False Prophet (38 page)

“I chose Southwestern as our dinner theme tonight,” Rina said. “
Très chic
. Or maybe it’s
muy
chic. Yonkie, bring in the salsa for the chicken. Shmuli, get off the
phone
!”

“In a minute, Eema.”

Decker cut a piece of chicken and popped it into his mouth. “Anyone interesting call?”

“Cindy.” Rina frowned. “I think I sounded overanxious.”

Decker picked his head up. No noise outside — just his imagination. “Overanxious about what?”

“About trying to make her feel welcome.” Rina speared a forkful of salad. “She was so sheepish about asking you to stay for the summer. I feel a little guilty. As if
our
relationship changed
your
relationship with her.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Decker chewed.

“It’s an adjustment for her, Peter. She’s used to having you to herself. Now, she has
me
in the picture.” Rina thought about her words. “I’m close to my father. I can understand her confusion.”

“She’s always gotten along well with you,” Decker said. “Besides, her mother remarried first — takes the heat off you. She’ll be okay once she’s out here.”

“Once she sees I’m not really a wicked stepmother.” She looked over her shoulder. “Shmuli, get off the phone
now
!”

Jacob smiled. “Don’t worry, Eema. I’ll tell her you’re not any wickeder as a stepmom than you are as a regular mom.”

Rina stared at him. “Thank you, Yonkie. And wickeder isn’t a word.”

“More wicked.” Sammy sat down. “Pass the salsa.”

Decker spooned sauce over the boy’s chicken, lifted his head again, then returned his attention to his potatoes.

“Are you expecting anyone, Peter?” Rina asked.

“No. Why?”

“You seem preoccupied.”

Decker shrugged. “Hard to switch gears.”

Rina patted his hand. “Try to relax, dear.”

Sammy stuffed his mouth full of potatoes. “Yeah, we could use one calm parent around here.”

“Are you suggesting I’ve been less than a model of patience, Shmuli?” Rina asked.

“God forbid!” Sammy smiled impishly. “You make dynamite potatoes, Eema.”

Rina gave him a look of mock disapproval.

“Ginger, stop begging,” Jacob said. “Can I give her some of my chicken?”

“No, you’ve already doused your meat with salsa,” Rina said. “That’s all her poor stomach would need.”

“Maybe she’d like some salsa, Eema,” Sammy said. “Add a little spice to her life.”

Rina said, “So you’re volunteering to clean up her mess if she gets indigestion?”

The boy shook his head quickly.

“Any other calls?” Decker asked.

“Nothing important.”

Decker poured himself a glass of orange juice. “Like what do you mean by nothing important?”

Rina laughed. “What?”

“I mean, what calls did you get that you don’t consider important?”

Rina looked at him. “What’s on your mind, Peter?”

“Nothing’s on my mind. I’m just asking about calls.”

She continued to stare at him.

“I was just wondering if you’ve received any hang-ups… someone calling and hanging up… without speaking.”

Rina said, “Peter, your obvious attempt to be casual is making us all nervous. What is it?”

Decker said, “Lilah—”

Rina banged down her fork.
“Again?”

“Is she the maniac who woke us all up this morning?” Sammy said.

“Yes,” Decker answered.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” Jacob said. “She tries anything funny, Eema’ll just shoot her!”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Decker said. “Maybe it’d be a good idea if you visited your parents tonight.”

Rina sat back in her chair. “Did she
threaten
me?”

“No.”

“Then what did she do?”

“She…” Decker put down his fork. “She… cursed us—”

“You’re upset because she used the
f-word
?” Yonkie asked.

“No, not
swearing
,” Decker said. “Cursing… like what witches do.”

“Cursing as in
klalah
,” Rina clarified to the boys. “Not
nivul peh
.” She mock spat several times into the air. “Pooh, pooh, pooh! That’s what I think of her curses. And just
let
her try anything — incur the wrath of a grumpy, hot, pregnant woman. It’s no contest, Peter.”

Decker buried his head in his hands.

“I’m just
teasing
you,” Rina said. “Are you really worried? If you’re worried, we’ll schlepp out to my parents’.”

“It would make me feel better.”

“Do you want us to spend the night there?”

“If I think I’ll be home by nine, I’ll call. If not, maybe a night at Grandma’s and Grandpap’s would be a good idea.” Decker sighed. “This is really going to endear me to your mother…. ‘You put my daughter in danger….’”

“You do a terrible Hungarian accent.” Rina turned to her sons. “Finish up, then go pack your bags. I need to talk to your father for a minute.”

Jacob faced his brother. “He’s gonna tell her the gory details in private.”

“There are no gory details,” Decker said.

“Finish up, please,” Rina said.

Sammy stood. “Great grub, Eema.” He kissed his mother’s cheek. “Let’s go, Yonkie. It’s a long ride to Savta’s and Saba’s. If there are any gory details, we’ll get them out of her.”

“There are no gory details,” Decker insisted.

After the boys left to pack, Rina whispered, “What are the gory details?”

“Nothing,” Decker said. “Lilah Brecht is very unstable at the moment — a rape, a near-death horse ride, and now her brother’s dead. She’s taking it out on me and on you by extension. I don’t feel comfortable leaving you home alone while I work — at least not tonight.”

“What are you working on?”

“I’ve got an appointment with someone from Devonshire regarding a homicide that might be related to the case.”

“Someone else besides the brother is dead?”

Decker nodded.

“Is that why she suddenly cursed you?”

“No. We arrested her stable hand for the rape today. We have physical evidence against him. Lilah was furious at us for arresting him — swore he wasn’t the right one. Then I suggested the evidence was pretty convincing unless she and Totes had had sex that night. That pushed her button. Her reaction was so disproportionate, I immediately thought they
must
have some kind of affair. Honestly, I don’t know what to think.”

Rina shuddered. “Too many murders. Please be
careful
, Peter.”

Decker leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’m always careful. Especially now. Got lots of people depending on me.”

“Lots of people who
love
you, Peter.”

Decker regarded his wife’s beautiful face, then held her hands and kissed them.
His
wife. She had actually
married
him! What the hell was he doing
right
?

The number for stolen or lost credit cards was closed for the evening. Ness slammed down the phone, then told himself to breathe deeply. Sitting on the center of his bed, he adjusted his weight until he was in a perfect lotus position. Correct posture, but an incorrect
attitude
— a goddamn spiral. The body couldn’t unwind unless the mind was at peace and how the hell could you clear your mind if your body was coiled steel? He felt soft warm hands begin to rub the nape of his neck. Under his sister’s touch, he allowed himself the luxury of relaxation.

“Do me a favor, Kell. Look up the twenty-four-hour number for lost or stolen credit cards.”

“What bank are you with?”

“Security International.” Ness banged his fist against his head. “I can’t fucking believe… somehow… some way… it’s gonna screw me up. Story of my life.”

“Here’s the number.”

Ness copied it onto a piece of scrap paper and dialed. Busy. Gently, he placed the receiver in the cradle. “What’s my chance of anything working out?”

“Michael, where do you
think
you left it?”

“I don’t even know if I
left
it anywhere. Somebody might have
lifted
it from me. I think someone’s trying to screw me.”

“We’ll think of something.
I’ll
think of something.”

He shrugged off her hands and patted his mattress. “Sit.”

Kelley hesitated, then sat beside him, her eyes focused on her hands folded in her lap. “If only I hadn’t insisted you come out here—”

“Stop flogging yourself, Kell. You know Davida. Once she wants something, she’s unstoppable. Actually, I should take it as a compliment. Rich old broads like her could have hired herself a zillion studs and she wanted
me
.” Ness shrugged. “Hasn’t been terrible. Steady money. Regular sex — now
that’s
a first. Beats blowjobs from drunken sailors—”

“Oh, Michael!”

“Or zoned-out whores.”

“Mike, please let me
help
you!”

Ness kissed his sister’s cheek. “You stay out of this mess. Let me take the heat.”

She threw her arms around her brother’s neck. “Mike, can’t you just tell the cops the truth? That you had nothing to do with any of this—”

“That’s not exactly true.”

“You had nothing to do with the murder.” She paused. “Or with Lilah’s rape, right?”

Ness pivoted around, feeling a spinal chill as cold as a blustery wind. “Try to sound
convinced
when proclaiming my innocence.”

Kelley whispered, “I
believe
you, Mike. I’ve always believed you — believed
in
you, haven’t I? Unlike
others
. Was there ever a single point in our lives where
my
faith in you was destroyed?”

Ness saw it all in his sister’s eyes — the pain he’d caused her — and felt the heat of shame. He held out his arms to her and she came to him, burying herself in the cocoon of his embrace.

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop—”

“No,
let
me say it, Kell.” Ness cleared his throat. “I love you and I’m sorry… sorry for
everything
.”

She didn’t answer him, but he felt her tears on his shirt.

Had to be the one wearing the mirrored Porsche shades with the blue blazer slung over his arm, fingers gripping a lizard briefcase. As soon as Decker caught his eye, the man stood, removed his glasses, and held out a hand, introducing himself as Scott Oliver.

Late thirties, five-eleven, one-eighty, a broadness across the shoulders that came from weight lifting. Wavy black hair full on top but clipped short at the sides, and deep-set dark eyes under thick black eyebrows. Razor-straight nose, smooth skin stretched over high cheekbones, a white, wide smile. Marge was going to like the scenery at Devonshire. Decker took the proffered hand.

“I’m glad you called, Scott. I could use a break.”

“You and me both.”

Oliver winked at the peroxide-blond hostess and told her they were ready to be seated. They followed the sway of her behind to a brown Naugahyde booth in the back of the coffee shop. She handed them menus and asked if anyone would like coffee. Both said yes.

Oliver said, “I must be going senile or something. You’re the guy they got slated to fill MacDougal’s slot. You gonna take it?”

“It might work out. How’s the climate over there?”

“Not bad. The Dee-three’s a pretty good guy and the new Loo seems to be working out — doesn’t play politico twenty-four hours a day. Last guy we had was a real schmuck. Left after landing police chief in some cracker town. Our garbage is now someone else’s dinner. Anyway, you ever do Homicide before?”

“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.”