Faye Kellerman - Decker 05 - False Prophet

by False Prophet

  "Six years."

  "So you know the ropes. Won't be playing hot dog on the first hit." Oliver played with his napkin. "That always helps. Get some greener in, anxious to prove himself, makes everyone's life miserable."

  Decker said, "If I come in, I come as a duo." "Oh, you're one of those—you and your partner are real tight. Don't get me wrong, it works for some people. Frankly, I consider partners a pain in the ass."

  "Not a good team player, Scott?"

  "No, it's not that. Hey, help yourself to my files." Oliver held out his hands expansively. "I just don't like a shadow breathing down my neck." He paused. "I don't know. Maybe I just never had the right partner. Yours a good guy?"

  "Gal—"

  "Ah, the plot thickens."

  "Strictly business."

  "You fucking her, it's gonna come out, you know."

  Decker was impassive. "She's strictly business."

  "She any good... at business, I mean."

  "She's excellent."

  "How old is she?"

  "Thirty."

  Oliver raised his brow. "Is she cute?"

  "You fuck her, it's gonna come out," Decker said.

  Oliver thought about that. "You married, Pete?"

  "Yep."

  "So am I." Oliver grinned. "What can I say?"

  "Pussy file on you pretty thick, Scott?"

  "Bigger than some, not as big as others." Oliver shrugged. "I'm a curious guy. That's why I'm a detective."

  Two cups of coffee were brought over by a thin-hipped waitress. She took their orders, Oliver selecting the turkey dinner, Decker sticking to coffee only. By the time Decker was done explaining the case, Oliver was soaking up the last bits of tan-colored gravy with a Parker House roll.

  Decker said, "I've called Burbank, left a message I was meeting you here. I was hoping they might have found out something. But I guess they're still at the fact-finding phase of the investigation."

  "Are they the types to get bogged down with minutiae?"

  "No, they seemed okay... eager to work."

  "Good. So what do we got so far?" Oliver pushed his plate aside. "We got my stiff torched in Davida Eversong's limo."

  "It was definitely her limo?"

  "Can't say for sure yet, but we think so. The old lady just bought herself a new BMW, too. I gotta ask why."

  Decker said, "So that's why the limo was unavailable to take Lilah Brecht out for dinner last night. Davida had other plans for it."

  "I haven't been able to reach the old lady by phone, so I thought

  I'd drop by the spa, question her directly. But first I wanted to

  talk to you. From what you said, the daughter sounds as if she's

  crossed the other side."

  "She's been through the wringer." But she still manages to dress

  to kill. Decker thought. "She's also a piece, Scott. You got a weakness for furry creatures, watch your ass."

  "You know what you do with a seductive chick like that?" "What?"

  "You come on strong, they turn off like a light. Works every time. Bet you came on all business with an 'aw shucks' grin, flashing your wedding band in her face. Hell, with that kind of animal, a ring's like chum to a shark." Decker sipped coffee. Guy was a sharpie. "So..." Oliver ran his hand through his hair. "Do you want to talk to Ness? Ask him what his wallet was doing in a torched limo next to a DB? You know what he's gonna say."

  "Yeah, Donnally lifted the wallet. Did you call upto see if there was a stop put on the credit cards?"

  Oliver frowned. "No. I should have done that. Found out how far ahead Ness was thinking. And then again, maybe Donnally really did steal Ness's wallet." "Maybe."

  "So how do you figure in Donnally?"

  "That's why I wish Burbank would call back. If the blood in Merritt's office was Donnally's, then you have to figure he and Merritt were whacked at the same time. Somebody carried Donnally out of the office and torched him inside the limo. Do you have an official cause on Donnally's death?"

  "Hold on." Oliver pulled a folder out of his briefcase. "I just got the prelim path report 'bout five minutes before I was due to meet you. Let's see..." He turned pages. "Okay, official cause was two thirty-eights in the chest. I told you he was shot, didn't I?"

  Decker shook his head.

  "Memory's getting worse by the minute," Oliver bemoaned. "I have to write everything down now. That really bugs me 'cause I used to have a computer brain. You reach thirty-five, it's all over."

  "You obviously haven't reached forty."

  Oliver laughed and sipped coffee. "Got something to look forward to, Pete?"

  "I prefer my future to Donnally's."

  "That's for sure." Oliver returned his attention to the path report. "Yeah, even though Donnally had been roasted, the lab made out the entry wounds. Course it was impossible to tell

  proximity of the discharge. Can't read powder burns off charcoal briquettes."

  "What does the report say about the lungs?"

  "Hold on..." He flipped through more paper. "Liver, kidney, spleen—"

  "Backtrack," Decker said. "You're in the peritoneum."

  "Yeah, I hate reading these goddamn things. Okay, lungs were clear, so the shots did him in. No smoke inhalation; he was dead before he was barbecued."

  "That would be consistent with his being at Kingston Merritt's murder scene, Scott. The tech said there was a pool of blood belonging to another body. I'm betting the corpse was Donnally and some third party removed him from the scene."

  "Ness."

  "Or someone with Ness's wallet. Now I don't know if the third party was involved in the two shootings or if he was just a spectator while the two of them dueled it out." Decker thought a moment. "Could be Ness was just doing someone else's cleanup."

  "Guess we won't know until we ask him. And maybe not even then." Oliver looked at his watch. "It's early. You want to pay a visit to Mr. Ness at the spa now?"

  "Okay by me," Decker said. "I'll leave another message with Burbank. Don't want to step all over them."

  "Never helps to piss off the co-investigators."

  Oliver left a ten on the table. Decker figured that constituted a four-dollar tip on a six-dollar tab. No wonder Scottie was popular with the ladies.

  The lighting was soft and recessed, the fireplace aglow with blue-white gas flames encircling fake logs. Bowls of potpourri adorned the center of each end table, emitting an apple-cinnamon scent bordering on cloying. Sitting around the hearth was a group of twenty women. Some were still dressed in exercise clothes—tights and leotards and sweatshirts. Their hair was still tied in ponytails or pulled off their foreheads by sweat bands. Others were garbed in oversized sweaters, leggings, ankle warmers, and sneakers, their faces made up, their hair blow-dried perfectly. They were listening to a young lady who stood in the center of the semicircle, waving several swatches of diaphanous cloth. She had waist-length blond hair and wore a black mini T-shirt dress that showed every curve.

  Oliver leaned against the front door and looked at Decker. "You wanna flip for the broad in the center?"

  Decker stuck his hands in his coat pocket. "Know what I find a real pisser?"

  "Other than the fact that you can't fuck all these fine specimens

  at once?"

  "Look what's going down here, Scottie. You got the air conditioning running full blast so they can make it cold enough to light a fire. Jesus, it's eighty-five degrees outside. You want heat, open a window. Aren't they in violation of some asinine health

  code?"

  "How 'bout this, Pete?" Oliver placed his hands on Decker's

  shoulders. "You look through the rule books, I'll interview the broads."

  They listened to the blonde talk for a moment. She passed around the squares of cloth and a hand mirror and asked the women to hold the cloth up to their faces. Decker had caught something about ivory creams and peaches softening the rusts, when a pinch-faced girl with pink-rimmed glasses walked up to them. She wore a starch
ed white-linen business suit, the skirt tight and short. Her legs were bare, her feet shod in backless shoes.

  "Good evening, gentlemen. I'm Fern Purcel. May I help you?"

  "Yeah, you can." Oliver's eyes went from Fern's legs to the circle of women. He pointed to them. "What're they doin' over there?"

  Fern stiffened. "That's Elizabeth Dumay—as in Dumay cosmetics. She was kind enough to drop by and do colors for the women."

  Oliver turned to Decker. "What the hell is colors?"

  "Red, blue, green—"

  "So this stuff is Greek to you, too."

  "No, I know the letters of the Greek alphabet." Decker pulled out his badge and showed it to Fern.

  "Not again!" she said. "What is it this time?—no, I don't even want to know. Just wait here until I call Ms. Ness."

  Oliver's ears perked up. "Ms. Ness?"

  "Mike's sister," said Decker. "Far as I can tell, she's the business manager here."

  "You ever talk to her?"

  "Not me personally. My partner did."

  "If you'll excuse me, I'll call her now," Fern said.

  Gently, Decker caught her by the arm, then let go of her. "I'd rather not waste your time, Fern. How about giving us a personal escort to Ms. Ness's office?" He jerked his head in the direction of the women. "Less likely to create a scene if you get us out of the lobby."

  Behind the pink-rimmed glasses, dark eyes traveled from the hearth to the second-story landing off the staircase. Must be where Kelley's office is located, thought Decker. He swept his arm toward the banister. "After you, ma'am."

  At first no one moved. Then, reluctantly, Fern walked across the floor of the entry and started up the steps. The men followed a half flight behind.

  "What was that all about?" Oliver whispered. Decker said, "In the past, sis has warned bro when the police have dropped in. I figured we, the good guys, should have the advantage of surprise." "Definitely."

  Fern led them to a pie-shaped room. In contrast to the mellow lighting of the domed lobby, the office was harsh with the white glare of fluorescence. A young woman with poker-straight brown hair had her nose inches from her desk. She pulled a long strand behind her ear, then tapped the desktop with a pencil. She didn't even bother looking up when Fern cleared her throat. "What is it, Fern?" "Police, Ms. Ness."

  Kelley Ness snapped her head up. She wore a crew-neck red top. A thin gold choker chain showed off her long, graceful neck. Decker pulled out his badge. "Detective Sergeant Decker. This is

  Detective Oliver."

  Kelley was silent. Not a bad-looking gal, Decker thought. Might even be pretty if she took off the scowl. She resembled her brother, but he was a better-looking boy than she was a girl. Decker wondered if that created friction between them. He thought Kelley's eyes seemed scared and wondered why. Placing his badge back in his breast pocket, he said, "We're here to talk to your brother, Mike. Is he around?"

  Kelley remained quiet.

  "Ms. Ness?" Oliver said.

  Kelley bit her lip, her eyes jumping between the men. "I'll...

  I'll call Mike's room—"

  " Decker covered the phone receiver with his hand. "Why don't you just walk us over there? Heck, you're working real hard, you could use a break."

  "I... I don't have time—"

  "Make time, Ms. Ness." Oliver's smile was drop-dead charming. "Please."

  Slowly, Kelley rose from her chair. The crew-neck top was actually a dress. "I'm not sure where he is."

  "We've got time for a guided tour," Decker said. Kelley suddenly toughened her demeanor. "Decker... you were the one who saved Lilah yesterday."

  Yeah, that did happen just yesterday, Decker thought. Seems like weeks ago. That's what happens when you've been working

  forty out of the last forty-eight hours. Man, he needed sleep.

  "Lilah told me not to permit you into the grounds."

  "Now that wouldn't be very wise."

  "No, not at all," Oliver agreed.

  "Lilah's a little miffed at me right now," Decker said. "Anyway, I don't want to see Lilah. I want to talk to your brother."

  "What about?"

  Oliver scratched his head and positioned himself on Kelley's right. "This and that, Ms. Ness."

  Decker flanked her left side. "Shouldn't take too long."

  "In and out," Oliver said, gently guiding her to the door.

  "Maybe a little longer than in and out." Decker turned off the office lights.

  "Yeah, maybe a little longer." Oliver shut the door behind him. "But not too much longer."

  "No, not too much longer," Decker repeated.

  Kelley looked back at her office as forlorn as a kid forced off to summer camp.

  "After you, Ms. Ness," Decker said.

  Kelley sighed, then marched down the steps. To the left of the staircase was an open door leading to a dimly lit carpeted hallway.

  Oliver whispered, "Split the sibs?"

  Decker shook his head. "I want to see how they act together."

  "Are they in cahoots?"

  Decker shrugged.

  Kelley stopped at the end of the hall, in front of room 12. She faced the door, raised her fist to knock, but didn't complete the action. Oliver knocked for her. A muffled male voice said it was open. Decker turned the knob and allowed Kelley to cross the threshold.

  In a few seconds, brother and sister exchanged lots of nonverbal conversation. Neither one was pleased, but Ness looked composed. He sat cross-legged on the bed, garbed in gray sweatpants and a pink and black Body Glove muscle shirt. "Where's the lady detective? I liked her. She was cute."

  Oliver stuck his hands in his pockets and said nothing. Decker looked around the spartan room and leaned against the wall. Kelley sat down on the bed and patted her brother's leg.

  "Where were you yesterday, Mike?" Decker asked.

  "Here."

  "All day?" Decker said.

  "Yes, all day. Where else would I—?" Shit! Ness told himself to slow down or he was going to trip up again. "No, of course not all day. I saw you at Lilah's ranch yesterday, didn't I? After the accident. I went to pick vegetables for the kitchen, remember?"

  "Then you came back here?" Oliver asked.

  "Yeah, I had to lead my afternoon aerobics class."

  "Then where'd you go?" Decker said.

  "I went on break, then came back for the final yoga class."

  "Then what?"

  Slowly, Ness uncoiled his legs from the lotus position and stood.

  "What's the point of this?"

  "We don't have a hard-on for you, Mike," Decker said. "We're just trying to retrace your day, maybe even help you out. So how about cooperating with us?"

  Ness was quiet for a moment. "Sure. You want me to go over my day, I'll do the best I can. I don't remember exactly what 1 did after yoga, which means I probably went straight to my room. I went to my room and stayed there the entire evening. Kell

  visited me."

  "Yes, I did," Kelley said, bobbing her head up and down. Ness threw her a look that told her to shut up. "Kell was here, Eubie Jeffers was here. But there was lots of time I was here by my lonesome. I watched a little TV, put on some tapes. What else can I tell you?"

  "What movies did you see?" Oliver asked.

  "Not tapes as in movies," Ness said. "Videos of me doing exercise routines. It's not narcissism. I like to see what kind of muscles I'm working out. If I'm not getting enough triceps action, I add more tri exercises. If the hamstrings are being overworked, I reduce the stress there. Want to see them?"

  Decker remembered Marge telling him about the tapes and shook his head. "Where'd you eat dinner, Mike?"

  Ness eyed him for a moment. "Dinner?"

  "Yeah, dinner. Simple question. Where'd you eat?"

  "He had dinner with me," Kelley said.

  Both detective looked at her. Ness grimaced as if he'd sucked

  lemons.

  "With you?" Oliver said.