"I didn't ask for it. I just asked how much she paid you?"
Jeffers paused. "Fifty."
"You lie like a politician, Jeffs. Try again."
"Two hundred."
"Two hundred?" Ness laughed. "Tell the lady I'll do her in blackface at half the price."
"Mike— "
"Why does the detective think you were with a lady last night?"
"I... she caught me off guard, Mike. I don't think as quick on my feet as you do. I knew I was coming off bad so I told her the truth. Or part of it. That I was here last night with a married woman giving her a private tennis lesson. I said I kept it secret 'cause I didn't want it getting out that I was giving the lady a discount."
"Why didn't you just say you were with Natanya?"
"I didn't think of her."
"But you thought of me? Christ, you're an idiot."
"Yeah, it was stupid. 'Cause immediately I saw that the detective didn't give a rat's ass about what I wanted. But she didn't press it. Then I thought... well, okay, I can't take back what I said. But suppose I was with you, too. Then you could cover for me and the detective wouldn't have to bother the woman."
"Exactly what do you want me to say, Jeffs?"
Jeffers took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Thanks—"
"Hey, I didn't say I'd do it."
"I know, I know. Can you just... if the cop starts getting real nosy, can you just say I was with you from ten till two in the morning?"
"Too long."
"Okay, okay. Midnight till two?"
"I'll give you an hour. Midnight to one. And I didn't say anything to the detective because you were..." Ness sniffed several times.
"No, no, please don't mention that. I'm supposed to be clean. Lilah thinks I'm clean."
"You had a relapse. You and the woman were doping and that's why you didn't want to say her name—hey, that's why you came to me! You were so upset about your relapse, you had to talk to someone. And I didn't want to get you involved unless I had to. Hey, I'm a nice guy. I felt bad for you." Ness smiled. "After all, Jeffs, you're one sick dude and that ain't lyin'. You're an addict." He held up his fingers and began to tick them off. "A drug addict, an exercise addict, a sex addict—"
"Mike— "
"You've just got an addictive mentality." Jeffers lowered his head. "Don't do this to me."
"Sob, sob, Jeffs. Betham is suing my butt, not yours. If you hadn't porked her in the first place, she wouldn't have gotten mad at me when I said no."
"I know, Nessy. Please don't rub it in."
"I told you she was a head case."
"You were right."
"Who'd you ball last night?"
"Patsy."
Ness smiled. "Little Patsy Levington. What is she? Five feet even?"
"They all look the same lying down."
There was a pause. Both men burst into hard laughter. They laughed until tears rolled down their eyes. Ness wiped his cheeks.
"So Patsy paid you two hundred, huh?"
"They all love to fuck a nigger, Nessy."
"You ain't much of a nigger, Jeffs."
"That's why I'm so perfect. Close enough to the real thing to be dangerous, but not so black so's I'm..."
"Menacing."
"That's it, man. Whitey don't like a menacing nigger."
"God, I can't believe she paid you two hundred."
"You're missing gold here. I keep telling you that."
"And I keep telling you that if you don't stop, you're gonna be out on your butt."
"I'm gonna stop—"
"Jeffs..."
"I am! I swear I am." Jeffers laid the racket in his lap. "I'm gonna find a rich white girl—"
"Yeah, right!"
"Hold on... I'm gonna find a rich white girl who hates her father."
"That's a possibility."
Jeffers smiled. "Get her to think of herself as real baaaad, 'cause she's fuckin' a black man."
"Go on."
"Maybe even knock her up..."
"There's a thing out there called abortion."
"Yeah, but I'm gonna pretend I want the baby."Jeffers smiled. "The product of our luv."
Ness laughed.
"Then..." Jeffers pointed his finger in the air. "Then I hit the old man up for cash. Bye-bye spa, bye-bye tennis. I'm outta here."
Ness grinned and patted the tennis instructor's shoulder. "Keep dreaming, Jeffs. It's good for the soul."
Jeffers gripped his racket and stood. "So we're all squared away?"
"Almost." Ness slowly rose off the bed, smiled, and unbuckled Jeffers's belt. "You owe me, you know."
"I know."
"You haven't even repaid me for Betham yet."
"I know."
"When Lilah asked, I never said a word—"
"I said I know!"
"No need to shout, Jeffs. Just setting the record straight."
"When I score big, Mike, you'll get half. I swear it. Half off the top."
"No offense, Jeffs, but I'm not holding my breath." Ness pulled Jeffers's belt from the loops. Inside the money compartment was a fold of twenties. Two hundred even. Ness counted out five bills and stuffed them in his pocket. He placed the rest of the cash, along with the belt, into Jeffers's palm. "Know what I'd do if I were you, Eub?"
"What?"
"I'd take a ten and buy a single long-stemmed red rose for Patsy. She's got another week here. Now, I'd say ten bucks on a rose is a very good investment for the future."
Jeffers relooped his belt around his waist and stowed the leftover twenties back in the compartment.
"Good idea?" Ness asked.
"Good idea," Jeffers answered.
Decker swung his legs over the bed and sat up. A bad night's sleep and it was slow going the next morning. Too bad people weren't batteries because a jump start would have been nice.
The shower helped some; so did the sting of the aftershave. As he dressed, he thought about Rina. She was always energetic, but
now she'd progressed into a superhuman industrious phase. She hadn't only prepared a farmer-sized breakfast but had cooked the meal at five-thirty a.m., humming as she stirred and mixed and fried. At that hour, her only company had been the dog, the birds, and a few mourning doves. Half asleep, he conjured up a mental picture of her outfitted in a simple smock covered by an apron, dancing as she moved from chore to chore, talking to the animals—a pregnant Cinderella. He felt bad he wasn't more of a Prince Charming.
Towel-drying his hair, he walked into the kitchen just as the phone rang. Rina beat him to it.
"Hello," she sang into the mouthpiece.
The was a pause, followed by a husky female voice.
"May I speak to Peter, please?"
Decker saw Rina's smile fade.
The husky voice said, "This is Peter Decker's residence, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is," Rina answered. "Who is this, please?"
"Lilah Brecht."
Decker saw Rina's eyes widen.
"Who is it?" Decker asked.
"Lilah Brecht." Rina put her hand over the mouthpiece. "Why is she calling you?"
"Can I have the phone, Rina?"
Reluctantly, Rina handed him the receiver.
Decker smiled at his wife and said, "This is Decker. How'd you get my home phone number, Ms. Brecht?"
"Lilah."
"How'd you get my number?"
"Peter, I'm very sorry to bother you at home. I tried calling the station... I am sorry."
He rolled his tongue in his cheeks, glancing at Rina who now seemed more perplexed than angry. "What can I do for you?"
"I need to talk to you, Peter."
"Fine. I'm all ears."
"I'd like to speak with you in person."
"All right. Why don't you come to the station house around eleven."
"If it's all the same to you, could you drop by my ranch around eleven?"
Decker felt his jaw tighten as his eyes drifted back to Rina's face.
"Don't worry, I'm leaving," she said.
"Wait!" Decker called out.
"Pardon."
"Hold on, Lilah." His voice was stronger than he had intended. He placed his hand over the mouthpiece and whispered, "I didn't ask you to leave."
"You have that look on your face."
"What look?"
"The 'she's going to overhear something' look."
"Rina—"
"Forget it, Peter. I'm going to wake the boys." She stomped out of the room.
He glanced at the clock. Seven-oh-three and he felt a headache coming on. He returned his attention to the call. "Lilah, I hope to get to a good handle on your case very soon. I realize you've been through hell—"
"I didn't sleep at all last night. I didn't dare sleep in... the room. It's still a mess and... I slept in the guest bedroom, but I kept waking up every five minutes... in a cold sweat. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore so I called Freddy down at four in the morning. He bunked out on the couch. I... I just didn't think it would be so horrible, Peter. And now..." She took a deep breath. "What... what they did was such a horrible invasion for anyone, but it's especially dreadful for me. I have a business to run, Peter. I have to face people and be healthy and happy and..."
She erupted into tears.
Decker waited a beat. "I know this is a terrible time for you. And I'm sorry—"
"I know you are." Her voice became soothing and seductive. "I can feel your pain through the phone wire."
Mike Hollander's words shot through Decker's throbbing head. With an emphasis on the very, very part. Point of fact was, the woman was beautiful and in pain—a dangerous combination.
"Lilah, I don't want this to sound harsh, but if we're going to work together, we need to set a few ground rules. One, you don't call me at home for any reason—"
"Afraid I'll upset the little woman?"
Above all, Deck, you're a professional.
"If you have to get in touch with me, you call the station house and they'll call me. Do we have an understanding here?"
"Are you coming out to the ranch or not?"
"I'll come this one time."
"Oh, Peter, thank—"
"I know it's been hard for you and I'll do it this one time. But after this one time, if you need to talk to me, if you just want to talk to me, you call me at the station. Call me ten times if you want, but call the sta—"
"You flatter yourself, Peter."
"Because I, like you, don't want my business intruding upon my personal life."
"Considering my circumstances, I hardly consider my call an
intrusion."
"If you don't feel you can adhere to the ground rules, Lilah, I'll be happy to assign the case to another detective—"
Decker heard the receiver slam and then a dial tone. Slowly, he hung up the phone. "You okay, Dad?"
Decker turned around. "Morning, Sammy." He went over and kissed the top of the boy's head. "You're looking better." "I feel a lot better."
"Great." Decker gave him a hug. "Your mother made a huge breakfast. What would you like? Eggs? Toast? Pancakes and syrup?"
"Eema's ticked off." "Yeah, I think she is." "She's mad at you?" "I think so." "Anything I can do?" "No. It will work itself out."
Jacob walked into the kitchen, his eyes still glazed with sleep. His black hair was full of cowlicks, a yarmulke resting on the left side of his head. He was wearing his school uniform, but the blue shirt was only partially tucked inside the navy slacks. Fringes from his tzitzit—a religious garment worn under his shirt—peeked out, fanning over his hips. "Hi," he croaked.
"Morning, Jake." Decker put his arm his younger stepson. "Sleep okay?" "Yeah."
"Can I get you something to eat?"
"Just a bowl of cereal."
"I'll make it," Sammy said to Decker. "You can go talk to Eema."
"I can make my own cereal," Jacob said. "Why are you talking to Eema, Pete— uh, Dad. I can call you Dad, too, right?"
"Of course. I'm thrilled that you want to."
Jacob sloughed off the sentimentality. "Is Eema mad at you or something?"
"Something," Decker said.
"Yeah, she seemed a little uptight this morning. She sure gets mad a lot. That's 'cause of all the hormones, right?"
"Sometimes. And sometimes she has regular reasons to get mad."
"I wish she'd just have the baby already," Jacob said. "First it was the barfing. Now it's her getting mad and crying for no real reason. Is that normal?"
"Very normal," Decker assured him.
Jacob just shook his head and poured some Fruit Crunches into a bowl. "Is she gonna get upset that I'm eating sugar cereal and not the healthy stuff?"
"Why don't you take a pancake?" Decker suggested.
"Eema made pancakes on a school morning?" Jacob pushed the bowl aside. "That's not normal, either. But at least, that's good."
"If you boys don't need me, maybe I will have a word with your mother."
"Do we have any syrup?"
"It's on the table, Yonkel."
Jacob turned to Sam. "You ever remember Eema making pancakes on a school day?"
"I think once or twice."
"When?"
"I don't know. But I think she did."
"I don't remember it."
"Maybe it was on my birthday," Sammy said.
"I don't remember."
"Maybe it was on your birthday."
"My birthday's in the summer. There's no school in the summer."
Decker excused himself, knowing the boys were too involved in pancake conversation to hear him leave. He found Rina in the
master bedroom, ripping the sheets and pillow cases off their California King. "Need help?" "No."
"Can you stop a moment?" "Dirty laundry waits for no man." "Please?"
Rina stopped moving and hugged a caseless pillow. "How did Lilah get our phone number?"
Decker ignored her tone. "I don't know." "Did you tell her not to call here?" "Of course I told her not to call here!" "Did you also tell her not to call you Peter?" "I can't help what she calls me." "But you can admonish her when she does it." "Rina, she's strictly business. She's one of my cases, for God's sake. 1 wouldn't give my home number to one of my cases." "You gave it to me!" "Wait a minute—"
"And I certainly didn't call you Peter right away, either." She walked out of their bedroom and started attacking the beds in the boys' room. Decker followed. "That's not fair."
"It may not be fair, but it's accurate!"
"There's a big difference, Rina. 1 wasn't married when I gave you my number."
"Married or not, I'm sure asking out your cases is considered unprofessional!''
"I didn't ask anyone out!"
"I bet I wasn't even the first case where you gave out your home phone number." "Rina—"
"Well, was I the first?"
The mallet inside his head was going full force. "You may not have been the first." He smiled boyishly. "But you were the last." There was a moment of silence. Rina sank down on the bed. Decker sat beside her.
"What are we fighting about?" he said.
"We're fighting about how your cases shouldn't be calling you up at home and invading our privacy!"
"Agreed."
"And your cases shouldn't be calling you by your first name."
"She's not the only case who calls me by my first name."
"But she's no doubt the prettiest."
Bingo! Well, ain't that a kick in the head.
"Darlin", can I be honest with you?"
"Sure, Peter, break a trend."
"Rina..."
"Sorry."
Decker smiled. "I think you're jealous."
"What?"
"And I'm overjoyed about it."
"I'm not jealous. I'm angry! And you should be, too. You certainly have nothing to feel overjoyed about."
Faye Kellerman - Decker 05 - False Prophet Page 17
