“You’re offering me coffee?” Decker paused. “Gotta be bad.”
Strapp sat down, buried his head in his hands. “God, what a mess.” He looked up. “What a fucking mess!”
Decker waited. Strapp said, “I got an apology call from Jeanine’s lawyer…her behavior this morning.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Quote, unquote. ‘She was in shock at her brother’s untimely demise, she was hysterical. She didn’t know what came over her. She’s extremely sorry for her unprecedented outburst.’”
Decker shifted in his seat. “Obviously someone told her that slapping constitutes legal assault. Her lawyer was feeling you out to see if I’m going to file an assault charge against her.”
“They realize it’s a possibility.”
“A strong possibility.”
“They want to deal. You be gentlemanly, she won’t proceed with the harassment suit. Let bygones be bygones.”
“And what about my hearing with the IAD?”
“What about it?”
“Does she call them up and tell them she was lying?”
“Decker, if she doesn’t pursue the charges, you’ll beat the in-house investigation.”
“No, that’s not true. If she doesn’t pursue the charges, I’ll get an Unsustained from IAD. Which is what I’d probably get in any case. I want my record to remain spotless. Which is what I deserve. I want her to call IAD and tell them she was lying. I want a decision of Unfounded.”
“Decker—”
“You call up her legal eagle, tell him that if she admits she was lying, I won’t bring her up on assault charges. Charges on which I-unlike her—have witnesses—”
Strapp broke in. “Pete, listen to me. Jeanine is not going to admit that she was lying. Yes, it’s unfair. But look at the positive. This is a great chance to rid yourself of an albatross around your neck. Don’t be an idiot.”
“No dice.”
Strapp flung himself against the back of his desk chair, looked up at the ceiling. “Would it help if I ordered you to do it?”
“You can’t order away my civil rights.”
The captain gazed intensely at Decker. “Don’t you think you owe it to Rina to consult her before you make such a blanket decision?”
“Charges are against me, not her.”
But even as Decker said it, he knew Strapp had him. No way he’d chance going to trial, making it public…becoming an embarrassment to Rina and the kids. Backed into a corner like a circus lion, seething with rage…lashing out in vain as the devil snapped the whip.
Quietly, Decker said, “Tell her lawyer I’ll think about it.”
Strapp cleared his throat. “Peter, we both know that Jeanine is unstable. She’s giving you a bargain…now…at this moment. Tomorrow she may change her mind. If I call now, her lawyer will have the papers ready tomorrow morning. I’ll have them reviewed by our legal staff, have them sitting on your desk before lunch. You sign them. And when you return from your break, you’ll be rid of this whole fucking mess. What do you say?”
“I’ll talk to Rina.”
Strapp didn’t push it. “I’ll call the lawyer anyway. You can always change your mind. Be here in my office by eight tomorrow.”
Decker forced himself to unclench his jaw. “Okay.”
“For what it’s worth, it stinks.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes, there is something else.” Strapp averted his gaze. “She wants to make amends…Jeanine.”
“Oh, Christ—”
“Not with you necessarily…with the LAPD. You’ve been reading about this wheelchair tennis tournament?”
“Yes.”
“I heard it was your idea.”
“Go on.” “Anyway…if you’ve been following the articles—which I’m sure you have—you know that the proceeds are going to the Estelle’s victims—”
“Robbing Peter to pay Paul—”
“Decker, the massacre made widows. Not all of them were rich women.”
“Unlike others who became millionaires overnight—”
“Didn’t your friend Wetzel lose her husband?” Strapp broke in. “And she has kids?”
“Yes, she did lose a husband, and yes, she does have kids,” Decker snapped back. “So what’s the point? Jeanine been elevated to hero status?”
“No. But the tournament is for a good cause.”
The captain’s voice turned soft.
“She hit upon a real winner, rabbi. A grand a ticket for the courtside boxes. And they’re selling like hotcakes because big names in the tennis world are going to be there. And that attracts the press. Major publicity. The mayor’s ordered a box. So has the governor.”
Strapp pointed to his chest.
“Me, I couldn’t care less about that. But I do care about the people I serve.”
Once again, Decker felt anger race through his veins. He knew too clearly what was happening.
Strapp said, “Jeanine has a box reserved for us—for the police. Because she has rightly assumed that we’d want to be there to show our support. As the captain at Devonshire, it’s my duty to be there as an agent of the community I serve.”
Heart and head pounding, Decker glared at him. Slowly he said, “Jeanine whacks me across the face and you cut off my balls in front of her—”
“Decker—”
“Out of respect for your authority, I say nothing. I do nothing. You tell me to deal with her lawyer, I deal with her lawyer. And you repay me by giving the bitch the honor of your presence—”
“It’s not for her, dammit!” Strapp pounded the table. “If you’d get down off your self-righteous high horse for one goddamn second, you’d realize the position I’m in. I’ve got to be there.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Decker, what do I say when the victims’ families question why their police captain was absent at their benefit?”
“You tell them the truth. That you think Jeanine Garrison is a lying scumbag—”
“That’s called slander.”
“It’s called integrity.”
Strapp started to speak, but stopped. He refused to meet Decker’s eyes. “I’ve got nothing more to say. Be here tomorrow. Eight o’clock sharp. That’s all. You can go.”
Decker rose, stood in place for a moment. “Sir, I’m not as self-righteous as you believe…nor am I as righteous as I’d like to believe. I know how things work. So take my words as one political animal talking to another.”
Strapp waited.
“Jeanine Garrison was involved in that massacre. And Jeanine Garrison is going to fall. Anyone associated with her and her causes—no matter how worthy they are—is going to wind up looking like a dupe.”
“I’ll take my chances, Lieutenant. Good night.”
Decker walked over to the door, opened it, then turned around. “Do yourself a favor, Captain. On the day of the tournament, come down with the flu.”
28
And there was evening, and there was morning.
On the seventh day, God rested.
With any luck, so could Decker. It always took him a while to slip into Shabbos mode. Gourmet food and fine wine helped the process. As he sipped tea, he watched his wife shuffle papers.
She said, “The first contender’s a four-bedroom, three-bath. Around thirty-five-hundred square feet. Center hall plan, living room, formal dining, a den. Central air and heat. Built-ins in the kitchen. And it’s got a pool with a Jacuzzi.”
“California living,” Jacob added with a grin.
“Pools mean maintenance,” Decker groused. “A Jacuzzi means lots of maintenance.”
Sammy asked, “Can Ginger swim?”
At the mention of her name, the setter lifted her head. Decker told her to go back to sleep. “Yes, she can swim. That’s all I need. Dog hairs clogging up the filter.”
“I’ll clean the pool, Dad,” Jacob said. “Just show me what to do.”
The boy’s offer tugged at Decker’s heart string
s. So anxious to get out of here and into civilization. Decker picked up his teacup, eyes on the flickering Shabbos candles. Dinner had been scrumptious, and everyone, including the baby, had been in a good mood. Hannah had lasted until dessert, then announced she wanted to go to sleep. As Rina put her to bed, the boys cleared the dishes, restored a rose-filled vase to its rightful place at the center of the table. Decker stacked the plates, made the tea. For the first time in weeks, he felt at semi-peace.
Rina went on, “The house is a little bruised, but certainly something we could live with for a while. About six blocks from the shul—”
He returned his eyes to his wife. “How much?”
“They’re asking three twenty five, but the realtor thinks there’s flexibility.”
“Should be at that price.”
“Also the lot is small.”
“How small?”
“Around sixty-five hundred square feet.”
Decker winced. “Any yard at all?”
“Room for a swing set, a patio set.” Rina showed her husband the tear sheet.
He scanned the vitals of the home. “At least Hannah’ll be happy.” He paused. “I’ve got acres here.”
Rina sighed. “You must feel like Gulliver being thrown into Lilliput.”
Jacob fidgeted, then said, “We don’t need such a big house, Eema. Show him the other one. The three-bedroom. The lot’s bigger, Dad. It’s got room for a pool. Not that I expect a pool. I’m just saying it’s got the room.”
Jacob was trying so hard. Decker never realized how difficult the isolation had been on him. “We’ll find something, Jake.” He turned to his other son. “What do you think, Sammy?”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind sharing a room if you want the bigger lot. I don’t mind having my own room, if you want the bigger house. It’s up to you.”
Rina paused. “There is this one house—if you could call it that—on a good-size lot. Fourteen eight.”
Decker considered the size. “Not bad.”
“It’s a little farther from the shul…about a mile, mile and a half away—”
“After what we’ve been walking, a mile and a half’s nothing,” Jacob said. “Besides, the house is inside the eruv so we can carry on Shabbos. And push a stroller. Which is good news for Hannah. The shul has a toddlers’ play group. It’s real cute. I’m sure she’d love it. She doesn’t like being left behind when we go to shul, you know.”
Decker said, “Yes, Jacob, I know that.”
Quickly, the teen said, “Not that I’m pushing you. Take your time, Dad.”
Decker raised his brow. “What about the house?”
“It’s tiny. A fixer-upper—”
“Yeah, like it should be rebuilt,” Sammy said, laughing.
“It’s salvageable,” Rina replied. “But it is tiny. Two bedrooms—”
“We have three children,” Decker said.
“There’s a small den. We could convert it into a room for the boys until we add another bedroom…or two—”
“You mean until I add another bedroom or two—”
“And a couple of bathrooms, too,” Sammy said. “It only has one bath.”
“Five of us and one bathroom.” Decker nodded. “Rich.”
“We can always rent something portable,” Rina said.
Decker looked at her. “You’re kidding, right?”
She hit his good shoulder. “Of course I’m kidding.”
“Actually, that wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Sammy said. “And while we’re at it, we could pitch a couple of tents in the summer. Because the house doesn’t have air-conditioning.”
Decker groaned.
Rina said, “I thought you loved camping.”
Jacob blurted out, “It’s a great lot, Dad. Full of big trees. Lots of shade in the summer.”
Rina said, “The boy is a hard sell.”
Jacob blushed. “I’m just looking at the positive.”
Rina kissed her son’s forehead. “Good for you. You’ll always be happy.”
Sammy came to his brother’s rescue. “The lot is awesome.”
“It’s a tenth the size of this place,” Decker said.
“Yeah, but it’s really well planted,” Sammy answered. “This place is mostly dirt.”
“I’ve got an orchard,” Decker defended.
“Dad, the new lot’s got like about three or four huge avocado trees—”
“And orange trees, too,” Jacob said. “Big ones.”
“Valencia oranges,” Rina said. “Full-sized trees that they don’t plant anymore because they’re so tall. Must be thirty or forty years old. It’s also got lemon, lime, and grapefruit trees. And giant eucalyptuses. Wonderful menthol smell.”
“How much?”
“One hundred seventy-five.”
“That’s too cheap!”
“Actually, it’s about plot price.”
“Could we live in it?”
“For as much as you’re home, yes,” Rina said.
“Funny.” Decker glared at her. “You have a tear sheet on this, Lucille Ball?”
“No. It’s by owner. Another reason why the price is good.”
“This doesn’t sound like a house,” Decker said. “It sounds like a project.”
Rina shrugged. “It would give your father something to do if your parents come out for Thanksgiving. He loves to tinker and build.”
“I have to live in a shack to give my father a life?”
Rina muttered, “To give yourself a life.”
Decker snapped, “I heard that.”
“You were supposed to hear that.”
No one spoke for a moment.
Sammy cleared his throat, said, “Hey, Yonkie, wanna learn a little?”
“What?”
Sammy cocked his head at his parents, yanked his brother out of his seat. “Let’s go.”
“Oh,” Jake said. “I get it.”
Since the boys’ bedroom was dark, they went into the kitchen. Decker kept his voice down, but he was peeved.
“I’m tired of your digs! I’m doing the best I can!”
Rina took Peter’s hand. “I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine. I’d be a lot finer if I didn’t have to think about you being mad at me for the hours I keep.”
“I’m not mad at you—”
“Could have fooled me. Think I want to work this hard? Think I like coming home every night having missed dinner and the baby. We have thousands of ongoing cases, Rina—”
“I’m aware—”
“With new ones every day.” Decker counted off on his fingers. “There’re phone calls, there’re meetings, there’s paperwork, there’s assignments, and lots of people with problems. Not to mention the dees and their problems. I must spend half my time doing counseling to keep them functional. I can’t help my hours.”
“I know that.”
“I’m not stopping off at a bar with the guys. Although there’d be nothing wrong if I did. I’m not stopping off at the gym to play racquetball, either.”
“I wish you did.”
“What does that mean? You want me to spend more time away from you?”
“I want you to be happy.”
“Then stop razzing me.”
“Deal.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment. Decker rotated his shoulders. “What are you really trying to tell me, darlin’?”
Rina said, “Even when you’re here, you’re not here. You’re distracted. I talk to you and half the time you don’t even hear it. You’re thinking about your cases. You breathe and eat your job and that’s not healthy.”
Decker was quiet.
Rina said, “You used to spend hours with the horses. Now the poor things just languish in their stalls. The horses aren’t the problem. We can sell them. It’s the fact that you don’t seem to enjoy life outside of work.”
“It’s been a miserable month.” Decker rubbed his neck. “I’m very unhappy.”
“Is
it Estelle’s?”
“For the most part, yes.”
“It’s only been about a month.”
“It’s getting colder by the day…damn near frigid.”
Rina tried a cheerful smile. “At least the suit has been dropped.”
“I’m very angry about that. I should have fought it. Instead I caved in.”
Rina was quiet.
“Stupid to be angry.” Decker looked away. “It’s over.”
Rina kissed his hand. “You didn’t cave in. It’s called being married.” She waited a beat. “Maybe it’s the same thing.”
Decker’s smile was genuine. Again, he moved his wounded shoulder, trying to relieve the dull throb of former battle. “I should move on. Because I’m sure not getting anywhere.”
“Nothing productive from the interviews of the patrons?”
Decker rolled his eyes. “Sure there was a man. No, it was a woman. No, it wasn’t a man at all. He was tall, he was short. He was blond, he was brunette, he was bald. He was fat, he was skinny. He was wearing a coat, he wasn’t wearing a coat, he streaked naked through the restaurant. He had a gun. No, he didn’t have a gun, he had an Uzi. No, he didn’t have an Uzi, he had a cannon. No, he didn’t have a cannon, he had a Sherman tank.”
He looked at his wife.
“Garbage in, garbage out. People telling us what they think we want to hear. It doesn’t amount to a hill of beans.”
He drank cold tea.
“I’m starting to doubt my own instincts. Maybe Jeanine had nothing to do with it. Just a histrionic lady who had the bad luck to be in a picture with a mass murderer. And I had the bad luck to push her button.”
“Peter, why don’t you hire a private detective? PIs can do things you can’t do. Why don’t you see what kind of dirt they can dig up?”
Decker stared at his teacup. “Actually, I considered the idea, then nixed it. I can’t afford the fees myself. And with the evidence I have, there’d be no way to squeeze it out of the department.”
Rina hesitated. “How much do they cost?”
“About two hundred a day plus expenses—”
“Don’t they give professional courtesy?”
Decker smiled. “No. Besides the expense, their use in these types of cases is not really effective. They’re good for tracing missing persons or tracking down deadbeat dads—doing a paper trail. They’re also good for photographing illicit encounters or stalkers or industrial espionage and theft. Things that happen on a regular basis. Things that can be caught in the act. Jeanine’s basically a law-abiding citizen who happens to have murdered fourteen people. She’s finished with her dirty work. Now all she has to do is hang tight. What’s a PI going to tell me? She’s hanging tight?”
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