“Not unless it’s for sympathy.”
Decker laughed softly. “Anyway, you’re just the woman I was looking for. You’re coming over on Thursday, aren’t you?”
“Of course. What can I bring?”
“You’re bringing Scott. I think that’s enough—”
“Pete, what could I do—”
“Nah, I’m just teasing you. Bring some flowers.” Decker looked her in the eye. “Before you come, let’s get one thing straight. My mother’s going to be there—”
“Really?” Marge grinned. “This should be very interesting—”
“And my brother,” Decker said. “You or Scotty breathe a word of anything that has to do with my youth, your jobs are on the line.”
Marge laughed, then grew serious. Tossed the paper on his desk.
“What?” Decker asked.
She said, “Not the kind of news you were hoping for before a holiday, but…Ballistics called. They couldn’t find anything—”
Decker hit his desk. “They couldn’t have tested everything! Not that fast.”
“No, they just picked out a couple of random samples—”
“A couple of random samples—”
“Pete—”
“A couple? As in two?”
“Maybe a few more than that—”
“Marge, we recovered over a hundred bullets.”
She sighed. “Look, Scott and I worked our butts off. Pressured them to move for us especially because of the holiday week. This was the best we could do.”
Decker counted to ten. “You did great. I couldn’t have done any better.”
“Pete, we can press it. But I don’t know how much good it’ll do. You know how slowly the wheels turn over there.”
Decker nodded. The state crime labs were in sorry shape—backlogged and understaffed. Innocent people languished in jail, hardcase criminals were prematurely released because the labs didn’t have the manpower to process the evidence fast enough for court-date trials. A case like Estelle’s—two months old with an established perpetrator—was very low priority.
Decker said, “We’ve got time. We can wait for them to finish the job.”
“Good, ’cause it’s likely to take months, maybe years.”
Decker cursed under his breath. “Maybe we should consider a private lab.”
“Believe it or not, I checked into it. It’s really expensive. I just don’t have that kind of money lying around.”
Decker thought of his newly purchased shack lying on a small plot of forest grounds. Unless he got it together, it was going to remain a shack. “Neither do I.”
“Time to move on.” Marge shrugged. “We tried our best. Nothing else we can do.”
“We can wait for a miracle.”
Marge chuckled, “Sure. Let’s wait for a miracle. Won’t cost me money, I can’t get pregnant from it, and most important, it won’t put any fat on my hips.”
40
Fixed in front of the TV—the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade—Hannah was captivated by a dinosaur float that breathed out dry-ice smoke. She kept trying to convince everyone around that the dinosaur wasn’t real. But there was too much commotion in the room, and her tiny voice was blighted by adult drone.
Rina kissed her forehead.
“He’s not real,” Hannah said.
“No, he’s not real.”
“He’s pretend.”
“Yes, honey.”
“Not real.”
Rina smiled, rubbed her temples. Lots of people. Peter’s parents, Randy, his wife, Lurene, and their three school-aged children. Plus Clark—Randy’s seventeen-year-old son from his first marriage. Clark, Sam and Jacob, were slouched across the living-room furniture, tossing a football back and forth. Lurene was out in the orchard with her kids, picking oranges.
Lyle Decker walked into the dining room, studying a blueprint as he stood in front of the TV. His burly body completely obscured Hannah’s view of her beloved dinosaur. She shrieked out, “I can’t see, I can’t see.”
Rina gently moved her father-in-law away from the screen. “Why don’t you sit outside on the patio, Dad?”
“Where?” he yelled out.
“Come.” Rina held his arm, led him out the side door into the backyard. A bricked patio held a round umbrella table and six plastic chairs. “Have a seat here. It’s quiet and comfortable. You want some more coffee?”
“Coffee?”
“Yes, coffee. I’ve just brewed a fresh pot—”
“I’ll take a cup of coffee.”
“Great.” Rina started to walk away.
Lyle said, “Where’s Peter?”
“He’s in the barn with Randy—”
“Where?”
“Over there in the barn, Dad. You want me to get him for you?”
“When are we going to the house?”
“Do you mean the new house?”
“Yeah. The new house.” Lyle held up the blueprint. “This house.”
“I think Peter was planning on taking you there in about a half hour.”
“Before the game then?”
“Yes, before the game. I know you like the game.”
Lyle laughed heartily. “What’s Thanksgiving without turkey and the game?”
“Not much,” Rina smiled. Such a sweet, sweet man, with twinkly blue eyes, a round, red face and thin, silver hair. He announced, “I found the sewer line.”
It took a moment for Rina to switch gears. “Oh. That’s great. Is the bathroom going to be a problem?”
“Nah!” Again the laughter. “We should be able to knock it out in no time.”
Rina’s smile was genuine. “I’ll get you the coffee.”
“I’d love a cup of coffee.”
“Right away.” She came into the kitchen through the back door. Ida Decker was basting an eighteen-pound stuffed tom turkey with seasoned broth. Pete’s mother was tall and bony, her knobby hands made even more gnarled by persistent, long-standing arthritis. Short gray hair framed a noble face which was long and aristocratic. High cheekbones, wide-set, midnight blue eyes. A very handsome woman. She held her mouth tight, lips pressed together. Lips that rarely expressed emotion, let alone love. But lips that never gossiped and never complained.
Rina asked, “How’s it looking, Mom?”
“It’ll pass muster.”
“Dad wants another cup of coffee—”
“He’s already had three.”
“It’s decaf.”
“The heart’s not the problem. It’s the stomach. Too much acid.”
Rina said, “I’ll make him herbal tea if you’re concerned.”
“He hates tea,” Ida snorted, waved her hand in the air. “Oh, give him the coffee. It is a holiday. You want to check the pies in the other oven for me, Rina? They’re no good if they’re overcooked. Like eating rubber.”
Rina opened the door to the twin side of her double oven. “They look perfect! The crust is golden, the filling has set but is still moist.” She took one out. “A-one—”
“They may look perfect but I don’t know how they’ll taste. I usually make my pies with evaporated milk.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine—”
“Never made pies with Mocha Mix before.”
“I’m sure these will be the best ever.”
“Well, we’ll see.”
Rina took the pies out of the oven, then poured a cup of coffee. “I’ll just take this out to Dad.”
Ida let out another small snort and started noodling with the candied yams. Rina returned outside. At the moment, Peter and Randy were standing over their father’s shoulders as Lyle pointed out details in the blueprint, lecturing about structural beams. Ginger had fallen asleep under the table. Since both Randy and Peter were adopted, they held no physical resemblance to each other except for their stature. Peter was the taller of the duo, but topping six two, Randy was no tiny toon. The man was barrel-chested with short legs and long arms. He had short black hair, a wi
de forehead, and a ruddy complexion. Big brown eyes that sparkled. A coarse black mustache sat over his upper lip.
Lyle had moved on to floor joists.
Rina set down the coffee cup.
Randy said, “That looks good.”
“I’ll get you a cup.”
“I’ll get it,” Decker said.
Randy smiled. “She got you trained, bro?”
Decker shot him a hard look, then slipped his arm around his wife’s shoulders. Whispered, “Let’s walk the long way.”
Rina nodded enthusiastically. Randy shouted out, “Cream and sugar, Peter.”
“No prob.” With Ginger on his heels, Decker and his wife returned to the house via the side door, into the dining room. Ida had perched Hannah on her lap, both of them entranced by the floats. Ginger sniffed Hannah, then Ida. The old woman gave him a gentle tap on her nose.
“Down.”
To Decker’s surprise, the dog obeyed. “Never works for me.”
“That’s because he don’t take you seriously.” Ida looked away from the TV, announced, “Poor Hannah. Just sitting here. She wasn’t getting a lick of attention.”
Rina nodded. “Thanks for helping out.”
Hannah said, “I like the birdies, Grandma. They’re flying high in the sky.”
Ida’s instant smile was very real but very brief. She kissed her granddaughter’s cheek. “Wouldn’t you just love to go fly with them, Hannie? Just go over the sun and visit the moon and stars?”
Hannah pondered the statement. “Could Mommy go, too?”
Ida bit back a smile. “’Course Mommy could come.”
Rina said, “You have some dreams, Mom?”
Ida scowled, “Just trying to amuse my granddaughter. Might want to baste the turkey. And glaze it, too. You know how to glaze it with a little sugar syrup and orange juice?”
“Sure.” Rina went into the kitchen. Decker made his move. He said, “How you doing, Mom? You all right?”
“Of course I’m all right.” Ida answered. “Why shouldn’t I be all right?”
“So you’re feeling fine?”
“Stop repeating yourself!”
Hannah said, “Look at that doggie balloon, Grandma.”
“Now I like that one. What kind of dog is that, Peter?”
“Looks like a spaniel of some sort.”
“Don’t look like any dog I’ve ever seen.”
“Artistic license.”
Ida snorted. Decker used that as his exit line, joined his wife in the kitchen. He leaned against the counter. “How many days are they staying?”
Rina looked up from the oven, closed the door, and stood. “Think of us as Norman Rockwell with an edge.”
Decker looked at the ceiling. “Is she giving you a hard time?”
“No, she’s just angry that she can’t use evaporated milk for her pies.”
“I’m sor—”
“I’m teasing, Peter.” Rina paused. “Actually, she’s doing a bang-up job in the kitchen. She moves well for seventy-five.”
Decker sighed. “I see her taking pills. She tell you what that’s all about?”
Rina shook her head. “I’m watching her, Peter. Making sure she’s not overdoing it. And I think she’s smarter about it than she lets on. Sitting down with Hannah. She knows how to pace herself.”
“So you think something’s wrong?”
“Nothing obvious. Whatever it is, she’s not going to tell us if we push. And she seems happy to be here…thrilled with Hannah. And I’m the first to admit that the feeling is mutual. Hannah loves her.”
From the dining room, Randy shouted, “Where’s the coffee?”
Ida told him to pipe down.
Decker rolled his eyes, brought in the coffee cup, and slapped his brother’s gut. “What am I? Your friggin’ maid?”
Randy broke into laughter.
“Hush up, the lot of you,” Ida said. “Can’t you see the child is trying to watch.”
They piled into the living room. Decker said, “Take it outside, boys!”
Instead, Sammy hurled a fast one to Randy, his kippah nearly flying off his head. Randy shot it back to Decker, who caught it easily. Decker said, “What are you doing?”
Randy relieved him of the ball, smacked Decker back. “Loosen up.” He lobbed it to Jacob.
The doorbell rang.
Marge and Oliver. She was carrying a huge bouquet of fall-colored mums. “We’re a little early.”
Decker looked at his watch. More like two hours early. “Hey, glad you could make it. We’re not doing much.”
Jacob threw the ball to Oliver, who buzzed it to Clark, the boy’s long blond bangs hanging over his eyes. The teen threw it back to Sammy.
Decker said, “Guys, take it outside!”
“C’mon,” Randy said. “Let’s get a game going. We’ll choose up sides.” He offered his hand to Oliver. “Randy Decker.”
“Scott Oliver.”
“You look like one of us.”
“Got the look, huh?”
“Got the look. Let me guess. GTA?”
“No, Homicide.”
“Ah, one of my brother’s dicks—”
Oliver broke into laughter. “Never knew he had more than one.”
Randy guffawed out loud. Decker said, “Glad you’re having fun.”
Sam lobbed the ball back to Clark, who threw a bullet to his father. It missed Peter’s head by an inch. Decker said, “Outside! Now!”
Randy smiled. “You in, Peter?”
“Yeah, yeah, in a minute. Just get out of here. And take the dog.”
Randy whistled to Ginger. The setter came in a flash.
Marge handed the flowers to Decker, said, “I’m in.”
Randy said, “You?”
Oliver said, “She’s not my wife, she’s my partner.”
“Ah, sorry.” Randy held out his hand. “Randy Decker.”
“Yeah, the Narc in Miami. Marge Dunn—”
“So you’re the famous Marge? Nice to meet you.” Randy shook her hand vigorously. “You play forward, I can play defense. Are you coming, Dad?”
“I thought we were going to the house.” Lyle was disappointed.
“In about a half hour, Dad,” Decker said.
“Let’s go outside, Dad,” Randy said. “You’ll be on my team. You can help me with defense—”
“Randy!” Decker scolded. “He’s seventy-seven—”
“I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry. Are you coming or not?”
Decker showed him an armful of flowers. “I got to put these in a vase.”
Randy patted his brother’s butt. “I didn’t know you were so inclined.”
Decker was about to swear but realized his father was in the room. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
When they had all left, Decker dropped onto the couch. “Blessed silence!”
His solitude was short-lived. The front door opened.
“Cindy!” Decker exclaimed.
“Hi there.” Cindy looked at the mums. “How sweet. For me?”
Decker said, “They’re actually from Marge—”
“I’m kidding, Daddy.” Cindy paused, noticing her father’s off-kilter expression. “You look shell-shocked.”
Decker didn’t answer.
Cindy relieved her father of the flora. She said, “Maybe I should put those in a vase for you.”
“That would be great.” Decker blinked several times. “It’s all coming back to me.”
“What?” Cindy asked.
“Why I moved out of state.” Decker focused his eyes on his daughter. “I thought you were with your mom today.”
“They’re going to a friend’s at six for the dinner. I told her I’d be back before then.”
“Did she know you were coming here?”
“I think so. But she was smart enough not to ask.”
“Good for Jan.” Suddenly, Decker embraced his daughter, then moved away.
“What was that for?” Cind
y said, smiling.
“For being you. For helping me out like you did.”
Cindy looked away. “Sorry I couldn’t do more—”
“You did plenty. We got a great bust.”
“What’s happening with Carey?”
“Ten to twenty-five. He’ll be eligible for parole in four and a half years—”
“That’s outrageous!” Cindy shrieked.
Decker shrugged. “It’s not a slap on the wrist. I’ve had worse outcomes.”
“Considering what he probably did, it’s a horrid miscarriage of justice.”
“We can’t prosecute on a ‘probably.’ After a couple of months on the street, you’ll learn that quickly enough.” Decker swallowed hard. “I’m very proud of you. You’re a wonderful daughter, a fine human being, and you’ll make a great cop—”
“Oh, God, don’t start.” Cindy’s eyes started to water.
Decker laughed, “You gotta control that leaky tap of yours.”
“I know, I know.” Cindy wiped her eyes. “It’s terrible.”
“No, it’s not terrible.” Decker kissed his daughter’s cheek. “But it’s not a desirable asset for a cop.”
She showed him the flowers. “I’ll just go put these in water.”
“While you’re there, say hello to Grandma.”
“Grandma’s here?”
“In the flesh. Along with Randy, Lurene, and your cousins. They’re out playing football. Why don’t you join them?”
“Think I’ll pass. Rather grump with Grandma.”
Decker laughed and so did Cindy. She stood on her toes, kissed her father. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Gently, she hit him over the head with the flowers, then headed for the kitchen. Once again, Decker was alone. He took a deep breath in, then let it out slowly.
Repeated the inhalation…the exhala—
The damn doorbell!
He swung open the door, eyes growing in circumference as he regarded the visitor. Then he gave him a bear hug but not too hard. Because the man was as thin as a piece of hay, his sport coat hanging on his body like a zoot suit. His hair had been braided tightly, his beard neatly combed and smelling like pine needles.
Abel broke the embrace, leaned against his cane. “Don’t you look like a million bucks.”
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