'She knows that, honey,' Cohen intervened.
'You're doing great, Cindy,' Marge said. 'Let's talk about Marie for a moment. You stated she didn't like you?'
'She didn't. I stayed out of her way.'
'But occasionally you saw her.'
'Yes, couple of times.'
'Did she appear professional when she worked?' 'Yeah, I suppose.' Cindy looked troubled. 'Sometimes I'd overhear her talking to other nurses about the mothers. Marie had preferences in her mothers. It bothered me.'
Marge said, 'Did you ever hear her say anything specific about Lourdes Rodriguez?'
Cindy's eyes widened. 'Marge, she talked about Lourdes Rodriguez! She told me she was counseling her.'
Marge sat up. 'What kind of counseling?'
'Baby counseling. How to bathe the baby, how to diaper the baby... basic stuff. Marie adopted this superior attitude when she lectured. That bothered me, too.'
'Superior attitude?' Marge asked.
'Yeah, like "they'd be lost without me". That kind of thing. Darlene told me Marie liked doing that kind of stuff - teaching mothers how to care for their babies. If a mother didn't need her, she didn't like that.'
'Marie told you that she didn't like the independent mothers?' Marge said.
'No, that was just my impression after listening to Darlene.'
Jack said, 'Honey, just stick to what you heard from Marie. The rest is what we call hearsay.'
Marge smiled. Once a lawyer... 'So Marie told you she was counseling this baby's mother?'
'Yes - maybe she didn't use the word "counsel". More like teaching the mother.'
'Okay,' Marge said. 'She seemed to take a special interest in Lourdes Rodriguez. How about this, Cindy? Did you ever see Marie take a special interest in Lourdes's baby?'
Cindy shook her head. 'Not that I can remember. She
talked more about Lourdes than about the baby. Marie didn't think Lourdes was equipped to handle the baby.' 'She said that?' Marge asked. 'No, no, no, she didn't say it,' Cindy said. 'It was just my opinion.'
Jack said, 'Honey, just stick to what you heard.'
'Grandpa, maybe Marge would like to hear my opinions.'
Gently, Marge said, 'Sure, but maybe a little later.'
Cindy nodded. Marge thought she looked wounded. 'Did Marie ever mention anything about how Lourdes Rodriguez wasn't fit to be a mother?'
'Truthfully, no. Marie never said that Lourdes wasn't fit. Just that she didn't know much. And that she should appreciate the baby Jesus gave her.'
Marge's ears perked up. 'Marie spoke about Jesus a lot?'
'Yeah, she liked to pray with her patients. I told Daddy this. We both agreed it was inappropriate."
'Did Marie ever mention she was doing God's work, Cindy?'
The teenager paused. 'No... no she didn't.'
'But she prayed with Lourdes?'
'I don't remember.'
'Did Marie ever say anything about how the baby should be taken away from Lourdes because she didn't appreciate what Jesus gave her?'
'No.'
'And you never remember seeing Marie being especially attached to Baby Girl Rodriguez?'
'No.'
'Did Marie seem unusually attached to any baby in specific?'
'Not that I can remember.' 'Did Marie ever mention going away very soon?'
'Marge, Marie hardly talked to me unless it was to say I was getting too attached to Hannah. When Marie was around, I minded by own business. I didn't pay much attention to anyone except Hannah.'
'Your dad better be appreciative,' Jack said.
'Grandpa, he's very appreciative.' Cindy looked at Marge. 'I wasn't much help to your case, was I?'
'Of course you've been a help, Cindy. The fact that Marie was talking about the baby's mother... hey, that's something we didn't know about. It shows that Marie had prior interest in this particular patient.'
'But you're not any closer to finding the baby.'
'Things take time, Cindy.'
The room was silent. Cindy stood and placed her hands in her pants pockets. 'I'm kind of tired. Is there anything else you need me for?'
'No, Cindy, you did great.' Marge folded her notebook. 'Thanks for your help. Now kick back and go home. Rina and Hannah will be needing you to take care of them.'
Cindy sighed. 'You know what I'm thinking. Who's taking care of Baby Girl Rodriguez? And who's going to take care of that poor mother?'
Marge looked at her partner's daughter and saw something familiar in her eyes - the fire of determination. Decker's expression to a T. That kind of passion to solve a crime was great for a career detective, but deadly for a nineteen-year-old kid.
'Cindy you are going to go home and forget about this,
right?'
'I can't forget about something like this, Marge.'
'You know what I mean.'
'No, I really don't.'
'Okay,' Marge said. 'I'll be blunt. I don't want you going out and looking for the baby on your own.'
Once again, Cindy's eyes widened. 'I hadn't even thought about that.'
Her expression seemed genuine. It was then and there that Marge realized she had planted a seed inside Cindy's brain. She stuffed her notebook in her jacket pocket and silently cursed her big mouth.
Decker said, 'How'd it go?'
'Your elder daughter's a doll,' Marge answered. 'But I'm worried she's going to get carried away. You can't very well say to her, don't get involved. She is involved. It's how to turn her off.'
'I'll talk to her.'
'Let me handle her, Pete. You and I could say the same thing. Coming from me, it'll be different.'
'You're right about that,' Decker said. 'How'd it go with the Rodriguez brothers?'
'They were angry - angry at me, the hospital, authority in general. Real anger. Bottom line is, I don't think they were involved. Back to the obvious - Marie Bellson.'
'Search warrant on Bellson's place finally came through,' Decker said. 'Do you want to come?'
'I'll meet you there in about an hour,' Marge said. 'I want to stick around here for a while. See what I can pick up.' She lifted up Marie's personnel file. 'Have you had a chance to go through this?'
'Just had time to skim it. I'm having a copy made for my files.' Decker ran his hands through his hair. 'From what I've seen, there's nothing much to write home about. Woman worked here for eleven years, had several complaints registered against her. A few non-compliances filed against her by two doctors, once a patient mentioned she was rude to her. Another patient thought she was cold and uncaring.'
'Any complaint dealing with Marie stuffing God down the throat?'
'Cindy told you about Marie praying with her patients.'
'That's weird, Pete.'
'Yes, it is. I wish to hell I'd followed up on it. Maybe she heard Jesus tell her to grab a baby.' He slammed his right fist into the waiting left palm. 'Damn it, I shouldn't have brushed it aside.'
Marge looked at her partner. He was so genuine in his self-flagellation. 'Pete, religious people - even fanatics - don't generally go around snatching babies.'
Decker knew a lot of religious fanatics - his mother, his wife. And what Marge said was true. Believing wholeheartedly in God - any God - had nothing to do with snatching babies. But lots of troubled people used God to excuse their impulsive or inappropriate behavior.
'If Marie had complaints about her excess religiosity,' Decker continued, 'they were probably handled off the record. What exactly did you learn from Cindy?'
Marge filled him in, then asked, 'What do you think about Marie counseling Lourdes?'
'Lourdes didn't mention that to you?'
'No and she didn't mention Marie praying with her. But that doesn't mean anything. She was hysterical when I spoke to her. I'll press her on it, find out exactly what Marie told her.'
There was a pause.
'What are you thinking?' Decker asked. Marge said, 'If Marie felt Lourdes wasn't able to handle her child,
maybe she snatched the baby out of concern for the kid's safety.'
'Did you get the feeling that Lourdes was unusually irresponsible... or maybe she had an addiction problem or something like that?'
'No, but our conversation was superficial.'
Decker said, 'I'm sure Marie has seen dozens of young teenagers just like Lourdes Rodriguez. Why'd she choose this baby?'
'Maybe something snapped. Maybe God told her to do it.'
'But the profile I'm getting of Marie is not one of a woman slowly going down the tubes. She wasn't showing any overt signs of cracking up.'
'Overt signs, Pete.'
'Yeah, there could have been some subtle signs that no one picked up. Nobody seemed to know her well.'
'Maybe you'll find something at her house.'
'Maybe.' Decker heard someone call his name. He turned around. 'What's up, Sergeant Harlow.'
'Detective Sergeant Decker, we've found something of interest in the parking lot.'
'Marie's car?' Marge said.
Harlow clapped his hands together. 'No, Detective Dunn. It's more like fresh blood.'
Too much rush, Tandy thought, had to slow down. Remember the words of the guru - to build the shape, do fewer reps with heavier weights.
That was the key. You can't lose sight of the key. The shaping, the sculpting. Otherwise, you lose control. Never lose control.
Never, ever lose control.
Fewer reps with heavier weights.
Gotta get the control back.
Don't lose it, Roberts, don't lose it.
Fewer reps, heavier weights.
That would bleed off the excess entropy.
No entropy, only enthalpy.
Controlled energy.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then pulled the pin from the one-twenty weight and slipped it into the one-thirty. Wiping sweat from her face, she felt her cheeks, skin as smooth as fine brandy. When she was modeling, people used to smother her pores with poison. Ail that base make-up to give her the appearance of flawless smooth skin. Why not live right, eat right, exercise right, and have the real thing?
Never lose control.
Otherwise they'd come back.
Only enthalpy.
Controlled energy.
Can't slip up this time, Roberts. Can't slip, can't slip,
can't slip.
She clenched her teeth as she slid under the shoulder press, fingers gripped around the handle.
Check the position.
Arms parallel, small of the back secured by a rolled towel, feet planted firmly on the floor.
She felt her heart race.
Inhale, then let it out on the exertion.
One.
The loud metallic clank of the weights slapping together. No good. Not controlled. She needed to lower the weights down. They should never fall by themselves. Again.
Inhale, exhale. Two. Muscles shaking with the effort, perspiration tracking
her face, belly and armpits.
Weights down slowly.
Better, much better.
The control was there.
Bleed it off, girl. Turn the entropy into enthalpy.
Only enthalpy.
Controlled.
You can do it.
Again.
Inhale, exhale.
The bunching of her muscles, the quivering of her limbs. She let go with a roar that would make a lion shrink.
Do it, girl. Do it!
Bang! Three!
The clank so loud it hurt her ears.
You're losing it, Tandy. You're losing it, you're losing it—
'You're in early.'
Eric's voice.
Thank God. Someone to turn off the demons.
Softly, she said, 'I came straight from work. Aren't you proud of me?'
'Attagirl!' Eric cheered. 'You're gonna make it!'
Again, inhale. Exhale the roar.
Then she tried to lift the press.
Too much.
Halfway, her arms gave out.
Crash!
She heard it; Eric heard it. They both heard her failure. Sweat began to coalesce on her brow. She made herself take a deep breath.
Take a deep breath.
'Why aren't you wearing gloves?' Eric said.
'I didn't bother.'
'You have to bother, Tandy,' Eric said. 'You can't pump with seriousness if you don't have gloves.' He held out his hand and helped her off the bench. Stared at her at arm's length. 'You look uptight. It's okay, Tandy. You've got the determination, don't worry about the roadblocks. Now go help yourself and get your gloves.'
'Eric, I was about to stop anyway.'
'Stop?'
'I've been at it for a while.'
'But you were trying to do a press. And you didn't do that press. Go back and finish that press. You never, ever, end on failure, you know that!'
'Eric, I've been working all night—'
'So have I, babe. The old lady I've been watching spent hours in the John. Bowel problems.' Eric shook his head. 'If I'm ever incapacitated when I'm old, do me a favor, Tandy and pull the plug. Family deserting her like she's the plague. Man, she is lucky to have found me.'
Lucky as long as the tips hold out, Tandy thought. Eric was like the rest of them. Not like her. She worked because she cared! It's why she did what she did. She told herself that over and over and over...
'Tandy, you on this planet?'
'You're really terrific, Eric, to help the folks like you
do.'
'Get top dollar, but I'm dedicated. Whatever you do -even if it's cleaning toilets - you have to be dedicated. That's what wrong with America. Nobody takes life seriously. It's all one big joke. Lifting isn't a joke, Tandy. Now stop dicking around, go get your gloves and do that press.'
'I'm so tired, Eric. I can't—'
'Tandy, we don't say things like "I can't" around here. The words "I can't" don't exist in our vocabulary!'
He had imitated her, using a higher-pitched voice for the words 'I can't.'
Making fun of her. Telling her she was bad. She isn't bad. She isn't bad, damn it! Working all night saving humanity. Then straight from work to pumping. Too much. Too exhausting. She was going to crack.
She was going to lose it!
Unable to move, she watched as Eric stripped off his street clothes until he was down to a G-string, the bulge inside well defined and big.
Eric turned and held her face. 'Are you going to cryV
'No—'
'Oh yes you are.'
'No, honestly, I'm okay.'
'Okay?' Eric's face became mean. 'You're not okay, Tandy. You know what you are? You're patheticV
And in an instant, she knew she had two choices. She could remain pathetic like they told her she was.
Or she could get mad.
Kill him, said the low one.
Kill him, said the high one.
A smile appeared across her face. She belted his hand away, stinging her own palm in the process. 'Do you want to know what pathetic is, Eric? Pathetic is you taking only second in the Mr LA Dudes at Muscle Beach. Guy who won first made you look like a shriveled old worm! So screw you!'
Eric suddenly laughed. 'Attagirl! Now, that's the Tandy I know and love. So fuck you and go get your gloves. I'll do watch for you.'
Tandy closed her eyes, felt the wet heat on her palms, the thumping of her heart. She had no choice but to do what he said. If she didn't, Eric and the others would make her life miserable. Then she'd start to feel out of control.
She knew Eric was only trying to help her. Unlike the others. The people who gave her life, then made it hell. Couldn't call them parents. They were never parents.
Images popped into her brain - the times before the control. Lots of food. Piles of food.
Piles and piles—
Faye Kellerman - Decker 06 - Grievous Sin Page 12
