by Hangman
“So why do you think you found her car?”
“How many new Mercedes are sold for scrap?”
The teenager paused. “Who owns the car?”
“Atik Jains. Does the name sound familiar?”
“No.”
“He’s Indian…Indian Indian. Jainism is a religion common in India. Does your mother know any Indians?”
“No,” Gabe told him. But his cheeks pinkened.
“You know you’re blushing?” Decker paused, then said, “Gabriel, we both have the same goal. To find your mother. We need to work together.”
“I have no idea if she knows any Indians. I didn’t follow my mother’s social life. As far as I knew, she didn’t have much in the way of friends.”
“And yet you blushed when I asked about her knowing any Indians. What’s that all about?”
“It’s probably nothing.”
“Tell me anyway.”
The boy squirmed. “It was a while back. I was waiting at the hospital for my mom to finish up. The place was swarming with guys in turbans. I thought it was like a terrorist threat or something. When I asked my mom about it, she said it was nothing, that some really rich maharaja was getting heart surgery and all those guys were his bodyguards.”
“How long ago was this?”
“I have to think. It was when I first started taking lessons at Juilliard. So it must have been two years ago.”
Decker took out a notebook. “Okay. What else?”
“Nothing else,” Gabe said. “I think I made some wisecrack about India having a billion people and the maharaja had to come to New York to find a surgeon. My mom told me that the maharaja’s son was a visiting cardiac surgeon in the hospital and he wanted his father to have the operation where he could keep an eye on him.”
The seconds ticked on.
“That’s it.”
“So you were around twelve?”
“About. I only remembered it because it’s not every day you see like twenty guys in turbans.”
“Did your mother say anything else about the maharaja or his son?”
“No.” He averted his eyes and began to ice his hand again. “But she knew him…the maharaja’s son…who is actually an old guy, like in his fifties.”
Decker smiled. “Go on.”
Gabe sighed. “I took lessons in the city, so I was in Manhattan a lot. I used to take the bus in from my house, and after my lessons, I’d walk over to the hospital and my mom would drive us home. One time, this was about a year ago, I finished early—which never happens. My ex-teacher was a slave driver, but he wasn’t feeling well. Anyway, I walked over to the hospital and I saw my mom talking to this guy who looked like a little like Zubin Mehta—graying hair, well dressed, dignified.”
“Okay,” Decker wrote. “Did they look like they knew each other well?”
“Like they weren’t touching or anything, but they were talking…a lot. And she was smiling—my mom. Then he got paged and that was that. Then my mom saw me and we went home. I did ask her who she was talking to. She said that he was the cardiac-surgeon son of the maharaja who had all the bodyguards.”
When Gabe didn’t elaborate, Decker said, “Did she seem embarrassed to be talking to him in front of you?”
“No,” Gabe said. “She was very matter-of-fact. But I remember it because it was rare to see her comfortable around a man. She usually avoided men even when my dad wasn’t around.”
“So she didn’t seem flustered?”
“No.” Gabe collected his thoughts. “Lots of times we’d do stuff and not tell my dad. Go out to movies or to restaurants when he stayed in the city. Once I went to a Christmas party with her. If she wanted it kept private, she’d say to keep it between us. She didn’t say that. So I forgot about it.”
“Did you ever see the surgeon with your mom again?”
“No.” He looked at Decker. “If I’d seen her with him again, that would have been weird. So you’re thinking that the surgeon is the Indian guy who owned the car?”
“Gabe, I have no idea. But I’d like to find out the surgeon’s name.”
“So if it is the same guy…like do you think like he kidnapped her or…”
“I don’t know.” Not even entertaining the notion that she might have taken off with him. Decker paused. “Maybe we should have someone look at your hand.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Just in case.” Gabe was quiet. Decker said, “Look, son, I’m going to level with you. I know that you saw your dad. You don’t want to be holding material evidence that could implicate your father in your mom’s disappearance. You’re nothing like Christopher Donatti. Don’t go down for him.”
Gabe wouldn’t meet his eyes. “How do you definitely know my father was in town yesterday?”
“I told you. He was at the junkyard. We missed each other by thirty-six hours. He wouldn’t call you on your cell. That would show up on your phone records. But I know he got in touch with you. And I know he gave you some stuff. I just want to make sure it’s nothing that was used in a crime.”
Gabe held his head, his mind racing about the cleanest way to get out of it. “I saw him for about five minutes. He gave me my passport, my birth certificate, and some cash.” Don’t tell him about the bank statements. Those are traceable. “That’s it.”
“That’s a start,” Decker said. “What did he tell you?”
“He said, ‘Here’s stuff you might need. Good-bye.’”
“And that stuff was in your briefcase?”
Gabe nodded.
“Where is that stuff now?”
Gabe pulled out his birth certificate, his passport, and a wad of cash from his backpack and gave it to Decker. “If this is material evidence in a crime, keep it.”
“It’s not material evidence.” Decker paged through the kid’s passport. He’d been to England, Belgium, Germany, Austria, and Poland. “How’d you like Europe?”
“I was at piano competitions, so I didn’t see much.”
“How’d you do?”
“Win some, lose some.”
Decker said, “Gabe, if this is all he gave you, why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?”
The teen shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You’re holding back.”
“Look, Lieutenant, if I thought he killed my mom, I’d kill the bastard myself. But I don’t think he hurt her. So I’d rather you just leave him alone. I know you’re not going to do that. But if Chris didn’t do, why should I help you?”
“If Chris didn’t hurt your mom, I could clear him. I’ve done it before.”
“Maybe he doesn’t trust you.”
“You want to know what I think?” A pause. “That maybe you’re right. That maybe he didn’t kill your mom. Maybe your mom ran away from your dad. And if Chris is looking for her, God help her if he finds her. I understand your loyalty to your father, Gabe. But it’s better if I find her before he does.”
“I agree, but I can’t help you. I don’t know where she is. I don’t know where he is.”
“So your father just gave you stuff and said sayonara?”
“Exactly. It’s clear he doesn’t want any connections to me. And that’s fine.”
“And yet you remain loyal to him.”
“He said he didn’t kill her.” Gabe was adamant. “I believe him. Then he gave me the stuff and left. That’s it. I don’t have anything else to tell you.”
Decker pocketed the birth certificate and his passport. He thumbed through the cash. It was all in hundreds, and a lot of them. He offered the wad back to the teenager.
“Keep it,” Gabe said. “Rent.”
“Stop it.” Decker waited. “My arm’s getting tired. Take the money.”
Gabe relieved him of the wad. “I really need to be alone for a while. My aunt left a key to her place under the doormat. I think I’ll just hole up there for the weekend.”
“You can’t stay in her apartment alone. If you want to move in with your aun
t, then you’ll have to wait until she comes back from Palm Springs.”
“What am I going to do there, Lieutenant? I don’t drink at all, I don’t take drugs. If I wanted to mess myself up, I could do that here as well as there. I don’t know anyone in the city, but I guarantee you I could probably find a dealer in about an hour.”
“I have no doubt.”
“So let me just get out of your way and move into my aunt’s and everyone will be happy.”
“You’re too young, Gabe. I can’t let you do that.”
The kid growled. “Fine. I’ll leave on Monday.”
“I’m not kicking you out.”
“I can’t stay here. You’re hunting down my father. You’re the enemy.”
“I’m not the enemy. Your dad wouldn’t let you stay here if I was the enemy. He knows who I am and he knows that I’ll take good care of you. But he also knows I’m going to ask you lots of questions because your mother is missing, and right now, that’s my first priority. Not your feelings; your mother’s welfare. If you want to move in with your aunt on Monday, I won’t stop you. But don’t put it on me.”
Gabe rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “This is so fucked up!”
“Don’t curse. Why do you think that your father didn’t kill your mother?”
The teenager was confused. “I dunno. He seemed sincere.”
“Your dad’s a pathological liar.”
“I know. But still, he seemed really upset. And now you tell me that he’s hunting for her. I mean, why would he do that if he killed her?”
“I have a couple of questions for you.” Gabe waited. “Did your mother use the car over the weekend?”
“Let me think…it seems like ages ago.”
“Take your time.”
“Saturday morning I was practicing. I went back to the hotel, and then we walked into Westwood, saw a movie, and ate dinner. Sunday I was in a practice room all day. I don’t know if my mom used the car, but she didn’t drive me anywhere. I think she said something about wanting to stick close to the hotel because Chris was coming in.”
“What about Friday?”
“Honestly, I don’t remember.”
“Try.”
“Friday, Friday…I was practicing from like…ten to four.” A sigh. “We ate dinner at the hotel. What did we do after that?” He paused. “I went swimming. It was a warm night. When I came back to the room, she wasn’t there. She returned an hour later in her gym clothes, so I guess she went to the fitness room. We watched TV and then went to bed. Really swinging time. Why are you asking about the car over the weekend?”
Decker was taking notes. “Because the owner of the junkyard said that the car came in on Saturday.”
“So…that means it’s not my mother’s car since she disappeared on Sunday, right?”
“She disappeared on Sunday. It doesn’t mean she drove off in her car on Sunday. No one remembers seeing her leave. She could have sneaked out.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Maybe the meeting with Chris didn’t go as well as I thought it did. Maybe she felt threatened by your father and took the opportunity to leave once and for all.”
“She told me she was renting a house in Beverly Hills.”
“That’s what she told your father. But we’ve checked with most of the real estate agents in Beverly Hills. None of them had ever heard of your mother.”
“I don’t understand…” The boy was confused as well as saddened. “Why would she lie?”
“If she did lie, I’m sure she had her reasons.”
“You think she left without me on purpose?”
“I don’t know, Gabe, but if she did, she must have felt very threatened.”
His words were little solace to the boy. He looked devastated…dejected.
“It could be that things didn’t go well with your father…that your mom jumped right after Chris left, figuring now or never.”
Gabe shrugged. “Is that what you think?”
“It’s a possibility.”
Or, Decker thought, she had planned the whole thing long before Donatti’s arrival…which is why she junked the car on Saturday. She knew she wouldn’t need it again. Figuring that if she made Donatti feel secure, he’d go back home.
After he left, she jumped ship.
Meaning she knew she’d be leaving without her son.
So maybe that’s why she’d called him up in the first place. Her ultimate purpose was not hiring Decker for protection, but rather giving her son a safe haven after she left for good.
If that were the case, Gabe wasn’t the only one who had been duped.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
WE’RE ZERO FOR two.” Oliver disconnected the line. “Mandy’s not picking up her phone and neither is Crystal.”
“Crystal’s a party girl,” Marge said. “I’m not surprised that she’s not answering her landline, but she should be answering her cell.”
“Maybe she’s in a crowded bar and can’t hear it.”
They were driving north on the 5 with Griffith Park on their left—an inky vast track of foliage and trees donated to L.A. as recompense after Colonel Griffin shot his wife. God only knew what was kind of animals were hiding in the dark—four-legged as well as two-legged. They had managed to avoid most of the evening commuter traffic. Nighttime fog was settling in as they hit the higher elevations going over the hill and back down into the Valley.
Marge said, “Call up Sela Graydon. Find out if she can get through to Crystal.”
“Sure.” Oliver paused. “What do you think about Mandy Kowalski going AWOL?”
“From what we’ve been told, the girl is as reliable as sunrise and suddenly she’s not answering any of her phones. What do you want to do if she doesn’t answer her door?”
“What time is it?”
“Eight-thirty.”
“Do we know if she has any friends or relatives that might have a key?”
“She didn’t seem to have much in the way of a social life,” Oliver said.
“I’m getting a weird feeling about it. She may have heard one too many confessions, know what I’m saying? Do you know what kind of car she drives? I’d like to see if it’s in the condo parking lot. And if it’s there and she’s not answering her bell, we could justify coming into her place without her permission.”
“I’ll call up the DMV. Do you want me to do it before or after I call up Sela Graydon?”
“Get the car info first. That’s an easy fix.”
Oliver talked to the DMV as Marge made a descent into the Valley, going parallel to the cement bed of the L.A. River. At this time of night, it was a dark abyss on her right. She passed the exit for the L.A. Zoo merging onto the 134 West, ripping past Forest Lawn Cemetery.
“It’s a 2003 Toyota Corolla, black.” Oliver recited the license plate number. “Do you have Sela Graydon’s phone number?”
“Not on me.”
Oliver made a second call and within minutes had the digits he needed. When he called it, she didn’t pick up. He left his phone number. He regarded Marge, who appeared deep in thought. “What’s on your mind?”
She paused. “I was just thinking.”
“That’s always dangerous.”
“Remember when we were talking to Yvette Jackson, the waitress? I asked her if she knew anyone named Farley. And then I said it might have been Charley?”
“Yeah, she didn’t know either one of them.”
“I gave myself an idea. Maybe it was Charley…as in Chuck Tinsley.” When he didn’t answer, she said, “Yes, no, maybe?”
“Interesting,” Oliver said. “The Loo told us to interview him again. Let’s do it.”
“Why don’t we get a picture of Tinsley, put it in a six-pack, and show it to Yvette Jackson?”
“Do you think he’d be stupid enough to string her up in the property he was supervising and then report her dead?”
“We’ve gone through a lot of criminals in our years on the forc
e,” Marge told him. “Personally, I’ve never met one who qualifies as an intellectual light.”
RINA KNOCKED BUT didn’t wait to be invited into the room. “I just called up Matt Birenbaum. He’ll fit us in tomorrow.”
Decker said. “Him?”
“I know he’s a little bit of an eccentric, but he’s also a top-notch hand surgeon.”
Gabe realized they were talking about him. “I’m okay, Mrs. Decker. Nothing’s broken.”
“That may be, but you need to be looked at. Even if you weren’t a pianist, I’d do it. Kal v’chomer, I should do it for someone who needs his hands for a career.”
Gabe didn’t understand everything she was saying but he felt his best defense was not to argue.
“Kal v’chomer means I should especially have you looked at,” Rina said. “I forgot the English legal equivalent. We’ve got an eleven o’clock appointment. Dr. Birenbaum prides himself on his piano playing, so at least he’ll know what your needs are.”
“He thinks he’s Mozart,” Decker said. “He’s terrible and I don’t even have an ear.”
“He’s a bit full of himself, but that’s what you want in a surgeon.” She looked at his clothes spread across his bed. “Are you going somewhere?”
“I thought I’d visit my aunt for the weekend but she’s not going to be home. Lieutenant Decker was nice enough to let me to stay until she comes back on Monday.”
“You’re moving out?”
“It might be better. Thank you so much for your hospitality. One day, maybe I can repay it.”
“No payment necessary. But you’re not going anywhere until you’ve had your hand checked out. After you’ve seen the doctor, you can go to your aunt’s. Agreed?”
Gabe nodded.
“Peter, go get him a proper ice pack.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Decker stood up and smiled at the boy’s forlorn expression. “She didn’t single you out, Gabe. She’s tough on everyone.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem for him. He should be used to tough women.” After Decker left, Rina sat on the twin bed opposite the boy. “How is your hand? An honest answer, please.”