Murder 101: A Decker/Lazarus Novel (Decker/Lazarus Novels Book 22)

by Kellerman, Faye

  “I have a safe also. It’s a combination lock. My father’s birthday.”

  “Probably be better if you kept it,” Decker said. “If anyone comes poking around, he’ll come to me before you.”

  HIS EYES SHOT open and his heart started thumping in his chest.

  The one thing that Decker appreciated about Greenbury was the quiet at night. It was possible to hear anything out of the ordinary. Next to him, Rina was sleeping soundly. Gently, he shook her shoulder and when she aroused, he put his finger to her lips. Her eyes widened and she brought her hand to her mouth.

  Decker whispered, “Get under the bed.”

  Rina knew better than to question. Silently, she slipped out of bed and slid under the bed frame. Once she was taken care of, Decker crept to the walk-in closet and the gun safe. Within moments, he had his loaded Beretta ready for action. He dropped down and showed Rina the gun. She nodded.

  Then the two of them waited. By now, they could both hear the rustling sounds of someone going through their stuff in the living room.

  Decker had a decision to make. Should he confront the burglar or should he wait until it was over. With Rina in the house, the decision was made for him. If there was more than one bad guy, he’d be putting her at risk by leaving her alone. No sense doing that unless it was absolutely necessary.

  If it were punks, they probably wouldn’t come into the bedroom. They’d swipe the electronics and Rina’s purse and call it a day.

  Decker’s mind kept racing, tumbling thoughts and scenarios.

  How did kids get into the house? He didn’t have an alarm, but Greenbury was safe: often neighbors didn’t even bother locking their doors. But even with that, he was a stickler. All the doors had deadbolts. All the windows were double paned and locked solid.

  It had to be professionals.

  The sounds grew louder—and closer.

  Professionals.

  Silently, Decker got up from the floor. With a few deft strokes, he made the bed, stuffing pillows under the duvet to make it look like people were still asleep. Then he crouched down next to Rina, his eyes just above the mattress and locked onto the doorway.

  And then he waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  The doorknob slowly turned.

  Crunch time.

  He’d been there before. His heart rate suddenly slowed as his brain cleared with the single thought of survival. Within a second, all his life experiences were cataloged as he pulled out the needed index card to continue on in the world.

  The door opened and a dark shadow came inside. It raised an arm straight out, the gun pointing toward the bed. Decker shouted, “Police! Freeze!”

  In slow motion, Decker saw the flash of his own gun at the same time the shadow pivoted toward his direction. As soon as the bullet hit, the figure stumbled. But he managed to remain upright, gun in hand, and took off, grabbing his shoulder and dripping blood while he fled.

  If Decker had been alone, he would have given him chase. But he dared not leave Rina in case there was more than one bad guy. She suddenly emerged from her prone position under the bed. Decker barked at her. “Get down!”

  “Oh my God! Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Stay down, Rina.” Decker heard a car screech down the street. His heart was now beating at allegro tempo. He flicked on the lights, grabbed his landline phone on his nightstand, and then realized the connection had been cut. Stupidly, he kept his cell plugged into an outlet in the kitchen. “Where’s your cell?”

  “In the closet. What’s going on?”

  Decker didn’t answer. He grabbed her cell and called 911. He started to relate the information to the emergency operator when he heard Rina’s voice say, “Peter, what about Tyler?”

  “Oh shit!” He spoke into the phone. “I need patrol cars sent immediately to . . . what the fuck is his address?” Decker was pacing now as he spoke. “Send out cars to Detective Tyler McAdams’s house immediately. It’s on Hamilton Drive . . . no, I don’t know the address! If I knew it, I’d give it to you!” He grabbed Rina while talking in the phone. “Just send someone out there now!”

  Decker clutched the phone in his right hand while pulling Rina with his left. Running through his living room, he found Rina’s car keys, grabbed them, and sprinted out the front door.

  “I know his house,” he said to her. “It’s quicker this way.” They jumped into Rina’s Volvo, which mercifully started right away He put on his seat belt, gunned the engine, and then jammed the gear into reverse. He peeled out of the driveway and skidded down the street.

  “Be careful, for God’s sake!” Rina snapped on her seat belt. “No sense getting us both killed.”

  Decker wasn’t listening. He tore down the street. “Keep your head down.” He pushed her head. “Down, dammit!”

  “It’s down, it’s down!”

  No moon out. Just a black sky except for the sporadic streetlamp.

  There was also no traffic.

  Decker sped through the traffic stops as well as the traffic lights.

  Rina was crouched down in the front seat. “Give me my phone. I’ll call him. What’s the number?”

  He gave her the phone. “God, I can’t think straight.”

  Then it came to him. Not only were Rina’s hands shaking, her entire body was convulsing. It was adrenaline, it was the cold, and it was pure fear. Still, she managed to punch in the right digits.

  “He’s not answering.”

  It didn’t matter much. They were already outside the house. No car outside. Decker gave Rina a crowbar and then cocked his gun. “C’mon.”

  They ran to his front door. He pulled her behind him and then started pounding on the wood. “Tyler?!” A pause. “Fuck it. Take my gun and cover me.”

  “Got it.”

  He took a three-step running start and shoved his shoulder into the wood. The door splintered but didn’t cave in or fall down. But the hole was enough for him to stick his hand in and undo the lock.

  Rina gave him the gun as he opened the door and turned on the room light. “Tyler?” The living room was empty, but it had been tossed. He continued to scream the kid’s name. “Are you there?”

  No response.

  “Stay behind me.” As if to prove the point, he shoved her until she was hidden by his back. “I need to clear the rooms.”

  Again, he yelled out Tyler’s name. In the ensuing silence, he heard a distant motor come to life. “Rina, call in a silver Hyundai Accent van. And no, I don’t have the license number, but if it’s in the area, I want it stopped.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Quickly, Decker went through the living room, the kitchen, and the bathroom: all empty. He went to the spare bedroom and by the time he hit the main bedroom, he could hear the distant sirens. He flipped on the lights. “Tyler! Are you here?” A pause. “Answer me, buddy.”

  They both heard the groan at the same time, but it was Rina who saw blood seeping out from the bullet-ridden closet door.

  It was locked.

  Again, Decker shoved it with his shoulder. It didn’t budge. He took the crowbar and after three lumber jack swings, he managed to splinter the plywood. He unlocked the bolt, swung the door open, and pulled down the string to turn on the closet light.

  The kid was crouched in the corner, his eyes wide open, his face covered in blood. Decker bent down, his eyes focused on the splatter on his temple. When he touched it, Tyler flinched.

  A graze wound, thank God. Decker said, “Can you hear me?”

  The kid didn’t respond, either frozen with fear or something worse. He was clutching his arm. “Let me see what’s going on, buddy.”

  Decker had to peel his hand away to see the damage. He was hit with a through and through: a small hole in the front with a bigger exit hole. It seemed to be a f
lesh wound but he couldn’t tell for certain.

  “Can you hear me?” He touched the kid’s face and locked eyes with him. “Can you hear me, Tyler? Answer me, please!”

  “I’m woozy . . .” he panted out.

  “You can talk.” To Rina, Decker shouted, “I hear the ambulance. Go direct them.”

  “Right away.”

  To Tyler, he said, “Can you move your fingers?”

  He winced. “Yeah . . .”

  “What about your toes? Can you wiggle your toes?”

  Another grimace. “Yeah . . .” As if on autopilot, he tried to stand but immediately collapsed before he could get a knee off the ground. Blood was oozing out of his leg. His skin color was ashen. His forehead felt clammy.

  “Tyler, you have to stay still. Real still. It’ll slow down the bleeding.” Decker ripped off Tyler’s pajama bottoms and to survey the damage to the legs.

  He’d been hit in the thigh. On the surface, the bone didn’t look broken, but he had no way to assess the damage that the bullet made. A half foot higher and the kid would have had a lot more to worry about than a shattered femur.

  Decker pulled a blanket off the closet shelf and covered Tyler to minimize the shock. He kept his voice low and soothing. “Can you feel pain?”

  “Fuck yeah . . .”

  “That’s good. You’ll be fine. Ambulance is already here.”

  The kid lifted the blanket to look at his groin.

  Decker said, “Your dick is fine.”

  “Don’t lie.”

  “I wouldn’t, Harvard. You’re totally intact.”

  Tears were streaming down the kid’s cheek. “Not that it’s getting much use.”

  Decker broke into nervous laughter. “You still have your wits.”

  “I’m really dizzy.”

  “Just hold on.” Decker attempted a smile. “You must be the only person in the world who has a locked closet.”

  “I keep cash . . . the safe.” He was breathing hard. “The notebook is there.” Tears were blurring his vision. “I think I’m gonna pass out.”

  “You’ll be fine, Tyler, I promise.”

  The paramedics came into the bedroom, followed by several uniformed officers. Decker stood up and pointed inside the closet. The EMTs carefully lifted Tyler onto the gurney and then went to work: an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, an IV in his veins . . . dressing the wounds, trying to stanch the bleeding.

  Tyler’s eyes beseeched Decker’s. Although the kid couldn’t talk with the mask over his mouth, Decker knew what he was thinking.

  “I’m not letting you out of my sight. I’m riding with you.” He turned to Rina. “Have one of the officers drive you to the hospital.”

  “I have the car.”

  “Rina, you can’t be alone!”

  “Right. Of course. I’ll meet you there.”

  Several minutes later, the kid was loaded in the ambulance. Decker sat on the bench as the paramedics continued to work on him. Decker took the kid’s clammy hand and when he did, Tyler closed his wet eyes.

  Thoughts jumbled inside Decker’s brain.

  Detectives are seldom whacked. But seldom isn’t never.

  For the first time ever, Decker wondered if he was truly over his head.

  He had told the kid that he could walk away from the case. Maybe he should take his own warning. Going out with a whimper and long life were much better than going out with a bang.

  His head was throbbing, his heart was pounding, and he was sweating profusely even though it was cold and, in his rush, he hadn’t bothered with a jacket or coat. He continued holding Tyler’s clammy hand, hoping that his own body heat would warm the kid up. With his free hand, Decker wiped tears from his eyes.

  Bumblefuck, USA.

  He had been bored with the job, had longed for the excitement he had left behind.

  Now his overzealous wishes were coming back to bite him in the ass.

  CHAPTER 24

  THE STORY BECAME rote after repeated recitations. Decker was trashed in body and in mind. He sat on a hard plastic chair in the hospital, waiting to hear any news from the surgeon. Rina was next to him, curled up in a ball, dozing on and off. A half-dozen officers had been at the hospital when the ambulance had arrived. Mike had reassigned them to hunt down the Hyundai silver van after a reported sighting about four miles from Decker’s house. The quiet streets of Greenbury now crawled with black-and-whites. Unfortunately the silver van remained illusive.

  Mike Radar had stayed on at the hospital. “So you have the codebook on you?”

  “It’s in the kid’s safe. The code is his father’s birthday, which I don’t know.” Decker had already explained this all to the captain but Radar was talking from nerves. Every time there was a protracted silence, the captain asked another question. Decker checked his watch against the wall clock. Both timepieces said 4:45. It was Tuesday morning. “Even if it had been stolen from his safe, it wouldn’t have mattered. Summer Village has the original.”

  “Maybe the thief wanted to see what was inside?”

  “Yeah, of course. Did you get hold of Mulrooney?”

  “About twenty minutes ago. I told him what happened and he thanked me. Don’t think he’ll be falling back asleep. He has the original codebook under lock and key.” Radar was still pacing, bleeding off adrenaline. “No news on the silver van, dammit. How could such a conspicuous car just vanish?”

  “We’ll find it,” Decker said.

  “That’s just wishful thinking.” When Decker didn’t answer, Mike said, “How did this happen? This is Greenbury, for God’s sake.”

  “Bumblefuck, USA,” Decker said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s what kids say when they’re talking about a place that no one has ever heard of. They call it Bumblefuck. McAdams asked the same question: How was this happening? I told him he should walk away from the case.” A sigh. “Actually told him he could walk away if he wanted to. And he didn’t want to. But it doesn’t matter now. We’re both in too deep.”

  Rina inhaled and woke up with a start. She stretched. “Anything?”

  “He’s still in surgery.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost five.”

  “So he’s been in for two hours.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s not so long when you consider he was hit twice. Actually three times including the graze wound on his temple.”

  “I still think you should call his parents,” Radar said.

  “He specifically told me not to call them as they were wheeling him in,” Decker said.

  “What if something happens?”

  “Mike, he’s twenty-six, he’s an adult, and he’s not going to die.”

  “You never know.”

  Decker gave him an angry glance. “He’s not going to die. He ordered me not to call his parents. The least I could do is honor his wishes.”

  “The mayor won’t like it when he finds out.”

  “So let the mayor call them.”

  Rina patted his knee in an effort to calm him down. It didn’t work. Decker got up, paced a few steps, and then he gently hit the wall several times. “If I’m going to get whacked in the line of duty, I’d at least like to know why!”

  Rina said, “I’m sure you’ll know a lot more once the codebook is squared away.”

  “Who’s this guy that McAdams called?” Radar asked.

  “Mordechai Gold. He’s a professor in the math department at Harvard.”

  “How do we know he’s trustworthy?”

  “If you or Mulrooney have a better person, make the call.”

  “I still think you should call his parents.”

  “Mike, we’re going around in circles.”

  The captain scratched his head. Then he
sat down. “The silver van, Decker. You first noticed it when you left Summer Village PD?”

  The same questions over and over and over. Decker said, “I noticed it tailing me after I left Summer Village PD. After I got on the highway, it pulled back then I lost sight of it. Second time I noticed it was when Tyler and I grabbed a cup of coffee while we poked around the galleries on Newbury. When I heard a motor being gunned, I figured that maybe it’s the van. But I don’t know. I’m probably full of shit.”

  “I doubt that.” Radar was still pacing. “If you first noticed the van in Summer Village, the main focus has to be Latham’s murder, not Angeline Moreau’s death.”

  “I agree.”

  “So . . .” Radar smacked his lips. “I think the time has come to let the pros handle it.”

  “Excuse me?” Decker said.

  “Not that you’re not a pro, Peter. But I think it’s in all our best interests to let Summer Village and Boston handle the investigation. They’re bigger, they’re more equipped, and they have more manpower.”

  “Mike, some son of a bitch broke into my house and would have shot me dead if I hadn’t gotten to him first. Someone thinks that I know way more than I do. They’re not going to stop until either they’re stopped or I’m dead.”

  Radar made a face. “Then maybe you and your wife should take a vacation.”

  “Mike, I’m a cop, for God’s sake. I’m not going to run away. They’d just track me down.” He turned to Rina. “You, on the other hand—”

  “Oh, no you don’t!”

  “I can’t babysit the kid, babysit you, and do my job.”

  “Peter, since we’ve moved here, I’ve gone to the shooting range every time you’ve gone. I’m an excellent shot. And, FYI, I don’t need your babysitting.”

  “Darlin’, maybe you should visit your parents. Your father is ninety-five.”

  “Don’t you play the parent card on me.”

  “Do you know the temperature in L.A. yesterday? A sunny, seventy-two degrees.”