things, they hear things, they experience things. Oftentimes, they won’t volunteer any information because that road has gotten them into trouble before. But many times if you ask them a question point-blank, they’re not likely to lie. Your sons are adults now, so I don’t need your permission to contact them. However, it would help if I had your cooperation.”

  Her mouth frowned although her forehead remained smooth—Botox. “Let me call them up and get back to you. I’m sure they won’t mind talking. Ten years of therapy has taught them how to talk to anyone.”

  CHAPTER 5

  WHEN HOMICIDE DETECTIVES were a hair shy of a solve, the last thing they needed was a hotshot from some other substation messing around with their cases. Two similar felonies fifteen years apart did not a criminal pattern make, and while Decker had no intention of gumming up anyone’s finely oiled conviction machine, he did feel it was incumbent to review the files of the recent Hollywood carjacking/homicide, just in case. To make the cold call to the detectives was an unpleasant prospect.

  Lucky for him that he had an in, and that brought a smile to his face. He had done umpteen favors for his daughter and that was to be expected because he was the parent. This little assignment would give Cindy a chance to reciprocate

  From the winding roads of Sunset, Decker hooked onto the 405 heading north into his home turf of the San Fernando Valley. Morning clouds had given way to full sun, necessitating air-conditioning. Although the car was old, it valiantly sputtered a stream of Freon-laden air, which felt good on Decker’s sweaty face. He loosened his tie and waited for phone reception as the Vic chugged through the mountain pass. When he reached the top of the hill, he used his voice-activated earpiece to talk hands-free. Cindy picked up on the third ring.

  “Are you busy?” he said without introduction.

  “Just sitting down to a vegetarian club salad.”

  Decker checked his watch. It was eleven-thirty. “Early lunch?”

  “Joe’s hungry and the timing works. What’s up?”

  “I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes. It would be helpful if you had some privacy.”

  “Hold on.” Decker heard Cindy talking to her partner. Several moments later, she was back on the line. “Is everything okay?”

  “Just fine. Did I make you nervous?”

  “Of course you did. You never call me during working hours.”

  “That’s because the call is business. Sorry if I scared you. I need a favor, Cin.”

  “A favor, huh?” A pause. “Well, now I know I’ve arrived.”

  “Weren’t you involved in the car recovery of the Primo Ekerling case?”

  “Initially Joe and I were assigned to the case until we popped the trunk and discovered the body. Then it immediately went over to Homicide.”

  “So the car was reported as stolen?”

  “Yes, but the vehicle wasn’t the main issue. Ekerling’s girlfriend reported that he, along with the car, went missing. About a week later, a traffic officer was about to write a ticket on the Mercedes when he noticed that the car already had a ticket on the windshield. The car was parked on Prince right off Hollywood Boulevard.”

  “That’s a residential area, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. The car was being ticketed because it was parked on the wrong side on a street cleaning day. The first ticket was for the same violation. The car had been sitting there for at least a week.”

  “And no one called it in?”

  “It was a brand-new Mercedes. I suppose it didn’t look out of place. The miracle was that no one vandalized or stole it, especially with all the bars in the area. Lots of bars mean lots of drunks doing stupid things.”

  “That is often the case.”

  “Anyway, the officer ran the plates and the car came back hot. Joe and I caught the call. When we got to the location, we peeked inside the vehicle. Something just didn’t look right. Just as important, something didn’t smell right. Joe jimmied the lock on the trunk and the rest is history.”

  “And no one complained about the smell?”

  “It wasn’t that strong, and you know how it is in L.A. No one really walks and you’d have to pass by to notice an odor.”

  “Most of the gas and bloat was gone?”

  “Most of it, yes, but we got a whiff of something funky as soon as we got close enough.”

  “Was the body in the open or was it wrapped up in garbage bags?”

  “It was curled up in the trunk.” A pause. “Daddy, I have to get back to my lunch or Joe’s going to get suspicious. Can we talk about this later?”

  “I need the file.”

  “And you don’t want to just call up Homicide and ask for it.”

  “Exactly. They’ve got suspects in custody, and I don’t want to inject something new unless there’s good reason.”

  There was a long pause. “We should talk later. I never fully bought into the carjacking/murder theory. How soon do you want it?”

  “As soon as possible, but a day or two won’t make a difference. Do you remember the name of Ekerling’s girlfriend?”

  “Marilyn Eustis. I’d like to hear the details of what you’re working on. Can we meet for dinner?”

  “Love to.”

  “I’ll call you up when I get the file and we’ll have a date. How about Italian?”

  “You get the file, princess, I’ll take you anywhere you want. I’ll even pay.”

  “You always pay, Daddy.”

  “I do, don’t I.” Decker smiled. “See how much your father loves you?”

  TAKING ON THE cold case didn’t mean that Decker’s paperwork didn’t pile up. As soon as he hit the squad room, he became the lieutenant in charge and was bombarded with questions, comments, and complaints. Lucky for him he had a few genuine allies that he now considered close friends.

  Marge Dunn in specific.

  Dunn had worked for or with Decker for over twenty years, starting out as a rookie detective under his tutelage in Juvenile and Sex Crimes for the Foothill Division of the LAPD. He had brought Marge with him to Homicide in West Valley because of her insights and work ethic. A winning personality made her a gem among dross. The woman was tall and big boned with light brown hair that had grown blonder since her involvement with Will Barnes, a former Berkeley detective who had moved to Santa Barbara to be within commuting distance. It was wonderful to see Marge happy, not only from a friendship point of view but also because Marge worked better when she was in good spirits.

  Who didn’t?

  Dunn had filtered out all the nonsense, leaving Decker with the nuts and bolts of what needed to be dealt with to successfully run the detective’s squad room. She sat in his office as he rummaged through a forest’s worth of phone messages.

  She said, “FYI, I went over the list of the current faculty at North Valley High and found a few old-timers who remember Ben Little.”

  Decker looked up from his pile of pink slips. Today Marge was wearing a magenta cotton blouse tucked into beige slacks. “Did you get a chance to talk to anyone?”

  “No, I had a court case to deal with and an emergency scheduling issue. Besides, I thought you told me that Strapp wanted you to do the interviewing personally.”

  “Well, that’s not going to happen.”

  “It’s rotten of Strapp to put this kind of pressure on you.”

  “I’ll survive. Did you have a chance to look up when Christopher Donatti came to L.A. as a student?”

  “Bad boy Chris came to Central West High a year after Little’s murder. He never attended North Valley, although the schools are only six miles apart. If you want, I can delve a little further. The Little murder looked like a professional hit, and Donatti was…is a professional killer.”

  Decker nodded. “Actually, I might even give him a call. Guys like him are always paranoid and hyperaware, so he may have heard something.”r />
  “You can’t be serious!” When Decker shrugged, Marge said, “The son of a bitch shot you.”

  “It wasn’t personal.”

  “You’re crazy!”

  “Maybe so, but a lot is riding on a solve for a fifteen-year-old case, and I’ll take any help I can get. So who’s still teaching at North Valley High from the Little days?”

  Marge handed him the list—two teachers from the humanities, two from math and science, and the boys’ gym coach. “If you allow me to bring Oliver in, we could probably rip these interviews off in a couple of days. He would also be helpful because Scott was in Homicide at Devonshire when Little was murdered.”

  “Have you talked to him about the Little case?”

  “I don’t do anything without your okay, boss, but I’m sure if he read the file, a lot would come back to him. I did ask him about Arnie Lamar and Cal Vitton.”

  “And?”

  “He said they were all right…not corrupt as far as he knew. They were old-timers, although he was quick to point out that they were probably the same age as he is now. Then as he thought about it, he slipped into one of his famous funks. As you well know, it’s unpleasant dealing with Scott Oliver when he’s moping.”

  “Did he wonder why you were asking about Lamar and Vitton?”

  “I think he guessed, Pete. They’ve become synonymous with Ben Little’s murder.”

  Decker handed her a slip of paper. “The first name—Phil Shriner—was the private detective that Melinda Little Warren hired to look into her husband’s murder. He wasn’t successful, even though Melinda said that she paid him a fortune.”

  “Do you know if he’s still practicing?”

  “No idea.”

  “I’ll check him out.” She wrote down the name in her notepad. “Who’s Darnell Arlington?”

  “A pet project of Ben Little. The first time Darnell was expelled, Ben went to bat for him and the school gave the kid a reprieve. The second time, Darnell got the boot and Ben backed up the school. Arlington was in Ohio when the murder happened, and Ben’s widow had heard that the kid turned his life around. Cal Vitton talked to him at the time of the murder, but he’s worth a second look.”