Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 03

by Milk;Honey

  Same point Marge had made, Decker thought. With Luke and Linda out of the way, Sue Beth stood to inherit everything when Pappy D died. Then he remembered the way she held Katie, taking the little girl into her arms, holding her so tightly, tears streaming down her face…and Linda was the only one who had ever approached Manfred with an interest in selling. Sue Beth just didn’t seem like the type.

  A gut feeling, Decker thought, not based on anything factual.

  Crandal was talking, “…old guy was minimally cooperative when I asked him the ‘who-what-where’ questions. Actually started to choke up when he talked about his son. But when I attempted to ask him about anything personal that might have caused the murders, he started foaming at the mouth. Especially when he talked about the bloodsucking city slicks from Manfred Corp., and his wicked daughter-in-law.”

  “Yeah,” Decker said. “Seems the family didn’t like her too much.”

  “Old Pappy claimed she was driving them all to the poorhouse, and Manfred was waiting to swoop down like vultures when she did,” Crandal said. “The old lady didn’t have much to say about Manfred. Anytime I asked her a question, she’d defer to her husband, except when it came to her daughter-in-law. Old lady became livid, said all of it was her fault, because she was the Whore of Babylon.”

  Decker paused a moment. Linda driving them to the poorhouse? Linda’s closet didn’t seem overly stuffed. No cache of jewelry was found. It didn’t make sense.

  “What did Linda spend so much money on?”

  “I asked Pappy D that very question,” Crandal said. He took a giant swig of his coffee. “Granny answered for him. Seems the Whore of Babylon spent it all on wild living.”

  “Granny didn’t get more specific?” Decker asked.

  “You gotta picture the setup,” Crandal said. “You got Pappy D, who was doing most of the talking, which wasn’t too much to begin with. You got his mousy wife—an old broad with knockers down to her knees—standing about two inches behind him, head down, not saying nothing. Except every once in a while, she perked up, got this fire in her eyes like a woman possessed, and hurled a biblical insult at Linda. Then she retreated back into her shell.”

  “She doesn’t sound too balanced.”

  “I don’t think she is.”

  Decker said, “Think she could handle the kickback of a shotgun?”

  “I think she could fire a cannon, if she had to,” Crandal said. “But like I said, it seems they arrived before the Littons did. If the dynamic duo did it, they’d have to be very quick and breezy about it.”

  Murder took all of a moment, Decker thought. But what would they have done with Katie? Decker hadn’t found her until one in the morning some ten hours later and one hundred miles away from Fall Springs.

  Decker asked, “Anyone down in Fall Springs remember them having a toddler?”

  “A toddler?” Crandal asked.

  “Yeah,” Decker said. “Pappy and Granny didn’t have a kid with them, did they?”

  “Just their retarded son, Earl,” Crandal said.

  “What was he like?”

  “Huddled into a corner,” Crandal said. “Every time I looked at him, he gave me a scared smile. Shaking like a dog that had just peed in the house. Every so often, one of Sue Beth’s boys came over to him and started stroking his hair.” Crandal broke into a smile. “Guess everyone needs a pet retard.”

  Decker didn’t respond.

  Crandal shrugged. “Kid seemed harmless enough.”

  “Did you talk to him at all?” Decker asked.

  “Nope,” Crandal said. “Pappy wouldn’t let me near him. Just as well. I don’t think I’d get much out of him other than one-word answers.”

  Like Byron Howard, Decker thought. He said, “So you have no indication that they were involved?”

  “They seemed nutty enough to shoot,” Crandal said. “But the time frame doesn’t work out real well.”

  “Happen to ask Pappy if he owns a shotgun?”

  “Yes, I did,” Crandal said. “It’s all in the notes. Yes, he owns one. A twelve-gauge Browning BPS Pump. He said he didn’t bring it with him, of course, and as far as he knows, it’s still back in the house. When I told him it wasn’t, he said he had no idea where it was.”

  A Browning Pump, Decker thought. Byron’s statement was on the money. And the wadding and spent shells found at the crime scene were consistent with that gauge.

  He asked, “What about a thirty-eight?”

  “Pappy claims he doesn’t own one,” Crandal said. “Of course, he could be lying.”

  Decker said, “Mind if I interview them when they come back up?”

  Crandal hesitated a moment, then said, “Go ahead.”

  Decker opened his drawer and pulled out a copy of his notes for Crandal. “You can reinterview anyone I talked to, if you want. Just send me your notes.”

  Crandal stood, took the notes, stuffed them into his briefcase, and straightened his tie. He said he didn’t see any reason to duplicate Decker’s work at this point. He’d pass.

  18

  At six-thirty, Decker pulled the unmarked in the driveway and shut the motor. As soon as he opened the door, he heard the steady blows of hammering and rebuked himself for forgetting to call Abel. He jogged over to the barn, and much to his surprise, Rina was standing at the threshold, an empty pitcher and glass in her hands. She was dressed in a long-sleeved blouse, a knee-length skirt, and her hair was covered. Sweat had moistened her brow, cheeks, and neck. Abel was kneeling ten feet away, banging a stud into the new piece of floorboard. He was bare-chested, his shorts cut at the knees, and he wore a tool belt around his waist. To his right was a pile of lumber, to his left were his portable bench saw and several boxes of nails.

  “Get inside,” Decker barked to Rina.

  “Peter, I—”

  “Get inside,” Decker said. Louder this time.

  “Will you let me—”

  “Goddammit, Rina, stop arguing with me and get inside the fucking house right now!”

  Rina glared at him with wet eyes, biting her bottom lip. With a single motion, she turned around and ran inside the back door. Decker noticed he was shaking, then saw Abel staring at him.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Decker said. “I told you to keep away while Rina was in town. And don’t tell me you forgot, because you just saw her here yesterday.”

  Abel continued to stare at him. “Little rough on her, don’t you think?”

  “You didn’t answer my goddam question!” Decker said.

  “I’m fixing your barn floor, Decker! What the hell does it look like I’m doing?”

  Decker felt smothered by the heat, by his anxiety. It took him a second to catch his breath. “Just leave, okay? And don’t come back. I’ll call you in about a week.”

  Abel didn’t move. “What’s wrong, Pete? Afraid I did something nasty to her?”

  Decker didn’t answer, dammed back rage and guilt and cursed Abel’s perceptiveness. Abel read his condemnation in Decker’s eyes.

  He rose slowly. Brushing off his shorts, he said, “I’ve had shit in my life and I’ve had shit. But, man, you’ve just given me enough shit to fill the sewers of America.”

  “Don’t give me that wounded crap,” Decker snapped. “I know goddam well, and you know goddam well, you came to see her!”

  “I came because Bert’s Lumberyard said they were delivering the lumber today, and I wanted to make sure I got what I paid for.” Abel picked up his cane and twirled it. “No one was home, so I started to work. I didn’t even know she came back until she brought me out a pitcher of juice.”

  “That’s bullshit!” Decker said.

  Abel balanced himself on his prosthesis and cane and slipped his foot into a huarache. He looked at his hands and realized he was shaking as hard as Decker. His face was probably as red as Decker’s also. It felt burning hot.

  “I busted my ass for you,” Abel said.

  “Hey, buddy, you’ve got it the ot
her way around. I busted my ass for you!”

  Abel hobbled past Decker and said, “Fuck you.” He hopped on his motorcycle and gunned the engine.

  Decker shouted after him, “Well, fuck you, too! Get another nursemaid to save your ass.”

  Abel took off in a cloud of dust.

  “I’m not going to be there anymore for you, Atwater!” Decker screamed. “You fucked with me one time too many! Go on! Get twenty years in the cooler, for all I care.” But even as he said it, Decker knew it was a lie. A second later, he mumbled, “Aw, fuck it!”

  He stormed into the house. Rina was sitting in the dining area, her elbows on the table, head in her hands. She’d polished his cherrywood dinette set. Everywhere he looked, she’d polished or shined something. Place was beginning to look like a goddam museum. He stomped past her into the bedroom and changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Calling Ginger to follow him, Decker headed for the stable.

  He still had an hour to go before Shabbos, enough time to exercise the animals and cool his rage. He ran the horses hard, galloping, jumping, stopping and starting on command, jerking the reins tighter than necessary. Each animal he rode broke into a sweat in a matter of minutes. Ginger panted furiously, but Decker drove her on. By the time he was done with the workout, his T-shirt was soaked, his hair as wet as if he’d dunked in a pool.

  Afterward, he felt calmer, his anger now replaced by nervousness at having to face Rina. But screw that! He explicitly told her to stay away from Abel. How could she have been so stupid as to disobey him?

  Disobey him.

  As if she were a child.

  Sometimes it felt that way.

  By the time he was done grooming the animals, he barely had enough time to clean off before Shabbos. He took a quick shower, shampooed his hair, and shaved while drying off.

  As he dressed, he wondered how to approach Rina. She wasn’t in the house when he came into the dining room, but the Shabbos candles had been lit. The table had been covered with starched linen, the wine poured into a crystal decanter, the challah set under a velvet cloth. A vase of wildflowers sat in the middle of the table. From the kitchen wafted aromatic smells of fresh-cooked meat, spices, garlic, and onion.

  Decker felt his head begin to pound. Placing a yarmulke atop his head, he went back into the living room, took out a siddur, and said the afternoon prayers, then Kaballat Shabbat—special prayers welcoming the Sabbath. It took him about fifteen minutes, then he was forced to close the book and deal with Rina.

  He popped two aspirins into his mouth, then went into the backyard. She was studying the sky, her hand shading her eyes. She had changed into a white dress dotted with gold, the fabric draped subtly to give a hint of her delicious curves. Her head was covered with a white silk kerchief trimmed with yellow fringes, the tassles running down her back like drawn gold. The sun had gone down, but the western horizon was still bursting with reds and lilacs, the great mountaintops gleaming like polished brass, the foothills aglow with the last flickers of daylight.

  He called her name, and when she didn’t respond, he walked over and hugged her from behind. At first, she neither accepted nor rejected the gesture, but eventually, she nestled into Decker’s arms. They stood for a long time, until dusk yielded to night, the mountains turning into deep purple shadows, the sky an inky ocean glittering with silvery waves.

  “You still mad at me?” Decker said.

  Rina responded in a quiet voice, “Shalom bayis.”

  Literally translated, it meant “peace in the house.” But Decker knew it meant, “I’m still pissed as hell, but I don’t want to spoil Shabbos.” Well, he could live with that for now. At least she was speaking to him. He said, “Let’s make kiddush.”

  At the table, Decker made the blessing over wine, Rina responded with a lackluster amen at the appropriate intervals. After they washed and broke bread, Rina started to rise, but Decker put his hand on her forearm.

  “Sit,” he said. “I’ll serve.”

  She nodded.

  Decker said, “Before I do, you want to get it off your chest?”

  “Are you going to listen?”

  “Yeah, I’ll listen.”

  “Fine, then I’ll talk.”

  “Fine, go ahead.”

  “Okay.” Rina took a deep breath. “It wasn’t like you thought at all. I came home around three and realized he was here. First thing I did was call you. I called the station three times, Peter. Don’t you ever pick up your messages?”

  “If it’s an emergency, they’d beep me.”

  “But this wasn’t an emergency, Peter. It’s not like the guy was a murderer or something. You just said to keep away from him. So I did. I cooked, I cleaned, I polished. I could have been the lead write-up in the Journal of Balabustas.”

  Decker smiled.

  “I’m not complaining,” Rina continued. “I really like preparing for Shabbos. I’m old-fashioned that way. But I don’t like feeling imprisoned. I kept waiting for you to call me. Then I thought, This is utterly ridiculous. I’ve lived by myself for two years at the yeshiva, a year in New York. I’m not going to start getting regressive just because you’re around.”

  “It’s not a matter of being regressive,” Decker said. “I told you to stay away from him.”

  “What you told me is that you’re uncomfortable about him hanging around when you’re not home. Not exactly a staunch warning that he’s verboten. And I didn’t hang around him at all. I didn’t even see him for two hours. Then I went outside to take out the garbage and realized it was one hundred and two degrees at five o’clock. The guy had been working for God knows how many hours without water—unless he used the hose outside. So kill me! I took pity on the guy, your former friend, and brought him out a pitcher of orange juice. I even changed my clothes so he couldn’t misinterpret anything. Know what happened?”

  “What?”

  “I scared him. I said, ‘Abel?’ And he jumped about fifty feet. He wasn’t wearing his leg, he must have taken it off because it was so hot, and he tried to stand up and fell flat on his rear. Peter, the look on his face. He was so embarrassed. I just put down the pitcher and glass and ran into the house.

  Decker didn’t say anything.

  Rina said, “An hour later, I came back to pick up the glass. Not more than five minutes before you came home. The guy turned beet red as soon as he saw me. He’d put on his leg, by the way. I tried to ease his discomfort. I told him about this guy I knew in the IDF who lost his leg—legs. And all the phantom-limb pain he had. I guess I was babbling until I heard you pull up the car. I said, ‘Great, Peter’s home.’ Then you come roaring in like some crazed beast. What in the world came over you?”

  Decker didn’t answer.

  They sat in silence for a minute.

  Rina sighed, told herself to forget the whole thing. Peter looked so downtrodden, absolutely miserable. She squeezed his hand and said, “Sit, Peter. I’ll serve.”

  “No, I said I would.”

  “I know. Relax. I’m sure I had a much easier day than you.”

  “Thanks, Rina.” He gave her a weak smile.

  “Boys send their regards,” she said while in the kitchen.

  Damn, Decker thought. He forgot to call them. He’d been lousy to Rina, lousy to Abel. He’d probably make a lousy father to her sons as well.

  Rina came in carrying a three-divisioned platter—veal in the entrée section, potatoes with onions and peppers on one side, fresh asparagus topped with hollandaise on the other.

  “I gave them your love as well,” she said.

  “I meant to call them.”

  “They understand, honey.”

  Sure they do. Decker put a slab of meat on his plate. “Rina, I did something very stupid. You asked me about Abel, and I didn’t level with you.”

  Rina waited for more.

  “I’ve known Abel for a long time,” Decker said. “He’s crazy, eccentric, but I’ve never known him to do anything even remotely violent. So
I didn’t want to sentence him before a jury did. But I should have told you this. I bailed him out of jail a few days ago. He’d been booked for sexual assault—rape.”

  Rina’s mouth dropped open.

  Decker said, “That’s why I became unglued when I saw him with you.”

  Rina didn’t answer, just stared at him. Decker threw up his hands.

  “Go ahead and say it.”

  Rina said nothing.

  “Okay, then I’ll say it,” Decker said. “How could I be so stupid? There, now you don’t have to say it. Just give me some ears and a tail and send me off to Pleasure Island.”

  Rina cracked a smile. “Well, any man who knows about Pinocchio can’t be all bad.”

  “Thanks.”

  She fidgeted a moment. “Did he do it?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” Decker said. “I’d like to think he didn’t, but there’s some damning evidence against him. I’m supposed to be investigating the case for him, but I’ve been so preoccupied with my own work, I haven’t had a spare moment. Abel was fixing up my place, working off the bail money I gave him, even though I told him he didn’t have to pay me back…and then I forgot to call the boys.” He stared at his plate. “I was way out of line when I spoke to you like that. And yes, I was an ass for not telling you. I don’t know what goes through my head sometimes. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” She took his hand and kissed it. “Honestly.”

  “Thanks.”

  She withdrew her hand and started to eat. Though she smiled at him whenever their eyes met, Decker knew that Rina was still holding something back. Well, he wasn’t open with his feelings, either. Often when work got him down, instead of complaining to Rina, he talked to himself. Rode his horses around and around while carrying on imaginary conversations. But Decker felt that with women it should be different. They were supposed to emote.

  He said, “You’re still mad, aren’t you?”