Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 19

by Hangman

  Gabe looked sick. “Do you know this for certain? That she was pregnant?”

  “No, I don’t. It’s all conjecture. But I did notice when I saw your mom that she was wearing loose clothing and her face was a little rounder. Like you said, she would have never had an abortion. She could hide a lot of things from your father, but she couldn’t hide a pregnancy. And she couldn’t pretend the child was Chris’s when the actual father was a dark-complexioned Indian. She had a decision to make and she chose the life of her baby.”

  Gabe started to speak but couldn’t. Tears pooled in his eyes, then ran down his cheeks. Then he whispered, “Dump one, get another. She wanted a new start without Chris but also without me.”

  “She would have taken you if she could have.”

  “So why the hell didn’t she?” He was enraged.

  “Gabe, your father might let your mom go, but he’d never let her take you. You’re his only child. The only thing he has in this world.”

  “Chris doesn’t give a shit about me!” Gabe sputtered out. “You know he doesn’t even believe I’m his biological son. And after what you told me, maybe I’m not.”

  Decker looked at him intensely. “You can’t seriously believe that.”

  “It’s what Chris thinks and maybe he’s right.”

  “Your dad was wrong about a lot of things. Chris never thought your mom would have the gumption to fall in love with another man. He never thought she’d have the nerve to leave him. He never thought she could hide from him, and he never thought she could lie. He was wrong about all those things and he’s dead wrong if he thinks you’re not his kid. The Terry back then is not the Terry now. Your mother was completely smitten with him. Back then, in her eyes, your father walked on water. For better or worse, Gabe, you are Chris Donatti’s son.”

  THE NEXT MORNING, and with Gabe’s permission, Decker went through the papers Terry had sent him. He wasn’t interested in the power-of-attorney documents, just who prepared them and who notarized them. He wanted verification that Terry’s signature was from Terry and not some proxy. At eight A.M., he called up the law firm and spoke to the answering service, telling them that he had an emergency situation and needed to talk to Justin Keeler right away. He got the call back two hours later.

  “This is Justin Keeler.”

  “Lieutenant Peter Decker with the LAPD. I’ve been working on a missing persons case for the last week. Her name is Terry McLaughlin—”

  “You can stop right there, Lieutenant. You must know that I’m going to invoke attorney–client privilege.”

  “So she is your client.”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  “I’m in possession of some papers given to her son, Gabriel Whitman, that she supposedly signed and notarized. They were prepared by you and notarized by a Carin Wilson. Does she work for you?”

  “Carin Wilson works for us. How’d you get the papers?”

  “Gabriel is living with me and my family. The envelope was on our doorstep last night. The papers didn’t come in the mail. Someone delivered them by hand. All I want is verification that Terry McLaughlin signed these papers and it’s not a forgery.”

  “If they’re notarized by Carin Wilson, I guarantee you that the papers are not a forgery. She’s fifty-two and has been a notary for twenty years.”

  Decker paused. “I’m still a little squirrelly about this, Mr. Keeler. I’m sure someone with Terry’s ID signed the papers. I want to make sure that the woman you think is Terry is the real Terry McLaughlin. Can I come down and show you a picture of her?”

  “To say yes or no would also be a violation of attorney–client privilege. How about if you mail me the picture. If there’s a problem, I’ll let you know.”

  “Mr. Keeler, all I’m trying to do is give the poor kid some information about his missing mother. Terry’s husband is a violent guy, capable of murder. I just want to make sure she’s not dead.”

  Keeler sighed. “She’s not dead.” A pause. “I shouldn’t have told you that. But if her son read the letter in the packet, he already knows that she’s alive.”

  “So Terry McLaughlin really did write the letter?”

  “I can’t tell you any more.”

  “You obviously know the contents of the letter.”

  “I can’t tell you any more. Just read the damn letter.”

  “I did.”

  “So respect her damn wishes. And if you care about her, get her violent husband off her back.” Keeler hung up the phone.

  Decker massaged his temples just as Gabe walked into the kitchen. He was still wearing pajamas. His face was pale and pasty and his forehead, despite the cream he had slathered on it, was still broken out. “Bad time?”

  “Not at all.” Decker smiled forcefully. “Have a seat. What’s up?”

  “I just wanted to let you know that I called up my father’s main secretary. She told me that he wasn’t there, but she’d let him know that I called. So I guess we wait.”

  “Okay. Just tell me when he calls back. I’d still like to talk to him.”

  “I will.” He scratched his forehead. “So…is Chris like off the hook? I mean if Mom’s alive, he obviously didn’t kill her.” Gabe scratched his forehead again and it began to bleed. He mopped it up with a napkin. “God, I must look like garbage.”

  “You’re a good-looking guy and you come by your looks honestly. You could, however, use a little more rest. I’m going to work and Rina and the kids are going to visit their grandparents in an hour. You’ll have the house all to yourself. Put on some shades and go to sleep. How’s your hand?”

  “I’ll be okay for my first lesson with Nicholas Mark. That’s all I care about.”

  Decker drummed the table. “I just got off the phone with the attorney who prepared your mother’s papers. He couldn’t tell me anything because of attorney–client privileges, but between the lines, I think those papers are legit. I think your mother wrote the letter. So in answer to your question, Chris is off the hook. And you can tell him I said so. I’d still like to talk to him, find out what he knows. I’m a curious guy.”

  Gabe looked away. “I mean, this isn’t like a trap or anything.”

  “No, Gabe, it isn’t a trap. I believe your mother is alive and is probably in India.”

  “Her and a billion other people. A billion and one counting her new baby. But, hell, I’m not bitter.” Gabe stood up. “Thank you, Lieutenant, for taking me in—you and Rina. I really, really mean that. I promise you I’ll be an easy tenant.”

  “You’re not paying rent, so you’re not a tenant. You’re just a mooch.”

  Gabe smiled, but it was laced with sadness. “I’ll be a good mooch.”

  “You call my wife Rina. You can call me Peter.”

  “Thank you, but I prefer to call you lieutenant, if you don’t mind.”

  “No, I don’t mind.” Decker shrugged. “Can I ask why?”

  “I still don’t feel comfortable calling you by your first name. Also…this is going to sound a little wacky. But calling you lieutenant. I don’t know…the sound of the word. It makes me feel safe.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  WHEN DECKER WALKED into the station house at eleven, Wanda Bontemps snapped her fingers to get his attention. She was on the phone and pointed to an unoccupied extension. Decker punched in the lit button and quietly picked up the receiver.

  “I don’t understand how you could lose a whole bag of jewelry!”

  It was Chuck Tinsley. Decker took up a notepad. Wanda said, “I’m sure it’s not lost, Mr. Tinsley, just misplaced. I just want to assure you that all the pieces have been photographed and described. If we have to replace them, you’ll get full monetary compensation.”

  Decker gave her the thumbs-up. She smiled.

  Tinsley said, “I don’t give a rat’s ass about compensation. The items were sentimental. They belonged to my late mother. How are you going to replace heirlooms, huh?”

  “I’m sure they’ll turn
up—”

  “You know, I never had much respect for the police. And you know why? You guys have no respect for the people you serve. I mean, you treated me like a criminal and meanwhile the real jackass who murdered Adrianna is still out there. You guys are a bunch of clowns, you know that?”

  “I know you must be frustrated, Mr. Tinsley—”

  “What’d you do with my stuff? Take it home for yourself?”

  “I will let you know when we find the pieces.”

  “Yeah, right. In the meantime, give me cash.”

  “Do you want cash compensation for the items?”

  “No, I want the items. But if you can’t find them, give me money. And don’t take all year to cut me the check, if you know what I’m saying.”

  “I will put in for the money right now, if you want.”

  There was a silence over the phone. “Then what happens if you find the pieces?”

  “I give them back to you and you return the cash.”

  “You should give me the pieces and the cash for all the aggravation you’re putting me through.” He hung up abruptly.

  Wanda and Decker put down their respective receivers. She said, “He wants his trophies back.”

  “He certainly seems attached to them.”

  “Put to rest the lie that he’s just a thief. If that was the case, he would have been thrilled about the cash. He wouldn’t have to bother with a fence.” She stood up and stretched. “I’ve been here for a couple of hours. Need a change of scenery. I’m going to bring the jewelry over to the lab myself. Want an update?”

  “Always.”

  Wanda flipped through her notepad. “Spoke to Oxnard PD. I’m going up tomorrow to look at the file and compare notes. The primary detective isn’t working today. I left a message. It would be great if Tinsley’s name showed up in the Oxnard file.”

  “One can wish. What about Oceanside PD?”

  “Lee Wang has contacted them. You’ll have to talk to him about that. We’ve also been looking for a military connection with Tinsley. That hasn’t happened yet.”

  Decker said, “The way Tinsley’s acting, we’re not going to get near his place.”

  Wanda said, “I’m also wondering if somewhere in the back of his mind, that maybe he suspects that we’re onto him.”

  “Keep in close touch with his surveillance team.”

  “Of course, but…I’m also wondering…I don’t know, Loo. That if the jewelry was his trophies, now that he thinks the pieces are lost, maybe he might try to find a few new ones to replace the old ones?”

  “Let’s put another team on him.”

  “Yeah, that would make me feel a little better.”

  OVER THE PHONE, Marge said, “Frieda Kowalski is with her in the ICU. She’s holding her hand.”

  “How’s she faring?”

  “Mandy or Frieda?”

  “Both.”

  “Mandy’s going to make it, but she’ll be in a lot of pain. She has burns on her lower half, a broken arm, and a bruised and swollen face from the air bag.”

  “And the mother?”

  “She’s a bit…reserved. She told me first thing she and Mandy weren’t close. I mean I’m not that close to my mom, either. But if I were suffering from burns and broken bones, I don’t think those words would be the first thing out of her mouth.”

  “She sounded numb when I spoke to her. Could be shock. Are they bringing Mandy out of sedation today?”

  “Yes, but it’s a slow process. She’ll be out of it for days. The doc told us not to expect anything before tomorrow afternoon. Maybe by the time you get here, she’ll be awake enough to babble.”

  “How’s the search for Garth?”

  “On that front, we made some progress. After pulling an all-nighter, we came away with several IDs that yes, he and Mandy were here in North Las Vegas. They were IDed by a waitress at Gold—one from the restaurant of the New Lodge Inn. That was on…hold on…on Wednesday night. And also on Thursday…let me check…they were spotted at the bar of the Gin and Rose Pub and Casino. But…neither Scott nor I have found where they actually stayed. We’ll keep at it.”

  “What car was Mandy driving when she had the accident?”

  “She owns a 2002 Corolla.”

  “If Mandy cracked up her car, what is Garth driving now?”

  “Don’t know. He does have his own car, but I don’t know where it is.”

  “Did they drive out separately?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe he sold his car for cash. We’ll hunt around.”

  “Okay. When was the last time Garth stayed in a hotel in North Las Vegas?”

  “A long time ago…seven months maybe.”

  “But he’s been to Vegas many times in the last seven months.”

  “I know, and that got Scott and me thinking. Maybe he rented an apartment or a condo. The monthly rent would be less than what the hotels would charge for a nightly rate if he went often enough.”

  Decker thought about that. “If Garth has his own place, he could be keeping his car down there.”

  “A car or a dirt bike maybe,” Marge said. “Oliver and I would like to stay for another day. It’ll take some time to check out apartment buildings, and honestly, we’d like to be there when Mandy starts talking.”

  “I can get you another day. I’ll meet you there tomorrow either midmorning or in the afternoon. I need to clear a few things first.”

  “I’ll pick you up from the airport.”

  “Nah, don’t waste time. I’ll take a cab.”

  “Sounds good.” Marge smiled, although he couldn’t see it. “If you want, Pete, we can all drive back together. Been a while since I’ve taken a road trip.”

  “I don’t think I could survive four and a half hours in a confined space with Scott Oliver.”

  “It’s not so bad. He does snore in his sleep, but at least he doesn’t smell.”

  Decker laughed and hung up. It was almost two in the afternoon. Dinner was scheduled on the early side since the boys had red-eyes to take them back east. He decided to make a break for it and got halfway out the door when his desk phone rang. Decker threw up his hands and took the call.

  Wanda said, “You got a minute?”

  “Of course. What’s up?”

  “When the tech was examining the necklace for evidence, she found a tiny hair stuck in the clasp of the diamond R necklace. She said that microscopically it looks like one of the fine hairs around the neck that are so pesky when you put on jewelry.”

  “Wow. That’s a stroke of fortune.”

  “Even better is that the hair has a root.”

  Decker felt his heart start to beat. “So we can get DNA off of it?”

  “Possibly. Lucky for us that Tinsley was storing his jewels in a paper bag. Less likely to deteriorate.”

  “How fast can you get a turnaround, Wanda?”

  “I put a rush on it. Soonest would be a few weeks.”

  “Tinsley gave us a buccal swab. Let’s get it to the lab ASAP. If the hair belonged to Tinsley’s mother, his DNA profile should be related to the hair’s DNA. If not, we catch him in his lie. And if it is Roxanne’s hair, what is he doing with her necklace? Did the primary on her case ever call you back?”

  “Yes. His name is Ronald Beckwith. We’re meeting tomorrow at ten.”

  “Call Beckwith back. Find out if Roxanne’s DNA is on file.”

  “I did. It is.”

  “Also ask him if they picked up any foreign evidence that could generate a DNA profile of the perpetrator.”

  “Got it.”

  “Let’s get on the stick with this. Tinsley is still out there and it’s making me more and more nervous.”

  Once again, Decker hung up the phone. He rubbed his eyes, and then rubbed his neck. He was tired, but it was turning out to be a productive couple of days. Garth had been spotted with Mandy, so they were on the right track with Vegas. And Mandy, although in guarded condition, was still alive. Eventually she’d be coherent enough
to talk. And how lucky was it to have a hair with its root in the clasp of the necklace. A DNA profile would solve a lot of problems.

  Things seemed to be coming together, but there were still a lot of fundamental unanswered questions.

  Where was Garth?

  What were the events that led up to Adrianna Blanc’s death?

  What were the events that led up to Crystal Larabee’s death?

  Were the two women’s deaths related?

  And was Chuck Tinsley a serial murderer?

  So many crimes, so little time.

  WIPING THE SWEAT from her face, Marge looked up at the glaring sky. The desert sun that had been so perfect yesterday when she was lazing around the pool had now turned into the enemy as they schlepped around in ninety-degree heat from apartment building to apartment building.

  And, man, Clark County sure had a lot of apartment buildings.

  It had apartment buildings, condos, housing developments, and seedy hotels with long-term rentals available. They had been going at it for hours before the two of them finally broke for dinner. The only thing open at five in the afternoon was an all-day storefront that advertised the best barbecue in town. They didn’t lie. The ribs were messy and spicy, just the way Marge liked them. When she was done, she cleaned up with a premoistened towelette.

  “That was good.”

  Oliver was still munching on a bone. “Damn good.”

  “What do we have left?”

  “If you insist on working, we’ve got a slew of condo developments within a few miles.”

  “How much is a slew?”

  “Five developments and each one has about thirty condos. Two of them have a management company on-site.”

  “So let’s start with them.” Marge signaled the waitress for the check.

  “We’re looking for something that might not exist.” Oliver paused. “Kind of like love.”

  The waitress came over—a stout lady with gray teased hair. “No dessert for you?”

  “Wish we could,” Oliver told her. “We’ve got to go back to work.”