Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 12

by Stalker

  Decker said, “CHP uses official plates. He had them made up. Anyway, we don’t even need the license number. How many CHP cruisers can there possibly be?” He threw his head back and closed his eyes. “The car wouldn’t be hard to spot if he’s just driving around. But we know the bastard’s going to light. We need to figure out where.”

  Since Oliver didn’t have an answer, he didn’t speak, driving through tense silence. He pretended not to notice the moisture in Decker’s eyes, executing a series of turns down narrow, darkened streets until he reached Bederman’s block, where Hayley’s car was parked curbside. Since Marge had left minutes before they had, she had already arrived, her Honda nosing the rear bumper of Marx’s vehicle. Oliver saw the silhouettes of four figures assembled around the street-light—Marge and Hayley and two men whom he didn’t recognize. As the car slowed, Decker opened his eyes, sat upright, and started punching his right hand into the flesh of his left. As soon as Oliver pulled over, Decker got out and leapt toward them.

  “I’m ready to kill someone. At this point, anyone will do.” He spoke with such assurance no one doubted his words. “I want some answers now!”

  Sets of eyes went to Bederman. Though he was a man of sizable stature, he shrank under Decker’s scrutiny. “I’m not swearing to any of this—”

  Decker grabbed him by the jacket collar and jerked him forward, towering over the man by a good three inches. “Do you know where they are?”

  “No!” Bederman offered no resistance. “No, sir, I swear I don’t! I swear I’m just as worried—”

  “No, you’re not just as worried!” Decker screamed. “You couldn’t possibly be just as worried, you fucking idiot! DO YOU KNOW WHERE THEY ARE?”

  Bederman broke into a cold sweat. “No! I’d tell you if I knew. I don’t know!”

  Decker said nothing, still restraining Bederman by his clothing.

  Hayley cut in, her voice soft and trembling. “It has something to do with the Crayton case, sir. Bederman had invested with Crayton. So had Tropper. Both had lost money, but Tropper lost more.”

  Decker let go of Bederman, pushing him back several inches. He turned down the vocal volume, but he was still yelling. “What does that have to do with Cindy?”

  Bederman managed to get the words out of his throat. “Tropper was pissed big time. He talked to me about getting even with the bastards. He said I owed it to him.”

  “Because you talked him into investing with Crayton?” Oliver asked.

  “No,” Bederman said. “It was the other way around. He talked me into investing with Crayton. He was buddy-buddy with Dexter Bartholomew.”

  “Where’d he know Bartholomew from?” Marge asked.

  “Tropper pulled him over for a routine traffic violation,” Bederman said. “Dex paid him off. It was the start of a very beautiful relationship.”

  “And Tropper just…told you this?” Decker asked.

  “I found out from Lark.”

  “Rick was fucking her,” Beaudry explained.

  Oliver said, “So why did you owe Tropper if he talked you into investing?”

  Bederman started to speak but couldn’t. Beaudry filled in. “Tropper covered for him during the affair.”

  Bederman looked at him. “This never would have happened if you had covered for me.”

  Beaudry said, “Shut the fuck up, Rick!”

  “Good idea!” Marge added.

  Decker screamed, “What does this have to do with Cindy?”

  “I’m not positive, sir,” Bederman admitted. “I think Cindy found out things—”

  “What things?” Decker asked. “Like who killed Crayton? Did Tropper murder Crayton?”

  “Maybe.” Bederman paused. “I couldn’t swear to it, though.”

  Decker said, “Why would Tropper think Cindy would have information about that?”

  “Because you guys were poking the Crayton case again.” Bederman zeroed in on Oliver. “Tropper heard that you were at Bellini’s, asking Osmondson questions about carjackings. He figured it had to be Crayton. What else could it have been?”

  “That had nothing to do with Crayton,” Marge said. “It had to do with jackings we were having in Devonshire.”

  “Well, Tropper thought it was Crayton!” Bederman retorted. “At least that’s what he told me. He thought that you were onto something, using Cindy as a spy because she was the lieutenant’s daughter—”

  “What?” Decker screamed.

  “Sir, I don’t know what he was thinking! The man’s violent as well as crazy!”

  “Was Tropper having Cindy followed?” Marge asked.

  Bederman looked away. “Maybe—”

  Again, Decker grabbed him. He was sweating, shaking, and out of control. This time, he kneed Bederman in the balls, then pushed him to the ground. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

  Instantly, Bederman doubled over in pain. “I swear I never hurt—”

  Decker kicked him in the ribs. “I’m going to stomp you to death!”

  Marge placed a hand on his shoulder. “Take it easy, Pete!”

  Oliver got between Decker and the writhing Bederman. “Could you hold off for a few more seconds, Deck? I got more questions for him.”

  Decker walked away, then abruptly turned around and came back. He plucked Bederman off the ground as easily as one retrieves a dropped coin. He propped Rick onto his feet, and spoke to him nose to nose. “Why…” Decker cleared his throat. “Why did that fucking bastard decide to kidnap her today?”

  “I don’t know!” Bederman whispered. “He didn’t confide in me.” There were tears in his eyes. “He just asked me to go see her—”

  “Today?”

  “Yeah, today!”

  “Why?”

  “To pump her. Try to find out if she knew anything. I didn’t find out anything. I didn’t even pump her because I didn’t want to know if she did know anything. Believe it or not, I wound up going over there to apologize—”

  Hayley broke in. “You know, while he was inside talking to her, I’m sure Tropper was outside, rigging her car—”

  Again, Decker shoved his face against Bederman’s. “DID YOU FUCKING KNOW THAT?”

  “No, I swear I didn’t!” The officer swallowed hard. “The only thing I ever did for the bastard was to…to scare the crap outta Stacy Mills. That’s the only thing I ever did—”

  Once more, Decker kneed him and pushed him down.

  Marge said, “You gotta stop doing that, Peter! You’re gonna kill him!”

  “That’s the fucking idea!” Decker yelled out. “Why did you scare Stacy Mills?”

  “Because Lark said that she was shooting off her mouth!”

  “Did Lark have Crayton killed?”

  “I don’t know!”

  Oliver said, “Did Tropper threaten to tell your wife about the affair?”

  “Yes. That’s why I went over to Cindy’s house…to pump her. Tropper told me to. He wanted to find out how much she knew about Crayton.”

  “Why would your wife believe Tropper if he told her about the affair?”

  Beaudry said, “Tropper had pictures…videos actually—”

  “Oh, for chrissakes!” Decker resisted the temptation to break Bederman’s face. “He took videos of you fucking this bimbo?”

  “Actually, Rick took them…kept them with Lark.” Beaudry shrugged. “She must have given them to Tropper.”

  “So you fucked up my daughter to hide your dirty movies! I need to kill you, Bederman! I’ll start with your nose—”

  “Sir?” Hayley broke in.

  Decker turned around to look at her.

  “Cindy was out all afternoon, sir,” Hayley continued. “Do you know where she was?”

  Decker shook his head. “No. Do you know where she was?”

  “I saw some notes in her apartment,” Hayley said. “Directions to a place called Belfleur—”

  “Oh my God! Wait a minute, wait a minute.” Decker pulled out several folded credit card
receipts that he had taken from Cindy’s purse. He read the first one, then stopped cold on reaching the second slip. “The receipt is dated yesterday afternoon from Elaine’s Antiques in Belfleur!”

  “Where Bartholomew and Crayton had land investments,” Oliver said. “If Tropper followed her down there, he might think she was on to something.”

  “She probably was on to something!” Decker said. “That’s why she wanted to see me! How could she be so damn stupid!”

  “She wasn’t stupid,” Hayley said. “She was careless because she’s young!”

  Decker lifted Bederman off the ground. “Give us your best shot, Bederman! Where do you think Tropper would have taken her?”

  “Don’t you think I’d tell you if I knew?” Bederman moaned.

  Decker spat as he spoke. “I think you’re a fuck-up and a liar, so no, I don’t think you’d tell me—”

  Oliver broke in. “Pete, we’ve got to think. We’ve got to reason this out. We know Crayton was kidnapped and murdered. That was probably Tropper’s doing—”

  Marge said, “We don’t know if Crayton was murdered on purpose.”

  Oliver said, “We don’t know that he wasn’t. All we know is that the Rolls fell over the embankment. It could have been an accident, it could have been on purpose.”

  Decker released his stronghold on Bederman, but still held the man’s jacket. “The Camry that Cindy followed on Friday. We know it was pushed over the cliff on purpose. Where did Crayton’s Rolls jump the railing? Somewhere in Angeles Crest, right?”

  “Yes, I believe so,” Oliver said.

  Marge said, “I remember Tom saying something about double investigation teams because it was in two divisions. I think it was in Angeles Crest.”

  “So we have two cars jumping the railing around the same spot,” Oliver said.

  “Did Tropper have Cindy followed?” Decker yelled at Bederman.

  “I don’t know—”

  “God, you’re useless!” Decker shoved him away.

  “That Friday, sir, Cindy and I left the stationhouse around the same time,” Hayley remarked. “The Camry left around the same time, too. It was parked outside the stationhouse, not in the police lot, but something made me suspicious. That’s why I tailed her. I knew she was going out to see you, sir. It was a long distance. I was afraid that her car might break down—”

  “Was it Tropper?” Decker interrupted.

  Hayley said, “Sir, I don’t know.”

  “So assume it was Tropper or one of his stooges,” Oliver said. “Two cars over two embankments in the same proximity…” Oliver’s eyes widened. “Maybe Tropper thought that’s where Cindy was going on Friday…to Crayton’s original crash site. Maybe Tropper was trying to head her off because he left something behind or was afraid that she’d discover something. Then you have Cindy going down to Belfleur yesterday. This just confirms in his mind that she’s on to his dirty secrets.”

  “What’s the point, Oliver!” Decker growled.

  Oliver said, “Let’s hunt around the crash site, Pete. We don’t know where the bastard is! But that’s as good a guess as any!”

  From her limited perspective, Cindy could swear that the night was getting progressively darker. Tropper had placed her facedown—actually she was staring somewhere between the floor mat and the back of his seat—but if she craned her neck to the max, she could see out the top third of the passenger’s rear window. What she saw were branches and leaves. What it told her was that she was deep in some kind of rural area. She guessed it had to be Angeles Crest. She could ascertain this not only by the foliage but also by the length of time it had taken to get here. There were also the sinewy, mountainous curves that felt different from other turns. The gag still rested around her neck like a bandanna, still spewing out chemical smells. But because it wasn’t directly about her nose, she could breathe easier and think more clearly.

  She said, “Sergeant, this area seems familiar. By any chance, did you tail me here on Friday?”

  “Not me personally, no.”

  He expected her to ask who did tail her. But Cindy kept quiet, wanting to keep him off-guard. Several seconds went by. Then Tropper said, “You do know why we’re here?”

  “I have a few suspicions. They’re probably wrong—”

  “Don’t patronize me, Officer! I am still your superior.”

  “Yes, sir, that’s definitely true.”

  “Is that scorn in your voice, Officer Decker?”

  “Sir, that is fear and nothing else. Well, that’s not entirely true. Maybe I am a little curious.”

  He waited for more. But she held out until he spoke. “Go on,” Tropper said. “Curious about what?”

  “I know you’re angry with me—”

  “Damn right, I’m angry. You were bullshitting me, Officer. I don’t like that.”

  “Sir, I sincerely regret my snotty attitude toward you last week.” So much had happened in a week. So, so much…“All I ever wanted to do was make it right—”

  “Make it right by spying on me.” Tropper let out a derisive laugh. “That’s a good one, Decker.”

  She sensed that he would warp anything she would say. So she didn’t answer. But that didn’t stop her from thinking. Spying on him? How in the world would she have ever associated him with the Crayton case?

  “C’mon, girl!” Tropper interrupted her thoughts. “I don’t have the fancy education like you do, but I’m not a retard. I’ve seen you hanging around that greasy old detective guy, feeding him stuff about me. I know he was pumping Osmondson for information. I know he works for your father, and the Crayton case is a big fat bunion on Daddy’s toe. I’m not stupid like you think I am.”

  “I don’t think you’re stupid at all—”

  “Now you don’t think I’m stupid.”

  Again, Cindy was quiet. She should have been trying to figure out a mode of escape. What to do if he pulls the car over, takes her for a walk in the woods, and plans to shoot her dead. Maybe she should think about how to fake a death or how to escape. Or maybe he’d push the car over the side railing and off the cliff with her in it. Maybe he’d make the engine explode and burn her to a crisp. Thinking about those kinds of things filled her with panic and dread. Those kinds of things would make her lose control of her mind as well as her bladder and bowels. Right now, with a swollen face, a bullet graze wound at her temple, and aching sides and bound arms and feet, a split lip and being slightly high as well as nauseated, she didn’t want poop in her pants.

  So instead, she thought about Tropper, trying to bring some logic to his demented thinking. Tropper had seen her talking to Scott. Scott and Dad were working the Crayton case. So Tropper must have thought that she was kissing up to him, trying to get information about him only to fink to her dad or Scott. But how in the world was she supposed to associate Tropper with Crayton in the first place?

  Obviously, he thought she was on to him when she went to Belfleur. But his crazy thinking had started before the trek. He had admitted to being behind the Camry incident. No doubt, he vandalized her apartment.

  But why would he think that she knew about him? Just because she was talking to Scott? Maybe that was enough for a guy as paranoid as Tropper.

  Unless…unless Tropper had been the sniper a year ago. He had seen her with Crayton as they walked out of the gym.

  “We’re almost there,” he said.

  Almost where? “Okay.”

  “You know where we’re going, right?”

  “Should I know?”

  “Yeah, you should know, Decker. It’s his final resting place. I’m sure you’ve come here before to throw off some flowers or something.”

  So she figured it out; good going, girl. Unfortunately being clever wasn’t going to help much right now. “He was never my boyfriend, sir. I know you thought that when you shot at us, but I swear to you he was just a friend. Not even a friend, Sergeant. He was more like an acquaintance. He was friendly to me like he was to everyone bec
ause he wanted money out of me, like he did out of everyone he met. I thought he was—”

  She stopped herself. She wasn’t about to tell Tropper, who had invested his hard-earned cash with Crayton, that she knew better than to fall for Armand’s pitch. That she thought Armand a con man from the start.

  “I didn’t have any money to invest with him. Eventually, he stopped being so friendly.”

  Tropper’s laughter was hard and mean. “You expect me to believe you? He probably gave you a cut.”

  “Sir, I wish he had. Unfortunately, all he gave me were half-truths and downright lies. I don’t care what Lark told you. I wasn’t his lover, thank God!”

  “It wasn’t Lark.”

  Cindy was quiet. “Lark didn’t hire you to shoot at us?”

  “No.”

  “Ah…” Cindy nodded. “Okay.”

  “Okay, what?” Tropper exclaimed.

  “If it wasn’t Lark, it had to be Dexter Bartholomew. What did he have against Crayton? Was Crayton messing with Bartholomew’s wife?”

  “Yeah, but that wasn’t a sore point because Bart was messing with Lark. Bart was pissed because Crayton had stolen the deposit money from escrow. Money that Bart was going to use for building and financing. But I think you know that.”

  “Actually, I didn’t,” Cindy said. “Maybe I don’t want to know so much.”

  “What difference does it make, Decker? You’re dead either way.”

  The coldness in his voice shot ice water through her body. She shivered, but willed herself to keep going. Above all, show no weakness. To a guy like Tropper, weakness was probably an aphrodisiac. “I heard that Bartholomew actually made money on Belfleur because Crayton went bust. I heard that Bartholomew bought back the parcels at deep discount. It was Crayton who lost out.”

  “You got it the wrong way, lady. Crayton bought back the parcels at deep discount.”

  “Sergeant, Bartholomew owns the land down there,” Cindy said. “I know that for a fact.”

  “Sure he owns the land,” Tropper said. “Now that Crayton’s dead, he owns the land. Crayton’s dying solved everybody’s problems. Lark would eventually get the insurance money, Bartholomew got his land, and I got my money back and then some.”