“I didn’t know. If there’s anything I can do to help, please say so.”
“No, no, everything’s going to be okay. I’m just sorry about cancelling on you.”
“Hey, don’t give it a thought. We can do it another time.”
“For sure. I’ll give you a call next week and we’ll set something up.”
“Está bien, amigo.”
Murillo gets in his car and backs out of the driveway. He taps the horn as he pulls away.
Well, Jakes reflects, that explains the vibes I was getting the other night about him having problems.
“Everything all right?” Lillian asks when Jake rejoins her inside.
“Ed just had to cancel tomorrow night. I didn't know it but his wife, Gabriella, is waiting for a heart transplant. She’s having a hard time of it right now. We’ll do our thing next week sometime.”
“That’s too bad,” Lillian says. “Do you know Gabriella?”
“Yeah. In fact Anna and I used to socialize with them quite a bit back in the day. Anna and her were pretty good friends.”
“I’m sorry she’s not well. Is there anything we can do to help them out?”
“I told Ed to let me know if there was but he said they were okay. They’re a very close couple. I can tell Ed is worried about her. He saw what I went through with Anna – I’m sure it’s had an effect on him.”
“He seems like such a nice man. I hope it all works out for them.”
“Me, too.”
“Too bad about losing your night out, though.”
“I’m cool with it,” Jake says. “Just means that now that the preliminaries are out of the way we’ll be able to get to the main event faster.”
“Jesus, you’re pretty frisky, fella. What were you like before you had a bullet lodged in your brain?”
22
Jake, Lillian, and Tristan enjoy a light dinner together on the patio. It’s one of those perfect Southern California evenings: a warm breeze coming off the ocean, a spectacular sunset in the making.
“You know, Daddy, you’re looking much better lately,” Tristan comments over dessert. “The twenty pounds or whatever you’ve lost knocked about ten years off you. Especially now that your hair has grown back in. You should keep it shorter like this. Don’t you think so, Lillian?”
Lillian looks at Jake with a critical eye. She nods. “I’d have to say you’re right, Tristan. He’s looking very handsome indeed.”
“I can understand Tristan’s incentive for being so nice,” Jake replies. “She’s probably going to hit me up for some money. But what’s your motive, Lil?”
Lillian smiles but there is also, Jake notes, a bit of melancholy in her look. “No ulterior motive,” she says quietly.
“So what’s on the agenda for you this evening, honey?” Jake says to Tristan.
“Keith and I are going out. It’s going to be an early night, though. What about you guys?”
Lillian gazes at Jake with an overly interested, wide-eyed look on her face. “Yeah, Jake, what about us guys.”
Jake is immediately reminded of their earlier plans and turns a vivid shade of red. The look of abject embarrassment is so prevalent he has to leave the table. He hears Tristan and Lillian snickering as he slinks into the house. “Good one, Lil,” Tristan says.
The one positive thing to come out of the little encounter he has endured is that the two ladies in his life seem to be getting along just fine.
Jake is in the living room reading a newspaper when he hears Keith Abrams’ car pull into the driveway. He puts down the paper and walks to the front entry. When he opens the door Abrams is coming up the walkway.
“Hi, Keith,” Jake says.
“How are you doing, Jake?”
“I’m hanging in there. Tristan will be right down. Come on in. I wanted to ask you something before you take off.”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I was just curious about Bobby. I haven’t heard from him for a few days and he hasn’t returned several calls. Is everything okay?”
There is little doubt that Abrams has been made to feel uncomfortable by Jake’s question. “Yeah… he’s fine. I think maybe he’s feeling a little under the weather. Probably got a touch of the flu or something.”
Jake’s radar wouldn’t even have to be working for him to recognize such an obvious falsehood. As it is, it’s an almost laughable attempt at deception. “You can tell me the truth, Keith. I’ve known Bobby for a long time. I can tell when things aren’t exactly going his way.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do. Is Bobby in some kind of trouble?”
“If he is he hasn’t told me about it.”
“Would you say that he’s been a valuable member of your team lately? Contributing at an effective level?”
“Jesus, Jake, this sounds like an Internal Review Board inquisition. What the hell is it you want from me?”
“Is Bobby's drinking getting out of control?”
“Bobby is fine. Maybe he’s going through a bit of shit right now but it’s his business. I am not going to stand here and crap on the guy. He’s my partner and I’ve got his back no matter what.”
Jake takes a moment to absorb what Abrams has said. On the one hand the young cop has shown a commendable level of support for his partner but, on the other, he has admitted that all is not exactly perfect. Overall, the discomfiture that Abrams is showing is understandable enough and it is apparent to Jake that he’s unlikely to get much more out of him. “Okay, okay,” he says tapping Abrams on the shoulder with an open palm. “Sorry for the third degree. I’m just a little worried about him, that’s all. Tell him I’d really like to hear from him.”
“Sure,” Abrams says, somewhat mollified. “I’ll tell him.”
Tristan comes down the stairs and takes Abrams’ arm, leading him quickly to the door. “Later, Daddy,” she says.
* *
At ten o’clock Marius Dupree leaves his Holmby Hills residence in the guise of a slightly portly well-to-do retiree and drives his Mercedes V12 twin-turbo Maybach to the parking lot at the Santa Monica Pier. He saunters casually to the Bubba Gump Shrimp Company on the pier. He takes delight in the fact that the restaurant, one of his favorite eating spots, is located within a few yards of the Santa Monica Police Harbor Unit.
It’s an hour to closing time and, as usual, the place is crowded. Dupree spots his asset, as he has come to think of him, seated at a table in the corner. “May I join you?” he asks in a quiet voice, the accent a perfect rendition of moneyed Southern California.
The man pushes a chair towards Dupree with his foot and says nothing.
Dupree takes a handkerchief from his pocket and, after sitting, uses it to position the chair more comfortably. “Not eating this evening, my friend?” he says, noting a glass half full of what he assumes is some kind of liquor.
“Only tourist chumps would pay the prices at this joint,” the man replies. I really don’t know what you find so great about this place.”
Dupree looks out over the ocean. “A spectacular view, nice waitresses, and very decent giant shrimp,” he responds. “What more could anyone ask?”
“Yeah, well … whatever. Listen, I don’t have a lot of time. You have my money?”
“Of course,” Dupree says. He reaches into an inside pocket of his sports coat and, with his handkerchief, extracts a bulky envelope which he places under a paper napkin on the table. “Ten thousand, as we agreed.”
“I need more than that.”
“I know you do, my friend. And you shall have it. A great deal more. But you know our arrangement.”
“When do you want it to happen?”
“Soon.”
“This isn’t going to be easy. It’s got to look like I couldn’t possibly prevent what happens. You understand that, right?”
“Of course,” Dupree says agreeably. “Work out the details. I’ll call you in a week.” He stands and brushes non-existe
nt lint from his lapel. “Have a nice evening.”
* *
With Tristan safely back at home Jake and Lillian turn in early. “You seemed a little down at dinner tonight,” Jake says. “That is, before you guys decided to have a little fun at my expense. Is anything wrong?”
Lillian hesitates for a long moment before answering. “I’ve been doing some thinking lately … about us.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re thinking in terms of ‘us’,” Jake says, then notes the serious look this inspires on Lillian’s face. “What is it, Lil. What’s wrong?”
There’s another one of those painfully long moments of silence. “Jake, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how I feel about you. It’s just … I don’t know how to … oh, hell. Just forget it.”
“Is it because of my health? Are you worried that I won’t be around long?”
“No, it isn’t that.”
“Then what?”
“Come to bed. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Right now you’ve got a main event coming up if I’m not mistaken.”
It’s a reminder he is not inclined to ignore.
23
Sunday morning Jake is awake early. Lillian’s head is resting on the crook of his arm, her breathing is soft and contented. He could easily envision a lifetime filled with such mornings but the realities of their existence do not bode well for tranquil musings. They’ve got to make some decisions about what to do with the information they have uncovered about Marius Dupree. Maybe they’re way off base about him – it’s possible everything is simply a case of coincidence in the extreme. But maybe not, too. It just may be that they have the means to bring about the end of a vicious serial killer’s reign. But who to trust? As much as Jake finds the prospect of his friend as a possible accomplice to such contemptible acts a revolting thought, there is no denying that the possibility does exist. Even if it turns out that Bobby Schultz is completely guiltless it does not preclude the likelihood - in Jake’s mind, at least - that someone else in the LAPD is culpable.
If it were not the case that Tristan’s life has been threatened by this piece of shit Jake might be inclined to give the LAPD the benefit of the doubt. But, given the facts, there is no way he’s willing to take that chance. When it comes to his daughter’s welfare there is simply no room to gamble.
No matter which way he looks at it, though, the fact that Bobby has been avoiding him is difficult to reconcile. Notwithstanding Keith Abram’s assurance that Bobby is merely going through a rough patch, Jake is convinced there is more to it than that. The need to confront Bobby face to face has become vital. Although in his conversations with Lillian, Jake has downplayed his ability to ‘read’ minds, he has in reality come to put more than a little reliance in this latent talent of his. It seems to be something that, at times, he is able to pull off with amazing accuracy while, at others, he seems totally inept. It’s all too obvious that Lillian tests him on a regular basis with her little mind games. He’s not sure whether he’s been able to fool her into thinking he’s unaware of her mind shouting or not. She’s a much more difficult ‘read’ than most, he finds. He speculates that, because she’s aware of his ability, she has somehow blocked him from exploring her thoughts the few times he has tried.
“Did you know you frown when you’re deep in thought?” Lillian says, bringing him out of his reverie.
He turns on his side to face her. “Deep, lustful thoughts of you,” he says.
“Liar. But thanks for saying it anyway.” She kisses the end of his nose and hops out of bed.
“Did you sleep well?” he calls to her as she disappears from his sight.
“Like a rock,” she answers, then pokes her head out of the bathroom. “I wonder why?”
Their interrupted conversation of last night comes back to him as he lays back on propped up pillows. Lillian had been on the verge of telling him something before she had shifted gears and they had moved on to less intellectual pursuits. Unless he misses his guess, whatever it was had some significance. He makes a mental note to question her about it and, if all else fails, to try a read.
* *
“I’m sorry I took so long to get back to you,” Schultz says when he finally phones just before lunch.
“Is everything alright, Bobby?” Jake asks.
“Yeah … I just got a touch of the flu I guess. Been pretty much out of it.”
If he’s got the flu, Jake thinks, it’s probably of the twenty-six ounce variety. “So, any chance you could stop by the house so we could go over what’s been happening with the case?”
“Yeah, sure… I uh, I could stop by after work today. Sure.”
Could this guy be any more nervous? Jake wonders. “Okay. We’ll see you then.”
“You bet.”
When Jake hangs up Lillian says, “You finally heard from him, huh?”
“Something’s wrong, Lil. I can hear it in his voice. And I don’t mean I’m reading him. It’s just real obvious.”
“What are you going to tell him when he comes over?”
“I’m going to see how it goes. If I get a bad feeling from hearing him talk I just won’t say anything about what we’ve come up with. I don’t know any other way to handle it.”
“One step at a time,” Lillian says. “It’s all we can do.”
Jake can’t imagine that Bobby could possibly be involved with a serial killer. It simply doesn’t compute for him. He knows, for Tristan’s sake, he has to keep an open mind – be willing to consider even the most remote of possibilities – but this is way beyond the realm of possibility in his view. “I know you’re right, Lil, but it ain’t easy.”
“I know.”
“So, how about telling me what’s on your mind that you so skillfully avoided talking about last night. I don’t have to be a mind reader to see something’s eating at you.”
Lillian turns away from him and busies herself preparing sandwiches for them. Jake stares at her back, waiting her out.
A moment later Lillian stops what she’s doing and turns to him. She takes a deep breath. “Jake, I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely honest with you about something.”
“Okay,” Jake says. “Spit it out, babe. I promise I won’t hate you, no matter what.” He strives for a light-hearted tone to his voice.
“I know you’re aware I’m older than you.”
“Oh, hell, Lil, is that all this is about? I don’t give a rat’s ass that you’re a couple of years older than me. It doesn’t matter one damn bit.”
Lillian chews on her lower lip before responding. “I'm afraid it’s more than just a couple,” she says haltingly.
“I don’t care, Lil. Put it out---”
“Jake, I’ll be sixty in a couple of months.”
Sixty!? Jesus, how can she possibly be twelve years older than him? If anything she looks younger. Although he wants desperately to react well to this news there is no hiding the fact that it has shocked him. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” he asks.
“I know I should have. There just never seemed to be a good time to bring up the subject. The other night when Tristan commented on how well you were doing and how you were looking even younger than before the shooting, I started to worry about the age thing. I can envision a time in the not too distant future when it’ll be very obvious that I’m much older than you.”
“Listen, Lil, I can’t pretend I’m not a little surprised by all this but, honestly, I don’t care. I meant what I said earlier.”
She looks at him with doubt in her eyes. “I can’t say the same, Jake. It bothers me.”
“Why is that? Do you care what other people think? No one needs to know your age if it bothers you.”
“No, it’s not that. The fact is it’s different for women. Not fair, I admit, but that’s the way it is. Notwithstanding what you seem to think, I believe you’re going to live a long life. When you’re sixty, Jake, I’ll be seventy-two. You’ll be a vibrant man and I’ll be an old woman. No matter what
you think right now, your feelings will change as the age difference becomes more obvious. I don’t want to be put in the position of being pitied.”
“I would never feel that way about you.”
“You’re a good man. I know you honestly believe what you’re saying is true. But in time your attitude will change. You won’t like it, but it’ll happen just the same.”
“Please don’t do this, Lil. I haven’t said it before but I will now. I’ve fallen in love with you. I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”
For a long moment they stare into each others eyes. Then Lillian turns suddenly and walks quickly from the room.
He’s tempted to go after her, force her to see things his way. But he senses it is not the time for a confrontation on this issue. He knows that if he pushes too hard right now it will end badly for him. And he knows, above all else, that he doesn’t want what he has with Lillian to end.
24
Bobby Schultz’s arrival couldn’t come at a worse time. The discussion with Lillian has left Jake weakened and depressed. He’s not sure he’s up to another debilitating encounter.
When Jake hears the knock at his door he’s tempted to ignore it, pretend he’s not home. But he knows too much time has already been allowed to pass without confronting his old friend. There are questions that need to be asked and too much is at stake to let things ride.
Schultz’s appearance has a startling effect on Jake. Even Crocket seems to sense something is wrong. He sniffs briefly at their guest when he enters the house and then takes refuge behind Jake.
“Jesus, Bobby, you look terrible,” Jake says once he gets him seated in the living room. The smell of alcohol is strong. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything’s fine. I just got a few problems with my finances. Creditors on my ass, that kind a shit.”
THE FOURTH BULLET: A Novel of Suspense Page 13