Hangman

by Faye Kellerman

  “I can move to Santa Fe,” Gabe blurted out.

  “You’re not moving anywhere,” Rina said.

  Again, Mark laughed. “I have a waiting list a mile long and to bump him to the top would be unfair.”

  “Of course,” Rina said. “Maybe you can recommend someone?”

  “Hold on a minute. I said it would be unfair…if I decided to take him on full-time. But since this looks like a temporary situation, I’d be willing to see him for a few lessons.”

  Rina said, “That would be really nice of you.”

  Mark said, “This is the deal, Gabe. I don’t demand one hundred percent perfection in your playing. But I do demand…one hundred percent dedication. If I make time for you, you’d better be prepared.” He took out his BlackBerry. “I can only see you once…no, let’s make it twice a week at…ten in the morning at USC. I have no other time. I don’t know how that affects your schooling.”

  Rina said, “We can work around that. What days?”

  “How about…Tuesday and…and if I move this and move this appointment there…” He played with his PDA. “Let’s try out Monday and Thursday at ten—sharp.”

  “I teach,” Rina said. “I have to be in school by nine—”

  “I can take the bus,” Gabe said.

  Rina ignored him. “My husband or I will drop him off early. I’m sure he can figure out something to do.”

  “It’s a university with a major music department,” Mark said. “There are practice rooms.” He regarded Gabe. “You don’t drive or you don’t have a car?”

  “He’s too young,” Rina told him. “He’ll be fifteen in June.”

  “Younger than I thought. Even better. What kind of piano do you have?”

  “We don’t have piano,” Rina said. “Do you have a recommendation?”

  “A good piano is tens of thousands of dollars.”

  “That would be very pricey,” Rina said.

  “I’ll see if I can loan you something from the university,” Mark told her. “But no playing until your hand is completely healed and you get the okay from Dr. Birenbaum.”

  “It should take about a week before all the bruises are gone,” the doctor told him.

  “So let’s make our first lesson a week from today if you’re still around.” He entered some data in his PDA. “What etudes do you know?”

  “All the Chopin ten Etudes, some of the twenty-fives, and some of the Liszt Transcendental. I have the sheet music for those and the ones I don’t know by heart.”

  “Bring them with you. We’ll start with that.” He offered him a business card. “You did a pretty good job with ‘La campanella,’ but I definitely want you to lay off that until we do some of the etudes. Call the night before if you can’t make it.”

  Gabe took the card. He was beaming. “Thank you so much, Mr. Mark, for this opportunity.”

  “Of all of your teachers…the only one I know is Ivan Lettech. I’m going to give him a call. Anything you’d like to tell me before I speak to him?”

  “He taught me for almost a year. I think it went okay. He told me I needed to enter more of the major competitions to make myself known.”

  “Did you?”

  “Uh, the family situation at that time made it a little hard. But I’m older and things are better. Or maybe not better. Maybe more stable. Well, I don’t know if ‘stable’ is the right word. Am I rambling?”

  “A little bit,” Rina said. “Whatever guidance he needs would be appreciated.”

  “Not a problem.”

  Gabe looked down. “I think Mr. Lettech was angry when I left for California.” His eyes went to Mark’s face. “If you do speak to him, please tell him again that the move wasn’t my idea.”

  THE MASKED MAN with the whip wasn’t Aaron Otis. The tats, as small as they were, didn’t match up. Aaron continued to study the pictures. “It’s not Greg, that’s for sure. It could be Garth. I really can’t make out the tattoos. Could you enlarge the pictures?”

  Decker gave the snapshots to Marge.

  “Have someone scan it into the computer and see if we can bring up a larger image.” After she left the interview room, Decker said, “Recognize the girl?”

  “Doesn’t look like Adrianna.”

  “Do you think you might recognize her if we enlarged her face?”

  Aaron shook his head. “Honestly, Lieutenant, she doesn’t look familiar.” The young man raised an eyebrow. “Too bad. Looks like she might have been fun.”

  Decker failed to find the humor in two corpses and a missing woman. He remained flat-faced and Aaron turned red.

  “Sorry.”

  “And you haven’t heard a peep from Garth?”

  “Nothing. I’d tell you if I did. I love Garth, but if he’s mixed up in something bad, I don’t want any part of it.”

  Oliver came in. “Can I see you for a moment, Lieutenant?”

  Decker excused himself. The two of them talked outside the interview room.

  “Marge is still scanning in the photographs,” Oliver told him. “Greg Reyburn walked into the police station about five minutes ago. I put him in room number three. Do you want to talk to him or should I do it?”

  “You can do it.”

  Oliver took out his notebook and read from a list. “Find out where he’s been for the last twenty-four hours, check out the alibi, ask him again about Garth and their camping trip, show him the snapshots I found in Mandy’s apartment, ask him to identify the tattoos, then lastly about Mandy Kowalski. Anything else?”

  “That about covers it. Aaron claims he doesn’t recognize Mandy in the photo as someone he knows or has seen around.”

  “Do you think he’s lying?”

  “He’s been cooperative. He’s clearly not the masked man, but he could have taken the pictures. He even made a joke about it. Said it was too bad he didn’t know her. She seems like a lot of fun.”

  “Rim shot,” Oliver said, miming a drummer hitting a cymbal.

  “Indeed, it was a joke of poor timing and poor taste. Aaron needs to revamp his material.”

  GREG REYBURN LOOKED at the enlarged pictures with tired, red-rimmed eyes. “That snake up his arm with the wings…it’s like the medical symbol.”

  “The caduceus,” Oliver said.

  “Yeah, Garth has one just like it.” Reyburn raked his black curls with his hand and made a face. “I’m no prude. I like a good time just like anyone. I could see me doing something like that maybe once or twice…like if I was piss-drunk…but even I don’t think I’d take pictures of me acting like an ass no matter how drunk I was.”

  Oliver nodded. “Do you know if Garth has played dress-up before?”

  “If it is Garth. I mean, a lot of people could have that cadu…what did you call it?”

  “Caduceus.”

  “I’m sure that’s a common tat with the doctors.”

  Oliver hadn’t known too many inked-up physicians in his lifetime, but who knew around the younger set. It was a new world out there. “Do you recognize any of the other tattoos?”

  “Well…” Reyburn sifted through the pictures again. “This one.” He pointed to a black widow in her web. “He has this one, too.”

  “So let’s assume it’s Garth,” Oliver said. “What about the girl?”

  Reyburn shrugged. “I can’t place her.”

  “You never met her at one of Garth’s and Adrianna’s parties?”

  “Maybe.” He gave the photographs back to Oliver. “They sure partied a lot, entertained some strange people. I don’t remember any girl wearing a leather collar with spikes and a bustier, but I didn’t check out everyone.”

  Oliver gave the pictures to Greg. “Look at them one more time.”

  Reyburn cooperated. One pose—the masked man riding her back—caught his interest. “Maybe yes, maybe no. That’s the best I can do right now.”

  “Any idea who took the picture?”

  “Not me.”

  “How about Adrianna or Crystal?”r />
  “I’d just be guessing.” He shook his head. “Can I go now? I’m pretty fucked up right now. Crystal and I were friends, you know.”

  “How close?”

  “Did we have sex? Yeah, we did.” His eyes moistened and he tried to cover it by rubbing them. “Crystal was a free spirit.”

  “Did her freedom include Garth?”

  “Probably.”

  “Probably or definitely.”

  “Definitely. I remember once…when Garth was completely blitzed…I think he suggested a threesome with her.”

  “And?”

  “Wasn’t my thing.” He stopped. “At least not with him. Maybe if it had been Adrianna and Crystal, but not Garth and Crystal.”

  “Let’s get back to Adrianna. Did you ever do her?”

  Greg shook his head. “No…not that I woulda said no if the situation came up, but we never got around to it.”

  “Aaron did her.”

  Reyburn shrugged. “Good for him. I didn’t.”

  “How did Garth feel about Aaron fucking Adrianna?”

  “Never talked to him about it.” He scratched his stubbly face. He had broken out over his forehead and chin. “Garth knew that Adrianna was screwing around. And Adrianna knew that Garth was screwing around. And both of them were kinda jealous of the other one. Why they stayed together was a big question mark.”

  “I heard Adrianna was giving Garth play money and that’s why he stuck with her.”

  “Yeah, she gave him a couple hundred here and there.”

  “What did he do with it?”

  Reyburn shrugged “Took it to Vegas.”

  “I heard he spent a lot more on women than on gambling.”

  “Maybe. Garth liked his pussy.”

  “So maybe that’s why he stayed with Adrianna. She gave him money.” When Greg’s eyes darted back and forth, Oliver said, “What is it?”

  Reyburn threw up his hands. “You’re going to think I’ve been holding out on you…but I just thought of something. It could be that Adrianna wasn’t the only one giving Garth pocket change.”

  “Go on.”

  “I say it could be because I never really believed Garth.” Reyburn sighed. “So here’s the deal. Once when he was drunk, Garth told Aaron and me that he had a couple of cougars in Vegas that gave him money. Way more money than Adrianna. That’s why he went to Vegas so often.”

  “Okay,” Oliver said. “Do these women have names?”

  “He never told me names. He mentioned this only once, and when he was blotto, and that was like over a year ago. Aaron and I decided it was bullshit. I don’t know why I just thought of it…maybe because you said that Adrianna gave him money.”

  Oliver said, “Did he tell you anything about the women?”

  Again Reyburn ran his hands through his hair. “He told us that the women were like married to Mob guys, and when their husbands were away, he’d fuck them for money. We pressed him for details, but he said he couldn’t tell us any more. That it was all very secret, and if their husbands found out, he would be killed. That’s when we decided that the whole thing was crap. We could see Garth screwing women…we could see Garth screwing women who gave him money. But the whole Mob thing…I mean, c’mon! You’re a fucking radiology tech, Garth. Get over yourself.”

  “So you didn’t believe him.”

  “Not the Mob part. Garth said a lot of stupid stuff when he got drunk. He’d…embellish things. But who doesn’t say stupid stuff when you’re bombed.”

  “Where’d you stay when you went to Las Vegas?”

  “Garth went a lot more than we did. When we went together, we’d go to the Luxor or MGM. They were a little cheaper but still on the Strip.”

  “And you have no idea who these women are?”

  “I don’t know even if they’re real.”

  “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

  “Can I go now?”

  “Greg, I think it would be best if you stayed for a little bit longer. Until I talk to the girl you were with last night. She is your alibi.”

  “Then can I go?”

  “One thing at a time. You want some more coffee or a soda or something to eat?”

  “I want to go home and go to sleep.”

  You and the rest of us, Oliver thought. “I’ll only be a minute. Just hang on, okay?”

  Reyburn’s answer was a doleful shake of the head. Oliver left the interview room and went to look for Marge. When he didn’t find her, he headed for the Loo’s office. Decker was on the phone but motioned Oliver in. A minute later, he hung up. “That was Sela Graydon. She and Kathy Blanc are coming to the office tomorrow. That should be a real yuck fest.”

  “Why are they coming in?”

  “For an update on the recent events, to cry on my shoulder, to yell at me, to curse the world: pick any one or all of the above.” He blew out air. “What’s up?”

  “Is Aaron Otis still here?”

  “No, we kicked him loose about twenty minutes ago.”

  “Damn.”

  “What’s going on? Should we pick him back up?”

  “I’d like to talk to him.” Oliver told him Reyburn’s story about Garth and his cougars. “Sounds fanciful to me, but it did give me the idea that maybe Garth is holed up in Vegas. Maybe he and Mandy are making new lives for themselves as Mr. and Mrs. Dominator/Dominatrix whatever.”

  “Contact Las Vegas Metro PD.”

  “Or Marge and I can take a little journey to the east.”

  “Even if you do, you still need to contact the local law.”

  “What do you think of the story?” Oliver asked.

  Decker shrugged. “I’ve learned over the years to reserve judgment.”

  Wanda Bontemps knocked on the doorframe. “I have Eddie Booker on line two.”

  “Who?” Decker said.

  “That’s all he said. He’s Eddie Booker and he’s returning your call.”

  “My call?” He picked up the phone. “This is Lieutenant Decker.”

  “Hi, Lieutenant. Eddie Booker. My mother-in-law said you called a couple of days ago and wanted to talk to me.”

  Decker’s mind was racing. Luckily, Booker helped him out.

  “I woulda called sooner but there wasn’t any communication on the ship.”

  Ship…cruise ship…the security guard at the hotel where Terry was staying. “Yes, Mr. Booker, thank you very much for calling back. Hold on, one minute.” He turned to Oliver. “Get hold of Aaron Otis and see if he verifies the conversation. Then call up Las Vegas Metro and I’ll see about sending you and Marge over there. I’ve got to take this call.”

  Oliver nodded and left.

  Decker told Booker why he had called. “For the sake of completeness, we are interviewing everyone who was working at the hotel the night that Ms. McLaughlin disappeared. We understand you were on duty that night and left…actually quit the next day.”

  The line was silent.

  “We understand that the hotel offered incentives to anyone that would leave early.”

  “They did.”

  “And that’s why you decided to leave your job?”

  Again, there was silence. Decker said, “We’d like to talk to you…find out if you saw Ms. McLaughlin or perhaps heard anything unusual.”

  There was a third pause.

  Decker said, “Maybe it would be better if you came down to the station house. Since you live in the Valley, I think I’m closer to you than West L.A. Could you make it here in an hour?”

  Booker’s voice was shaky when he decided to talk. “I didn’t know that Ms. McLaughlin went missing on Monday.”

  “Since Sunday night, actually.”

  “No one told me.”

  “So now you know. We’re asking for everyone’s help.”

  “I knew I shoulda said something.”

  “About what?”

  The man didn’t answer. Decker was sitting on anxiety and frustration. “How about if I came by your house and we could talk ther
e?”

  “No, I’ll come in to you.”

  “Great. When?”

  “Where are you? Devonshire?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I could be there in a half hour.”

  “I’ll be here. Thanks for your help.”

  “She seemed okay,” Booker said. “I swear she was okay when I left her.”

  Soothingly, Decker said, “I’m sure she was okay. She still might be okay. We’re just putting pieces together. That’s why we’re asking for your help—”

  “What about the boy?” Booker asked. “She has a son.”

  Decker laughed to himself. “The one thing I can tell you with certainty is that the boy is okay.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  EDDIE BOOKER CARRIED a burden. The former security guard should have looked rested from cruising the open seas. Instead his face oozed stress. He was a tall, rawboned man in his fifties with tired dark eyes. He had a wide mouth and tightly knit gray hair. He came in dressed in a white button-down shirt and brown slacks. He was sweating and the interview hadn’t even begun. Decker had originally called him up for the sake of completeness. Now he wondered if he wasn’t looking at a suspect.

  “Would you like some water?”

  “No, I just want to get this over with.” Booker took a nearby box of tissues and used one to mop his brow.

  “Tell me about it,” Decker said.

  “I knew it was wrong.” A sigh. “I worked in this business for thirty-six years and nothin’ like this has ever happened before. I don’t know what in hell I was thinking.”

  Decker nodded.

  “My wife thinks I should get a lawyer.”

  “Why?” Decker asked.

  “That’s what I was telling her. I’ll just return the money and that’ll be that. But now you tell me that Ms. McLaughlin’s missing, it might look like trouble.” His eyes were wet. “I swear this was the first and only time I ever did something like this. And I only took the money because she told me to.”

  “Ms. McLaughlin told you to take the money?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Decker pulled out his notebook. “Mr. Booker, let’s back it up. Start with the time. When did all this happen?”