“That Kosovsky was willing to negotiate with you should tell you how close you were.” Gold smiled. “Please feel free to call me if you’re concerned about anything. I know these guys and they can be a bit intimidating.” He looked at Rina. “For most people, that is.”
“Never let them see you sweat,” Rina said.
Gold smiled. “I do have to get back to school. Stop by if you’re ever in Cambridge. I’ll show you around.”
“That’s an offer I can take you up on,” Rina said. “I don’t see Russia in my future.”
“No, that trip has been deleted from the bucket list,” Decker said.
“Glad I saw it when I did,” McAdams said.
“I couldn’t afford it anyway,” Mulrooney added.
“You and me both,” Radar said. “Besides I don’t see a lot of vacation time in my future. Brettly’s pissed.”
“Sorry about that,” Decker said.
“Screw him. You, Oliver, McAdams, and Mulrooney did good.” A pause. “Not as good as Mrs. Decker I have to say.”
“I blush,” Rina said.
Decker shook his head. “I have to call Angeline’s parents.” To Mulrooney, he said, “You’ll take care of Latham’s parents?”
“Of course. The news won’t make any of them whole again, but at least we can say the guy was . . . dealt with. Maybe it is better . . . sparing everyone an emotional trial where bad things can come out.”
“Pleasure working with you, Chris.”
“Same here, Pete.” He smiled at Rina. “Nice meeting you, Mrs. Decker.”
“You’re earned the right to call me Rina.”
“Thank you.” Mulrooney waved and left.
With the locals remaining behind, Rina said, “How come it feels like midnight when it’s only five o’clock?”
“Did you know about the Amber Room or was that just a lucky guess?” Radar asked.
“I did happen to know that the fearless leader was the deputy mayor of St. Petersburg. So since I couldn’t think of anything else, I went with what Peter and Tyler have always said.” Rina picked up the kettle. “Tea, anyone?”
“Are you sure Kosovsky didn’t slip a Mickey in it?” Decker asked.
Rina laughed. But then she looked inside. “I don’t see any powder or anything.” She felt the pot. “It’s a little cold. Maybe I’ll just put a fresh kettle on—after I wash it out with soap and water . . . very, very hot water.”
Decker said, “Throw it away, Rina.”
“It’s pure copper.”
“I’ll get you another pure copper kettle. For your contribution to the mess, it probably should be gold plated . . . and studded with diamonds.”
“A copper pot is fine,” Rina said. “No diamonds necessary unless you want to take a trip to Maxwell Stewart’s gallery.”
Oliver said, “This is gonna cost you, Deck.”
“Big time,” McAdams said.
Decker said, “Do you think Maxwell Stewart will give me a discount?”
“After what happened, I think he’d do just about anything to get rid of all of us,” Rina said. “That is only if you’re inclined to prey on the weak, God forbid.”
CHAPTER 38
WINTER SNOWS MELTED into a very wet spring, flooding streets and highways. But that was okay with Decker. He and Rina decided to stay put for a while. By the time June rolled around, Greenbury had turned positively bucolic: sylvan woods and clean air filled with warm days, and balmy nights hosting twinkling stars and darting fireflies. There were free concerts and community fairs almost every weekend, the events held in the numerous park grounds that surrounded the town. The Fourth of July fireworks were particularly spectacular. The local theater was gearing up for another season, the performers cast with summer stock from the local colleges and even some New York stage actors in the mood for a change of scenery.
As the weather turned mild, Decker and Rina ventured out again, taking road trips to visit the children and the grandchildren, enjoying their time alone in the car as much as their time with their large family. They took up Professor Gold’s offer to visit Cambridge and Harvard University. They ended their day in Boston with drinks in Summer Village at Chris Mulrooney’s favorite bar.
Chase Goddard continued his antique store up in Boston and with the influx of summer tourists enjoying New England, Decker supposed he was doing fine. Jason Merritt’s gallery certainly did a brisk business especially with the return of two Petroshkovich icons. It was a great day of celebration for Marylebone, Rhode Island, and a great day for Allan Sugar and his partner, Douglas Arrenz. There were some murmurings of more of the Schneerson documents coming to the United States, but nothing had materialized so far. And there were no news items or articles about any traveling Leonardos, same with the Amber Room.
But these kinds of sensitive negotiations took time.
On midsummer’s day, Decker followed Gold’s advice and swept the house for hidden bugs. There were three of them—one in his car, one in the dishwasher, and one in the bedroom. At first Decker was incensed at the invasion of privacy. After cooler minds prevailed, he found humor in it. Maybe the recipients on the other end would learn a thing or two from them.
He still thought about the case, mostly when he was relaxed and alone. He knew things were irrevocably changed for Angeline’s parents and for the Lathams. But thirty years of police work had taught him to compartmentalize in order to stay sane.
With the dog days of summer passing quickly, McAdams began folding up shop. By mid-August, he was ready to roll. His injuries had healed and he felt better than ever, spending more time in the local gym. He still retained his Upper East Side superior attitude, but it was tempered with humor. The week before he started law school, he decided to go to the Hamptons to visit his father and mother—separate houses—for a few days.
On McAdams’s last day in Greenbury, he went to say good-bye to the Deckers. It was on a Saturday afternoon and the Loo and his wife were in the backyard on the patio, lazing in a couple of lounge chairs. Decker was in shorts and a T-shirt, Rina was in a polo shirt and a denim skort with her hair tied up and covered with a kerchief. On the tabletop were lemonade and beer, potato chips and crackers, and of course, Rina’s homemade cookies. McAdams pulled up a chair, popped a cold one, and nibbled on a cracker.
Decker was swigging from a longneck. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait until tomorrow. We’d be happy to drive you down . . . we just can’t do it on Shabbos.”
“No, I think I’d rather take the train,” McAdams said. “Unless you want to visit the Hamptons. But it comes with my crazy relatives.”
Rina said, “I like Nina.”
“She’s in Florence, Italy, for the summer.”
“Well, then I’ll pass.” Rina took a potato chip. “Are you excited about law school, Tyler?”
“I am resigned about law school.”
“It won’t be so bad.”
“I’m sure it’ll be better than getting shot.”
Decker said, “You’ll sail through it, Harvard.”
“I’m not worried . . . more like annoyed. But there are worse positions to be in. So I won’t complain . . . unless I feel like it . . . which is often.” He turned to Decker. “How happy will you be not to hear my bitching.”
“Very happy.”
“You’ll miss him,” Rina said.
“No, I won’t,” Decker said. “But I might miss your iPad.”
“I’ll send you one.”
“It’s not the iPad, it’s the brain,” Rina said.
“I will concede that you had promise,” Decker said. “But it would probably all go to waste anyway. Not much has happened in the last four months other than a lot of drunk and disorderlies around graduation time.”
“And the OD at Kennedy’s Pub,” Rina said. “That was pretty exciting.”<
br />
“Not so much,” McAdams said. “The kid made it.”
Rina laughed. “You’re terrible.”
McAdams smiled. He set the empty beer bottle down on the tabletop. “I spoke to Radar this morning. He said I can come back anytime. Unusually nice of him. Maybe he’s hoping for a donation.”
“Maybe he means it as a sincere offer,” Rina said.
“Technically I do have summers off.”
“Even cops go on vacation and you know the ropes,” Decker said. “Not a bad idea.”
“You think?”
“It’s easier than training a temp, although you’ll have to bone up on your shooting skills. I’m not working with anyone who can’t use a firearm.”
“That can be arranged,” McAdams said.
“What do you mean technically you have summers off?”
“Summer is traditionally the time where lawyers-to-be grab coveted legal internships. So being the contrarian that I am, I’m figuring that while most of my classmates will be slaving away with long hours and great food allowances at white shoe firms, I’d like to be back here in Greenbury, rescuing cats from trees, bitching about mankind’s stupidity, and working on my screenplay.”
“You’re like shingles,” Decker said. “I can’t get rid of you.”
“There is a vaccine for that,” McAdams said. “But you’ve got to be old to take it.”
Decker threw a potato chip at him. “So I’ll see you next summer?”
“That would be a definite yes.”
“About your screenplay, Tyler,” Rina said. “What about making the protagonist a woman?”
“It’s a possibility. I do have some good role models for it. But I don’t think I could write it as good as the real thing.”
Rina grinned. “So make it a man. You’ve got a lot to choose from there.”
“I do.”
“What’s that I hear?” Decker cupped his ear. “Is that Hollywood calling your name?”
Tyler laughed. “I don’t know about that. But you know what they say. Write what you know. And I know some pretty gutsy people.” He stood up and grabbed a handful of cookies. “For the train.”
“Help yourself,” Rina said.
Decker stood up. “I’ll walk you out.”
“Stay where you are, Old Man,” McAdams said. “I can see myself out.” He hugged them both. “Thanks.”
“For getting you shot? You’re welcome.”
“No, I could have done without that. But at least I’m walking on my own two feet. More than that, Old Man, thanks to you, I’ve learned how to stand on my own two feet.” A genuine smile crinkled the corners of his hazel green eyes. “I’ll see you and the rest of Greenbury’s finest next summer and that’s a promise.”
After he left, Decker sat back down and took a swig from the long neck. “I think I’ll miss him . . . maybe.”
“You’ll miss him. Admit it.”
He thought a long, long time about that. Then he turned to Rina and smiled. “Maybe.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
FAYE KELLERMAN lives with her husband, New York Times bestselling author Jonathan Kellerman, in Los Angeles, California, and Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
Also by Faye Kellerman
The Beast
Gun Games
Hangman
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
Cover design by Mumtaz Mustafa. Cover illustration © by Steven Dern/Getty 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.
MURDER 101. Copyright © 2014 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 nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, 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
ISBN 978-0-06-227018-4 (hardcover)
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EPUB Edition September 2014 ISBN 9780062270207
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Murder 101: A Decker/Lazarus Novel (Decker/Lazarus Novels Book 22) Page 39