Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 06

by Grievous Sin

  “Sure, I was angry. But it was his choice. He chose not to tell me; he suffered the consequences. If Cindy chooses not to tell you, she’ll suffer the consequences.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “So if I’m so dense, why don’t we stop plowing old ground and get on with the case?”

  Decker sat on the sofa. “Fine. Get on with the case.”

  Marge clasped her hands. A fog of hostility sat between them, but she knew they’d get over it. Just as soon as they concentrated on the case. It was bugging the shit out of both of them. “We have Marie and Tandy in Berkeley. And Marie screwing everyone, conceivably—no pun intended—even Tandy’s father.”

  Decker pulled out his notebook. “Conceivably.”

  Marge smiled. “We have two traumatic incidents happening to both of them at the same time. So how do we connect the two?”

  “Start with the obvious.” Decker tried to control the tartness of his voice. Man, he was pissed. “Tandy’s father was a lech, Marie was a wild chick. They had an affair.”

  “The affair led to Tandy’s parents getting divorced and possibly to Marie Bellson’s pregnancy,” Marge stated formally.

  “I like it.”

  Stiffly, Marge gave a little smile. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Decker suddenly bit back a laugh. “All right. Let’s assume Tandy’s all pissed off at her parents’ divorce. And assume that Tandy knew that her father’s affair with Marie was what led to the divorce.”

  “Then Tandy would be pissed off at Marie,” Marge said. “Not acting like Marie was her best friend.”

  “Maybe she was acting all this time, Marge. Maybe Tandy had planned from the start to get Marie.”

  “Pete, the trauma happened twenty years ago. Unless Tandy’s the original demon child, I can’t picture a five-year-old hatching a two-decade plot. Then we’d have to assume she knew at five that she was going to purposely become a nurse, meet Marie, become her best friend, then pin a kidnapping and murder on her.”

  “You’re right. It’s absurd.”

  “At least you’re capable of giving me some credit.”

  “I give you credit, Dunn. But you’ve got to see it from my perspective. You and my daughter—two women out of the four I trust implicitly—are keeping secrets from me.”

  “Rina’s the third—who’s the fourth?”

  “My mother. Now what the hell difference does that make? Do you see my point, or don’t you?”

  “I see your point. Can we move on now, please?”

  “You brought it up. Why do women bring up things, then drop them when they hear what they don’t want to hear?”

  “Pete—”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll cool it.” Decker smoothed his mustache. “Even if Marie and Tandy’s father had an affair, what does that have to do with the price of eggs in Outer Mongolia?”

  Marge said, “Let’s suppose this. Suppose Tandy’s father—”

  “Guy have a first name?”

  “Geoffrey spelled G-e-o-f-f-r-e-y.”

  “Veddy English.”

  “He’s Cuban,” Marge said.

  “How’d you find that out?”

  “Cindy.”

  “My daughter has become a wealth of information.” Decker paused. “You think it’s a coincidence that the kidnapped baby was a Latina?”

  “That’s an interesting observation.”

  “I don’t know how it fits, but it’s interesting. So how did Cuban parents come to give their son a name like Geoffrey?”

  “Caitlin isn’t exactly a Hispanic name. Immigrants adopt Anglo names to acculturate.” Marge flipped the pages of her notebook. “Actually, I think Tandy told Cindy her father had changed his name.”

  “Geoffrey Roberts,” Decker said. “A prof. Think he still lives in Berkeley?”

  “We could find out.”

  “Let’s do that,” Decker said. “Where were we?”

  “Still assuming that Marie Bellson and Geoffrey Roberts had an affair.”

  “Okay. Now how about this? Suppose little Tandy, at the age of five, was made aware of this affair by Mom’s yelling.”

  “Lots of yelling.”

  “Especially if we assume that Geoffrey Roberts knocked up Marie. A lot of women can tolerate indiscretion. But getting the other woman pregnant?”

  “Fireworks,” Marge said.

  “Yep. I can picture the irate wife screaming it for all the world to hear. ‘You f-ing bastard, you not only slept with the little tramp, you got her pregnant.’ That kind of thing.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “So let’s assume that Tandy, even at five, knew that a Bellson, and/or Marie Bellson’s pregnancy, was the reason behind her parents’ divorce. It traumatized her, but maybe she was able to hide it. Kids can hide their pain well. Suppose she could deal with her past by ignoring it. Putting it out of her mind. Then, lo and behold, at fifteen, she got pregnant. And all the old traumatic feelings began to resurface.”

  “‘A stage-mom bitch,’” Marge read from her notes. “That’s how Tandy described her mother to Cindy. You know, maybe Tandy’s pregnancy brought out old feelings for Mom as well as for daughter. The pregnancy ruined Mom’s life once, now another pregnancy was ruining it again. Especially if stage-mom bitch had a lot invested in Tandy’s modeling career. Can’t you picture Mom screaming at her, ‘You’ve just ruined your entire life,’ etc?”

  Decker paused a moment. She seemed so upset when she talked to herself. “Tandy talking to herself? Or was she actually talking to someone else who was yelling at her?”

  “She was hearing voices?”

  Decker said, “Could be.”

  Marge said, “Well then, suppose the voice also told her about another pregnancy that once ruined her entire life—Bellson getting pregnant by Pop. Too much trauma for her to deal with. She quit modeling, moved out West, and began to eat her anxiety away. Soon she had ballooned to three hundred pounds.”

  Decker said, “Wow!”

  “Food is love,” Marge said. “Then she met Marie. And…”

  “And what?”

  “And I don’t know. I’m asking you.”

  “I don’t know, either,” Decker said. “They became best friends? Like you said before, it doesn’t make sense. Tandy should have hated Marie.”

  “Unless demon child suddenly reappeared as demon young adult. And the woman began to have demented conversations with herself. Saying things like, I’m going to find and screw Marie Bellson if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Decker said, “So you’re assuming Tandy recognized Marie Bellson as the evil woman who caused her parents’ divorce twenty years ago. Marge, Tandy was only five.”

  “Maybe Tandy didn’t recognize her face, but she recognized the name. Maybe Mom never let her forget it.”

  Decker held up a finger. “You know, it could be it was the other way around. Maybe Marie recognized Tandy. She was the adult twenty years ago. Certainly, she’d have recognized Tandy’s name if she had an affair with her father.”

  Marge nodded. “Then Marie saw this young, obese schizo woman who was once the cute little daughter of a man she’d loved. It tugged on her heartstrings. Bellson took Tandy in as if she were her own—making up for the past, so to speak.”

  “Especially if we assume the kid Marie lost—or aborted—was Geoffrey Roberts’s child,” Decker said.

  “Maybe they both recognized each other, but neither one said anything. Both keeping the skeletons inside the closet. Marie out of guilt, Tandy out of crazed hatred.”

  “Then what happened?” Decker said.

  “Tandy had a false pregnancy,” Marge went on. “She longed for a baby. But being more than a little nuts, she took one from Marie’s nursery. Because she knew Marie wouldn’t fink on her out of guilt.”

  Decker said, “Sounds good except Tandy’s still here acting normal. Where are Marie and the baby?”

  Both of them were silent.

  “Our theories
hinge on a link between Marie and Geoffrey Roberts,” Decker continued. “Marie’s gone, but maybe Geoff’s still around. Let’s make a few calls to Berkeley. Let our fingers do the walking. Cheaper than a trip up north. The department would approve.”

  Marge nodded. “You know, Pete, if Tandy is really a certified psycho, we’ll never get a conviction even if she did murder Lily.”

  “A conviction isn’t what concerns me at the moment. If the voice told her to kidnap and kill once, it can tell her to kill again.”

  “The baby?”

  “The baby.”

  32

  It was cool.

  She was in control.

  She was in control.

  Police can’t get her.

  She was saved.

  Jesus saved her.

  Jesus loved her.

  Jesus loved everyone.

  He loved good and bad. Friend and foe.

  Even Auntie.

  Even the voices!

  Jesus loved her, ’cause she had the control.

  Marge hung up the phone and called out, “Got us a minor problem, Rabbi.”

  Decker emerged from the kitchen, cradling Hannah with one hand, shaking a bottle of sugar water with the other. “What now?”

  “According to Berkeley’s payroll department, the last paycheck made out to Geoffrey Roberts was over two years ago. The secretary gave me Roberts’s last-known home address and telephone number. Guess what?”

  “It’s out-of-date.”

  “No current address in the Bay Area, no forwarding address, either. I called the squad room and asked MacPherson to see if he could get Geoffrey Roberts on-line with the computer. I’ve also called Santa Cruz and Davis, thinking maybe he switched to another UC campus in northern California. So far, nothing.”

  Decker sat down on his sofa and offered a sugar-coated nipple to Hannah. She accepted it eagerly. “When’s MacPherson due to call back?”

  “Any minute.”

  The phone rang.

  “How’s that for predicting the future?” Marge picked up the receiver, listened, and laughed. “It’s one of your sons.”

  Taking the phone with his free hand, Decker winked. “So much for your powers of the supernatural.” Into the receiver, he said, “Yo. Hey, Sam, what’s up…what time will you be done? Sure I can pick you guys up. No prob. She’s fine. Hannah’s fine, too. How was schoo—Okay, I understand. We’ll talk later. Love you both.”

  Decker hung up. Marge kicked off her shoes and placed her bare feet on the ottoman. “Did I tell you that Morrison scheduled a meeting with the feds and us tomorrow morning at ten?”

  Decker was silent. Then he said, “Well, we’re going nowhere. All we have at this point is a couple of lame theories.”

  “I think of them as inventive,” Marge said.

  Decker smiled at his little daughter. “At least we’ve got theories. With no way to verify them unless we find Professor Geoff.”

  The phone rang again. Marge picked it up. It was Paul MacPherson.

  “I got Geoffrey Roberts on the monitor—his Social Security number, his tax I.D…. all that stuff. Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s gonna do you any good.”

  “Why’s that, Paul?”

  “Last known address on his tax statement was the one you gave me in Berkeley, Marge. It appears that Mr. Roberts hasn’t filed taxes since he left the bastion of radicalism.”

  Marge swore under her breath and recapped the message to Decker. Into the phone, she said, “He must be living on some income. Some pension or something. Even if he’s just living off the interest from his savings, you’ve got to pay taxes on them. Banks send statements on interest-bearing accounts to the IRS.”

  “Well, the computer doesn’t have anything listed,” MacPherson said.

  “Did the guy die?” Decker suggested. Marge relayed the question to MacPherson.

  “Tell the Rabbi I’m one step ahead of him. I can’t find a death certificate. What you got is a phantom.”

  “Thanks for trying, Paul.” Marge cut the line. “He says we’ve got a phantom.”

  “Maybe Tandy knows where he is.”

  “Should we ask her?”

  “No.” Decker was emphatic. “If she’s nuts, she might bolt or do worse. I don’t want to spook her. We’ll tell our suspicions to the feds and let them decide if they want to question her. We’ve still got a couple of hours to handle the case the way we want to do it.”

  Marge said, “From the summary Cindy gave me of her conversation with Tandy, it sounded like Tandy thought her dad was still in Berkeley.”

  “Marge, someone in the English department at Berkeley had to have known him.”

  Rummaging through her notes, Marge found the phone number of Berkeley and asked for the English department. Ten minutes later, after a half-dozen false starts, she was put on hold once again.

  “I’m waiting for them to locate a guy named Bert Stine. He used to team-teach with Geoffrey Roberts.”

  “Good,” Decker said. “Did you ever get through to Stan Meecham?”

  “Yep. And as you predicted, the doctor wasn’t happy to talk to me. But he did explain the condition to me. And after considerable hemming and hawing, he admitted that Marie did bring Tandy to his office. He only admitted that because he said Tandy never returned, so officially he doesn’t consider her a patient.”

  “When did Marie bring her in?”

  “Around two years ago…in November. Back when she and Marie were as thick as thieves.”

  “So tell me about pseudocyesis.”

  “The way he described it, it sounds like an unconscious mental thing. The woman actually convinces herself she’s pregnant. She stops menstruating, her breasts and cervix enlarge, she can even experience morning sickness. It’s usually found in adolescents, but not exclusively—”

  Marge held out the palm of her hand and spoke into the phone.

  “Professor Stine? This is Detective Dunn of the Los Angeles Police Depart—No, no one is in trouble. I’m just trying to locate Professor Geoffrey Roberts, and I understand you used to team-teach with him?”

  Decker looked at her expectantly. Marge rolled her eyes.

  “No, I can assure you he’s not in any trouble…at least as far as my business is concerned.”

  Marge gnashed her teeth.

  “No, I’m not deliberately prying into anyone’s affairs. At the moment, I’m just trying to locate him…. No, I don’t know if he’s missing…. No, Professor Stine, we don’t think he’s dead. At least we haven’t found a death certificate for him. Do you happen to know where he went after he retired from Berkeley?…Well, then after he left.…”

  Again Marge waited.

  “Unfortunately, Professor, the nature of my business with him is official. But believe me, I’m not out to cause him any grief. If you could just help me out. Please, it could be very important. Sure, I’ll hold.”

  Decker said, “He’s giving you a hard time?”

  “A bit police-shy.”

  “At least he hasn’t slammed the receiver in your ear.”

  “I take that as a very good sign,” Marge said. “Hi, Professor…He moved to Los Angeles? Do you know where in L.A.? No, no, no, that’s okay. That’s a start. I take it you haven’t heard from Professor Roberts in the last two…No, that’s okay. If he’s currently residing in Los Angeles, we’ll find him…No, he’s not in trouble. I do appreciate your help. Thank you very much. Good-bye.”

  “He’s here?” Decker said.

  “Stine wasn’t absolutely sure that Roberts moved to L.A., but he sounded reasonably certain.” Marge stopped talking, then said, “You know, Pete? To hear Stine talk, his tone of voice, it sounded to me like Roberts left Berkeley under a cloud.”

  Decker gently placed Hannah over his shoulder. “Tandy’s father moves to L.A. and becomes a phantom. Marie is Tandy’s friend, and she’s suddenly a phantom. And we still don’t have a thing on her.”

  “First let’s find Geoff,” M
arge said.

  Decker knew she was right. “Okay. If you were an English prof, where would you live in the area?”

  “Near a major university,” Marge said. “I’ll check the phone books around UCLA, USC, Cal State Northridge, Cal State Long Beach, Cal State Fullerton…in other words, the whole damn area.” She stood and smoothed her gray slacks. “You coming with me to the station house?”

  “You go ahead. I have to wait for Hannah to burp, then I have to finish her feeding.” He smiled. “I don’t have to finish feeding her. I want to finish feeding her. And if the FBI doesn’t like it, tough shit!”

  Frustrated and defeated, Decker slid into bed. It was after midnight Friday morning—the Sabbath about twenty hours away. Now he realized why God made a day of rest. He lay on his back, eyes focused on the ceiling, staring at a cobweb that caught the glint of moonlight. He felt a warm hand touch his arm.

  “Is she up?” Rina croaked out.

  “Who? Hannah?”

  “Yes. Is she up?”

  “No, honey. Everyone’s asleep. Did I wake you? I’m sorry. I tried to be quiet.”

  Rina turned and faced him. “You didn’t wake me, my breasts did. I just got another milk letdown.”

  “You want me to nurse to relieve the pressure?”

  Rina smiled. Decker could see it even in the dark. He said, “You want to express your milk in a bottle. I’ll be happy to feed her so you can sleep.”

  “S’right. I love feeding her,” Rina said.

  Decker was silent. Rina could tell he was disappointed. The baby was a big source of joy for her. No doubt she created pure love in Peter as well.

  Rina said, “I suppose I could use the rest. Hand me a bottle and my breast pump.”

  Decker got up and gave Rina the nursing accoutrements. “Might as well do something useful.”

  “You’re sounding like me.” Rina sighed. “You’re upset. Talk, Peter.”

  Decker was silent.

  “Please?”