'It doesn't say that,' Marge said.
'That's because you have to know how to read between the lines!'
'If you say so.'
Marge read on to page two. More dates and check marks and FF. Some diagnostic notes: Hos & Ang, unre ID crises with mix-race - M V2 black, unre OE con, origin; bad breast. Mother ???? Deserted or removed ???? She pointed the abbreviations out to Maryam. 'Translate for me, please.'
Maryam sighed again. 'Hostile and angry, unresolved identity crises - mother was half-black, unresolved oedipal conflict stemming from a bad-breast mother - that's a Freudian way of saying a cold, unresponsive mother.'
'What does Baldwin mean by "deserted or removed"?' Marge asked. 'Did the father kick the mother out or something?'
'I couldn't tell you,' Maryam stated. 'Obviously, this was something that Dr Baldwin was dealing with Darrell about.'
Marge said, 'Is it unusual that the father refuses to talk about the mother?'
'Lots of men have communication problems. Usually...' Maryam made a face. 'When a party is that resolute in his or her silence, it obviously means the situation was very, very painful -beyond the usual stress of divorce.'
'An affair?'
Maryam shrugged.
'Did the mother suddenly desert the family?'
'I couldn't say. But it was obviously very traumatic for the father.'
Marge turned back to the ledger page. 'What does FF mean?'
Maryam blushed. 'I think it means full fee.'
She thinks.
'That would make sense,' Marge said. 'It goes along with Mervin stating that the father was wealthy.'
Maryam looked away, not wanting to deal with the implications.
The next page of notes was more like scribbles, taken at varying times in different colored pens: Anti-S bH shown by W, DU, isolation, long hours at the computer. Extreme oppositional behavior!!!!! Perfect for nature camp. Tkd to F: agreed for June session, FF. Again, she showed the page to Dr Estes. 'What's this stand for?'
The doctor looked at the chart. 'Anti-S is antisocial. W is withdrawal. DU is drug use.'
'And what is oppositional behavior again?'
'Acting out,' Maryam stated. 'Darrell Holt had a big behavioral problem.'
'And we're back to FF again. This time Baldwin appears to mean that the father was willing to pay full fee for the camp.'
'Why are you begrudging Dr Baldwin's right to make a good living?'
Marge didn't push it. 'I'm sorry if it appears that way. I'm just trying to understand the man—'
'He was not in it for the big money. He could have made far more bucks doing the radio and TV talk-show circuit, but he refused to play that game because he and Dee felt it was unethical!'
Marge tried to appear convinced. Another page of notes with more abbreviations. An appointment set up to talk to the father about the nature camp.
On the last page - dated six years ago - the heavy block letters had been replaced. She noted the word 'Harvard' scrawled across the page. Under it was a complete sentence: 'SAT review set up for Saturday the 15th.' She showed the sheet to Maryam. 'The handwriting changes.'
'It's Dee's. Obviously, she did some college counseling and test review therapy with Holt.'
Marge said, 'And Dee set up a test review with him on that Saturday?'
'Yes, it seems like it.'
'What exactly is test review therapy?'
'A simulated SAT test. Then they go over the answers together, figuring out the best way to approach each question. It's basically a one-on-one SAT review course.'
'There are courses on how to take the SAT?'
'Yes. As I recall, you spoke about having a daughter? You'll know about these things later on.'
'What kind of questions do you ask?'
'Questions that Dee felt might be representative of the test.'
'Where'd they get the questions from? Past tests?'
'Some from past tests to be sure. But that's not enough because everyone has access to past tests. Mostly, Dee formulated her own questions, based on her extensive knowledge of test-taking skills. Her seminars are designed not only to give her patients maximum exposure to typical test questions but also to teach a student how to take the test with minimum anxiety for maximum performance. And lest you scoff, take a look at Dee's results.'
'I'm not scoffing at anything,' Marge said. 'Lots of pressure, right? To perform well on these tests.'
'Unbelievable. Some of it is self-generated, but lots of it comes from the parents. They are vicious when it comes to their children. You'd swear that it was they who were applying. If their
children don't get into the prescribed school, they take it as a failure on themselves.'
'Why?'
She sighed. 'Because... unfortunately... they see their children as a reflection upon their own status. Lots of these parents didn't go to any of the Ivies. So they want something better for their children. And those that did go, they feel their children should continue the legacy.' She licked her lips. 'It's a bit intense—'
'It's nuts!' Marge said. 'There's life beyond college.'
'Not in this fiercely competitive world. You need an edge.'
'And this is what Dee Baldwin was selling?' Marge asked. 'The edge?'
'She wasn't selling anything! She was just helping kids reach their maximum potential!'
'You know what happens to a machine that runs full tilt?'
'People are not machines!'
'But they do burn out. How much do these parents pay to get the edge?'
'They pay for the therapy and for the tutelage. It varies from child to child.'
'About.'
'Three-fifty an hour. About what lawyers make, and they do a hell of a lot more good than attorneys.' She kneaded her hands. 'It's not an easy task - fitting each child with the right university. Sometimes parents are insistent even if the odds are bad. You do your best with whatever raw material you have. Sometimes parents want miracles.'
'And what happens when they figure out you're not a miracle worker? What happens to those cases?'
There was silence. Then she said, 'Dee had a good success rate. She could always point to that.'
'Dee scribbled the word "Harvard" on Holt's chart. But Holt went to Berkeley,' Marge said. 'Does that mean he didn't get into the college of his dreams?'
'I have no idea.' Maryam hesitated. 'Berkeley is a top school.'
'It's not Harvard—'
'Actually, it's better than Harvard in some departments.'
'But it doesn't have that same... cachet, correct?'
'Only if you're very narrow minded.'
'Or an angry, hostile teenager.'
'You're actually suggesting that Holt killed the Baldwins because he didn't get into Harvard eight years ago?
The nagging question: If Holt wanted vengeance, why did he wait so long? 'Does the name Ricky Moke sound familiar to you?'
She thought, then shook her head. 'No, I can't say that it does.'
'Can you check to see if Baldwin has a file for him?'
'With that warrant, I suppose I don't really have a choice.'
'No, you don't, but I'm being polite.'
Maryam looked down. 'At least you're honest. How old is he?'
'I don't know... probably around Holt's age.'
'A past patient?'
'I'd assume so.'
Maryam opened the appropriate drawer and sifted through the folders. 'I'm not finding anything. Let me check again.' A few moments passed. 'Sorry. Nothing. Could he be a current client?'
'Let's check it out.'
The two of them left the small closet and walked back over to the Baldwins' plush, oversized office, the huge double desk acting as its centerpiece. Lots of care had been taken in decorating it. The rose tint in the sofas matching perfectly with the rose upholstery of the stuffed chairs. The tables were adorned with the perfect accessories. Even the landscapes looked to be color-coordinated.
Oliver, who
had been sitting at Mervin's side of the partners desk, looked up as soon as the women walked in. He raised a single eyebrow.
Marge picked up on it. 'Find something interesting?'
'Really interesting. Guess who was on Dee Baldwin's payroll?'
'Darrell Holt,' Marge said.
'Darrell Holt?' Oliver's response was a question. This threw Marge off kilter. 'Not Darrell?' Oliver shook his head. 'Ricky Moke.' Maryam was perplexed. 'Who on earth is Ricky Moke?' Marge slapped her forehead with her palm. 'He's Darrell Holt, that's who he is.'
28
Architecturally, the church had been built with light and air in mind - a vast, vaulted ceiling combined with lots of windows and an enormous domed stained-glass skylight. But even with the space and the light and the air-conditioning going full force, the sheer density of human flesh made the sanctuary unbearably hot. Of course, the suit and tie didn't help. Within minutes, Decker was as wet and limp as a discarded bath towel.
He stood at the back in a standing-room-only capacity crowd, preferential seating having been given to the relatives and friends of the Goldings. The coffin, draped with a beautifully ornate, embroidered spread, lay atop the stage, surrounded by wreaths of white blooms - lilies, carnations, gardenias, and roses. The choir stood on risers in front of the stage, draped in satin robes of red and white. They sang hymns that Decker didn't recognize, but this was a Unitarian church, and the liturgy was different from that of his Baptist upbringing. The harmonies rang out in the cavernous acoustics - haunting and beautiful. If there was a heaven, Ernesto was definitely there.
The weeping was audible; the sobbing echoed off the stone walls and filled the empty space. The family was seated in the front row, a trio in black. Decker had only caught a glimpse of them as they walked down the aisle, and only because he was so tall. There was Jill - so tiny and frail - limping as if her hips were in tremendous pain. It was as though the pelvic bones that bore her son had betrayed her. Carter was hunched over and shuffled alongside his wife like a crippled old man. Karl, the surviving
brother, had aged in just two days. Holding on to one another, clinging for life while huddled as if on a life raft.
The minister talked of Ernesto's glowing years cut short by a terrible fate. That it was up to them - the congregation - to come together and help lead Jill and Carter and Karl out of the valley of darkness and into the spirit's light. But it would take time - months, years, decades, and maybe never - but they, the community, must never stop trying. Never turn their backs; never forget the wonderful human being that was Ernesto Che Golding. He urged the family to make a commitment to life.
Then the minister talked to the parents directly, offering them personal words of solace. Next came Karl - the survivor's role is the most difficult. He blessed the boy and told him to try to get on with his life, to remember the joy in Ernesto and live that joy. That would be the best memorial to his brother. Do not let the death of one son become the death of two sons.
Decker had seen that all too often. Death murders more than one victim. The preacher had to have been in his fifties - squat and round, and unprepossessing physically, but he had a definite presence. He had a knack of speaking intimately to the family, yet his words could be heard clear to the back of the sanctuary. As he spoke, the weeping rose and fell in pitch like waves tossing on the shoals.
To pass the time, Decker looked for familiar faces. There was the mayor, a state senator, several state and national congressmen. The captain and the commander of police were sitting behind the politicians - an appropriate fit. The local news networks had set up cameras on the aisles. Farther down the rows of pews sat Lisa Halloway, her hands shaking, her face covered with tears. Headmaster Williams was wiping his eyes. Jaime Dahl was weeping openly. All of his classmates... all of them the same ages as Decker's own sons. Ruby Ranger had decided not to make an appearance. But then again she could be in the church. He only knew her by snapshots.
Decker had a lump in his throat. His eyes ached along with his head. His heart began to bang in his chest. He was melting in the
heat, and his feet were sore from standing. His brain began to ring - loudly. Then he realized it was his cellular phone.
Embarrassed, he made a quick exit and answered it on the fifth ring.
'Decker.'
'It's me.'
Me was Marge. Decker said, 'What's up?'
'Where are you?'
'I'm at the funeral.'
'How much longer?'
'I don't know. What do you have?'
'Lots of things. You should come down here.'
'Why? Do you have something on Holt?'
'Both Holt and Ricky Moke. Holt was involved professionally with Dee Baldwin. Dr Estes saw them together in her office, along with Hank Tarpin. But get this. It was Ricky Moke who was on the Baldwins' payroll.'
The light went on. Decker said, 'They're the same person.'
'Well, we're all thinking along the same lines.'
'Were Moke/Holt and Dee Baldwin only involved professionally?'
'That's still sketchy at this point. That's why you should come down here.' She gave him a brief recap of her conversation with Maryam Estes.
Decker said, 'So it looks like Scott was right... the Baldwins had some insider's info with the standardized tests.'
'Agreed. When do you think you'll be done?'
'I don't know. I have to show my face to the family.'
Marge sighed. 'Pete, maybe the appearance could wait. We're onto something.'
'No, it can't wait. First of all, being a father myself, it's the decent thing to do. I've got to express my condolences, and it has to be done personally. Secondly, if we're totally off with this Moke/Holt thing, I'm going to need the Goldings as the case progresses. I'm not about to squander goodwill. I'll be out as soon as I can.'
'You're getting soft in your old age.'
'It's one of the luxuries, Dunn.' Decker cut the line, then called Martinez on his cell. 'Are you still at the crime scene?'
'We're about to merge onto the 215,' Bert answered. 'I thought you wanted us to help Marge and Oliver out?'
'I want you to track down Darrell Holt's father. See if his plane landed and interview him ASAP. Maybe he'll have a clue as to where Darrell is.'
'I thought Wanda was on that.'
'I want Homicide on it. We need a fix on Darrell Holt, and we need it right now.'
Martinez recognized the urgency in the loo's voice. 'We're on it. I'll report back as soon as I have something.'
'Do that.' Decker hung up. As hot as it was outside, at least there was a discernible breeze. He took off his jacket and decided to wait until the remaining portion of the service was over. He found shade under some specimen sycamores and took out his notepad.
Jotting down bits:
Moke as Darrell. Same age, same school - Berkeley. Moke on the payroll. What could Moke do for the Baldwins? Moke investigated for hacking... Darrell as a hacker? What could Darrell hack into for the Baldwins? Get into the Education Testing Center and get copies of standardized tests before they were given. Dee paid Holt/Moke for this. Then she threatened to stop and Holt murdered them all? What about PEI? Tarpin and Darrell in PEL Used hacking money to fund PEI? Personal gain? Tarpin lived like shit, so did Darrell?
The doors to the main sanctuary opened, but the people did not spill out. Solemn music could be heard; it was a slow, ponderous dirge. Minutes later, the coffin appeared, being carried out by six teenaged male pallbearers - classmates of Ernesto, maybe cousins. Big boys who had been openly crying, with their red eyes and runny noses and curled lips.
There but for the grace of God go I.
Right behind the coffin was Jill, held up by Carter. Karl walked behind his parents, looking like a bear awakened from hibernation. His eyes were darting about, refusing to focus. They swept over Decker's face, then did a double take. Then he mouthed the words clearly: / need to talk to you!
Wide-eyed, Decker suddenly straighte
ned up, then held out his palms as if to ask, When? He took a step forward, but Karl shook his head ever so slightly, then mouthed the words - At the house... in an hour.
An hour was not nearly enough time to make a round trip from here to the Baldwin office. He might as well stay put. Decker retrieved his car and joined the procession heading for the graveyard.
Faye Kellerman - Decker 13 - The Forgotten Page 29
