Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 19

by Hangman

  Besides, I’d like to see you.

  Not, I need to see you, but I’d like to see you.

  It shouldn’t have made a difference, but it did. It made him feel good.

  THE PHONE RANG exactly at two. “I’m at an open air café on campus,” Gabe told his father. “Is that okay?”

  “It’s fine.”

  Gabe gave his father directions. Five minutes later he saw Chris Donatti walking toward him—tall, tan, built, and handsome. The man turned heads wherever he went and today was no exception. Every time he passed a female, she’d look backward. Chris was wearing a white shirt, brown cords and a tweed jacket. He looked like every co-ed’s fantasy professor. There were so many things to despise about Chris, but on a gut level, Gabe was proud to be Chris’s son.

  His father—for better or worse.

  When Chris reached the table, he held out his hand. Gabe gave him the manila folder and Chris sat down and opened it up.

  “Are you hungry?” Gabe asked.

  “Get me a cup of coffee.”

  “Do you mind if I get something to eat?” Wordlessly, Donatti pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. Gabe said, “I wasn’t asking for money.”

  “Take it.”

  “I’m really okay.”

  “Don’t be an idiot. Someone offers you money, you take it. Now shut up and let me read.”

  So much for sentimentalism. Gabe took the cash, waited in line and bought a burger, fries, a Diet Coke and a coffee. He sat back down and started to eat. A minute later, Chris was glaring at him. He wasn’t eating particularly loud, but his dad was in one of those moods where everything bothered him.

  Gabe said, “Uh, maybe I’ll eat at another table.” He moved to the table next to his dad and was eating peacefully while reading Evelyn Waugh—one of Rina’s favorite writers. It was a beautiful day and he felt happier than he had in years. He knew he was calm because his zits finally cleared up. How good was it to be chomping on a burger and reading a great book. The only thing missing was maybe a little Mozart—strings pieces only, and please, definitely no piano. He had become so absorbed in his reading that he didn’t hear the old man clearing his throat until Chris was clearly annoyed. Gabe looked up and moved back to the first table. “Everything okay?”

  “Get me another cup of coffee. Large.”

  “Sure.”

  When Gabe brought the second cup back, Chris was straightening the papers and putting them back inside the envelope. “It looks in order. I’ll take the papers to my lawyer. See how we move on from there.” Chris looked at Gabe. “Do you know where your mother is?”

  “If I were to guess, I’d say somewhere in India judging from the owner of the car. Her letter also said that she was far away. I put a copy of the letter in the envelope.”

  “I saw it. And yes, she is in India. Uttar Pradesh, to be specific.” Chris pulled out several photographs and spread them on the table.

  Gabe sorted through the snapshots. “When did you find her?”

  “Months ago.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “You knew she was alive. What difference would it have made?”

  That was true. He stared at the photographs. “Man, she’s ready to pop.”

  “She already has.” He took out a final picture. “Meet your new sister.”

  The infant was round and chubby with a thatch of black hair. “Where’d you get this?”

  “None of your business.”

  Despite himself, Gabe smiled. Babies were cute. No jealousy because his mom was lost to him anyway. “Do you mind if I keep it?”

  “Go ahead. To me, she’s just a little bastard. You’re not surprised by any of this. Did she send you another letter?”

  “If she had, I would have called you.” He looked into his father’s flat blue eyes. “She only contacted me once. Since then I haven’t heard squat from her.” Gabe adjusted his glasses. “Decker figured that she was probably pregnant and that’s why she left so suddenly.”

  “Did she tell him that when she met with him way back when?”

  “No. He just figured it out later.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “Decker wasted a lot of time looking for Mom. He wouldn’t have done that if he had known that she had wanted to disappear.”

  Donatti thought about that and decided it was the truth. “How’s Decker?”

  “They’re nice people and nice to me. I’m okay if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “So Decker figured it out.” Donatti drummed the table. “Your mom managed to hide your bastard origins from me, but she couldn’t pretend with an Indian baby.”

  Gabe didn’t take the bait. “Does Mom know that you know about her?”

  “Not yet.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  Donatti shrugged. “Gabriel, I’ve thought about everything from doing nothing to killing the bitch.”

  “And?”

  “In the end, I don’t fucking care anymore.” Donatti took out a pack of cigarettes and lit a smoke. “That isn’t true. I do care. But I don’t care enough to ruin my life even though I could get away with it. I’d like to kill her, but I don’t want her dead.”

  “Not that you asked me, but I think that doing nothing is a very wise decision.”

  “Besides I have the best revenge of all. She’s in India.” Donatti smiled, but it wasn’t a pretty one. “But you’re here.”

  “So what? She doesn’t give a damn about me.” Said more to himself than to his father. “If she did, she would have taken me with her.”

  “Oh no, no, no, no.” Donatti wagged his finger. “She didn’t dare take you with her. Maybe I’d let her go—there are lots of women in this world—but bastard or not, you’re still my only kid. If she had taken you away, it would have sealed her death warrant.”

  He crushed out his cigarette and lit another one.

  “I know your mother very well. She’s got herself a little bastard baby girl, but her real baby is right here with me. She’s in incredible psychic pain and that makes me very happy.” He stood up. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Are you taking me home?”

  “You mean back to the Deckers?”

  “Home is the Deckers.” Gabe grinned. “But you’ll always be my only dad.”

  “Yeah until you find out who shot his wad in your mom that summer.”

  Gabe ignored him and stood up. “You know, I can take the bus if it’s an inconvenience to drive me into the Valley.”

  “Nah, it’s fine. Besides I want to hear all about your progress with your new pal, Nick.”

  “He’s my teacher, Chris, not my pal. He tortures me every time I see him. But I guess that’s the price of getting better.”

  “You’d better be improving after spending all my money on lessons.” Donatti grabbed the nape of his neck and none too gently. “This way.”

  A stretch limo was waiting. That wasn’t a surprise. His father usually needed room for his long legs. What was a surprise was a wisp of a girl sitting in the backseat. She looked fourteen although he knew she was at least eighteen. Chris didn’t mess with underage girls anymore. She was cute in a pixie way—small upturned nose, dimples in her cheeks, and curly auburn hair. There was intelligence in her brown eyes.

  “Talia.” Chris pointed to the girl. To her, he said, “This is my kid.”

  “Gabe Whitman.” Gabe offered her his hand.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you.” She shook his hand back. “He talks about you all the time.”

  “No, I don’t.” Donatti looked annoyed and then preceded to ignore her the entire ride home, listening intently as Gabe spoke about his lessons, his music, his composing, what he was studying, what he was learning from Nicholas Mark, and finally about upcoming competitions. Donatti smoked cigarettes and drank coffee, his eyes focused on Gabe’s face the entire time, his gaze never wavering. Before Gabe could even catch his breath, the limo was outside the Decker house.

/>   Never had time raced so fast.

  Gabe said, “Well, I guess this is my stop.”

  “Call if you need anything.”

  “I will.” He turned to Talia. “Nice to meet you. Take care of him for me.”

  “Blah, blah.” Donatti handed him his empty coffee cup filled with cigarette butts. “You know how I hate crap in my face. Dump this out for me.”

  “Sure, Chris.” He got out and the car took off before Gabe reached the front door.

  Chris giving him shit. How metaphoric.

  He stared at the garbage in his hands.

  Huh.

  He unlocked the door and headed for his quarters—not really his room, but after seven months he was more than a sojourner. Once inside his space, he sat on the bed and turned on his computer.

  THE KNOCK PISSED him off. Donatti hated doing taxes and he hated being interrupted. “What?”

  “Can I come in?”

  Talia’s voice. “Being as you fucked up my concentration, you might as well.”

  She opened the door. “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not. What do you want?”

  A small smile grew on her lips. “I brought you some coffee.” She placed it on his rosewood desk. Chris’s office was walnut paneled with a stone fireplace. It was filled with good art and the smell of leather and tobacco. He had shelves of the finest Scotch and cut crystal tumblers. The place looked like something that belonged in an English castle, not the office of a man who owned whorehouses. In the corner was a huge Christmas tree that she had decorated. Underneath it were piles of presents sent to him by happy clients. Talia never adorned a Christmas tree before she had met Chris. It was an assignment she always enjoyed.

  Donatti looked her up and down. She was holding a wrapped package. “Just put it under the tree.”

  “It’s from Gabe.”

  “Oh shit! I’ve got to get him something. What’s the date?”

  “The nineteenth.”

  “Okay. We got time. Go out and buy him a motorcycle.”

  Talia stared at him.

  “What?” Donatti said.

  “Chris, he doesn’t drive. He’s only fifteen.”

  “He’s fifteen already? Shit, I missed his birthday.”

  “Don’t worry. I sent him a card and a shirt.”

  Donatti stared at her. “You sent Gabe a shirt for his birthday?”

  “You were out of town. And what’s wrong with a shirt? He wrote me a thank-you card, so I guess he liked it.”

  She was pouting. Donatti kept forgetting that she wasn’t much older than Gabe. “Thank you for sending my son a shirt. Let’s aim a little higher this time. Get him a Ferrari.”

  “A Ferrari?” Talia exclaimed.

  “Yeah, a Ferrari. Do you want me to spell it for you?”

  “I know what a Ferrari is. Stop being so sarcastic.” She paused. “Can I say something?”

  “No.” When Talia didn’t talk, Donatti exhaled in disgust. “What?”

  “We’re going to Paris for New Year’s. Why don’t you ask him to come with us? I bet he’d like that even more than a Ferrari.”

  “I don’t want him to come.”

  Talia looked perplexed. “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want him to come, okay?”

  Talia shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Look, Talia, Gabe is doing all right and I’m doing all right. Not a good idea to mix it up.”

  “Whatever you say.” She paused. “What should I do with the present?”

  “Give it here.”

  She handed him the wrapped box. “Where do I find a Ferrari dealership? This is Elko, not Las Vegas.”

  “You’re right. Tell you what. We’ll go to Penske-Wynn tomorrow and buy one together. Set up the jet. We’ll leave at eleven if I can ever get enough peace and quiet to get my taxes done.” He gave her a small wave. “Good-bye.”

  “You’re welcome for the coffee.”

  “Thank you and good-bye.” When she finally closed the door, Donatti smiled. He didn’t love Talia, but sometimes her innocence made him laugh. He regarded the gift from his son. Gabe was a good kid—got that from his mother.

  He thought about Terry more often than he should have. She was gone, but it was far from over. They were still legally married and eventually they’d have to face each other one way or the other.

  Someday, he thought. Someday.

  He opened the ribbon on the box and lifted the lid. Inside was a stack of papers secured by a staple and a small note in Gabe’s neat handwriting.

  Merry Christmas, Dad.

  The papers were from some kind of medical lab…some kind of medical test.

  What the fuck?

  As he rifled through the pages, Donatti skimmed the words.

  DNA taken from a cigarette

  DNA taken from a coffee cup.

  Positive paternity match—99.9%.

  Donatti threw back his head and laughed out loud.

  The little bastard.

  Or maybe not.

  He picked up his phone and got Gabe’s voice mail.

  Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.

  “Thanks for the papers. If I ever need a kidney, I’ll know who to call.”

  Donatti hung up the phone and went back to his work.

  An hour later, he picked up the phone and called Gabe a second time.

  After receiving the same message, Donatti waited for the beep and said, “I’m going to Paris for New Year’s. Someone over there is playing Bach’s Organ Toccata and Fugue in D minor. I’m thinking about getting tickets. Talia has a tin ear and I know you have an unhealthy fixation with the pipe organ.”

  A pause.

  “We’re leaving on the twenty-seventh, so give me a call back right away. If your passport is current, you got nothing better to do, and you want to hear the piece, I suppose you can tag along.”

  Acknowledgments

  Special thanks to Marc Neikrug

  About the Author

  FAYE KELLERMAN is the author of twenty-seven novels, including twenty New York Times bestselling mysteries that feature the husband-and-wife team of Peter Decker and Rina Lazarus. She has also penned two bestselling short novels with her husband, New York Times bestselling author Jonathan Kellerman, and recently teamed up with her daughter Aliza to cowrite a young adult novel, Prism—the story of four teens in an alternate universe. She lives with her husband in Los Angeles, California, and Santa Fe, New Mexico.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

  ALSO BY FAYE KELLERMAN

  Blindman’s Bluff

  The Mercedes Coffin

  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: A Book of Short Stories

  with Jonathan Kellerman

  Double Homicide

  Capital Crimes

  with Aliza Kellerman

  Prism

  Credits

  Jacket design by Richard Aquan

  Jacket photograph by Andreas Kindler/Johner/Glasshouse Images

  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.

  HANGMAN. Copyright © 2010 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, down-loaded, 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.

  FIRST EDITION

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.

  EPub Edition © July 2010 ISBN: 978-0-06-200683-7

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