Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 07

by Sanctuary

  Marge stood, exchanging glances with Decker. “You don’t know anybody who’d want Yalom dead?”

  “The man was rude and abrasive. No doubt he made enemies.” She nibbled her thumbnail. “But I know of no one personally who’d want him dead.” Milligan gave him a patronizing look. “I’ve given you quite a bit of time. Can we wrap this up?”

  Decker said, “I think we’re about done. If I have more questions, I can call you at your office, right?”

  “Certainly.”

  “You’ll be in town?”

  “Yes, yes. But please don’t call arbitrarily. I have a big case coming up. I’ll need to concentrate and I find this very distracting. If you have questions, leave them with my secretary. I’ll get back to you.”

  Decker smiled boyishly. “Sounds like a Hollywood line. I’ll get back to you.”

  “Good-bye, Detective.”

  Both Marge and Decker stood. Then, as an afterthought, Marge said, “What do you think of Yalom’s partner, Ms. Milligan? Did you or anyone else at VerHauten ever deal with him?”

  A spark passed through Milligan’s eyes, disappearing as fast as it ignited. “Yalom’s partner? Arik doesn’t have a partner.”

  The room grew quiet.

  Marge stuck her hands in her pocket. “Interesting.”

  Milligan stated, “Yalom never negotiated in the name of any partnership. Are you sure your information is correct?”

  Decker shrugged.

  “You’re not aware of Yalom having a partner?” Marge asked.

  “That’s what I said,” Milligan answered. “Unless you’re referring to Arik’s bald-headed, obnoxious salesman. What was his name again?”

  Decker and Marge were silent.

  “It was Gold, wasn’t it?” Milligan said.

  Lady, you know damn well it’s Gold.

  “Gold told you he was Arik’s partner?” Milligan laughed. “Rather slipshod on your part to believe him.”

  Decker stood. “Thank you for your time. I think we’re done for now.”

  “You’re welcome.” Milligan smiled. “Did Mr. Gold actually tell you he was Yalom’s partner?”

  Decker said, “Yes, he did.”

  “And you believed him?”

  “Everyone we’ve talked to, including Mr. Yalom’s sister, had told us that Mr. Gold was Mr. Yalom’s partner. Obviously Mr. Yalom told you something different.”

  “Is that important to you, Ms. Milligan?” Marge asked.

  Milligan’s face was flat. “Of mild interest. I always wonder what makes people deceitful.”

  Decker smiled. “Ms. Milligan, it’s what keeps my partner and me in business.”

  23

  Slipping on his shades, Decker said, “Two things stick out in my mind. One: Why did Milligan act so weird when we mentioned Gold—?”

  “Yeah, something was off. Her voice cracked, the smile got hard.”

  “But her eyes never wavered. You notice that?”

  “Sure did,” Marge said. “Probably something she learned in CEO school—the same one that teaches ‘never let them see you sweat.’”

  Decker smiled. “The disparaging way she talked about Gold. And for no apparent reason.”

  “So right away, being of perverted mind, we start thinking that Milligan and Gold are up to something.”

  “The thought crossed my mind.” Decker walked slowly. “The other thing that bothered me was this: Why would Milligan be dealing with someone like Arik Yalom even if he was a top cutter. Milligan was in charge of marketing, not manufacturing.”

  “I know how your mind works,” Marge said. “You’re thinking that maybe she had no choice. Yalom was blackmailing her.”

  “Something.” Decker thought a moment. “The letters Milligan and Yalom exchanged. The veiled threats in them. Actually not so veiled in the later correspondence.”

  Marge said, “To me, they sounded just like Milligan described them. Like the ravings of a lunatic.”

  “So assume he was a lunatic. Why would Milligan deal with a lunatic?”

  “She stopped dealing with him, Pete.”

  “Or maybe she dealt with him in the ultimate way. She had him popped.” Decker paused. “I know, I know. Big leap. I’m stretching from here to China, looking for something that isn’t there. Probably VerHauten told her to deal with Yalom because they needed him as a cutter.”

  “Besides, why would Yalom blackmail Milligan?”

  “I’ve got an answer for that. Yalom wanted an in to VerHauten to hawk his mining stocks and land and Milligan was his ticket.”

  Marge pushed hair off her forehead. “I like that.”

  Decker licked his index finger and sliced air, making an imaginary tally mark. “If you assume Milligan in the role of blackmailee, it makes sense why she answered Yalom directly. You don’t go to the boss if you have a personal problem. You keep everything hush-hush and attempt to take care of it yourself.”

  “But Pete, she eventually did forward the letters to VerHauten’s attorneys.”

  “Yeah, she did.” Decker shrugged. “So I’m off base. Not the first time.”

  They walked into the darkened labyrinth of the underground parking lot. After the requisite minute needed for orientation, they found the unmarked. Marge took the wheel, Decker rode shotgun.

  Marge said, “What I want to know is, what’s with Shaul Gold? His partner’s dead and he’s nowhere to be found. Last we saw and heard of him, he was half drunk with a loaded gun, planning to rescue the boys.”

  “You forgot impersonating a police officer,” Decker said.

  “What’s his role in all of this? Then we mentioned him to Milligan, and she went all hinky. Maybe we weren’t off base. Maybe Gold and Milligan are in on something together.”

  “In on what?”

  “I don’t know.” Marge thought for a moment. “Let’s go back to your blackmail thing, Pete. Say Yalom was blackmailing Milligan. Say he had something really big on her. If Milligan was going to hire out to pop Yalom, who better to do the job than Gold? He didn’t like his partner—”

  “Gold has an alibi.”

  Marge said, “Gold can also bribe. The man had also been a sniper in the Israeli army. We both know that a sniper’s just a sanctioned murderer anyway.”

  “That’s a shitty thing to say,” Decker blurted out. “What the hell do you know about wartime rules anyway?”

  The car grew cold and quiet.

  Marge stumbled until she found some words. “Look, if I hit a nerve, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to solve a case, okay?”

  Decker ran his hands over his face. “Sorry.” He clapped his hands. “You’re right. We’re working on a case here. Go on.”

  “Where was I?” Marge asked softly. “I lost my train of thought.”

  Decker said, “You were thinking that Milligan hired Gold to blow Yalom away.”

  “When you state it like that, it sounds ridiculous. I was just talking theoretically.”

  “Theory’s all we have,” Decker said quietly.

  Marge drove a minute, then said, “You want some coffee, Pete?”

  “I’d love some.”

  “Shall we live dangerously and try out for the corner coffee vendor?”

  “I’m game. Just don’t get me anything designer.”

  “I know, I know. Black coffee—”

  “Plain black coffee. Nothing with a lemon peel in it.”

  Marge let out a small laugh, pulled over, and parked the car. She got out and a minute later brought back two steaming paper cups to the Plymouth. They drank in silence. Decker broke it.

  “Sorry I jumped on you, Margie.”

  “No prob.” She looked down, then back at Decker. “You want to talk to me about it, Rabbi?”

  “Talk to you about what?”

  “About what pushed your button.”

  “No, not particularly.”

  Marge broke into laughter and so did Decker. He said, “I’m fucked up. End of story. Back to the case, Mar
gie. Assume that Milligan had been dealing with Yalom because he was blackmailing her.”

  “A logical leap, but okay. Assume blackmail. What could Yalom have had on Milligan?”

  No one spoke.

  “The hard part, huh?” Marge smiled. “If he was blackmailing her, the woman would have to have a past. How about she was a hooker?”

  Decker shook his head.

  Marge pursed her lips. “Yeah, she’s too pretty and too smart. We need something classier, huh? She was a call girl—an expensive call girl.”

  Again, Decker shook his head.

  Marge said, “Okay, forget hooker. How about…she has a record.”

  “Seems to me a company like VerHauten would scrutinize its top employees. A rap sheet would be an easy thing to check out.”

  “Not if she was a juvenile at the time and the records had been sealed.”

  “Assuming the South African legal system is the same as ours.”

  Marge made a face. “You’re right. I don’t know if they’re comparable.”

  Decker said, “I don’t know if she’s even South African. She could be English or Australian or Rhodesian. Only it’s not Rhodesia anymore.”

  “What’s it called now?”

  “Uh…Rhodesia’s Zimbabwe, I think.”

  “So she could be Zimbabwean,” Marge said. “Pete, I don’t know anything about the Zimbabwean legal system.”

  They both laughed. Marge said, “The fact still remains that she could have been a former felon—juvenile or otherwise.”

  “And you don’t think a giant like VerHauten would have found out about that?”

  “Well then, how about this, Pete?” Marge said, testily. “How about you suggest some theories and I’ll shoot them down?”

  “Fair enough. Okay. We have a beautiful, brilliant lady who worked for one of the biggest, wealthiest, most powerful monopolies in the world. If she had a skeleton, what would it be?”

  Decker tapped his foot.

  “A reformed hooker just wouldn’t have made it up the ladder that far. That only happens in Hollywood. And a felon wouldn’t have made it that big, either. Former felons don’t become high-powered, seven-figure-a-year corporate lawyers. They become screenwriters.”

  Marge erupted into laughter. “No, former cops become screenwriters.”

  “Or even novelists if they’re talented.” Decker smiled. “So what could put a woman like Milligan under?”

  Marge said, “VerHauten is a bastion of conservatism. How about if she was illegitimate?”

  Decker paused. “That’s not bad.”

  “You like that?”

  “It’s a start. She could have come from trash and she’s trying to hide her roots. But then again, I venture to say VerHauten would have done an extensive background check on her—who her family was, where she went to school, things like that. If she came from poor stock, they would have found out about it.”

  The car was quiet.

  Decker said, “You know, I’m thinking like a white, American male. Milligan’s a white, rich, South African female—”

  “With an emphasis on the rich part. You see her suit? A Cesucci. Musta cost two grand if it was a penny.”

  “I didn’t even notice.”

  “See, the ordinary Joe Blow isn’t supposed to notice. Then it wouldn’t be classy. It’s strictly for the upper crust to notice.”

  “So my roots are showing,” Decker said. “Margie, what would be a big no-no for a rich, white, educated, established, South African female.”

  “Having an affair with a black.” She looked at Decker. He was grinning. She said, “Even if it was true, how would Yalom have found out about it? Yalom and not VerHauten.”

  “Good question,” Decker admitted. “The only thing I can think of is…God, how do I say this without feeding stereotypes and prejudice.”

  “Spit it out.”

  “The Jewish diamond network.”

  Marge laughed. “Too much talking to Tug.”

  Decker smiled. “Remember the way Milligan spoke about the diamond cutters…described them as gossipy and clannish. I think she was referring to the Jews, Marge. Because the Jews are primo diamond cutters. And just maybe she was talking from experience. Maybe one of them saw and heard something. And Yalom was a greedy bastard who took advantage of the situation.”

  Marge said, “So say we’re right. Say somewhere in Milligan’s past she had a torrid affair with a black. Does that kind of thing make a difference in this day and age?”

  “Not if you’re an ordinary Jane. But if you’re a South African working for a white, conservative company like VerHauten, I think it could make a hell of a difference.”

  “Yeah, VerHauten is an entity unto itself,” Marge said. “As long as we’re spinning fairy tales, let’s take it a step farther. Assume Milligan wanted Yalom out of the way for good. I still think Gold would make the perfect triggerman.”

  “Why would Milligan hire Gold to pop Yalom? Wouldn’t she be worried that now he’d become a problem, too? Take on where Yalom left off?”

  “But Gold wouldn’t be a problem now. He’s figuratively in bed with Milligan.”

  Decker thought about that. “So let me play Devil’s advocate. Why would Gold have bitten the hand that fed him?”

  “Because he was sick of playing the supporting role, sick of Arik being the big man on campus.”

  “Gold had amassed a mighty fine African art collection by being number two.”

  “So Gold was an ingrate. It’s been known to happen. Anyway, this was Gold’s big chance. Once he got rid of Arik, he got not only the business but the wife. Remember the Lexus parked outside the house every week.”

  “Dalia was killed along with her husband, Marge.”

  Marge frowned. “Yeah, you’re right. That was stupid. Okay, so maybe the Lexus being parked outside the house was just Gold and Yalom doing business. So just assume Gold popped Yalom to get him out of the way. Dalia was the side dish—got eaten in the process. It still makes sense, Gold got the business and Milligan got her little blackmail problem solved.”

  “And Gold was the hit man?”

  “He was a former sniper, he knew guns. Furthermore, Arik and Dalia trusted him. Who better to lead the Yaloms under false pretenses to an isolated spot on the mountain?”

  That was true enough. Decker ran his fingers through his hair. What she said did make sense. Maybe he just didn’t want to see Gold as a murderous thug. Not with the way Gold spoke about Dalia. Yet Decker had known many murderers to express regret over their actions.

  He said, “If that’s the case, if it’s played out like that, we’ve got a big problem, Marge.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s called evidence.”

  “No, it’s called the boys,” Decker said. “What about Yalom’s sons? They made an escape. They must have known what was going on. Suppose they knew Gold was the triggerman. What do you think’s going to happen to them?”

  No one spoke.

  Marge said, “Well, we know the boys ran for it. Hopefully, they escaped.”

  “To where?”

  “Well, if I was a teenager and needed to escape, I’d find a faraway place with some relatives.”

  “And for the Yalom boys, what place is that?” Decker asked.

  “Israel,” Marge stated.

  “And that’s exactly what I’m afraid of. Gold came out and said he was going to look for the boys—”

  “He was drunk.”

  “Maybe not so drunk as he appeared. If Gold had anything to do with his partner’s death, we’re in trouble. Because we now have the boys in Israel on Gold’s turf. If what we’re saying is true, they’re worse off there than they are here.”

  “There’s a logic to that.” Marge sighed. “We need to find the boys before Gold finds them.”

  “Let’s try the sister Orit again,” Decker said. “If the boys are staying with relatives, she’ll know about it.”

  “She already told us she doesn’t kno
w where they are.”

  “You know me, Marge. I don’t take no for an answer.”

  Wearing a long black skirt and a glitter-splattered oversized sweater, Orit paced her living room and smoked up a nicotine fog.

  “You don’t solve my brother’s murder. You don’t solve nothing. All you do is accuse. I tell you once, I tell you again. I don’t know about the boys.”

  Sitting on the edge of a velvet sofa, Decker had his notebook out, but the pages were empty. Marge sat next to him.

  “You’re sure they’re not staying with your parents in Israel?” Marge tapped her pen against her notebook. Her pages were also devoid of writing. “Because if they are, they could be in danger.”

  “Yes, Ms. Detective, you told me that. And I tell you they’re not with my parents. Please don’t call them. They’ve gone through enough. Please. Just leave them alone.”

  Decker said, “Ms. Bar Lulu, we’re trying to help—”

  “You want to help, leave them alone. They are in anguish now. I go to them as soon as you people release the bodies for burial. How long does that take, for Godsakes?”

  “The bodies were just discovered a few days ago—”

  “Ach, you people have no feelings. I wait and wait and wait and I can’t bury my family. I have to go to Israel with the bodies for shiva—for mourning. Do you understand?”

  “I know what shiva is,” Decker said.

  “That’s right. You’re Jewish. So you know how important burial is.”

  Decker nodded.

  Orit’s voice dropped. “My brother…he and Dalia would want to be buried in Israel. All Jews should be buried in Israel.” She inhaled a mouthful of smoke and blew it out in one big gust. “I help you any way I can. Just leave my parents alone.”

  No one spoke for a moment. Then Decker said, “They know something, don’t they?”

  Orit shook her head. “Leave them alone.”

  “Orit,” Decker said softly. “I’m trying to help. I’m trying to….” He stood, walked over to her, and put a hand on her shoulder. The gesture made her stiffen. He immediately backed off.

  “You’re a tough lady, you know that?”