“I thought you said that everyone knew that Vitton’s son was gay.”
“But Cal J hadn’t come out of the closet. Big Cal was embarrassed about it and didn’t want the information to be common knowledge. Big Cal was from the old school where homosexuality was an embarrassment.”
“Vitton was embarrassed enough to hide a murderer?”
“Maybe. Besides, Vitton didn’t know for certain that Rudy had anything to do with Little’s death. I’m betting that he probably chose not to find out one way or the other. I do know that Big Cal had been so ashamed of his son’s homosexuality that he didn’t stop Rudy and other boys from bullying his own flesh and blood.”
“That’s appalling.”
“Yes, it is.”
“So why should Vitton have sudden pangs of remorse?”
“Maybe Vitton knew it was all going to come out in my investigation. Maybe he didn’t want to be around to see his reputation crash. Or maybe he was just depressed. Then again, maybe Rudy slipped him some pills, aimed the gun at his head, and somehow had Cal pull the trigger.”
“Cal pulled the trigger?”
“Yes, we’re certain about that. It’s the why that’s a mystery.”
There were lots of mysteries that they’d never know now that Rudy Banks was dead. Like whose blood was splashed under the baseboard of his apartment.
Win some, lose some.
“As far as Little’s death, I can’t say for sure who actually killed him, but I think we can safely narrow it down to three people. Two are dead, the other’s in custody.”
“Then I suppose I got what I came for.” Genoa stood. “Although not entirely solved, I’m satisfied. And I intend to make good on my promise, much to the delight of your captain.”
“Much to the delight of the entire police force.”
“I understand that your captain is taking me to a dinner in my honor tonight. I’m meeting the commissioner and the police chief. I assume you’ll be there as well?”
Decker’s smile was tight. “No, ma’am, I have prior arrangements.”
“And you can’t cancel them?”
“Not unless I want a divorce.”
DECKER WAS IN a suit and tie. Rina was in a black dress and black pumps and wearing pearls. Just as they pulled up to the valet, Rina said, “I’m not in the mood for this.”
Decker was silent.
“Not that I don’t want to be with you, I’m just not in the mood for a dog and pony show…nor the giant bill that will surely follow. I packed a picnic dinner. Let’s find a nice spot at the beach and eat in the car.”
If Decker never saw the ocean again, it would be too soon. “Sure. Where?”
“How about Sunset Beach?”
As long as it wasn’t Santa Monica, it was tolerable. It took about a half hour to drive and find a good spot on a paved parking lot right off Pacific Coast Highway. Decker pulled the Porsche over and killed the headlights and the motor. Looking out the window…the two of them staring out at vast nothingness. No moonlight, lots of overcast fog, and tides rolling back and forth.
“The picnic basket is in the front compartment.”
“I’ll get it.” Decker returned a moment later with the food. Rina might have still been pissed at him, but it didn’t translate in her cooking. There were smoked chicken breasts on baguettes, brisket on rye, butter lettuce salad with macadamia nuts, potato chips, strawberries dipped in chocolate and champagne.
“I’m unworthy,” Decker said.
“You’re not kidding.” Silence. “That was mean. I apologize.”
“Why don’t you just get it all out, and maybe then we can move on.”
“There’s nothing to get out.” A pause. “I can’t believe how little disregard you have for your loved ones and yourself.”
Decker didn’t answer.
“Well?” she asked.
“I have no response that isn’t going to get me into more hot water, so I plead the Fifth.”
“This is getting it all out?” When Decker remained silent, Rina said, “You want a brisket or chicken?”
“I want to get along.”
“Am I fighting?”
“You know what I mean.”
“What am I doing? I cook you dinner, I take care of your daughter, I make love to you—”
“That’s for both of us.”
“I do whatever you need.”
“You’re talking about me like I’m a house pet.”
“I don’t make love to a house pet,” she huffed. “By the way, thanks for the flowers—again—but no more. The house is looking like a funeral home.”
“It isn’t?” Decker’s attempted joke was met with silence. “Pass the brisket.” After Rina handed him a sandwich, he said, “This is much too good to eat when you’re not getting along. What do you want from me?”
“For you to promise that you’ll never do something that blatantly stupid again.”
“Done.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“That’s probably wise.”
Rina hit him. “So you don’t care about making me a widow twice?”
“I’d only be making you a widow once. As pissed as you are, you can’t blame the first time on me.”
“You’re not funny.”
Decker put down the sandwich. “The situation probably won’t come up again, so the promise I made you will probably remain valid throughout my lifetime. I know it was stupid; people make mistakes. I love you. Can we move on, please?”
Rina was silent. She took out a chicken sandwich, said grace over her food, and bit into it. They ate in silence: a half hour of chewing and swallowing and an occasional grunt in between. When Decker offered to open the champagne, Rina nodded.
They toasted to health.
Then more silence.
Decker finally said, “In a very weak and not so subtle attempt to get on your good side, I’ve upgraded our accommodations for the cruise. I’ve booked us a room with an outside deck and an adjoining room for Hannah.”
“This is what it takes for you to get a deck—almost getting yourself killed?”
“A simple ‘that’s great, dear’ would suffice.”
“That’s great, dear.” Rina was silent. But then she smiled. “I’m excited…about the cruise.”
Decker smiled back. “So am I.”
“Eight days without any responsibility in pristine surroundings.”
“It doesn’t get any better than that.”
“And you’re sure you can get the time off.”
Decker laughed. “After what I went through, that’s not a problem.”
“We’ll go whale watching?”
“Sounds great.”
“And canoeing and kayaking.”
“I’ll row, you take the pictures.”
“Will you serve me breakfast in bed?”
“I will.”
“Will you wear a black uniform and call me madam?”
“Pass the strawberries.”
“I think you’d look cute in a butler’s uniform.”
“I’ll be the butler if you’ll be the maid.”
“I already am the maid.”
“Yeah, but I’m talking about the kind of maid that wears a black little thing with a white apron and a feather duster.”
Rina hit him again.
“What? A guy can’t dream?”
“Not if he already has a dream girl.”
“No argument there.” Decker leaned back. “This was a very good idea. Much better than a stuffy old restaurant. As usual, you were right.” He leaned over and kissed his wife. “I love you. Thanks for being the wonderful woman that you are.”
“I love you, too.” Rina’s eyes moistened. “Thanks for being a terrific husband…and thanks for just being alive.”
About the Author
FAYE KELLERMAN lives with her husband, New York Times bestseller Jonathan Kellerman, in Los Angeles, California; Santa Fe, New Mexico; and New York.
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ALSO BY FAYE KELLERMAN
The Burnt House
The Ritual Bath
Sacred and Profane
The Quality of Mercy
Milk and Honey
Day of Atonement
False Prophet
Grievous Sin
Sanctuary
Justice
Prayers for the Dead
Serpent’s Tooth
Moon Music
Jupiter’s Bones
Stalker
The Forgotten
Stone Kiss
Street Dreams
Straight into Darkness
The Garden of Eden and other Criminal Delights (short-story anthology)
WITH JONATHAN KELLERMAN
Double Homicide
Capital Crimes
Credits
Jacket photograph by Jan Cobb
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE MERCEDES COFFIN. Copyright © 2008 by Plot Line, Inc. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub © Edition JULY 2008 ISBN: 9780061982880
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