He said, “Leave the pot.”
Decker came out, towel drying his head. “Hey, Chris. Thanks for coming.”
Donatti looked up. “You look old.”
“So do you,” Decker said. “Your hair is whiter than mine.”
“That’s what happens when you’re a natural blond.”
Decker stared at him. “You look . . . evil, Chris.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Rina said. “Perfect casting for the bad guy in a James Bond film. You know the psychopathic, albino hit man?”
“I’m not albino,” Chris said. “Are you done?”
“I’m just saying . . .”
Donatti had gone back to staring at his laptop. “This couldn’t have come at a worse time. I am so behind in all my shit. It would really be nice to have a kid to help me out. Instead I got Mr. Artsy Fartsy touring around the world like some hotshot.”
Rina said, “He is a hotshot.”
“He’s an asshole.”
Decker said, “Kids don’t always follow in the way of their parents. Look at mine.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Decker. Your daughter’s a cop.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” When Decker started to pour himself a cup of coffee, Donatti said, “That’s mine.”
“I’ll make you a fresh pot, Chris. You deserve that much.”
“And I’ll come with you,” Rina said.
Once they were in the kitchen, she bit her lip and told herself to calm down before she started in on him. “You completely disregarded my feelings.”
“I disregarded your feelings, but I regarded your safety. Safety won out. With him around, I will truly not worry about you, and that means I can concentrate on my job.”
“When did you even call him?”
“Around one in the morning, our time. I just couldn’t fall asleep I was so preoccupied. I did what I did because Carter was eating at my soul, and I didn’t want to do something dumb.”
“This was dumb.”
“No, it wasn’t. This way, if need be, Chris can be the enforcer and I can be the reasonable cop and stay on the case. It was eleven in Elko when I called him. I don’t think he gave the matter more than two seconds’ thought before he jumped on his private jet and came out here.” Decker measured out coffee and poured fresh water into the tank. “I know he’s a loose cannon, but he’ll protect you and that’s my primary concern right now.”
By the time they returned, Donatti had taken out three guns and placed them on the dining room table: an SW 357 Magnum; a Glock G22 semiautomatic pistol; and a Mossberg Persuader 12-gauge shotgun with a pistol grip. He picked up the Mossberg. He looked like a commando off to the Afghani caves. “This one’s just for show. But it’s got a convincing personality. Tell me what happened again.”
Decker explained it to him. Donatti neither interrupted nor asked questions. At the end, all he said was “Got it.”
Rina said, “I don’t think you’re going to need the arsenal.”
Chris looked at her. “Did I call you or did you call me?”
“I didn’t call anyone. I’m going to start cooking for the holidays.” Donatti said nothing. “I may have to go to the market.” Silence. “Like in about two hours. Is that okay?”
“Give me ten minutes’ lead time.” Back to his work.
Rina paused. “Thanks for coming out on such short notice, Chris. I really do appreciate it. It should only be for a couple of days.” No answer. “I know you’re busy.”
“Always.”
“Thanks.”
“Fine.”
Decker placed the pot in front of him. “I’m going to work. Need anything else?”
“Nope.”
“Take care of her.”
“Yep.”
Donatti had never been loquacious. But the years seemed to have turned him into a man of even fewer words. His actions, however, always spoke volumes.
Chapter 30
McAdams’s outrage was apparent even over the phone. “That is utterly appalling. I’ll kill the man myself. Is Rina okay?”
“I’ve got someone watching her for a day or two until I can figure out my next move.”
“Who?”
“Someone.”
“Obviously you don’t want to get specific. How can I help, Peter?”
“You can’t, McAdams. You’ve got school to worry about. But I didn’t want you to hear any of this secondhand.”
“Let me do something.” Silence over the phone. “Come on, Old Man. I feel so useless. Come up with something.”
“Okay, this was on my to-do list. It’s monotonous, I’m warning you. Do you have a pencil?”
“I do. I’ve been finding that lo-tech is better for taking notes. I don’t write as much, but I hear what’s being said and remember it much better. Tell me what I can do.”
“I was interested in Hank Carter not only because he was charismatic, but because Yvette Jones was last seen leaving his lecture. By that same token, Delilah Occum was last seen leaving a party at Morse McKinley, right?”
“Right.”
“I’m interested in who was at that party. I know we have a list, and I know that Carter and Pallek are not on it. But I also know that the list is incomplete. Let’s use it as a jumping-off point.”
“I’ll call everyone on the list, recheck their alibis.”
“Yes, that, too, but this is my thinking. Kids take pictures of everything—from keggers to the food they’re eating. I’d like you to ask everyone on the list if they have photographs from that night.”
“That was three years ago.”
“Do you have photographs from three years ago on your phone?”
“Actually, I do. If not on my phone, they’re in the cloud.”
“Exactly. Some of the people may have kept the pictures just out of ghoulish interest.”
“I don’t have the original file. As I recall there were photographs in it.”
“You recall correctly. Kevin had amassed pictures of Delilah talking to various people at the party. Those were the first people he interviewed. Mostly she was hanging with Snowe and his buddies, who all alibied one another. I’m still not down with that. Buddies lie for one another. But they’re not my main focus since Delilah was buried at Bogat with the others who were murdered long before any of Snowe and his buds was enrolled in school. I’m interested in who was at that party and whether or not they were captured talking to Delilah.”
“You want to see if Carter was there.”
“Anyone: student, faculty, employee, townie. And yes, Carter as well. I’m trying not to have tunnel vision, but after last night it’s getting harder. Let’s just see who we can place at the party.”
“I’ll start making calls. So once again, I ask you. Who’s watching Rina?”
“I hired out.”
“You hired a bodyguard? That doesn’t sound like you. C’mon, fess up. Is it your ancient buddy from your L.A. days?”
“No, it’s not Scott Oliver—who is now running a very successful security firm in Miami. It’s just someone who was handy. Thanks, Harvard.”
“No thanks necessary. I’m dying to nail the bastard. Any way I can help.”
Decker hung up the phone. The first order of business was to find out as much as he could about Hank Carter and Michael Pallek before he interviewed Lydia Urbana—Pallek’s wife and Carter’s sister-in-law. An hour later, still engrossed in his computer, Decker jumped at the jangling ring tone of his cell. He looked at the screen—an out-of-town area code: 805.
“This is Decker.”
“Hello, stranger.”
Decker sat up. “Margie! How the hell are you?”
“Doing well.”
“And Will?”
“Retired and happy. He’s into bird-watching. He’s kind of gotten me into it as well.”
“I can see that. You both like to travel and you both like the outdoors.”
“And we’re both a little nuts.”
“Aren’t we all a little something? It’s so good to hear your voice. It must be my week for old friends.”
“Watch that adjective, Detective.”
“However old you are, I’m older. Keep that in mind.”
“What do you mean your week for old friends?”
“Oh boy. I tell you this with great reluctance.” Decker took his time, relating what happened last night and his solution. When he was done, there was silence over the phone. “Are you still there?”
“I am,” Marge said. “Exactly what made you think it was a good idea to involve Christopher Donatti in anything?”
“It is a reasonable question. Both Rina and I think that Carter is trying to make it personal to get me thrown off the case.”
“I’ll buy that.”
“Donatti’s my Hessian. He can fight the war so I can concentrate on the job.”
“The British lost the war, Pete.”
“He’s only here for a day or two until I can catch my breath and figure out my next strategy with Carter. Once I calm down, I’ll send him back. But we both know he’ll take good care of Rina. Enough about my problems. What’s going on, Sergeant?”
“That woman’s picture you sent me? Erin Young? You thought she might be in L.A.?”
Decker sat up. “You found her?”
“Not sure. If I did, it’s like a needle in a haystack. I’m going to scan the picture. I hate to be old-fashioned, but these pictures were taken without her knowledge. So they’re not very good and the images don’t scan well. Let me know what you think.”
“Who is the woman in the pictures?”
“I know her as Elena Hardgreeves. She doesn’t have a Facebook page or any kind of social media, which is suspicious in and of itself.”
“Where’d you find her?”
“First just look at the pictures, okay?”
“Sure.” Fifteen minutes later he was back on the phone with Marge. “It may be her, but it’s hard to say. My captain is trying to get a warrant to see if anyone has been paying taxes under Erin Young’s Social Security number, but that is slow going. Tell me what you know about Elena.”
“She works as a waitress at a local fish restaurant in Old Town Ventura. She moved here about three years ago, which kind of fits with your time frame. It could be she originally moved to L.A., but then she got tired of the city that eats its own babies. I don’t know what she did before she came to my city, but before she was a waitress, she worked as a live-in caregiver for a very nice old lady who died six months ago.”
“Suspicious death?”
“Not at all. The woman was eighty-six and died of colon cancer. The woman had kids, but I think she left Elena some money. Obviously not enough to retire on, but it was enough for her to rent an apartment of her own.”
“Have you talked to her yet?”
“No, I haven’t. I thought you’d like to come out here and do it yourself—under my official guidance, of course.”
“Of course.” Decker thought quickly. If he hustled, he could arrange a trip to the West Coast before Shabbat tomorrow. Although they’d have to leave very early Friday morning, time was on their side. The spontaneous vacation would serve a multifold purpose. He could interview Elena, get Rina out of town and away from Carter, and they could spend a romantic weekend together in Ventura. As for Donatti, he’d be glad to crawl back under his rock.
“I can probably arrange to be there tomorrow right before the Sabbath so I wouldn’t be able to talk to her until Sunday. What are Elena’s hours?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out. You’re bringing Rina, of course?”
“Absolutely. Where’s the best place to stay for the weekend?”
“There are a couple of really nice places with ocean views. I’ll book something for you.”
“You’re still my gal, Margie. Always will be my gal.”
“I miss you, Pete. In my head, you talk to me all the time. Whenever I’m at a crossroads, I ask, ‘What would Decker do?’”
“I hope it helps.”
“It does.”
“I’m glad. It’s been a tough week, but it just got a lot better. I’ll go phone Rina now. Thanks so much.”
“Don’t be a stranger.”
“I could say the same for you,” Decker told her. “You know we have guest bedrooms and we live in the woodlands. Lots of birds.”
“Thank you, Peter. If the free accommodations don’t do it, the recent sighting of the ‘flying rainbow’ spotted bunting just might do the trick.”
Even though the car was a Prius, Donatti heard it pull up to the curb. His ears, sensitive to the slightest sound from birth, had become particularly acute because over the years he had made enemies. It was especially useful now because his sight wasn’t what it used to be. He stood up from the dining room table and walked over to the picture window, hiding himself in a corner, looking through the sheer drapes. He walked over to the kitchen. “Come here for a sec.”
Rina knew the drill from Peter: cooperation first, the questions later. Chris was as tall as Peter, but in his boots he was easily six-six. He guided her to the corner of the window. A man had gotten out of the car, carrying a bouquet of flowers. “Is that your Romeo?”
“Yes, that’s Hank Carter. God, what does he want?”
“Go in the back.”
“I want to hear what he has to say.”
“Then go in the hallway. Just don’t be around when I open the door.”
Donatti untucked his shirt and stuck the Glock in his jeans. Carter knocked and Donatti answered the door, waiting until Carter spoke first. The guy was around five ten with an average build and looked to be around his age, maybe a couple years older.
Carter said, “I’m looking for Rina Decker.”
Donatti said nothing.
“Is she in?”
“Indisposed. What do you want?”
“That’s between Mrs. Decker and myself.”
“Well, now it’s between Mrs. Decker, you, and me. What do you want?”
Slowly a smile came to Carter’s lips. “Indisposed?”
Donatti said, “I’m her brother. What do you want?”
Carter shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t look like her brother.”
“Half brother. Look at the eyes.” Donatti folded his hands in front of his chest. “What do you want with my sister? Why are you bringing her flowers? She’s married and her husband isn’t home. What are you doing here?”
“Nothing.” Carter looked down. “It’s a peace offering, that’s all. I wanted to apologize.”
“For what?”
“That’s really not any of your business.”
Donatti was silent.
Carter sighed. “She may have misconstrued my behavior yesterday as inappropriate.”
“You’re not helping your case coming here when her husband isn’t home.”
Rina stepped into Carter’s line of vision. “What do you want?”
“May I come in, Ri— . . . Mrs. Decker?”
Rina rolled her eyes. “Let him in. It’s all right.”
Donatti didn’t move. Carter had to step around him. He went into the living room and Rina relieved him of the flowers. “I’ll put these in water.” She disappeared into the kitchen.
Carter’s eyes went to the two guns on the table. “Someone’s a fan of the Second Amendment.”
“I love guns but can’t own any. Felony conviction. These are Rina’s.” Donatti made a show of retrieving the Glock from his waistband. “Sit down.”
“What were you in for?” Carter sat down.
“Murder, but it was a misunderstanding.”
Rina came out with a vase of flowers and put them on the table. Carter said, “You have a brother who was in the slammer for murder?”
“Half brother,” Donatti corrected.
Without missing a beat, Rina laid a hand on Chris’s shoulder. “There’s always one in every family.”
“What parent d
o you two have in common?”
Both Donatti and Rina said father in unison. Donatti gave her a look that said, Let me talk. Rina gave him a look that said, I can talk for myself. She said, “My parents’ marriage was on the rocks and my dad was feeling his oats, I guess.” She smiled.
Carter said, “You find that humorous.”
Actually what Rina found humorous was the thought of her parents—both Holocaust survivors—ever straying. They had always been more in love with each other than anyone else, including their kids. “I didn’t find the situation humorous, no. Just the result.”
“He’s a funny guy?” Carter asked.
“A barrel of laughs,” Donatti answered.
Carter looked at the guns. His hand stretched out toward the Magnum and was instantly slammed down on the table by Donatti’s palm. Carter yanked his hand away and waved it in the breeze. “Yeow! Jesus, are you crazy! I just wanted to look.”
Donatti spoke mildly. “Looking isn’t a problem. Touching is. I think you’ve overstayed your visit.”
“You’re psycho!” He glared at Rina. “He’s not your brother. He’s probably some goon that your husband hired to watch over you.”
Rina stared at him. “Why in the world would Peter hire someone to watch over me?”
Silence. “With the murders and all.”
“My husband was a homicide cop for thirty years. It never spilled over into our personal lives. I’ve never even thought about it.”
Carter waved his hand in the air again. “You haven’t heard the end of this.” He got up and started toward the door.
Donatti said, “Hey, Carter. You may know where she lives. But I know where you live.”
Carter said, “Are you trying to intimidate me?”
“That wasn’t intimidation.” Donatti got up, ambled over to Carter, and closed in until their chests were touching. Chris absolutely towered over him. “This is intimidation.”
Bone Box Page 25