Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 05

by False Prophet

  “Ain’t that the truth.”

  Decker picked up the phone, asked the operator the area code for Fountainville, then dialed local information, asking for the number of the hall of records. He hung up and punched in the number.

  “Quarter to five,” Decker said. “Think someone’s still there?”

  “Should be. But we’re talking civil servants.”

  “Like us.”

  Marge socked him. Unlike Rina, his partner could do damage if she wanted to. A moment later the voice cut through the line. Decker said a silent thank you and identified himself. After being put on hold, being transferred from one department to another, he finally found a person who could help him. Miss Jones.

  “Do you have the birth date of this Michelle Ness, Sergeant?”

  “Just a sec.” He turned to Marge. “Look through my stuff. Scott Oliver gave me a copy of Mike Ness’s blank yellow sheet. To pull it, he must have had Ness’s birth date. See if it’s on the sheet.”

  Marge scavenged through Decker’s illegible notes and found the computer printout. “It’s here. Six-one-sixty-five.”

  Decker gave the numbers to Miss Jones. She told him to hold for a moment.

  “No guarantees he was born in Fountainville, Pete.”

  “It’s a start.”

  “You know, Pete, if Mike was a Michelle, it would make sense for Kelley to protect him even for a low-grade felony. Imagine him going to jail. Wherever they put him, she’d know he was going to have mucho problems.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Marge smiled. “He is a nice-looking guy.”

  “Pretty.”

  “Yeah, he’s pretty.”

  “Sergeant?” Miss Jones said.

  Decker returned his attention to the phone. “Yes?”

  “Sergeant, I don’t have anything for a Michelle Ness. But we do have a Michael Ness born six-one-sixty-five. Would you like a copy of his birth certificate?”

  Decker didn’t answer.

  “Sergeant?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. Miss Jones, are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Is it possible for you to look at the birth certificate?”

  “You mean right now?”

  “Yes, right now.”

  “It’ll take me a moment. It’s on microfiche.”

  “I’ll hold,” Decker said.

  Marge said, “You look like you just sucked on lemons.”

  “No Michelle Ness,” Decker said, “only Michael.”

  Marge returned the sour look. “Well, that shoots that theory to hell. Damn, it would have been nice to discover something we could use to get to Davida. Why are you still on the phone?”

  “I’m having her look up the birth certificate. I want her to tell me if it has the word male on it under sex.”

  “Thorough,” Marge said.

  “Always,” Decker said.

  Miss Jones came back on the line. “I have a Xerox copy of Mr. Ness’s birth certificate. Would you like me to fax it to you?”

  “In a moment. I need you to tell me one thing. Under sex of the baby, what does it say?”

  “Sex?” She sounded confused. “It says male…M, actually.”

  Decker sighed. “You’re sure?”

  She laughed. “Of course I’m sure.”

  “The name on the birth certificate is Michael Ness?” Decker tried again.

  “Yes, Michael Ness…Michael Steven Ness.”

  “Okay, thank you for your help, Miss Jones. I’m going to give you a fax number now.” He recited the station house’s number, thanked her again, and hung up.

  “Mikey’s a boy,” Decker said. “It was probably a simple misprint. Should we call it a day, Detective?”

  “Pete, how’d Kingston Merritt break into Lilah’s inner safe?”

  Decker said, “I know. Let’s ask Davida.”

  They both laughed. Then the room fell silent for a moment until they both heard a key being inserted into the front door. Decker held his fingers to his lips. A moment later the door opened cautiously, then all the way. Mike Ness tiptoed inside, then stopped short, his eyes focused upon their faces.

  Marge said, “Surprise! We’re still here!”

  “I’ll come back later,” Ness said.

  Decker held up the yearbook. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

  Ness turned white.

  33

  Decker laid the album on the coffee table, watched Ness settle his gaze on the yearbook. He said, “How’s it going, Mike?”

  The blue eyes snapped up and focused on Decker’s face.

  Marge said, “Come in and take a load off.”

  Ness shut the door quietly. He was dressed in cutoff jeans, a pea-green muscle shirt, and Nikes. His legs were exposed and exhibited a fair amount of black hair. Long hair under his armpits as well. He took a gulp from a thermos, then wiped his wet mouth with his arm.

  Nobody spoke for a moment.

  Ness said, “Davida’s lawyer already sprung Eubie and my sister on their own recognizance last night. Kell and Eubie were back at work this morning. That must mean you don’t have anything substantial on them.”

  Decker waited.

  Ness said, “As far as Davida goes…” He let out a soft laugh. “You think you have Freddy, don’t you? Forget it, Sergeant. His balls are in Davida’s pocket. She’ll coo him…and woo him…he’ll come around. You wasted your time.”

  Marge said, “Everyone’s a critic.”

  Ness said, “My sister’s an A student without a record. If you can’t make murder stick—and you won’t be able to because she didn’t kill anybody—what are we talking about? Two-year probation for obstruction of justice and evidence tampering…something like that.”

  “Are you asking my opinion?” Decker said.

  “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  Decker said, “I can’t answer for the legal system. Is there something on your mind, Mike?”

  Ness’s eyes went to the yearbook. “You need that thing?”

  “It’s evidence,” Decker said.

  “For what?”

  Decker wasn’t sure, but he didn’t answer.

  Ness looked down. “Look, Detective…all that book can do is further fuck up my already fucked-up life. Right now, you don’t have a case. You may never get a case. But if you give me the annual, then maybe I’ll give you a little lesson in theory.”

  Decker remained silent.

  “You know, fill in a couple of blanks,” Ness said. “Just as long as you know it’s just my opinion. I don’t care what you threaten me with, I’ll never go against Davida.”

  “Why are you protecting her?” Marge said.

  “It’s not because of any loyalty or anything like that.” Slowly, Ness walked over to the bar and poured himself a finger’s worth of Chivas. “But you just can’t go against Davida and come out a winner. If you can’t beat ’em, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.”

  “You have something on your mind, Mike?” Marge said.

  “Not particularly.” Ness sipped Scotch. “Look, you don’t have anything against me. And you won’t get anything against me as long as I stay mum about Davida. You want some information—rather, I should say, some of my words of wisdom, fine. If not…I’m out of here. As far as that goes”—he pointed to the album—“I can’t force you not to show it to Lilah, but it would be nice if you didn’t. It would probably cost me and Kelley our jobs. Lilah’s kinda squeamish.”

  Decker picked up the yearbook and leafed through it. “Michelle Ness, huh?”

  Ness paled but didn’t answer. Decker felt his brain buzz. What was the big secret? Was he cross-dressed as a kid? Did his parents mutilate his genitals? Decker placed the album in his lap. “Mike, you want to make some conversation, it’s your choice.”

  “Just as long as you know we’re only talking in hypothetical terms. So what pearls would you like to fish from my wondrous brain?”

  Marge said, “How’d Kingston Merritt get into
Lilah’s inner safe?”

  “I’d say someone hid a high-tech camera inside Lilah’s closet and taped her opening her safe.”

  “Your little video camera,” Marge said.

  “So that’s why they call you a detective!”

  “Can we dispense with cute remarks?” Decker said.

  Ness blew out a mouthful of air. “I’m sorry. I get obnoxious when I’m nervous. I wouldn’t think it was that camera exactly. But it was something similar—a basic hand-held camcorder which was modified—the motor quieted and hooked up to the ceiling fan in Lilah’s closet. You know, so every time she’d close the closet door and turn on the light, the fan and the camera would kick in automatically. The fan noise blocked out the sound of the running motor.”

  “How long did it take you to tape the combinations?” Decker asked.

  “Me, I couldn’t tell you ’cause I don’t do illegal things. But it might take a person an average of seven months—about twenty different shots and angles. Even then it would be hard to read the tapes real clearly. It might even take another month of fiddling with the dial before the person would finally hit the right combination. But that person would be real smart afterward and destroy all the tapes.”

  “Why didn’t you just take the memoirs when you finally got the safe opened?” Marge asked.

  “I never said I opened the safe—”

  “Mike.”

  “I just suggested how an inner safe might be opened.”

  “So why wouldn’t that person just take the contents of the safe after he had opened it?”

  “You’d probably have to ask the Queen Bee on that one. She had real specific ways of how she wanted it handled. You know—one getting the combination, another distracting the victim by taking her out to dinner, and still another doing the actual theft. Miss Q-Bee would want as many people involved as possible. The more dirt she had on people, the better. Then she could use them and abuse them.”

  “What was the payoff?” Marge asked.

  “Different strokes for different folks. For a doctor doing funny things with fetuses, it would be lots of money—much more than he could ever hope to get by doing Paps. For the weaker son, it would be approval from Mama and maybe a few spare bucks to keep him happy. With people like lowly little me, it would be blackmail. Maybe I wouldn’t want certain things about my past made public to my boss—ruin my job and my sister’s.”

  “How’d Davida get this?” Decker patted the yearbook.

  Ness looked sick. “Shortly after I came here to visit, my sister’s room was burglarized. Nothing but personal things were missing. Kelley thought it might have been a weirdo who works in the kitchen, a guy who had a crush on her. But she didn’t want to make a big scene. She was new here and I can’t tell you what this job meant to her. Things like independence…Anyway, she forgot about the burglary. Then I got this phone call from a person who I won’t mention by name. Break-ins and personal stuff missing…see any parallels here, guys? The Q-Bee’s M.O.”

  “Why would Davida break into Kelley’s place and steal her yearbook?” Marge asked.

  “Q-Bee probably wasn’t out to steal the yearbook specifically. She was just looking for employee dirt in general. That’s what Miss Bee did. Gather dirt against anybody she could.” Ness’s eyes went to the yearbook. “She got a direct hit on me. So I became one of her errand boys just like her sons. Only she expected more from me.”

  “You had an affair with her?” Marge asked.

  “Why are you talking in the past tense?” Ness frowned. “What difference does it make anyway?”

  “What happened with Kingston Merritt?” Marge asked.

  Ness pushed hair out of his eyes. “I’d say someone miscalculated her errand boys. I don’t know why anyone would want to use scum like Russ, especially when someone like me might have helped out.” He paused. “She claimed she was trying to protect me. Maybe she was.”

  “So what happened after she sent Russ over to Kingston’s office?” Marge asked.

  “Who knows?” Ness said. “I wasn’t there. Next thing I knew, someone suggested that I check out King’s office.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Russ and King…both of them were floating in blood. I’ve got a strong stomach, but it made…the smell…I got out of there as fast as I could.”

  “You got Eubie to take care of Russ’s body?” Marge asked.

  “Go reread Eubie and Kelley’s statements,” Ness said.

  “Eubie agreed to help you out because he owed you, didn’t he, Mike?” Decker said. “For covering for him the night of Lilah’s rape.”

  “That wasn’t the only time,” Ness said. “You meet Eubie, you meet a guy with a perpetually runny nose and loose zipper. Lilah would have fired him a long time ago if I hadn’t intervened.”

  “So why’d you do it?”

  “’Cause I’m a jerk, that’s why.”

  “Did Davida put a hit out on her own son?” Marge asked.

  “Well, Q-Bee is one cold-blooded reptile, but that’s not her style.” Ness shrugged. “She likes them alive so she can squeeze them dry. I think Davida’s telling it true. I think they did shoot each other. But I really don’t know, because I wasn’t there.”

  “But you did check out Merritt’s office.”

  Ness shrugged again. “Hey, what does it matter? I’m just talking theory, not fact.”

  “Two men were shot and no guns were found in Merritt’s office, Mike,” Decker said. “Happen to have any theories about the weapons?”

  “Might make more sense to ask what are the weapons. And the answer might be they’re sheet metal. Recycling is very good for the environment. Can we finish up and put a lid on this whole mess?”

  “Mess is right,” Marge said.

  “Yeah, it’s been a mess.” Ness was quiet for a moment. “Not that it hasn’t had its benefits. Once we established ground rules, Q-Bee’s been all right. Did you know Davida wants to build her own spa…a much nicer one than VALCAN. We thought Palm Springs would be a good location.”

  “We?” Marge said.

  “Kelley and I would be silent partners,” Ness said. “Our expertise’ll be our contribution to the partnership. We’ve almost got all the papers signed—a few more glitches to iron out and I’ve finally got a piece of the action. Kelley and I have learned a lot from Lilah. It was good that I came here. But it’s time to go forward.”

  “You’re going into competition with Lilah,” Marge said.

  Ness grinned. “I’m not going into competition with Lilah, Detective. Davida is.” He looked at his watch again, then at the yearbook. “Can I have that?”

  “Why was this so important to you, Mike?” Decker said. “You could have told Lilah that the name Michelle Ness was a misprint.”

  Ness’s laugh was forced. “God, you didn’t look closely, did you? Not like Davida did.”

  “What’d we miss?” Marge said.

  Ness buried his hands in his face, then looked up. “What the hell. I’m beyond humiliation. Maybe you’ll take pity on me.”

  The room was quiet.

  “Mike Ness,” he whispered. “AKA Michelle Ness—tennis team, volleyball team, softball team, basketball team, and…the cheerleading squad.” He laughed softly. “I was a cheerleader. No chick on earth could jump as high as I could. It was all the hormones, you know.”

  “You were taking male hormones?” Marge said.

  “Didn’t have to take them, Detective, I was born with them. You look at my birth certificate, you’ll see I’m a male.”

  “We know that.”

  “You know—” Ness laughed. “Man, you guys are dedicated. Now can I have the album?”

  Decker said, “One more question, Mike—”

  “I know the question. A variation on the old who am I? game. In this case, it’s what am I?”

  Decker was quiet. He watched Ness pour himself another Scotch. Comfortable in the room. Decker wondered how many times Davida had called him down here to do her
bidding—sexual or otherwise. Ness took a big swallow of booze.

  “I’ve got this condition called CAH—cortical adrenal hyperplasia. I’m missing this enzyme…a genetic screwup. Without this enzyme, the adrenal glands go nuts and pump out gallons of extra hormones—androgens.”

  He faced them, eyes hot with anger.

  “Know what androgens do to fetuses? They turn little baby girls into little baby boys. Wasn’t until I was a year and a half old that some doctor finally figured out my balls weren’t gonna descend because I had no balls. In fact, I wasn’t even a boy. I was a girl born with fused labia that looked like a scrotum and a clitoris as big as a dick. Got that way because my adrenals had been feeding me testosterone since I was conceived.”

  He took another sip of booze.

  “The condition wasn’t life-threatening. Matter of fact, my mom could have done nothing about it and just raised me as a boy. Other than the fact I’d be sterile and would wind up with a small dick—small but I could do the job—I could lead a pretty normal life.

  “But my mom didn’t want that. My chromosomes said I was a girl and Mom was a firm believer in God’s plan. If God wanted me to be a boy, he would have made me a real boy. So Mom decided to turn me back into a girl. So…we moved to another neighborhood. After a year and a half of being Michael wearing overalls and playing with firemen, I suddenly became Michelle wearing dresses and playing with dolls. I remember being very confused.”

  He finished his drink and quickly poured another one.

  “Let’s see, I was on doca, cortisol, then one estrogen after another. My parents could have done corrective surgery right away, but Mom was a fanatic about things being perfect. Because I was so much less than perfect, she insisted on the best surgeon in the country, which cost a fortune. She and Dad decided to save up and do it right. Meanwhile, I’m a little girl with a bulge in my underwear. I learned real fast that private parts were kept private. The hormonal therapy did shrink my dick a little but I never looked like a real girl. I never, ever felt like a girl.”