Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 12

by Stalker

  “What happened to your ex-partner?”

  “He took retirement after putting in his twenty. Last I heard he was working as a security guard.”

  Cindy winced. It seemed like a rather pedestrian ending to what should have been a morality tale. “So he didn’t get caught?”

  “No, he didn’t. Most don’t if they’re not too greedy. But if you stay around long enough, you begin to nose them out. They’re the ones who never get anywhere. They just can’t seem to climb up the ranks no matter how many merit badges are on their Scout uniforms, because they’re too busy looking over their shoulders. It wasn’t morality that kept me straight. It was fear of getting caught and pushing my dreams down the toilet. My family’s full of cops, but none of them have earned gold. Man, I was a determined sucker in my youth.”

  “You succeeded.”

  “Damn right, I did. Then, as soon as I got it, I screwed up.”

  “Not professionally—”

  “Untrue. Professionally and personally. You can’t mess up one without messing up the other. There’s a reason why your dad is where he is and why I’m where I am. I got too sidetracked, believing my own PR. Then I got too old. Anyway, I’m not important right now. I’m just telling you all this because I know when two and two make five. Something’s off. And you’re telling me that this one bar conversation and seeing him a couple other times has been your only contact with Bederman?”

  She brought her knees up to her chest. “I told you about the party when I was first assigned to Hollywood.”

  “Yeah, the introduction rookie party. It was right around the time that Crayton was axed. You were talking to Craig Barrows, too.”

  “What a memory. I don’t remember Bederman saying much of anything.”

  “So what was he doing?”

  “Just listening to me talking about Crayton.”

  Suddenly, Oliver was very interested. “What specifically were you saying about Crayton?”

  “Just that I knew him from the gym.”

  “You mention anything about being shot at?”

  “No, Oliver, I have some common sense.”

  “Did he ask you any questions or offer any comments?”

  “None that I can recall.”

  Crayton, Bederman, and Barrows: How did they fit together? Bederman worked in Hollywood. The Tarkum kidnapping was in Hollywood. Crayton’s murder happened in Devonshire. If Stacy Mills was to be believed, Lark Crayton was probably behind Crayton’s carjacking, maybe even behind the murder. Was she also behind Stacy Mills’s carjacking? Oliver said, “Does the name Stacy Mills ring any bells?”

  Cindy sat up straight, feeling her heart take off. “You know her?”

  Now Oliver shot up into an upright, sitting position. “You know her?”

  “From the gym where Armand and I used to work out—”

  “Man oh man,” Oliver recited. “She was recently carjacked—”

  “What?” Cindy felt her lungs tighten. “When did this happen? Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine, but she’s got a truth problem. She admitted knowing Lark Crayton. What about Armand Crayton? Was she a friend of his?”

  “I don’t know if they were friends. I did see them talking several times.”

  Oliver’s voice was infused with enthusiasm. “Anything intimate appear to pass between them?”

  “Not that I can tell.” Cindy took a deep breath. “Poor girl! This is awful!”

  But now Oliver was less than sympathetic. The bitch had lied to Marge and him. She did know Armand. Maybe she knew him too intimately, and that’s why she was afraid of Lark. “Did Stacy Mills know that you and Crayton were friends—”

  “Acquaintances—”

  “Don’t nitpick. Was she aware that you knew Crayton?”

  “Sure. We all talked a couple of times, had juice together.” Cindy licked her lips. “She knew I was going into the academy. She said if I got fed up with being a cop, I should try out being a personal trainer. That’s what she was…a personal trainer.”

  “She still is. At least she wasn’t lying about that.”

  “What did she lie about?” Cindy asked.

  “She told us that she worked with Lark Crayton and barely knew Armand.”

  “Maybe it was true. They never appeared like best friends.”

  “Stacy said that Armand’s wife thought he had a woman on the side. Maybe that was you. Maybe that’s why you were shot at. Were you friendlier with Armand than she was?”

  “I wasn’t all that friendly—”

  “Who talked to Armand more?” Oliver butted in. “Stacy or you?”

  “I can see where this is leading. That Stacy was jealous of Armand and me. Or Lark was jealous. From my observation, Stacy didn’t seem very interested in him.”

  “Maybe she wasn’t. She kept saying that she knew Lark better than Armand. Maybe she was getting paid to spy for Lark, and reported back that Armand was fooling around with you.”

  “There’s no way that Stacy could have thought that,” Cindy cried out. “Armand and I were never close, Oliver.”

  “But suppose Stacy was getting paid to tell Lark something. If she had nothing to report, Lark wouldn’t keep paying her money, right?” Oliver tried to assemble his ideas. “Stacy impresses me as a woman concerned about money.”

  “So Lark Crayton shot at us because Stacy reported to her that Armand and I were having an affair.”

  “More likely, Lark hired someone to shoot at you. According to Stacy, at that time, Lark was doing lots of things, most of them centered around trying to get rid of Armand. Not that I believe Stacy, but I’m betting that like all liars, she mixes truth with fiction.”

  “God, you’re sure she’s okay?”

  “A lot better than you,” Oliver said. “Her apartment is whole.”

  “I can’t believe…” She bit her lip to keep it steady. “What is going on!”

  An idea tumbled around Oliver’s brain. A possible cop who was Lark’s ace in the hole. Bederman. He said, “Rick Bederman…does that sound German to you?”

  “What?”

  “Does the name Bederman sound German?”

  “To me, it sounds American—”

  “But if you had to tag a European nationality on to it, what would it be?”

  “English…Dutch…maybe German. Is there a point?”

  “Stacy Mills told Marge and me that Lark had an ace in the hole—”

  “Up her sleeve.”

  “What?”

  “Isn’t an ace up her sleeve the usual expression?”

  “You’re distracting me.”

  “Go on.”

  “Lark had some guy with clout and a German name in her pocket. I’m thinking cop and I’m thinking Bederman.”

  “Why would it be Bederman? Lark lives in Foothills, Bederman works in Hollywood. Where’s the link?”

  “Dexter Bartholomew,” Oliver said. “His own wife was carjacked. Marge and I are thinking that Dex hired out to give the old lady a warning because she was fooling around with Crayton.”

  “Dex carjacked his own wife?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Do you have any evidence to back this up?”

  “No.” Oliver rubbed his eyes. “I think I need a pencil and paper to figure this one out. I have to start making diagrams. I know it’s all related but I’m too tired to figure it out.”

  “Lark hired Bederman to warn me off…or maybe scare Armand. Then Dexter Bartholomew hired Bederman to carjack his own wife as punishment for a supposed affair.”

  “Something like that.”

  “So who was hired to carjack poor Stacy Mills? And why now? Why not a year ago? Or even six months ago?”

  “Because we’ve just started churning up all this mess by reinterviewing them.” He turned to Cindy. “And all this crap with your apartment…maybe this is your warning.”

  “Warning about what?”

  “I don’t know,” Oliver admitted.

  “Why n
ot carjack me like the other women?”

  “Hard to carjack a cop…she has a gun.”

  Cindy sighed. “I’m way too tired to assimilate all this stuff.”

  “So am I.” Oliver yawned to prove his point. “Let’s talk about it in the morning when your father gets here. Maybe he can add something fresh.”

  “My father’s coming over in the morning?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He told you that?”

  “No, but I know fathers and I know Deck, and putting the two of them together means your father’s gonna be here tomorrow morning…say around ten.” Oliver stood up. “That’s why I’m gonna sleep on the couch tonight. That way, when he wakes both of us up, it’ll look presentable. He’ll have suspicions, but he won’t know for sure.”

  Cindy became pensive. “You’d prefer to keep this hidden.”

  “Hell, yeah, I prefer to keep it hidden. I work with the man, Cindy. If confronted, I’d tell the truth. But Deck isn’t going to confront me, and I’m not going to admit anything. If that seems cowardly, so be it.”

  “Actually, I think it makes perfect sense.”

  Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. At this point, she was almost too good, acting like a guy instead of a girl. But maybe that’s the way it was with this new generation.

  Cindy said, “I just have one more request.”

  “Talk to me, darling.”

  “Since it’s not likely that Dad’s gonna show up within the next…say thirty minutes…perhaps we should take advantage of the situation.”

  Oliver grinned. “That’s a great idea in the abstract. But you’re young and I’m old. So if I do fall asleep, don’t take it personally.”

  “You know you’re awfully self-deprecating.”

  “I do that on purpose. At my age, it’s the only thing that seems to work with the girls.”

  Cindy pulled him down. “I hope this doesn’t ruin the mood, but I do like you, Oliver. You’ve been nice to me and I find that very attractive in a man.”

  Oliver brushed his lips against hers. “I like you, too. And it doesn’t hurt that I find you incredibly sexy.” He looked deeply into her eyes, mostly to avoid looking at her breasts. “Baby, you are so beautiful, nothing you could say would ruin the mood.”

  27

  The knocking was soft, but being as Oliver was such a light sleeper, he was up with his hand on the knob by the third muted thud. He swung open the door, put his finger to his lips, then he cocked a thumb toward Cindy’s bedroom. Decker’s face was flat; from experience, Oliver knew that meant the loo was pissed. Perhaps it was Oliver’s dress—shorts and nothing else. Good thing he was spent. Even at this age, he still woke up with occasional boners. He stepped aside, watching Decker’s eyes as they skittered about the room, landing on the rumpled sheets on the couch. With nothing left to do, Oliver decided to slip on his pants.

  Decker kept his eyes glued to the sheets. It wasn’t cold inside, so why the hell were they trying to snow him? Maybe Cindy was trying to be considerate of his feelings. Or it had been Oliver’s idea. Why rub it in if they had to work together. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah, she’s fine. But we did some talking last night.” Oliver strapped on his watch. It was eleven. At least, Deck had the decency to come at a civil hour. “I’ll tell you all about it. Let’s grab some coffee somewhere.”

  “I don’t mind talking here,” Decker said.

  “I do. I don’t want Cindy to hear what we talk about. You know how it is when you go over cases. You discuss the extremes. It’s enough to make you paranoid.”

  Decker’s face finally showed emotion. That ravaged look that revealed a hundred years of pain. “What’s wrong, Oliver?”

  “Loo, I’m not sure if anything’s wrong beyond the usual shit that women go through when they’re rookies.”

  “What kind of shit?”

  “That’s what I want to talk about.” Oliver buttoned up his shirt, tucked the tail into his pants, then slid on the jacket. He smelled as ripe as rotten vegetables. He should have taken a shower after she’d fallen asleep. Ah, well, let Decker suffer the olfactory insult. “I guess I should leave a note.”

  Saying what? Thanks for the fuck, the dirty bastard. Decker pushed the thought out of his mind, reiterating what he had told himself before. It said something that Oliver was here. Maybe for his own sexual purposes, but the fact remained that he was looking after his daughter.

  “…where she keeps paper and pencils?”

  Decker tuned into Oliver’s voice. “Uh, she used to keep them in the kitchen drawer.”

  Oliver went into the kitchen. Thick slabs of sunlight coursed through the sheer window coverings, sending his overstrained eyes into pupil shock. Blinded, he slid open the drawer and wrote a cursory note. Went out for coffee with your dad. Be back in an hour or so. He placed it on the coffeemaker, then went back into the living room. He picked up his briefcase and put on his sunglasses. It helped to readjust his eyes.

  He said, “You got a key to lock up?”

  Decker resisted the urge to retort, You mean she hasn’t given you one yet, you stinking SOB. Then he stopped himself. Would he be this angry if Scott were closer to her age? Or would he be angry if Oliver was screwing a young girl who wasn’t his daughter? Maybe he should try…just…try to look at this more objectively. Who was the vulnerable one here? Oliver was getting on in years, and Cindy was fresh and full of choices. Plus, Cindy didn’t suffer fools, often speaking her mind without considering human frailties and egos. If anyone would take a fall, it would be him. In which case, he should pity Oliver. It’s hard to take falls when you’re old.

  Oliver said, “Lieutenant, are you with me here?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Decker held up his key ring. “I’ve got a key. Let’s go.”

  All the designer coffee places were packed with a Sunday brunch crowd. They settled on an ancient coffee shop with worn gray-tiled floors, worn oxblood booths, and worn waitresses in tired, faded brown uniforms and white clodhopper shoes with thick rubber soles. Asking for a booth in the back, they trailed Sally as she and her larger-than-life blond beehive led them past the counter area where two male down-and-outers were nursing coffee and nibbling on toast. A far cry from the designer espresso and butter croissants being sold across the street at Star$s. They were seated in an empty area, and it took only moments for Sally to return with two steaming mugs of java. She took out her pad and waited.

  Decker pulled a ten out of his wallet. “I’m fine with coffee.” He handed her the bill. “This is for the privacy.”

  She took the bills. “Cops or criminals?”

  Decker smiled, showed her his badge.

  “Ah, a big-shot detective. Should I feel honored?”

  “Depends on who the cop is,” Decker answered.

  “Ain’t that the truth. Between the cops and criminals, it’s hard to tell the difference. You read about that detective who just had his ass hauled in for bank robbery? And what about that entire unit who invented stories and put all those kids behind bars.”

  “Not a good endorsement of L.A.’s finest.”

  Sally smiled. It crinkled her face, but made her look younger at the same time. “Well, you paid for privacy, I might as well give you some. Would you like me to leave a pot? That is, a pot of coffee.”

  Oliver smiled at her. “That would be great.”

  “Just wave if you change your mind about food.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  After she left, Oliver spoke, keeping his voice low. “I know I’m talking like an old fart, but Sally the waitress is absolutely right. Some of the young studs in blue are truly sick. Which fits into the topic of Cindy. You know how it is with rookies, especially rookie women. They’re tested. Sometimes things go overboard.”

  Decker sipped his coffee, then made a face. Strong brew. Or maybe it was just the sour taste in his mouth. “Breaking into an apartment is a hell of a prank.”

  “But it’s something to thi
nk about. Apparently, Hayley Marx had some things done to her when the guys broke her cherry at Hollywood. She was the one who suggested that maybe these were hazing rituals.”

  “What kinds of things?”

  “Her vehicle was constantly dying on her for one reason or another. She could be lying, but the complaints sounded legit. Plus, we know that Cindy’s got a couple of guys on her ass.” Oliver began to tick them off. “There’s Tropper, the Sarge who she showed up. Guy could be a grudge holder. And then there’s the punk rookie Andy Lopez, who was making lewd comments to her last night—”

  “What kinds of comments?”

  “Talking crudely about her ass or something—”

  “Bastard! I’ll kill him!”

  “I don’t doubt it, Pete. But for time’s sake, can I go on?” Oliver leaned in. “There’s Lopez’s partner, Tim Waters, who’s a big pussy hound. But I’m keeping them on the back burner, because according to Hayley Marx, there’s this blue named Rick Bederman who has it out for her.”

  Decker’s eyes darkened. “You know him?”

  “I recall him slightly. Macho asshole from what I remember. But it was a long time ago.”

  “Why does he have it in for her?”

  “Cindy doesn’t know. But let me take a wild stab and say it’s a sexual thing. In case you haven’t noticed, Cin isn’t shy about being a woman.”

  Decker hid his emotions behind a coffee cup. He was angry, he was embarrassed. Most of all, he was a father. “Did this Bederman come on to her?”

  “He gave her advice not to fuck married men—”

  “Bastard—”

  “Yeah, he doesn’t sound like a sweetheart. But what makes it interesting is that he was partnered with Cindy’s current partner, Graham Beaudry. And…” He wagged his finger for emphasis. “What makes that even more interesting is that even though Bederman requested a transfer, he and Beaudry are still friends.”

  Oliver went through last night’s conversation, item by item. His memory wasn’t quite as sharp as he had wished it, and he should have taken notes. But that would have been difficult considering he was in bed and naked while his clothes and notebook were in the living room. Decker didn’t interrupt, not even once, but early on, he took out a notebook. Oliver wondered what he was scribbling down. He knew there would be questions later, and there were.