Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 18

by Blindman's Bluff

  “Yes, the missus loved her Afghans, but not Mr. Kaffey. He didn’t allow any animals in the house. I think he was bitter.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “’Cause he tried out some of his own dogs and it was a disaster.”

  “Let me guess. Greyhounds.”

  “Right you are, Guv.” Karns shook his head. “Mr. Kaffey thought he could make money racing them. He could have, except he bought on the cheap. Any half-wit could see that those dogs didn’t have it. The man didn’t know a fig about animals.”

  “Or he didn’t want to put out the cash to buy champions.”

  “True enough, Governor.”

  “Who owns the remaining animals now that Mr. and Mrs. Kaffey are gone?”

  “I reckon it’ll be the boys. They’re the ones paying me to keep ’em healthy. The younger one, Grant. Yesterday, he asked me how he would go about sellin’ them. I told him if that’s what he wanted, I could help. He said he wanted to wait until his brother got better first, but if I could get some prices, that would be good. He also said to sell the dogs. That won’t be hard. Some of them are champions.” He looked at Decker. “You’re not asking me this to buy a dog.”

  “That’s true.”

  “So what do you want, Guv?”

  “Your building isn’t too far from the kennel.”

  “About five minutes.”

  “Did you hear the dogs barking on the night of the murder?”

  “When Ana woke me up, I heard the dogs barking. Ana probably woke them up with her screaming.”

  “In the summer, my setter often slept with the horses. Every time I drove up to my ranch, she’d come barreling out to meet me, barking away.” When Karns didn’t respond, Decker said, “The kennel isn’t all that far from the house. You’d think they’d sense a commotion going on and start barking up a storm.”

  “Maybe they did.”

  “But their barking didn’t wake you up.”

  “I told you. Ana woke me up.” He switched from the currycomb to the dandy brush and flicked away a cloud of dirt from the animal. “When I went to the house with her and Paco, I heard them barking. I reckon they could have been barking all along and I didn’t know about it. I’m a deep sleeper.” He stopped for a moment. “I don’t have trouble sleeping like upper class do, Governor. It’s because I do an honest day’s work and my conscience is clean.”

  “Let me ask you this, Riley. If the dogs heard people walking by the kennel, do you think they’d start barking?”

  “Probably.”

  “And do you think that barking would probably wake you up?”

  “Maybe. But not that night, Guv, not that night.” He looked at his watch and adjusted the automatic horse walker to a slower tempo. “If an intruder came in through the horse trailer gate, he’d probably wake up the dogs. But if he came in through the other side, I wouldn’t hear a peep and neither would my pets. So if I was you, I would be guessing that the intruder didn’t come through this area.”

  Decker switched to another topic. “Did you know that we found a body dumped in an old horse grave?”

  “Hard not to notice all the commotion going on last night…or the night before. I forget. Cops are here all the time now.”

  “Someone had to dig up the grave beforehand to place the body that deep inside the hole. You didn’t hear any noise from that either?”

  “The grave is on the other side of the ranch, Governor.”

  “Did you know there was a horse grave on the property?”

  “Of course,” Karns said. “I dug it. People with big ranches do it all the time.”

  “You buried three horses at once?”

  “Not all at once. The first one I dug was for Netherworld, then the next one was for Buttercream. I dug her grave right next to his. But then when Potpie died, I didn’t feel like digging a whole new grave. That’s a lot of work. So I just dug up the area between Netherworld and Buttercream and made one big hole and stuck her there.”

  “How long ago did the horses die?”

  “Netherworld and Buttercream died about two years ago. Potpie died last year. It didn’t smell that bad. The first two had already rotted by then.”

  “Anyone else know about the horse grave?”

  “The missus knew about it. She said a little prayer each time one of her babies died.”

  “Anyone else besides Mrs. Kaffey?”

  Karns’s eyes darted back and forth. He said nothing.

  Decker said, “It’s not a trick question. Who else alive knows about the graves?”

  At last he said, “Paco Albanez takes care of the grounds around here. He has a backhoe. I asked him if I could borrow it. He told me it was out of order and asked me why I needed it. When I told him I had to dig a grave for the horses, he said he’d help me dig the hole if I wanted.”

  “Anyone else help you dig the hole?”

  “Just meself and Paco.”

  “How did you decide where to dig the hole?” Decker could see Karns gnashing his teeth together, a big bulge forming along his jawline. “Did someone tell you where to dig?”

  “I don’t want any problems, Guv.”

  “No problems, Riley. But I do need you to tell me who told you to dig the hole.”

  “The mister told me to dig the hole. Joe Pine was on duty that day. He told me where to dig it.”

  FIFTEEN

  KARNS WENT BACK to his grooming. When Decker didn’t disappear, he said, “That’s all I know.”

  “What you know is a lot, Riley.”

  Karns made a point of exhaling loudly. “Why I didn’t want to get into it.”

  “Riley, my friend, you are very much into it whether you like it or not. You were one of the first people at the crime scene, and now you tell me that you dug Denny Orlando’s grave—”

  “Horseshit!” Karns whirled around, his face flushed and his hands shaking. “I didn’t dig Denny’s grave. I dug a grave for the horses where poor Denny was found.”

  “Well, someone dug up that hole for Denny,” Decker snapped back, “and it had to be someone who knew that the grave existed.”

  Karns spat on the ground, missing Decker’s shoe by several feet. “I’ve been honest with you and now you’re twisting me words so the murders are me fault or something. I have nothing more to say.”

  Decker decided on the cooperative approach. “If you are being honest, then I got a deal for you. Take a lie detector test.”

  “Those things are worthless.”

  “Not true,” Decker told him. “It’ll only work to your benefit. I can’t use it against you if you don’t pass, but if you do pass, I’ll direct my energies elsewhere.”

  “I don’t trust you, Guv. You’ll probably get me to say things I don’t mean.”

  “I won’t be giving you the test.” When Karns regarded him, Decker smiled. “And as far as saying things, the questions are yes/ no. It’s hard to put your foot in your mouth with one word answers.”

  Karns didn’t answer right away. Though Decker reserved a large sector of his judgment until the facts verified the hunch, his gut feeling told him that Riley wasn’t being deliberately evasive. It was more like Karns had a profound distrust for anything that required electricity.

  “How about if I set it up?” Decker said. “If you change your mind, just let me know.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Karns answered. “Now I’d like to get back to me business in peace if you don’t mind.”

  “Just a few more questions. The animals’ corpses must have been very heavy. You had to have had help to lug them over to the grave.”

  “We did the grave first, Guv. Then we put them to sleep near the hole.”

  “Ah, that would make sense.”

  “You’d know it if you really had horses.”

  “I had horses but I never put them down. The vet always did it.”

  “Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t get your hands dirty.”

  Decker ignored the snide comment. “And y
ou’re sure that you and Paco did all the digging by yourselves? If you’ve been honest until now, don’t go blowing it on a simple question.”

  Karns lowered his eyes. “Maybe Pine helped, too. Why don’t you call him up?”

  “We can’t find Joe. Any idea where he might be?”

  “No, not me.” Back to eye contact. “Go ask Brady. He’s in charge.”

  That was Decker’s next step.

  THE HEAD OF Kaffey security picked up on the third ring, but the connection was lousy. “I can barely hear you, Lieutenant. Can you text me?”

  Decker hated texting. His thumbs were too big for the phone’s keyboard. He pulled the unmarked onto the shoulder just before the entrance to Coyote Ranch’s freeway ramp. “Where are you?”

  Static.

  “I can’t hear you.”

  “What about now? Can you hear me?”

  “Better,” Decker said. “Don’t move. Where are you?”

  “At the Newport Beach residence. Mace and Gr…(static)…hired me…an eye on the place and, more important, on them.”

  Decker wasn’t sure he heard right. Grant continued to trust Neptune Brady even after Gilliam and Guy were murdered under his watch? He said, “I need to talk to you.”

  “I can’t leave…(static)…promised…(static)…protect them.”

  “You’re breaking up, Mr. Brady.”

  “Damn this reception.”

  “I heard that.”

  “I can’t leave my post, Lieutenant.”

  “Then I’ll come out to Newport.”

  “I’ll ask Mace and Grant. If it’s…(static)…it’s okay by me. When…(static)…be here?”

  “It’ll take me at least a couple of hours.”

  “…(static)…bosses don’t mind, how about three?”

  “Three would be perfect.”

  Brady might have tried to say good-bye, but all Decker heard was the crackle of white noise then silence.

  AFTER MARKING THE mug books with Post-its, Rina turned to the first preselected page. “This guy here—Fredrico Ortez—he could be the slighter man of the two.”

  Decker said, “Could be or definitely?”

  “It’s either this guy or maybe this guy.” She turned to another page. “This man here…Alejandro Brand, the guy with the scar. The two men look alike—at least in the mug shots.”

  They did resemble each other—shaved heads, narrow faces, small noses with broad nostrils, thick lips, and deep-set eyes. Under distinguishing marks, both had tattoos of animals: Brand had a snake on his arm, and Ortez sported a dragon on his chest. Other marks included XII and a B12 for Bodega 12th Street.

  Rina said, “I thought they might be brothers except they have different last names.”

  “Didn’t you tell me that one of the guys had a snake tattoo?”

  “I did. Maybe you should take a closer look at Brand?”

  “Maybe I will. What about the bigger of the two men?”

  “Maybe this guy…” Rina showed him a picture. “Or maybe him or him. I’m less sure about that one.” She closed the books. “To tell you the truth, after a while everyone begins to look alike. At the time, I could picture them in my head, but things fade. I just gave them a glance.” She shrugged. “Sorry.”

  Secretly, Decker was relieved. “You did great. I’ll copy down these names and see if we have any legitimate reason to bring them into the station house. And even if we don’t have anything on them now, these guys are mess-ups. If I tailed them for an hour, I’m sure I could catch them doing something illegal.”

  “I could have been more precise if I looked a little harder, but he kept telling me not to stare…the blind guy…Harriman.”

  “He used good judgment.”

  “I don’t know if I could pick them out of a lineup.”

  “You won’t have to. If I can bring in these jokers on something else, I’ll record the interview and send the tapes over to Harriman along with some similar tapes. He told me he could identify the voices. Let’s see if he means it.” Decker closed the mug books and stood up. “I have to go to Newport Beach. It’s a long ride. Want to keep me company?”

  “What’s in New—Oh, that’s the Kaffeys’ main house. I suppose I could go look at the art galleries. See if there are any botanical paintings I want to add to our collection.”

  Decker frowned. “Two-thirds of the collection is sitting in closets. And we didn’t pay for those. Why would you want more and pay for them?”

  “I don’t pay for anything, Peter. I cull. I talk about what I have, and the gallery owners talk about what they have. Sometimes I trade up and sometimes I trade down. It’s kind of fun.”

  “My idea of fun would be to sell the collection and put the money in the bank.”

  “That is an option.”

  “But not yours. And that’s why I’m a philistine and you’re a connoisseur.”

  “You’re not sentimentally attached to the paintings like I am. I see one painting and I think of Cecily Eden and how much fun the two of us had together talking about plants and gardens although I’m still mystified why she left her paintings to me and not her heirs.”

  “She knew you’d appreciate them and you do.” He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s get going. If I have a spare minute, I’ll come with you to a couple of the galleries. It would give me great pleasure to see you dangle a Martin Heade in front of the wide-eyed art dealers.”

  THE FIFTY-MILE RIDE went quickly, enhanced by good conversation and the clear cerulean skies reflected in diamond-studded water. With the sloping hills ablaze with wildflowers to the east and the sandy shores that marked the western end of the continent, Newport and its environs had to qualify as one of the most geographically scenic places on the planet. Exquisite in its beauty, the berg was also exquisite in its price tag, one of those cases where if you have to ask, you can’t afford it.

  The area was teeming with traffic and tourists. The slowdown in the economy didn’t seem to have affected this marina. It was stuffed with sailboats, speedboats, catamarans, cabin cruisers, and yachts of all sizes and shapes. Galleries, boutiques, and cafés seemed to be the businesses of choice. Decker dropped Rina in front of a gallery, then checked his map and headed out to residential territory.

  The Kaffeys had named their mansion the Wind Chimes, and it sat behind wrought-iron gates that included a guardhouse replete with sentries, and a twelve-foot hedge that seemed to stretch for blocks. After conversing with one of the uniforms, he and his clunker car were allowed to tool down the sinuous driveway surrounded by a forest of pines, firs, sycamores, elms, and eucalyptus. He would have stopped to gawk, but there were too many guards who kept waving him forward. When he reached the pebbled motor court, the mansion came into view.

  Decker’s family had taken a family trip to the Biltmore in North Carolina when he was a kid and though he knew the place couldn’t possibly be that big, it still appeared otherworldly. It appeared that Guy Kaffey had been copying the Biltmore’s French Regency style. Like its model, it was fashioned from limestone and had multiple-peaked blue slate roofs with an abundance of gables and chimneys. He could have picked up more details but he was stopped by a private sentry. The man was squat and brutish looking and was packing a Saturday night special. After checking out Decker’s ID then radioing someone on his walkie-talkie, he decided that the LAPD cop passed muster. “Leave the car here. We’ll take you up to the entrance in a golf cart. And we’ll keep your gun.”

  Decker smiled. “Leaving the car here is okay. Going up to the house in a golf cart is okay. Nobody touches my weapon.”

  More radioing and walkie-talkie conversation. Finally, the sentry said, “What are you carrying?”

  “Standard-issue 9 mm Beretta. Is that Mr. Brady on the wire?”

  The guard ignored him, but he must have been cleared. A few minutes later, Decker was winding his way past the house down a paved pathway that led through flower gardens, ferneries, orchards, a grape arbor, and a vegetable garde
n spilling over with a variety of tomatoes, pole beans, basil, squashes, and baseball-bat-sized Italian zucchini. The golf cart stopped at a gazebo with a roof that matched the house, and everyone got out. The spot overlooked an infinity pool that bled into the Pacific blue.

  Dressed in a blue blazer with brass buttons, white linen pants, and rubber-soled boat shoes, Neptune Brady was surveying the ocean through a mounted telescope. He was chewing gum, his jaw clenching and relaxing, as he moved the tube across the expanse of water. Decker took in the view before he spoke. The house was situated on a bluff—about fifty feet above the water. There were dozens of boats in the foreground and a couple of commercial liners on the horizon. Waves were softly breaking, white foam licking the sand. From the bluff’s height, it sounded like whispering winds.

  Brady waved off his men with a flick of the wrist and within a few minutes it was just the two of them. He said, “I had this installed when the family first moved in.” He was still peering through the lens. “Kaffey refused the fence off the bluff because he claimed it ruined the view.”

  “He had a point,” Decker said.

  “Yeah, but it’s easier for someone to breech security.” Brady looked away from the lens and regarded Decker full face. “Not that it stopped them at Coyote Ranch.”

  In the harsh sunlight, Brady had aged in just a few days: more wrinkles and more gray hair. His pupils were constricted, and his eyes appeared almost colorless. “I don’t know how much time I can give you. I may have to leave abruptly.”

  “Where are Grant and Mace Kaffey?”

  “At the hospital with Gil. He’s doing better.”

  “Good to hear.”

  “Thank God he made it through.” A heavy sigh. “I think it’s finally dawning on me…the scope.” He waited a beat. “It’s coming to an end for me.”

  “What’s coming to an end?”

  “Everything. My business was taking care of Guy and Gilliam, and I failed.”

  “The family kept you on,” Decker said.

  His jaw went up and down as he stared at Decker. “What choice did they have?”