Rina banged down her fork. “Again?”
“Is she the maniac who woke us all up this morning?” Sammy said.
“Yes,” Decker answered.
“Don’t worry, Dad,” Jacob said. “She tries anything funny, Eema’ll just shoot her!”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Decker said. “Maybe it’d be a good idea if you visited your parents tonight.”
Rina sat back in her chair. “Did she threaten me?”
“No.”
“Then what did she do?”
“She…” Decker put down his fork. “She…cursed us—”
“You’re upset because she used the f-word?” Yonkie asked.
“No, not swearing,” Decker said. “Cursing…like what witches do.”
“Cursing as in klalah,” Rina clarified to the boys. “Not nivul peh.” She mock spat several times into the air. “Pooh, pooh, pooh! That’s what I think of her curses. And just let her try anything—incur the wrath of a grumpy, hot, pregnant woman. It’s no contest, Peter.”
Decker buried his head in his hands.
“I’m just teasing you,” Rina said. “Are you really worried? If you’re worried, we’ll schlepp out to my parents’.”
“It would make me feel better.”
“Do you want us to spend the night there?”
“If I think I’ll be home by nine, I’ll call. If not, maybe a night at Grandma’s and Grandpap’s would be a good idea.” Decker sighed. “This is really going to endear me to your mother…. ‘You put my daughter in danger….’”
“You do a terrible Hungarian accent.” Rina turned to her sons. “Finish up, then go pack your bags. I need to talk to your father for a minute.”
Jacob faced his brother. “He’s gonna tell her the gory details in private.”
“There are no gory details,” Decker said.
“Finish up, please,” Rina said.
Sammy stood. “Great grub, Eema.” He kissed his mother’s cheek. “Let’s go, Yonkie. It’s a long ride to Savta’s and Saba’s. If there are any gory details, we’ll get them out of her.”
“There are no gory details,” Decker insisted.
After the boys left to pack, Rina whispered, “What are the gory details?”
“Nothing,” Decker said. “Lilah Brecht is very unstable at the moment—a rape, a near-death horse ride, and now her brother’s dead. She’s taking it out on me and on you by extension. I don’t feel comfortable leaving you home alone while I work—at least not tonight.”
“What are you working on?”
“I’ve got an appointment with someone from Devonshire regarding a homicide that might be related to the case.”
“Someone else besides the brother is dead?”
Decker nodded.
“Is that why she suddenly cursed you?”
“No. We arrested her stable hand for the rape today. We have physical evidence against him. Lilah was furious at us for arresting him—swore he wasn’t the right one. Then I suggested the evidence was pretty convincing unless she and Totes had had sex that night. That pushed her button. Her reaction was so disproportionate, I immediately thought they must have some kind of affair. Honestly, I don’t know what to think.”
Rina shuddered. “Too many murders. Please be careful, Peter.”
Decker leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’m always careful. Especially now. Got lots of people depending on me.”
“Lots of people who love you, Peter.”
Decker regarded his wife’s beautiful face, then held her hands and kissed them. His wife. She had actually married him! What the hell was he doing right?
The number for stolen or lost credit cards was closed for the evening. Ness slammed down the phone, then told himself to breathe deeply. Sitting on the center of his bed, he adjusted his weight until he was in a perfect lotus position. Correct posture, but an incorrect attitude—a goddamn spiral. The body couldn’t unwind unless the mind was at peace and how the hell could you clear your mind if your body was coiled steel? He felt soft warm hands begin to rub the nape of his neck. Under his sister’s touch, he allowed himself the luxury of relaxation.
“Do me a favor, Kell. Look up the twenty-four-hour number for lost or stolen credit cards.”
“What bank are you with?”
“Security International.” Ness banged his fist against his head. “I can’t fucking believe…somehow…some way…it’s gonna screw me up. Story of my life.”
“Here’s the number.”
Ness copied it onto a piece of scrap paper and dialed. Busy. Gently, he placed the receiver in the cradle. “What’s my chance of anything working out?”
“Michael, where do you think you left it?”
“I don’t even know if I left it anywhere. Somebody might have lifted it from me. I think someone’s trying to screw me.”
“We’ll think of something. I’ll think of something.”
He shrugged off her hands and patted his mattress. “Sit.”
Kelley hesitated, then sat beside him, her eyes focused on her hands folded in her lap. “If only I hadn’t insisted you come out here—”
“Stop flogging yourself, Kell. You know Davida. Once she wants something, she’s unstoppable. Actually, I should take it as a compliment. Rich old broads like her could have hired herself a zillion studs and she wanted me.” Ness shrugged. “Hasn’t been terrible. Steady money. Regular sex—now that’s a first. Beats blowjobs from drunken sailors—”
“Oh, Michael!”
“Or zoned-out whores.”
“Mike, please let me help you!”
Ness kissed his sister’s cheek. “You stay out of this mess. Let me take the heat.”
She threw her arms around her brother’s neck. “Mike, can’t you just tell the cops the truth? That you had nothing to do with any of this—”
“That’s not exactly true.”
“You had nothing to do with the murder.” She paused. “Or with Lilah’s rape, right?”
Ness pivoted around, feeling a spinal chill as cold as a blustery wind. “Try to sound convinced when proclaiming my innocence.”
Kelley whispered, “I believe you, Mike. I’ve always believed you—believed in you, haven’t I? Unlike others. Was there ever a single point in our lives where my faith in you was destroyed?”
Ness saw it all in his sister’s eyes—the pain he’d caused her—and felt the heat of shame. He held out his arms to her and she came to him, burying herself in the cocoon of his embrace.
“I’m sorry—”
“Stop—”
“No, let me say it, Kell.” Ness cleared his throat. “I love you and I’m sorry…sorry for everything.”
She didn’t answer him, but he felt her tears on his shirt.
Had to be the one wearing the mirrored Porsche shades with the blue blazer slung over his arm, fingers gripping a lizard briefcase. As soon as Decker caught his eye, the man stood, removed his glasses, and held out a hand, introducing himself as Scott Oliver.
Late thirties, five-eleven, one-eighty, a broadness across the shoulders that came from weight lifting. Wavy black hair full on top but clipped short at the sides, and deep-set dark eyes under thick black eyebrows. Razor-straight nose, smooth skin stretched over high cheekbones, a white, wide smile. Marge was going to like the scenery at Devonshire. Decker took the proffered hand.
“I’m glad you called, Scott. I could use a break.”
“You and me both.”
Oliver winked at the peroxide-blond hostess and told her they were ready to be seated. They followed the sway of her behind to a brown Naugahyde booth in the back of the coffee shop. She handed them menus and asked if anyone would like coffee. Both said yes.
Oliver said, “I must be going senile or something. You’re the guy they got slated to fill MacDougal’s slot. You gonna take it?”
“It might work out. How’s the climate over there?”
“Not bad. The Dee-three’s a pretty good guy and the new
Loo seems to be working out—doesn’t play politico twenty-four hours a day. Last guy we had was a real schmuck. Left after landing police chief in some cracker town. Our garbage is now someone else’s dinner. Anyway, you ever do Homicide before?”
“Six years.”
“So you know the ropes. Won’t be playing hot dog on the first hit.” Oliver played with his napkin. “That always helps. Get some greener in, anxious to prove himself, makes everyone’s life miserable.”
Decker said, “If I come in, I come as a duo.”
“Oh, you’re one of those—you and your partner are real tight. Don’t get me wrong, it works for some people. Frankly, I consider partners a pain in the ass.”
“Not a good team player, Scott?”
“No, it’s not that. Hey, help yourself to my files.” Oliver held out his hands expansively. “I just don’t like a shadow breathing down my neck.” He paused. “I don’t know. Maybe I just never had the right partner. Yours a good guy?”
“Gal—”
“Ah, the plot thickens.”
“Strictly business.”
“You fucking her, it’s gonna come out, you know.”
Decker was impassive. “She’s strictly business.”
“She any good…at business, I mean.”
“She’s excellent.”
“How old is she?”
“Thirty.”
Oliver raised his brow. “Is she cute?”
“You fuck her, it’s gonna come out,” Decker said.
Oliver thought about that. “You married, Pete?”
“Yep.”
“So am I.” Oliver grinned. “What can I say?”
“Pussy file on you pretty thick, Scott?”
“Bigger than some, not as big as others.” Oliver shrugged. “I’m a curious guy. That’s why I’m a detective.”
Two cups of coffee were brought over by a thin-hipped waitress. She took their orders, Oliver selecting the turkey dinner, Decker sticking to coffee only. By the time Decker was done explaining the case, Oliver was soaking up the last bits of tan-colored gravy with a Parker House roll.
Decker said, “I’ve called Burbank, left a message I was meeting you here. I was hoping they might have found out something. But I guess they’re still at the fact-finding phase of the investigation.”
“Are they the types to get bogged down with minutiae?”
“No, they seemed okay…eager to work.”
“Good. So what do we got so far?” Oliver pushed his plate aside. “We got my stiff torched in Davida Eversong’s limo.”
“It was definitely her limo?”
“Can’t say for sure yet, but we think so. The old lady just bought herself a new BMW, too. I gotta ask why.”
Decker said, “So that’s why the limo was unavailable to take Lilah Brecht out for dinner last night. Davida had other plans for it.”
“I haven’t been able to reach the old lady by phone, so I thought I’d drop by the spa, question her directly. But first I wanted to talk to you. From what you said, the daughter sounds as if she’s crossed the other side.”
“She’s been through the wringer.” But she still manages to dress to kill, Decker thought. “She’s also a piece, Scott. You got a weakness for furry creatures, watch your ass.”
“You know what you do with a seductive chick like that?”
“What?”
“You come on strong, they turn off like a light. Works every time. Bet you came on all business with an ‘aw shucks’ grin, flashing your wedding band in her face. Hell, with that kind of animal, a ring’s like chum to a shark.”
Decker sipped coffee. Guy was a sharpie.
“So…” Oliver ran his hand through his hair. “Do you want to talk to Ness? Ask him what his wallet was doing in a torched limo next to a DB? You know what he’s gonna say.”
“Yeah, Donnally lifted the wallet. Did you call up to see if there was a stop put on the credit cards?”
Oliver frowned. “No. I should have done that. Found out how far ahead Ness was thinking. And then again, maybe Donnally really did steal Ness’s wallet.”
“Maybe.”
“So how do you figure in Donnally?”
“That’s why I wish Burbank would call back. If the blood in Merritt’s office was Donnally’s, then you have to figure he and Merritt were whacked at the same time. Somebody carried Donnally out of the office and torched him inside the limo. Do you have an official cause on Donnally’s death?”
“Hold on.” Oliver pulled a folder out of his briefcase. “I just got the prelim path report ’bout five minutes before I was due to meet you. Let’s see…” He turned pages. “Okay, official cause was two thirty-eights in the chest. I told you he was shot, didn’t I?”
Decker shook his head.
“Memory’s getting worse by the minute,” Oliver bemoaned. “I have to write everything down now. That really bugs me ’cause I used to have a computer brain. You reach thirty-five, it’s all over.”
“You obviously haven’t reached forty.”
Oliver laughed and sipped coffee. “Got something to look forward to, Pete?”
“I prefer my future to Donnally’s.”
“That’s for sure.” Oliver returned his attention to the path report. “Yeah, even though Donnally had been roasted, the lab made out the entry wounds. Course it was impossible to tell proximity of the discharge. Can’t read powder burns off charcoal briquettes.”
“What does the report say about the lungs?”
“Hold on…” He flipped through more paper. “Liver, kidney, spleen—”
“Backtrack,” Decker said. “You’re in the peritoneum.”
“Yeah, I hate reading these goddamn things. Okay, lungs were clear, so the shots did him in. No smoke inhalation; he was dead before he was barbecued.”
“That would be consistent with his being at Kingston Merritt’s murder scene, Scott. The tech said there was a pool of blood belonging to another body. I’m betting the corpse was Donnally and some third party removed him from the scene.”
“Ness.”
“Or someone with Ness’s wallet. Now I don’t know if the third party was involved in the two shootings or if he was just a spectator while the two of them dueled it out.” Decker thought a moment. “Could be Ness was just doing someone else’s cleanup.”
“Guess we won’t know until we ask him. And maybe not even then.” Oliver looked at his watch. “It’s early. You want to pay a visit to Mr. Ness at the spa now?”
“Okay by me,” Decker said. “I’ll leave another message with Burbank. Don’t want to step all over them.”
“Never helps to piss off the co-investigators.”
Oliver left a ten on the table. Decker figured that constituted a four-dollar tip on a six-dollar tab. No wonder Scottie was popular with the ladies.
27
The lighting was soft and recessed, the fireplace aglow with blue-white gas flames encircling fake logs. Bowls of potpourri adorned the center of each end table, emitting an apple-cinnamon scent bordering on cloying. Sitting around the hearth was a group of twenty women. Some were still dressed in exercise clothes—tights and leotards and sweatshirts. Their hair was still tied in ponytails or pulled off their foreheads by sweat bands. Others were garbed in oversized sweaters, leggings, ankle warmers, and sneakers, their faces made up, their hair blow-dried perfectly. They were listening to a young lady who stood in the center of the semicircle, waving several swatches of diaphanous cloth. She had waist-length blond hair and wore a black mini T-shirt dress that showed every curve.
Oliver leaned against the front door and looked at Decker. “You wanna flip for the broad in the center?”
Decker stuck his hands in his coat pocket. “Know what I find a real pisser?”
“Other than the fact that you can’t fuck all these fine specimens at once?”
“Look what’s going down here, Scottie. You got the air conditioning running full blast so they can make it cold enough to ligh
t a fire. Jesus, it’s eighty-five degrees outside. You want heat, open a window. Aren’t they in violation of some asinine health code?”
“How ’bout this, Pete?” Oliver placed his hands on Decker’s shoulders. “You look through the rule books, I’ll interview the broads.”
They listened to the blonde talk for a moment. She passed around the squares of cloth and a hand mirror and asked the women to hold the cloth up to their faces. Decker had caught something about ivory creams and peaches softening the rusts, when a pinch-faced girl with pink-rimmed glasses walked up to them. She wore a starched white-linen business suit, the skirt tight and short. Her legs were bare, her feet shod in backless shoes.
“Good evening, gentlemen. I’m Fern Purcel. May I help you?”
“Yeah, you can.” Oliver’s eyes went from Fern’s legs to the circle of women. He pointed to them. “What’re they doin’ over there?”
Fern stiffened. “That’s Elizabeth Dumay—as in Dumay cosmetics. She was kind enough to drop by and do colors for the women.”
Oliver turned to Decker. “What the hell is colors?”
“Red, blue, green—”
“So this stuff is Greek to you, too.”
“No, I know the letters of the Greek alphabet.” Decker pulled out his badge and showed it to Fern.
“Not again!” she said. “What is it this time?—no, I don’t even want to know. Just wait here until I call Ms. Ness.”
Oliver’s ears perked up. “Ms. Ness?”
“Mike’s sister,” said Decker. “Far as I can tell, she’s the business manager here.”
“You ever talk to her?”
“Not me personally. My partner did.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll call her now,” Fern said.
Gently, Decker caught her by the arm, then let go of her. “I’d rather not waste your time, Fern. How about giving us a personal escort to Ms. Ness’s office?” He jerked his head in the direction of the women. “Less likely to create a scene if you get us out of the lobby.”
Behind the pink-rimmed glasses, dark eyes traveled from the hearth to the second-story landing off the staircase. Must be where Kelley’s office is located, thought Decker. He swept his arm toward the banister. “After you, ma’am.”
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