Decker said, “Just a few questions, Karl. Tell me when you’ve had enough.”
“Okay.” It was a whisper. “It’s important that we talk now?”
“Yes.”
The boy averted his gaze. “All right.”
They were sitting on a leather couch in the boy’s bedroom, as spacious as Decker’s living room. It held the same plaster adobe-colored walls as the rest of the house and was furnished very sparsely—a bed, a desk and computer, a TV on a stand, bookshelves containing more videos than the printed word. With the air-conditioning on full-tilt, the place was crypt cold.
Decker said, “First off, let me tell you how sorry I am.”
Tears leaked from the fifteen-year-old’s eyes. He rubbed them away.
“Your brother said a lot of things to me in confidence,” Decker continued. “Things that bothered him, and things that bothered me. I’m wondering if he expressed the same concerns to you.”
Karl looked up from his lap. “Like what?”
“Ernesto spoke to me about some of the fantasies he was having. Did he ever speak to you about them?”
The moments ticked on. One…two…three…four…
The boy whispered, “What fantasies?”
Decker kept his face emotionless. “I’m telling you this, not to be lurid, but to help me understand Ernesto. The more I know about him, the more it’ll help me with the investigation. Ernesto was interested…no, that’s the wrong word. He was plagued by awful images of Nazi brutality. Plagued by them, but fascinated by them. The images bothered him very much, but he couldn’t get rid of them. Furthermore, he felt that…that your father’s father—Isaac Golding—hadn’t been up front about his origins.”
Silence.
And then more silence.
“Did he ever express any concerns like these to you?”
Karl sighed. “May I ask what the point of…the point of this is…sir?”
He was trying to be polite, and that counted for a lot, especially under these circumstances. “I’m wondering if Ernesto had had a secret life and had slipped into the wrong crowd. I’m wondering also if he had tried to get out of it, by confessing it to Dr. Baldwin. Perhaps someone wanted the information transfer permanently silenced.”
“Do you think that’s what happened?”
“I don’t know, Karl. That’s why I’m asking you such sensitive questions.”
“Did you talk to my parents about this?”
“Not yet.”
“Can I ask that you don’t?” The big kid swallowed. “I don’t think my mom…” Tears. “She’s in enough pain.”
“Tell me what you know. And then we’ll see if we can work out a plan.”
“First, you tell me what you know…sir.”
“Okay, I will. According to Ernesto, your grandfather’s name was actually Yitzchak Golding.” Decker pronounced the name with the correct gutteralization, something he couldn’t have done five years ago. “Ernesto had done some research and had found out that a Yitzchak Golding had died in a Polish concentration camp. Now it’s entirely possible that there’s more than one Yitzchak Golding. But Ernesto was under the impression that your grandfather had stolen the dead Yitzchak Golding’s identity. Did he ever mention anything like that to you?”
“Something.”
“So this sounds familiar?” Decker asked him. “That your grandfather was a Nazi in hiding?”
“A little.”
“Like how?”
“Just that Ernesto had some…questions. He went to Dad about them. Dad freaked and that was the end of it. Ernie dropped it.”
Decker took in the kid’s eyes. “So if I mentioned this to your dad, it would strike a nerve?”
“I don’t think you should do that right now.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. What about your mother?”
“He never said anything to her as far as I know.”
“Okay. So we’ll keep her out of this.” Decker smoothed his mustache. “How about you, Karl? Did he stop talking about it to you?”
The boy’s eyes overflowed. He threw his hands over his face and cried out, “It’s all my fault!”
“No, it isn’t—”
“Yes, it is! I should have said something! I should have done something! I didn’t know!”
Decker watched him gulp in big, breathless, heart-wrenching sobs. Seconds passed, then minutes. Finally, Karl was controlled enough to speak. “It started out as a school project—the family tree.” A big sniff. “When this came up…and Dad wigged…Ernie knew that he’d hit something awful. I told him to drop it with a capital D! What’s done is done, you know. Grandpa was dead, the Holocaust is more than a half-century old, and stirring stuff up wasn’t going to bring back any lives. He wouldn’t listen.”
“You must have been frustrated—”
“More like angry. Ernie was acting like this…like…a possessed person!”
Decker nodded encouragement. “What did he do?”
“He wanted to find out who Grandpa really was. He wrote to Argentina, he wrote to Berlin, he wrote everywhere. He went nuts with the idea of who Grandpa was…and his Nazi origins. He started talking to some real strange people. I should have told Dad. I should have told Dr. Dahl. She would have done something smart. But then the temple vandalism went down. And Ernie went into therapy. So I kept my mouth shut and decided to let the experts handle it.”
“You did the right thing—”
“No, I didn’t,” the boy broke in. “Ernie’s dead! I didn’t do the right thing!”
“Yes, you did,” Decker said. “You have to believe me on this, Karl.”
The boy didn’t believe him. But he didn’t refute him, either.
“Are you scared, Karl?” Decker asked. “Do you think you need protection?”
“I don’t know!” The boy’s lower lip trembled. “I don’t know!”
“Do you have any names?”
“No, goddamn it! I wish to God I did, but I don’t, sir. I swear I don’t.”
“I believe you.”
Karl said, “The whole synagogue thing was…I had no idea that Ernesto had gotten involved so deeply! I thought he was making the whole thing up just to look like a badass to his girlfriend.”
“Ruby Ranger.”
“Queen Goth. If anyone was behind this, it would be her! She’s crazy and mean!” He looked up at Decker. “I’m not the only one who feels that way. Your stepson hates her, too, you know.”
Decker knew.
Karl looked away. “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned him.”
“No, it’s fine. Several people, including Jacob, had told me that Ruby and Ernesto were an item.”
“You should arrest her!” Karl looked at Decker. “You are gonna talk to her, right?”
“Last we heard, she had left town right after the vandalism. When was the last time Ernesto saw her?”
“I don’t know.”
“So you don’t know if she and Ernesto had maintained contact after the vandalism?”
A long, suffering sigh. “There were a few letters. I think I know where he hid them….” Karl got up. “But it could be that Ernesto took them to camp.”
“Why did Ernesto hide the letters?”
“Because my mother snoops. Ernie did drugs. It nearly did him in.”
“Literally?”
Karl nodded. “About a year ago, we found him unconscious one Sunday morning. It was a miracle that he survived. Up until that time, my parents were really on his case—study, study, study, study. Do this because it’ll look good on your college application, do that because it’ll look good. Ernie’s a bright guy. But these days being plain bright isn’t good enough. When Ernie OD’d, all hell broke loose. My parents were one step from sending him away to boarding school. Then suddenly, they eased up.” The boy snapped his fingers. “Their therapist probably told them to do it. They wouldn’t do anything without talking to the therapist. Even so, Ernie felt that they didn’t trust him. So he
hid stuff. Mostly weed, but personal stuff, too.”
“Like the letters?”
Karl nodded. “I just can’t understand why Ernie was taken in by that bitch! I know sex was part of it. But Ernie had lots of girls. Why her?”
Because she was forbidden, dangerous, and Ernesto had been a rebellious boy. But Decker maintained silence. It seemed like the smartest option.
“I’ll be right back.” Karl walked off to his dead brother’s room. Ten minutes later he came back empty-handed. “Nothing. Sorry. I would have liked to help you nail her.”
“You think the letters might be at the camp?” Decker asked.
“Possibly.”
“Did he ever read you any of the letters?”
“Once or twice, Ernie read me parts—sexual stuff. Ruby thought she was this hip anarchist. She was loco!”
“Do you think she was behind the temple vandalism?”
“Probably.”
“Ernesto never mentioned any names to you after he vandalized the synagogue?”
“No.”
“How about names of Nazi or white supremacist groups?”
“No.”
“Does the group the Preservers of Ethnic Integrity sound familiar?”
A shake of the head.
“Erin Kershan?”
“No.”
“Darrell Holt?”
“Nope.”
“Ricky Moke?”
“No. Sorry.”
Decker said, “Do you know if Ernesto got involved in any supremacist groups maybe over the Internet?”
“I don’t know what he found or where he found it,” Karl said. “Ernie was my brother, but we’re very different.”
“Did he ever mention to you any of his motivation behind vandalizing the temple?”
“Motivation?”
“I’m thinking that maybe it was some kind of ritual needed to prove his dangerous side to his girlfriend?”
“Beats me.” Karl looked down. “After it happened, Ernie said, ‘Don’t ask!’ He was upset about it, though. I could tell that.”
“Did he say anything about being in danger?”
“No, not worried upset. Upset upset. He felt bad.”
“He told you he felt bad?” Decker asked.
“Not in words. But I know he felt bad.”
“Do you think that he kept you in the dark to protect you?”
“Possibly.”
“And Ruby Ranger’s name never came up?”
“Nah. I think he would have rather died than to rat on the bitch.”
Neither one said the obvious: maybe that was exactly what had happened.
17
As he drove back to the crime scene, Decker spoke over the tactical lines. The reception was much poorer from the squawk box than it was through the digital cell phones, but supposedly, the conversations were restricted. Not that there was any real privacy nowadays: the Luddites had a point. “Are the bodies still there?”
“The wagon left about twenty minutes ago,” Martinez answered. “Police photographer is still here. Do you want me to tell her to wait for you?”
“No, I’ll work from the photographs. Did you search the bodies for personal effects?”
“We didn’t find anything on them. We’re rooting through their belongings now. Anything specific you’re looking for?”
“Letters to Ernesto from Ruby R.”
“How many?”
“Maybe three or four.”
“I’ll ask Tom about it. So far, Ernesto’s possessions are pretty minimal—a bedroll, a canteen, a metal dish, and the basic cutlery. Standard issue according to Tarpin.”
“We’ll get back to him later. How many boys have we interviewed?”
“There are only two boys here who have reached their majority. Tom talked to both of them. You can ask him about it.”
“Anything promising?”
“Not so far.”
“And how about the others? The minors?”
“I know that Wanda and Tarpin have been busy notifying the parents. It hasn’t been a cakewalk. I’d say about seventy percent of them are out of town. They took advantage of the time without junior to hightail it off to the Caribbean. Seven of the nine kids volunteered to have their belongings searched. Predictably, they were all clean. Wanda has been questioning them with a light touch. I think they’re disappointed. I think they keep expecting us to read them their rights.”
Decker smiled. “You said seven out of nine boys.”
“Yeah, I did. The two remaining lads are more hard-liners. Could be they’re hiding something. Or, they just don’t want to cooperate because they’re wary of cops.”
“Priors?”
“I wouldn’t know. They’re juveniles. Wanda knows the ins and outs of Juvy. If they’re hot, she’ll know about it.”
“I’ll deal with them when I come up. Who are they?”
“Brandon Chesapeake and Riley Barns. Not that they’re dancing on anyone’s grave. All of a sudden, the lure of crime isn’t so glamorous. And it doesn’t smell very good, either.”
“Did you talk to Tarpin at length?”
“I was about to do that…unless you want him. We’ve got parents to deal with. I’m certainly not lacking for something to do.”
“All right, wait for me,” Decker said. “I’ll take Tarpin because I have a job for you—Dee Baldwin. I know she’s not at her residence or at the office. I want you to talk to some of their friends and find out if they—she and Mervin—had a special vacation spot or cabin retreat up in the mountains—a place where she could be hiding out.”
“You think she did it?”
“Ernesto and Mervin looked pretty cozy, so who knows? Or maybe she’s hiding out because she’s scared. Another avenue is Ernesto as the target. He didn’t do the vandalism alone. Which means that he may have fallen in with some very bad dudes. Specifically, I’m interested in Ruby Ranger. You need to find out where she is as well.”
“I can certainly go back to Alice Ranger, but I don’t think she’ll be too cooperative.”
“Lean on her. It’s important.” Decker paused. “Also, did we ever get an actual photograph of Ricky Moke?”
“No. It never seemed important because Ernesto confessed. Do you want me to go back to Darrell Holt with a police artist and a kit?”
“After we find out about Dee Baldwin, then go back to Holt.”
“Not a problem if you trust his eye…if you trust him period. He could be lying.” A pause. “He probably is lying. Those types lie outta force of habit.”
He sat with Tarpin overlooking the precipice of the mountain, side by side, because Decker knew that men talked more freely without eye contact. The corporal’s face was glistening with sweat, beads forming on his sizeable nose. He wore a camouflage cap over his bald head and had his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. He wore the same stony expression, making him hard to read, and Decker supposed that that was the objective.
Taking out his notebook with pen poised in hand, Decker took a few moments to breathe in the scenery. The mountains were wide and vast, their tips iced with a brown translucent layer of summer smog. Oven hot, he could feel himself drip underneath his clothing even though they were shaded by the canopy of a sycamore. Staring outward, Tarpin asked about Dee Baldwin.
“She’s not at her residence or at the office.”
“That’s not good.”
“No, it’s not. Do you know of anywhere else that she might be? Did she and Dr. Baldwin have a second home anywhere? We checked locally, but maybe they had something out of state?”
“Sometimes they went to the beach for weekends.”
Decker started writing. “Good. Where?”
“Malibu.”
Decker waited for more. “Do you know where? Malibu’s a long stretch of sand.”
“Nah, not my territory. I think they rented.”
That narrowed it down to fifty zillion people. “A house? A condo?”
“A condo.” T
arpin paused. “It could be she’s there. They’re renovating their home in Beverly Hills. From what Dr. Merv was saying, their house was a mess.”
“So they moved out during the construction?”
Tarpin shrugged. “I don’t know. The only thing that Dr. Merv said was the house was a mess and the renovation was costing him a fortune. Probably Dee’s idea. She’s the decorator…redid their office about two years ago.”
“Okay. That helps.” Immediately, Decker phoned Martinez and gave him the news, telling him to coordinate with the Malibu sheriff’s department. After Decker got off the cell, Tarpin took off the cap, wiped his bald pate with a handkerchief, and then re-covered his head.
He said, “You trust people outside your division to do your job?”
“Pardon?”
“The sheriff’s department. Do you trust them?”
“Why do you ask?”
Tarpin said, “Delegating responsibility. Frankly, I believe that if you want something done right, do it yourself.”
“Does that extend to murder?”
Tarpin’s eyes focused in on Decker’s face. The first hint of emotion from the man and it was anger. “I won’t dignify that with an answer.”
“I’m not implicating you, Corporal. Just that this looks professional…delegating out. What do you think?”
Tarpin didn’t answer.
Decker said, “You know I have to ask you certain questions, sir, because you were in charge of the camp. Also, you were the first one to find the bodies. We always ask pointed questions to those who find the bodies. Plus, these mountains are pretty secluded. I’m just wondering why no one heard anything.”
“You can wonder. It’s a free country.”
“Sounds like an inside job.”
“Sounds like the job of some insane man.”
“Or a very evil man,” Decker corrected.
“Well, Lieutenant, I’m not crazy and I’m not evil.” He turned and took in Decker’s expression. “I’m just about as straight arrow as they come.”
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