Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 10

by Serpent's Tooth

  “Green and wrinkled,” Decker answered. “I don’t believe…to what do I owe this unexpected surprise? Are you trying to mooch a holiday meal or something?”

  “More like the or something.”

  Decker continued to look at him. “What’s wrong? Are you in trouble?”

  Abel smiled. “Not this time. Actually, I’ve been working, found a temporary job.”

  “Really? Doing what?”

  “Know that big wheelchair tennis tournament that went down ’bout two weeks ago?”

  Decker tried to keep his face flat. “Of course. It was for the victims of the Estelle’s massacre.”

  “Yeah, that was some horrific thing, wasn’t it?”

  “Horrific is a good adjective, yes.” Decker paused. “How’d you get involved with the tournament?”

  Abel hit his false leg. “Through the network. I heard they were hiring gimps. Sounded like it was an easy way to pick up some spare change. Lots of food, too. The woman…Jeanine Garrison…man, she catered one party after another. ’Course, we peons weren’t invited to the festivities. But there was always plenty of leftover grub. Her beau, Wade Anthony, he brought us the leavings the next day.”

  “Considerate of him.”

  “Yeah. If it had been up to her, she would have pitched it in the garbage. She is one interesting lady.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “And beautiful, too.”

  “Yes.”

  Abel stroked his beard. “Actually, she’s kinda the reason why I’m here, doc.”

  A long, long pause.

  “Oh?” Decker said.

  Abel shifted his weight on his cane. Decker hit his forehead. “Where are my manners? Come in. Sit down.”

  “I’m all right. Let me just get this off my chest…’bout this Jeanine. You know when you’re doing manual labor, no one pays you too much mind. Certain people think that when you work with your hands, it means you don’t have a brain. They talk freely…like you’re not there. So you pick up a thing or two especially when people fight…”

  Another pause.

  “Go on,” Decker urged.

  “This woman, Jeanine Garrison. You know Jeanine t’all?”

  “I’ve met her.”

  “Wade Anthony is her beau now. But before that…I mean to tell you that this gal has all sorts of admirers. Big admirers, little admirers, old ones and young ones, too. Specifically a kid named Malcolm Carey. You know the name?”

  Decker stared at Abel’s face. It revealed nothing. With great effort, he kept his voice even. “Yes, I know the name.”

  Abel nodded. “He’d come around to see her—on the sly.”

  “Interesting. Why on the sly?”

  “Probably Jeanine wanted it that way. Even so…us termites…we’d hear things…see things. Like a stolen kiss. He was mighty fond of the lady.”

  Abel paused.

  “Fond is too weak a word. He was smitten. She, on the other hand, was nervous when he was around. Told him it was dangerous to talk to her. Still, whenever Mal would come sneaking in, Jeanine would talk to him.”

  “Know what they talked about?” Decker asked.

  “Don’t know what they said when they talked in low voices. But oftentimes things got heated. Ended up with her saying something like: ‘It’ll work out, but it takes time. You’ve got to have patience.’ Clandestine talk. You’d think they were making a drug deal.”

  Again, Abel shifted his weight. A million thoughts flooded Decker’s brain. Though tense and nervous, he refrained from barraging Abel with questions. His old friend’s style was slow and casual. Best to keep it that way. Decker said, “Sure you don’t want to sit?”

  “No, I’m fine, thanks. You really look good.”

  “You look too thin. We’ve got to feed you.”

  “In a minute. Got a little more to tell you.”

  “Sure.”

  Abel cleared his throat. “I read in the paper that Malcolm Carey was arrested in a big drug bust.”

  “Yep.”

  “Your case?” Abel asked.

  “Yes. That’s why I know the name.”

  “Ah…” Abel paused. “Thing is…I felt kinda sorry for the kid. ’Cause it sounded to me like he was taking the fall for someone.”

  “Taking the fall?”

  “All this talk about him needing patience. Then the next thing the kid knows, he’s bagged. I was wondering just how did the police find out about that drug party?”

  “A tip,” Decker said.

  “By whom?”

  “It wasn’t Jeanine.”

  “Sure about that?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you know who tipped you?”

  “I know who tipped Narc, yes.”

  Abel paused, tapped his only foot. “And you’re sure they received just the one tip?”

  Heat coursed through Decker’s body.

  Just the one tip.

  The tip had come through Narcotics. Niels never identified the sex of the caller.

  Why…why would Joachim have called Narcotics when he had been given Decker’s number, had been given Oliver’s number, had been given Marge’s number?

  In fact, Joachim did call Marge.

  Kid’s thorough, she had said.

  It was clear as a bell. Joachim didn’t call Narc. There had been two phone calls made. Two phone calls, two tips. One had been from Joachim to Marge.

  And Jeanine had tipped Narcotics.

  Using Malcolm Carey as an ally, Jeanine had set up both Harlan Manz to take the fall for Estelle’s and Sean Amos to take the fall for David Garrison. Then—in the end—she had set up Malcolm himself, tipping Narc to the dope party.

  Unbelievable. Incredible. It defied logic.

  It was evil.

  It was Jeanine.

  He wiped his mouth with his fingers, rubbed his neck.

  “Thinkin’ ’bout something, Pete?” Abel asked.

  “An interesting theory.”

  Abel nodded. “Thing is, Pete. Even though the kid’s a punk, I kinda felt sorry for him. You know how I feel sorry for the underdog.”

  “You got a kind heart, Abel.”

  “See, I really think he was set up—”

  “You heard someone make a phone call maybe?”

  “Well, maybe if you look up the phone records of a certain public phone booth I’m gonna tell you about, you might find a call that went into Narc.”

  “Interesting.”

  Abel rocked on his feet. “Actually, that’s not the only reason I’m here. See, I just come back from jail, Pete. Paid the kid a visit—”

  “What—”

  “Kid didn’t want to see me till I told the jailer that I had a message for him from Jeanine.”

  “Did you?”

  “Of sorts. But not the kind of message he wanted to hear. See, I told Mal my theory, Pete. Told him how I thought Jeanine set him up. The boy wasn’t pleased. Told me to stick it where the sun don’t shine—”

  “Sounds like Malcolm.”

  “Yeah, I was about to leave. Then I delivered the kid my real message from Jeanine—a photograph from Tuesday’s paper of Jeanine and Wade, announcing their engagement.”

  Abel laughed.

  “Kid went absolutely apeshit. My opinion is that Jeanine made the boy some promises. Promises that she didn’t keep. Promises that she never had any intention of keeping. And that’s why she set him up.”

  “What kind of promises, Abel?”

  “Romantic promises if he agreed to do certain things.”

  “What certain things?”

  Abel shrugged. “To be patient and wait. If he’d do his time nice and quiet, then she’d wait for him. And he agreed to it. What can I say? Sometimes a man does strange things for a beautiful woman. Especially if that man is a teenage boy with a constant boner who thinks he’s in love. He just might go through all sorts of shit.”

  Abel cleared his throat.

  “But once the bubble’s been burst, and
it’s clear the boy ain’t gonna live happily ever after…that’s another story. I showed Mal the article and the boy’s demeanor changed considerably. He started screaming that he was framed, started asking for a lawyer, just spouting off all kinds of things—”

  “What kind of things?”

  “Talking about Jeanine’s brother, David, for one thing. How she popped him with a needle. Talking about the murders at Estelle’s—saying very different things from the official story. I told him…I told him, ‘Mal, my friend, it looks like you been had. Might as well grow some donkey ears and a tail and bray ’cause you’ve just been made into an ass.’”

  Decker’s heart sank. “Why’d you tell him that?”

  “Because it was the truth.”

  No one spoke.

  “Boy was real upset,” Abel said. “Man, I told him not to get mad. I told him to get even. Then I thought of you. Mentioned your name. Son of a gun, he said you were responsible for the bust. You were the reason he was in the clink in the first place—”

  “Shit—”

  “Wait a minute. Just hold on. I told him you weren’t the reason, I told him Jeanine was the reason. I told him you had clout with the DA…which wasn’t hard for him to believe, being as you sent him to jail. I suggested he talk to you…about David Garrison…about Estelle’s.

  Silence.

  Decker took a breath, let it out. “Is he willing?”

  “Yeah, he’s willing. Says he’s got some interesting names for you. Names and dates and letters: Things like notes from Jeanine to Harlan Manz. Apparently, Malcolm was in Manz’s apartment right after the murders at Estelle’s, cleared the place of some interesting mementos. Notes from Jeanine. Also some audiotapes. Stuff he hid, just in case. Tapes where she says stuff you’d be interested in.”

  Decker could feel his body float. “When would he like to speak with me?”

  “I b’lieve right now.”

  “Now?”

  “Boy is fighting mad at the moment, Pete. Don’t think it would be wise for him to cool off—”

  “I’ll get my jacket.” Decker tried to keep his thoughts coherent. “I’ve got some of my detectives on the case here at the house—”

  “Don’t think it would be wise to overwhelm the boy, Pete. Let’s make it the two of us. We can reminisce about old days on the ride over.”

  “Fine. Just let me find Ri—” Decker stopped talking. Rina was a few feet away, her head down, blushing scarlet.

  Decker said, “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough to hear.”

  Decker blew out air. “You remember Abel?”

  “Of course.” Rina held out her hand to him. “So, you two are on your way to County?”

  Decker nodded.

  “For how long?”

  “Whatever it takes, Rina. I can’t let this opportunity—”

  “Of course.”

  Decker ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t tell Oliver and Marge about this. Not just yet. Make excuses for me. Tell them…God, I can’t use work as an excuse—”

  “You can use me, doc,” Abel said. “They know I’m a needle in your rear. Tell them I needed your help.”

  “Good idea,” Rina said.

  Decker patted Abel’s shoulder. “You’re a good friend, Abe.”

  “Likewise, I’m sure.”

  Rina said, “I’ll keep the turkey warm.”

  “You already do that every night.” Decker smiled, but it was wistful. “I’m never around when you need me.”

  “Nonsense. Besides I don’t need you now. Go.”

  “You’re crying. I’m so sorry—”

  “No, no, no!” Rina wiped her eyes. “I’m not crying. I was peeling onions.” She looked at Abel. “Of course you’ll stay for dinner afterward. Whenever it is. Even if it’s two in the morning. And don’t say no. I’m very persistent.”

  “I figured as much. I’d love dinner, Mrs. Decker.”

  “It’s Rina.”

  Decker slipped on his jacket, made sure he had his official identification and his gun. “Let’s move it.”

  Abel held the door open for him. Before he left, he turned around, winked at Rina.

  She winked back, dammed back tears. One day Peter would figure it out. By then, it would all be past. She watched them peel rubber, zoom off in Peter’s Porsche. Closing the door, she went back into the kitchen to baste the turkey.

  41

  And it came to pass at midnight.

  A line from the Passover Seder. Decker didn’t know why it had flashed into consciousness since the holiday was still months away. Guess it had something to do with the magic of the witching hour: the first ticks of a new day so promising with hope. It had been a long night, replete with frantic activity and never-ending paperwork. Maybe there would even be a payoff.

  He brought the Volare to a stop at a red light. A deserted intersection. He looked around, charged through the light. From the backseat, Oliver chuckled.

  Decker said, “Hell with it. I’m tired. Just let some punk uniform try to stop me.”

  “The man is on a mission.” Marge sat shotgun, nervously sipped cold coffee from a paper cup. “You lost out on a great meal, Pete. Never seen so much variety. Rina outdid herself.”

  “Rina and Mom are a deadly combination.”

  Oliver grinned. “Mom’s got a bit of a ’tude, don’t she?”

  “Watch your mouth.”

  “Hey, I behaved myself.” He turned to Marge for support. “Didn’t I behave?”

  “You were a very good boy.”

  Decker felt his stomach growl. “So I’ll have leftovers. Sometimes that’s better. The flavors are blended.” Anxiously, he tapped the wheel of the car. “Just want to finish up and call it a night.”

  Marge slapped the warrant against her knee. “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

  “It’s long overdue,” Decker said.

  “More than overdue, Deck,” Oliver stated. “It’s weird! Abel popping up…like pulling a rabbit from a hat.”

  “Deus ex machina.” Decker licked his lips. “Providence. What else could it be? Abel hasn’t worked even a part-time job in years.”

  Oliver said, “Okay. I can see him working this job, doing something for the tournament. After all, your friend’s a gimp—”

  “An amputee,” Decker corrected.

  “A lame-o.” Oliver was undeterred. “Okay. So he worked the tournament. I still don’t understand why he took an interest in a bit player like Malcolm Carey.”

  “Lord only knows,” Decker said. “Abel always had an eye for the bizarre.”

  But his own explanation didn’t sit well. Something was off. Way off! But he couldn’t concentrate on that now. More important things to do.

  They rode for a few moments in smothering silence. The minutes before an arrest were always tense. Time elongated, time contracted. Everyone on edge, overly focused. The blackness of night seemed bright and shiny, reflective roadway surfaces slick with mist.

  Marge spoke in a tight voice. “You should have let Scott and me handle Malcolm, Pete. That way, you could have eaten with your family.”

  “Carey asked for me specifically. I didn’t want to take the chance—”

  “I know how particular perps can be,” Marge cut him off. “But you didn’t have to lie.”

  Decker knew she was hurt by the exclusion. He should have taken both Marge and Scott into his confidence. But everything had been so rushed. He tried to keep his voice even. “I was thinking expedience. I brought you both in as soon as I could.”

  “I know,” Marge said. “I’m just sulking.” A sigh. “I would have loved to have been there.”

  “At least you had a good meal.”

  “A fantastic meal,” Oliver expounded. “You know your brother’s a real funny guy. Not at all a stiff.”

  Not like you was the implication. Decker laughed, too exhausted to be insulted. “Glad you found a soul mate.”

&n
bsp; “He does remind me of me. Kinda a fuckup. I got the feeling you’ve pulled him out of some rough spots.”

  “What can I say? He’s my bro.”

  Oliver said, “You got Randy, you got me, you got Marge, you got Abel. You just love the strays, don’tcha, rabbi?”

  “I beg your pardon,” Marge said, stiffly.

  Decker smiled. The chitchat eased the gripping tension.

  A beat. Then Marge said, “Unbelievable that Jeanine thought she could work around Malcolm.”

  “With him in the hole, she had at least four-plus years breathing room.”

  “But she had to figure that Carey would find out about the engagement,” Marge persisted.

  “Jails keep you isolated. Malcolm was completely dependent on Jeanine for outside news.”

  “They get newspapers,” Oliver said.

  “Obviously Carey didn’t read the social section because Abel’s revelation came as a total shock. He was still under the delusion that she intended to wait for him. Because that’s what she told him: Behave yourself and I’ll wait.”

  Marge said, “Carey could have learned about the engagement from Sean Amos.”

  “Amos wouldn’t dare to go near Carey. Kid’s been handed an undeserved reprieve. Even he’s not stupid enough to spit in Lady Luck’s eye.” Decker smoothed his mustache. “Jeanine was Carey’s eyes to the outside world. As long as she strung him along, he remained quiet.”

  “Idiot that he is,” Oliver said.

  “Idiot that he was,” Decker said. “He thought he was in love.”

  “How’d he get involved with Jeanine in the first place?” Oliver asked. “Through Amos or Greenvale?”

  “Both actually,” Decker said. “Carey happened to be at Greenvale one day when Jeanine and Sean were playing tennis together. Sean introduced them. Mal was smitten. Or in his words…‘Fuck, I had the hots for her.’ Talked at great length about the boner she gave him.”

  Oliver smiled. “He’s still a kid.”

  “A kid but a lethal one.”

  A pause.

  Marge said, “Who approached Mal to do Estelle’s? Sean or Jeanine?”

  “Sean had nothing to do with Estelle’s or Garrison. He was just a dumb dupe.”

  “Like Manz?”

  “Yep.” Decker tried to relax his shoulders. “According to Carey, Jeanine approached him to shoot up the restaurant. Now his word isn’t worth a damn. But he does have tapes to back him up.”