“Yeah, I noticed. Also the gun rack is empty.”
“I noticed that, too. Let me call up Dad and find out what T drives.” He got off the phone a minute later. “It’s T’s official vehicle.”
Neither spoke for a moment.
“I don’t think sneaking up on the sheriff would be a good thing,” Decker said.
“I agree with that.”
They sat a few more moments.
“Maybe I should tell T that we’ve just arrived here and we’re headed for town.”
“What good would that do?” Brubeck asked.
“We could wait for him to drive away and then go inside.” A pause. “Unless someone inside has guns.”
“Out here everyone has guns. And once he figures out we duped him, he’s gonna be pissed.”
A good point. “Then how about if we watch him as he comes out the door…see if he’s traveling with his shotgun.”
“Then what?” Brubeck laughed. “You’re not saying we should jump him, right?”
Decker shrugged. “Back up and hide the car so it’s not so visible. I’m going to give him a call.”
Brubeck put the rental in reverse and slowly backed up, hiding the vehicle behind a pink and green shed that housed a red Toyota Corolla—the paint job new and not professionally done. The two men regarded the car until Decker scratched the surface with his nail. There was navy paint underneath.
“Martin drove an ’02 blue Toyota Corolla.”
“Now what?” Brubeck asked.
“I’m not quite sure. Let me call up the local law, and at least no one can say we didn’t try.”
Edna, the secretary, told him that T wasn’t in. “He wasn’t expecting you until this afternoon.”
“We got an earlier flight.”
“Oh…but the call just came in a half hour ago.”
“Must have been the delay of my cell going through.” It made no sense whatsoever, but Edna didn’t challenge it. “Any idea where T is?”
“No, sir. Just that he’s out on official business.”
“Does he have a cell phone?”
“He sure does, but I’m under strict orders not to give out the number. I’ll call him for you, if you want.”
“That would be great.”
“Where are you now?”
“We’re just picking up our rental at the airport.”
“It’ll take about a half hour to get over here. You need directions?”
“No, I’m with Willy Brubeck. He knows the area.”
“Willy Brubeck? Marcus Merry’s son-in-law?”
“Yes, ma’am, he works for me.”
“Call me Edna.”
“I’ll see you in a half hour, Edna.” Decker cut the line. They were about a hundred feet from unit J, but there was no clear view of the front doors from where they had parked. “You stay near the car, Willy. I’m going to move a little closer.”
“Are you crazy? We’re naked in the wind.”
“I didn’t say I was going to confront him. I just said I was going to move a little closer. Just stay with the car. And if I get plugged, don’t tell my wife how it happened.”
Before Brubeck could protest, Decker was out of the automobile.
Sneaking up, he got within striking distance from unit J’s front door.
Five minutes later, T came out, garbed in a plaid shirt, jeans, and scuffed leather boots, toting a twelve-gauge shotgun. It looked like a Remington 1100—an old sucker, not at all state of the art. T was a small guy, but sometimes that made an armed man especially dangerous.
The sheriff glanced around, then opened the Suburban’s door and got inside. There was no visibility through the windshield of the vehicle because of the glare from the sun, but T had made the tactical error of not closing the driver’s door. Decker crept around until the sheriff’s arm came into view. He waited until T had secured the gun into the rack, and then caught him by surprise.
“Good morning, Sheriff, I’m Lieutenant Decker from the LAPD.”
T’s head spun around, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun rack. Decker, anticipating the move, caught T by the wrist, causing the car keys to drop to the floor. He said, “Don’t do that.”
T’s arm was in an awkward position. To break free, he would have had to wrench a socket. “Are you fucking insane?”
“No, I just don’t want to get shot.”
“Then don’t sneak up on a man, for Chrissakes! Let go of my arm or I’ll throw your fucking ass in jail.”
“Get out of the vehicle and we can talk about it.”
“I can’t do nothin’ because you’re holding on to my arm.”
Decker eased him out of the car and let go of T’s arm. Being almost a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, it was clear who had the advantage. As the saying went, size mattered. A moment later, Brubeck was at his side. “You okay, sir?”
“Is he okay?” T was shaking his arm up and down. “Jackass nearly broke my wrist. What the fuck is your problem?”
“I’m not armed,” Decker said. “I like a level playing field.”
“Why the fuck would I shoot you?” T’s eyes were daggers. He was still shaking out his wrist. “I should throw your ass in jail.” He suddenly noticed Brubeck. “Willy, how could you let him do that to me?”
“Sorry, T, but he’s my boss.”
“He’s crazy!”
“I don’t deny that, T, but I got to work with him.”
Decker took out his ID, but T swatted it to the ground. “Why the fuck did you sneak up on me…nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“I identified myself.”
“And that was supposed to impress me?”
“I’m sorry, Sheriff,” Decker said.
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
Decker suppressed a smile but T caught it. “Your supervisor will hear from me.”
“Why are you here?” Decker asked him.
“I live here, idiot!”
“I don’t mean here in general, I mean at the Mendez house. You knew I was going to interview the families. Is it just coincidence that you paid them a visit a half hour after I called you?”
For the first time, T didn’t curse him out. His eyes darted back toward the house, then at Decker’s face. “Just get the fuck out of my jurisdiction before I bring you up on assault charges.”
“Are you going to do that before or after I bring you up on tampering-with-justice charges? Or maybe the charges should actually be harboring a fugitive?”
“Fuck off.” Again, his eyes involuntarily went to the door. “You’re insane. I’m not harboring anyone.”
“There’s an ’02 Toyota Corolla that looks suspiciously like Rondo Martin’s car. How long is it going to take me to check the VIN number?” When T didn’t answer, Decker said, “If you’ve been giving Rondo Martin a place to crash because you feel some kind of loyalty, hey, I’ll turn a blind eye. All I want is Rondo Martin, and you’ve got to help me bring him to justice.”
“Don’t mess yourself up for him, T,” Brubeck said. “Let’s do it the easy way.”
The sheriff shook his head. “It isn’t what you think. I ain’t hiding no killer.” He flapped his wrist up and down. “Shit, that smarts!”
“I’m really sorry about your arm. I’ll pay for any of your doctor bills—”
“I don’t need no doctor. I’m no fucking wussy.”
“We need to go inside, Sheriff.”
“You don’t understand a rat’s ass.”
“So explain it to me.”
T said, “I dropped my keys in my car. On the ring is the lock to the gun rack. Take down the shotgun if you want. I trust you won’t use it on me.”
“I apologize for sneaking up on you.” Decker held out his hand.
After a few seconds, T shook it. “Give me a minute, then I’ll come back outside.” He nodded to Brubeck. “It still don’t make him any less of a jackass.” He stomped back.
Decker blew out air. “I didn’t
handle that optimally.”
“No, you didn’t,” Brubeck said. “I didn’t want to say nothing, but what the fuck did you do that for? Why didn’t we just let him drive away and then go inside?”
“And let Rondo Martin mow us down? Maybe we were walking into a trap.”
“Then we still could be walking into a trap.”
Decker said, “Wait in T’s Suburban, Willy. I’ll call for you when it’s safe.”
“I’m not letting you go in alone,” Brubeck said.
“I’m giving you an order.”
“You’re crazy.”
“We’ve already established that. If you hear shots firing, get the hell out of here. That’s an order, too.”
Willy shook his head. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
THIRTY-ONE
LIKE T HAD said, it wasn’t what Decker thought.
Rondo Martin lay atop a twin mattress placed on a wood/ dirt floor, his pale face bathed in sweat, his torso enveloped in miles of bandages. The dressing seemed fresh, but something underneath was oozing, darkening spots from white to ash. The room stank with a fetid odor—infection mixed with antiseptic. Martin’s eyes were probably blue but dulled with illness, gray and sunken with deep circles giving him the look of a raccoon. His long face was enveloped in gray stubble quickly turning to a beard. His hair was pewter and greasy.
Ana Mendez was on his left, wiping his face with a damp washcloth. Paco Albanez sat on his right, attempting to feed him some soup. Martin winced as he pursed his lips, sucking hot liquid into his throat. His eyes went from his nursemaids to Decker.
Decker’s own gaze volleyed between Paco and Ana. Because he hadn’t seen them together, he hadn’t realized how much they looked alike. Father-daughter? Uncle-niece? There were also two other women in the room and who they were was anyone’s guess.
Bottles of medicine were everywhere, mostly antibiotics and painkillers. The labels said Pet Time. It was far easier to access needed drugs for Fido than it was trying to get prescriptions from a licensed physician. Rondo Martin was going to need a lot more than canine Cipro and a pet Vicodin derivative if he had hopes of recovery.
Decker said, “He needs to go to the hospital.”
“You don’t think I’ve tried?” T said.
Martin’s eyes fluttered. “You find Joe Pine yet?”
Ana Mendez said the name José Pinon and then spat at the floor.
“No,” Decker told him. “He’s still missing.”
“Then I’m not going nowhere. He’s gunning for me.” Willy Brubeck walked in with the rifle. His eyes swept across the room and then onto Decker’s face.
To Willy, Decker said, “Rondo just told me Joe Pine is gunning for him.”
“Looked me in the eye and pulled the trigger,” Martin said.
Decker said, “Then you need to be somewhere safe. If I found you, he’ll find you.”
T said, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him.”
Ana talked in Spanish. “Where were the police when the Kaffeys were killed? Where were the police when my Rondo was shot full of holes?”
T said, “You understand that?”
“Yeah.” Decker took out a cell phone. “I’m calling 911.”
T put his hand over the keypad. “It’s quicker if we take him in the truck. An ambulance will take about a half hour to get here.”
“Not going nowhere,” Martin said. “I’ll die here.”
“That’s going to happen unless you take care of those wounds”
Brubeck said, “Is Joe the only person you recognized?”
“The only one I remember…” Martin winced in pain.
“He’s got to get to a hospital,” Decker reiterated.
T nodded, and the women began to gather blankets for the Suburban. Ana insisted on staying next to Martin. “Who has the keys?”
Brubeck tossed them to T, who gave them to one of the ladies. “Let’s get you better, Rondo.”
“You put me in a hospital…I’m dead…I saw too much.”
“What did you see?” Decker asked.
“At least four of ’em…maybe more.”
“And you didn’t recognize any of the others?”
“I don’t know…Joe got to me real fast.”
“How’d you escape?”
“You work at a mansion…with people who have money…eventually, they’re gonna get hit…robbery, I mean…I made a plan.”
“How’d it go down, Rondo?” Brubeck asked.
“Heard noise in the library…ran in and saw Joe with the gun. I got hit and hit again and again and again. Noise brought Denny in. Someone blasted him. I took off.”
Decker said, “Where’d you go?”
“Locked myself inside a cabinet. I was bleeding bad.” He took a few minutes to get his breath back. “Lots of gunshots, then it was quiet. So I waited…I might’ve passed out. I heard Joe ask someone if he had more ammo.”
He paused for a long time.
“He didn’t.”
“Is that why they didn’t finish off Gil Kaffey?”
“Don’t know why, but that makes sense. Didn’t hear any more firing. Eventually, I managed to get downstairs…saw what they did to Alicia. Then I passed out.”
No one spoke. Tears were streaming down Ana’s face. Paco sat stoically, soup spoon in his hands.
Martin said, “Alicia was Paco’s niece…Ana’s cousin.”
Decker turned to the groundskeeper. “I’m sorry.”
Paco nodded.
Ana’s voice was choked with emotion. “When I saw him, I thought he was dead. When I saw he wasn’t, I went to get Paco.”
Martin said, “They hid me until Paco’s son came down from Ponceville and brought me up here.”
Brubeck said, “Where’d you hide?”
“In one of Riley’s horse trailers.”
“How are Ana and Paco related?” Decker asked.
“Mi tio, tambien,” Ana told him.
Paco was her uncle as well.
Decker said, “Is Paco’s last name Albanez or Alvarez?”
“Albanez,” Martin said.
“Edna told my guys that the family name in this area was Alvarez.”
T said, “That’s Edna being Edna.”
Martin licked his cracked lips. “Ana’s my woman. We’re working on getting married. INS has been a bitch.”
The women came back, telling T that the car was ready.
Martin said, “I told you I’m not going nowhere.”
“Not up to me no more, Rondo.” T cocked a thumb in Decker’s direction. “He’s in charge. You might as well cooperate.”
“Who’s gonna protect me?”
Decker said, “I’ll be at your side until we can organize twenty-four-hour police protection.”
“Where are you gonna find the policemen? This ain’t the big city.”
“I’ll borrow from my staff if I have to. How many times did you get shot, Rondo?”
“Don’t know…more than once. I still got lead inside me.”
T said, “We’re going to put you in the Suburban now. Can you walk?”
“Not without help.”
“That’s not a problem,” Decker said.
There were four strong men, but Martin was a big guy and getting him upright from the floor without hurting him was a strain on the back. Slowly, they guided him until he was on his feet. Rondo’s breathing was labored and his body was ripe with infection. Had they not interfered, Martin would have died in a matter of weeks, maybe days.
Inch by inch they led him to the Suburban. When they got to the back, four men—Decker, Brubeck, T, and Paco—each to a limb, lifted him up. He screamed out in pain as they secured him in the back of the van. When the task was finally finished, Ana climbed into the back of the vehicle.
“You can’t go, baby,” Martin told her. “You’ll get arrested and deported.”
She answered him in Spanish that she was not leaving him. The two of them bickered for
a minute, and then Martin said, “Stubborn girl. Let’s just get this over with.”
Before Decker closed the hatch, he said, “Do you know who set you up?”
“No. Only remember Joe.”
“Did he give the orders?”
Brubeck bit back agony. “I think someone else.”
“Who?” Decker asked. “Someone familiar?”
“Possibly.”
“One of the Kaffeys’ sons, maybe?”
“Can’t say nothing, for sure.”
But Decker detected some hesitation. The man was a thread away from dying. He’d press the issue once he was hospitalized and, more important, stabilized. He closed the hatch to the Suburban. To T, he said, “Want me to sit shotgun or follow you in our rental?”
“You sit shotgun, for real this time,” T said. “Who knows who’s out there.”
HOT AND SMOGGY, the afternoon didn’t lend itself to gardening. Even the greenhouse seemed weighted down by the heavy air. Rina decided to call it quits. She had planned to be out for a couple of hours, but it was just too muggy. Had she kept to her original schedule, she wouldn’t have heard the frantic knocking at the door.
She looked out the peephole and couldn’t believe her eyes. She checked the newly installed video camera, and his face was very clear. She probably should have ignored it, but he seemed to be panicked. “What do you want?”
“Your husband isn’t in his office. Is he here?”
“No.”
“I need to talk to him.”
“He’s not here. Go back to the station house and someone will contact him for you.”
“They think I’m crazy.”
So do I, Rina thought.
“Please! I need his help!”
Again, Rina opened the door but kept the chain on. “What is it?”
“I’m pretty sure someone is following me. I want to know what I should do.” He thought a moment. “I’m sorry. I must seem like a whack job, but I’m not.”
Within a moment, Rina made a snap judgment. It wouldn’t have been what Peter wanted, but he wasn’t here right now. She opened the door. “Come in.”
He was breathing hard and sweating profusely. Gone was the Tom Cruise smile, replaced by tension and anxiety. He wore a lightweight tan jacket over a white shirt and brown slacks. He walked haltingly across the threshold, and Rina closed the door. “Thank you…thank you so much.”
Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 18 Page 28
