Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 07

by Sanctuary

“Don’t I know it,” Marge said. “Mud’s not only messy but as cold as ice. Freezes your fingers.”

  “I thought women liked mud facials.”

  “You’re a funny one, Loo.”

  Davidson actually twitched the corners of his mouth. Marge felt that was as close to a smile as he was ever going to give.

  Davidson said, “Good work, Dunn. You got your case, you got your time. Probably worth a few frozen nails for that.”

  Marge said, “What’s a few frostbitten fingers between friends.”

  Davidson looked her over. “You think I’m a son of a bitch, Dunn? I can live with that. Besides, look how it got you going. Think you would have been motivated like this if I woulda patted your hand and said, ‘Take your time’?”

  She didn’t answer.

  Davidson scratched his nose again. “I got my stripes. Keep going like this, maybe it’ll be your turn.”

  Marge nodded, turned away, then broke into a soft smile. Damn it, they did do a good job! She took in a deep breath and put her hands in her pocket. Orit Bar Lulu was coming their way, her footing less than steady. She stopped and checked her watch.

  “It’s been over an hour,” she snapped to Davidson.

  “We’re moving as fast as we can, Mrs. Bar Lulu. You can’t rush these things.”

  “You’re driving me crazy.” She pointed to the grave. “How long does it take to dig someone up? Give me a shovel. I’ll do it in ten minutes.”

  “It’s not the unearthing, Mrs. Bar Lulu,” Marge said. “We don’t want to harm the body. I don’t think you want that, either.”

  “We’re moving as fast as we can, ma’am.” Davidson looked around. “Detective Dunn, you keep an eye on the lab men. I’ve got a few calls to make.”

  Marge nodded and he left. Bastard probably wanted to get warm because it was cold outside. The yellow-slickered lab man raised his head. “We got most of the mud off. Do you want to take a look, Mrs. Bar Lulu?”

  Orit glanced at Marge. As she stepped forward, she lost her balance. Marge caught her. She called out to the mountainside. “Sergeant Decker, we’re ready for an ID.”

  Decker pivoted around and jogged over to Marge. He saw how she was supporting Orit. He flanked the Israeli woman on the other side and offered her an arm. Orit was white as she grabbed his wrist.

  “First, I nag you to hurry up…then I don’t know if I can even do it.” Tears formed in her eyes. “Let’s go.”

  “You want a few minutes to catch your breath?” Decker asked.

  “No, I’m ready,” Orit said. “Let’s get it over with.”

  Slowly, they approached the body, Orit’s eyes bobbing in their sockets.

  “I’ve got you,” Marge said. “Just take your time.”

  Orit looked at them for moral support, her head lolling from one side to the other. Decker patted her shoulder. “Take your time. If you feel sick, let us know.”

  Orit nodded, then forced herself to study the face. A moment later, she jerked her head up, took a step backward, then gulped in a lungful of fresh air. Decker grabbed her arm.

  “Are you okay?”

  Orit’s face was ashen, her voice a whisper. “It’s…Dalia.” She teetered on her feet. “I don’t feel too good.” She burst into tears. “I want to go home.”

  Marge said, “I’ll take you to one of the squad cars.”

  “I can’t go home?”

  “Of course you can,” Marge said, gently. “But let us drive you. Can I call your husband for you?”

  Orit nodded, allowing herself to be led by Marge to a heated black-and-white.

  Decker stared at the grave, at a petite form outlined in mud. The face had been wiped but was still streaked with gook. Yet Decker could tell it had been a gentle face. Anger drove a blush to his cheeks. He choked it back and spoke to the lab men. “Anything else buried under her?”

  “We can’t tell until we lift the body,” the black-coated man responded. “We’re waiting for the police photographer.”

  “He should be here in a minute.”

  Davidson was coming toward him, his stride quick and precise. “Your wife’s on the line,” he said. “Your kids are fine, but she needs to talk to you. She says it’s an emergency.”

  “What kind of emergency?”

  Davidson shrugged ignorance.

  Decker felt his heart race as he ran over to the Plymouth. Was it his mother? His father? His brother? Randy was in vice—narcotics, mainly. He’d been shot three times by three separate dealers. Decker grabbed the mike from his radio. “What is it?”

  “Peter, everyone’s healthy.”

  Rina’s voice was tense, but the words were all he needed. He heard himself taking a deep breath.

  “It’s not us, Peter, it’s Honey Klein,” Rina said. “It’s Honey’s husband. I just got a call from someone in the Manhattan Police Department,” Rina said. “Gershon was found dead in his office at the diamond center. He’d been shot, stuffed into a closet—”

  “Good God!”

  “Peter, I don’t know what to do!” She began to cry. “I’m panicked!”

  “Where are Honey and the kids now?”

  “They left the house about two and a half hours ago to go sightseeing.”

  “Where were they headed?”

  “I don’t know! She didn’t tell me. I don’t know what I’m going to tell her—”

  “I’ll handle it,” Decker said. “You don’t have any idea where they are?”

  Rina paused. “She said something about going to the old Grauman’s Chinese Theater when I first spoke to her. But she said nothing to me about it this morning. Just that she was going sightseeing.”

  Decker thought back to Gershon’s strange phone calls, Honey’s talk about gangsters. Not knowing any details, it was safer to be cautious. “Rina, I’m going to send a squad car over to the house. I’ll have the police wait outside until I can get over there. Don’t answer the door and don’t let anyone—and I mean anyone—in until I figure out what’s going on. It may take a little time to come. We just dug up Dalia Yalom—”

  “Peter, you don’t have to—”

  “I want to, okay?”

  “Thanks.” Rina’s voice was small. “I’m scared.”

  “I know, sweetheart. I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

  “I love you, Peter.”

  “Love you too.” Decker paused. “Rina, do you know where Honey got her rental car?”

  “I think from the place on Foothill. Tour-Time Rentals. Does that sound right?”

  “It sounds right. Just stay put. Keep the doors locked and don’t open the doors for anyone. I have to make a few phone calls. I’ll call you back in about fifteen minutes.”

  He hung up the mike and called Foothill substation. Tim Calais’s unit was the closest to the house. He was happy to help out a former Foothill member. Besides, Decker was sure Mike had heard about Rina’s beauty. After thanking Calais, Decker cut the line, then put in a call to the dispatch operator, asking to be connected with Tour-Time Rentals. As he waited, Decker suddenly realized he was standing outside of the car. He sat down in the driver’s seat and closed the door. Davidson came over to the unmarked, bent over, and peered through the open window. “Everything okay?”

  Decker covered the mike. “We have some houseguests. The woman’s husband, a diamond dealer, was just found murdered in Manhattan.”

  “Jesus!” Davidson squinted. “You just say the guy was a diamond dealer?”

  “Yep.”

  “Any relation to our case?”

  “Who knows?” Over the radio, Decker heard a perky lady say, “Tour-Time, this is Nancy speaking.”

  “Nancy, this is Detective Sergeant Peter Decker of the Los Angeles Police.” He gave her all the requisite ID. “I have an emergency situation here. I have to get hold of a woman who rented one of your cars. And I don’t know where she is. Are your cars equipped with a location tracking system like the Lo-jack?”

  “Yes, they are.”
>
  “The woman’s name is Honey Klein. I need you to activate her car’s system for me.”

  “One moment.”

  Decker waited nervously. Davidson said, “You trying to track this lady down?”

  “Better I tell her than my wife.”

  Davidson nodded and started to walk away. He turned around and shouted, “You find her, ask her if she knows this Yalom character.”

  Decker shouted back he would. A minute later, a less-than-perky Nancy came back on the line. “We have no record of a rental to a woman of that name. Are you sure she rented from us?”

  Shit, Decker thought. No, he wasn’t sure. “She may have rented using an assumed name—”

  “We ask for ID.”

  “She may have assumed ID.”

  Nancy was silent. Decker said, “She was a pretty, thin, blond woman. She rented the car yesterday around…maybe twelve, one P.M.”

  “I wasn’t here yesterday.”

  “The car she rented was an ice-blue Aerostar van.”

  “Well, we do rent Aerostars. One moment.” Nancy checked and reported back five minutes later. “I do have records of a rental of a blue Aerostar yesterday at twelve forty-five. The identification we have belongs to a woman named Barbara Hersh.”

  He said, “That might be the one. Can you activate the system on that car?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long will it take you to trace it?”

  “About fifteen minutes to a half hour. I’ll call you back, Detective.”

  “I’m in the field, Nancy. I’ll be hard to reach. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll call you back.” Decker cut the line and waited. Five minutes later, one of the dogs started barking furiously. The handler yelled out, “Lieutenant, I think we found another one!”

  Decker came out of the car. He met Davidson. The Loo said, “You hear that?”

  “Yep.” Decker stuffed his hands in his pockets.

  “How far is this spot from the Yalom development?”

  “About a twenty-minute, half-hour walk.”

  “And you hit it the first time out?”

  “This was the third mountain pass Marge and I checked out,” Decker said. “Perseverance pays off.”

  “Tenacious suckers, you two are.” Davidson looked over the mountain. “Maybe the family took a walk and the boys popped them here. You got lucky ’cause the rains washed away the trail. It’s probably the husband. We’ll need another ID.”

  Tug turned to the squad car where Orit Bar Lulu was resting.

  “How’s she holding up?”

  “I think she’ll be okay. Marge has been talking to her for a while.”

  “Yeah, that’s what the females are good for. Talking to the other females.” Davidson rubbed his hands together. “How’s your home emergency? Your wife sounded shaky.”

  “Under control.”

  Davidson nodded and left to check out the newest discovery. Decker went back to the car and called Rina.

  “He’s outside,” she said. “Officer Tim Calais?”

  “That’s the one.” He checked his watch. “Are you feeling better?”

  “I’m nervous Honey is going to walk in any minute. Peter, what do I say to her?”

  “I’ll be home soon. Don’t say anything until I get there.”

  “Okay. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” He hung up and checked his watch. Fifteen minutes had passed. He’d try his luck and call back Tour-Time. “Nancy, this is Detective Sergeant Decker—”

  “We found the car, Detective.” Nancy’s voice was nervous. “It’s on the Santa Monica Freeway.”

  Decker took out a pencil and his notepad. “The number ten freeway…Okay. Is the car heading west or east?”

  “It’s not heading anywhere. It isn’t moving.”

  Decker paused. “It’s on the shoulder?”

  “Yes, it appears to be on the westbound shoulder, stationed right before the 405 off ramp south.”

  The off ramp to the airport, Decker thought.

  “We’re sending someone from the company out to investigate,” Nancy said. “We’ve also placed a call to the Highway Patrol. It could be she just had engine problems or tire trouble…” Her voice faded. “Maybe you’d like to call the Highway Patrol personally.”

  “No problem.” Decker hung up, then asked the RTO to be connected with the CHiPs unit closest to the Aerostar. Again, that took some time. Five minutes later, Rachel Parks identified herself to Decker.

  “I’m at the site.” She sounded tense. “I don’t know what you’re working on, but maybe you should come down here. The car has two flat tires, but no visible puncture wounds. Something’s screwy.”

  “Anyone inside?”

  “No, Sergeant. No one’s inside.”

  “Is the car locked?”

  “Nope.”

  “Officer Parks, could you just take a peek inside the interior and tell me if something looks funny.”

  “Hold on, Sergeant.” Rachel returned a minute later. “Nothing immediate. I take it you don’t want me poking around, messing up your evidence. You want to come down before the rental company picks up the car?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be down.”

  “I’ll be waiting.” Patrol Officer Parks hung up.

  From the outside, he heard one of the lab men shouting. “Another one—male. Gunshot wound in the gut.”

  Decker joined Davidson at the mountainside. The Loo said, “As soon as Bar Lulu makes the ID, I’ll put out an APB for the boys. I’ll also have a couple of uniforms check out the airlines. Free you and Dunn up for the major investigation.”

  Decker nodded, staring at the lab men who were gingerly scraping mud off the buried corpse. “This is going to take a while.”

  “You got a plane to catch?” the Loo asked.

  Decker recapped his conversation with Rina and with Rachel Parks.

  Davidson said, “It’s West LA’s problem, Decker.”

  “Not when it affects my wife.” Decker kept his voice even. “Loo, the lady’s got four kids, they were staying at my house. Now I don’t care under whose jurisdiction it technically falls, I’m going out there.”

  Davidson stared at the chilled ground and rubbed his hands together. “Body’ll keep. Be back in an hour.”

  Decker nodded. “See you in an hour.”

  16

  Decker reflected: A twenty-minute ride from the corpses to his ranch—a sobering thought. He welcomed the sight of Tim Calais’s patrol car parked in front of the house, thanking Tim for coming through and offering to return the favor, if needed, in the future. When Decker opened the front door, he found Rina in the living room, pacing, Hannah bouncing on Mommie’s hip. In front of the fireplace was a suitcase. Decker kissed Rina, then took Hannah and gave her several smooches on her cheek. The baby took the assaults with stoicism, then patted Daddy’s chest. Decker’s eyes traveled back to the luggage.

  “Planning an impromptu vacation?”

  “I’m very good at reading your tone of voice,” Rina said. “You’re going to suggest we spend the night at my parents’ house.”

  “Very good.”

  “I’m willing to go. But what do I do with Honey and her family? I can’t just desert them.”

  “I don’t think you’re going to be hearing from them.” Decker told her about the abandoned van. “An HP officer is waiting for me. But I wanted to get my family squared away first.”

  Rina’s face was frightened. “Abandoned…they just upped and left…or was it an abduction…like the case you’re working on?”

  “Rina, I don’t know,” he said, nervously. Then he remembered he was holding Hannah. He didn’t want her to absorb his tension. He spoke calmly, “Do you know if Honey’s luggage is still in the house?”

  “I haven’t checked.”

  “I’ll do it.” Decker kissed his wife’s cheek, then walked into the guest room.

  It was as neat as an army barracks—two twin beds and four cots, all of the
m made up. The Kleins’ suitcases were still in the room. They were closed and stacked in the corner. Decker switched Hannah to his other arm, went over to the valises and opened up the top piece. It seemed to belong to Minda, judging by the size of the dresses. The clothes inside were jumbled. He opened the second suitcase—Pessy’s. Again, the apparel was messy.

  That made Decker feel better. Honey didn’t seem to care about her kids’ packing habits. She was just trying to keep the room neat for them. Decker closed the second suitcase.

  “How you doing, Muffin?” Decker said to Hannah. “Putting up with crazy Dad?”

  The baby smiled. Decker tickled her tummy. “Let’s see what’s in the bathroom, okay?”

  Again the baby smiled. Decker smiled back. “My, but you’re agreeable. Are you sure you’re a member of this family?”

  He went inside the bathroom. The towels were neatly hung, the vanity to the sink was clean, five toothbrushes standing in the borrowed glass cup.

  Decker leaned against the wall. Toothbrushes still in the bathroom, suitcases still stuffed with clothing. His stomach was tight. Rina interrupted his thoughts.

  “The suitcases are here. They were planning on coming back. Peter, this is sickening!”

  “Yes, it is. But worrying about them isn’t constructive. Honey Klein said her husband might have been involved with the wrong people. You’re right. I want all of you out of here for the night. Better to be paranoid than sorry. Can you get the boys after school?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then let’s go.” Decker started to pick up a suitcase, then noticed Rina hadn’t moved. “Are you all right?”

  “Peter, I don’t mind being exiled to my parents as a precaution, but it’s disruptive for the boys. I took the liberty of calling Rav Schulman. He said he would watch the boys for a couple of days. I think they might be better off at the yeshiva.”

  Decker frowned. “Rina, we just pulled them out of the yeshiva. You think it’s smart to send them back?”

  “Just for a couple of days.” She clasped her hands together. “I’m still ambivalent. I spent almost eight years of my life at Ohavei Torah. I’m very attached to it—to the Rav. And he’s so attached to the boys. I feel obligated to keep up contact for the boys’ sakes.”