The Mercedes Coffin (13 page)

“Have a good night, girls.”

Tish scurried up the stairs. A few moments later, Darnell came out of the kitchen, holding a plate while wolfing down a sandwich. He was tall and broad but stoop shouldered with a round face and long limbs. He wore a button-down shirt and a pair of slacks — probably the required dress for his school. He repeated his apologies for being late.

“Hey, enjoy your dinner.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I’m fine.”

Arlington sat down on the chair and liberated the footrest. “Excuse my casualness. It’s been a long day. For you, too, I bet. When did you get in?”

“About a half hour ago, but I’m fine.”

“If you want anything…”

“No, I’m fine.”

“So…” Arlington polished off the sandwich and took a long gulp of a Bud. “You’re reopening Dr. Ben’s murder?”

“Yes.”

“So… anything new?”

“We always find out new things. Whether it’s relevant or not…” She took out her notebook. “What can you tell me about Dr. Ben?”

Arlington’s eyes went down to the empty plate. “He was a great man. I was very sorry when I heard the news.”

“I understand that on the night of the murder, you were playing basketball in front of a hundred people.”

The eyes lifted and fell back on his lap. “I didn’t hear about it until later. A friend from North Valley called and told me.” His eyes met Marge’s. “I was crushed.”

“Why’s that? From what I understand, he was instrumental in getting you kicked out of North Valley.”

Arlington shook his head. “No, that isn’t right.
I
was instrumental in getting me kicked out.
I
screwed up. That wasn’t Dr. Ben’s fault.”

“Still, you must have been pretty angry.”

“Leaving L.A. was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Did you feel that way at the time?”

“No,” Arlington admitted. “When I got expelled, I was furious.” He looked straight into Marge’s eyes. “I was an angry young man with a ginormous chip on my shoulder. No daddy, and I lived with a drug-addicted mother. My brother and I were left to fend for ourselves. I started smoking weed and graduated to booze and X by the time I was eleven. Dr. Ben tried, but he couldn’t babysit me twenty-four/seven. Every time he turned his back, I messed up. If it hadn’t been for my nana, I’d be doing hard time.”

“How’d you come to be in your grandmother’s care?”

“After I got expelled, she sued for custody. My mother was overjoyed to get rid of me and my brother. Nana straightened us both out.”

Marge said, “So even though you were angry at Dr. Ben, you felt crushed when he died?”

“Yes, I did. I got kicked out about a year before he died. There was part of me wanted to come back to him and say, ‘I tole you so.’ I wanted to show him and everyone else that they were wrong. After Dr. Ben died…” He shook his head. “I don’t know… I just felt so… so bad!”

“You hung out with a pretty rough crowd in high school?”

Arlington continued to shake his head. “We was just a bunch of bums… boozing and dropping X and other stuff and just being bums.”

“How about crime, Darnell?”

“That, too: shoplifting, breaking and entering, vandalism and graffiti.” He regarded Marge. “Not good stuff, but I wasn’t violent. I never mugged no one. I didn’t get into guns, neither. I’ve always been afraid of guns, Sergeant. I saw my uncle shot when I was eight.” He held his hand an inch away from his nose. “Right in front of my face. Blood splattered everywhere, including on me. I didn’t want nothin’ to do with guns.

“When I think about how lucky I was to get out…” He blew out air. “I go to church every Sunday. That’s where I met my wife — in the church choir. Thank you, Jesus, for giving me a good voice.”

Marge said, “Let’s talk about some of your North Valley friends. How’d they feel about Dr. Ben?”

He hung his head. “We all thought the school administration was a bunch of idiots. We was just too cool, know what I mean?”

“But you didn’t drop out. Why’s that?”

He cleared his throat. “There was parts of school I really liked. I liked being on the basketball team and the football team. I liked orchestra, jazz ensemble, and chorus. And I liked Dr. Ben.” A chuckle. “I just hated everything academic. I didn’t see any purpose to learning, and I had no study habits. In my family, who’s gonna teach me how to study?”

“What got you kicked out of school?”

“The first time that Dr. Ben went to bat for me, I got in trouble for spray painting the library. I swore I’d never do it again, I repainted the walls, and that was that. I tried to stay clean, but I had no guidance and I had no money. Of course, there’s always ways of getting money, know what I’m saying?”

“You sold drugs?”

His face darkened with shame. “Dr. Ben couldn’t save me from gettin’ expelled, but he did save me from gettin’ busted. I was so damn lucky that he was on my side. And I think also that the school preferred to keep everything quiet. I was real fortunate.” He looked up. “Thank you, Jesus.”

“How long had you been selling drugs?”

“Maybe a year or so. I was makin’ money. I was livin’ it up. After I got busted… that’s when my nana sued for child custody.” Again his face had darkened, but this time it appeared from anger. Sweat rolled down his brow. Then he composed himself. “Best thing that ever happened to me.”

But he still sounded resentful. Marge said, “What about your former peeps? Did any of them have contact with Dr. Ben?”

“Sure. We all did when we got into trouble. But if you’re thinking that they had anything to do with his murder, you’re going in the wrong direction. None of them gave a damn about Dr. Ben.”

Marge said, “What are your old-time buds doing now?”

Arlington let out a gust of air. “I lost contact with most of them. Our lives went in different directions.”

“How so?” Marge pressed.

“Some are doing hard time, some are dead, maybe one or two is doing okay.”

“Can you give me a list of their names?”

“I will, but I’m telling you, they had nothing to do with Dr. Ben’s death. They didn’t care enough to kill him.”

“Someone cared enough to kill him.”

“From what everyone told me, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“He was at a local civic meeting and was supposed to come directly home. That was the last anyone heard. What do you think happened?”

“Wrong place at the wrong time. He got ’jacked. He drove a nice car.”

“How’d a guy like Dr. Ben afford such a nice car?”

Arlington shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

Too glib? Maybe it was Marge’s imagination. “Did anyone speak to you about the murder?”

“Yeah, friends told me about it.”

“Do the names Calvin Vitton or Arnie Lamar sound familiar?”

“I can’t say…” A pause. “Who are they?”

“Cops involved with the murder of Dr. Ben. I’m surprised they don’t sound familiar. Detective Vitton called you up and asked you questions about the murder.”

“He probably spoke to my nana.”

“He did. His records also indicated that he spoke to you.”

Arlington stiffened. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember being interviewed?”

“It was a long time ago, Sergeant. I was stunned. If you said he spoke to me, I’m sure he did, but I don’t remember.”

“Do you know a man named Primo Ekerling?”

Arlington paused, then shook his head no. “No, don’t know the man.”

“What about a man named Rudy Banks?”

A beat before he spoke. “Now he sounds vaguely familiar.” He stroked his chin meaningfully. “Someone in high school… maybe he was in chorus with me.”

“He’s a music producer.”

“Okay… so maybe it
was
chorus.”

“Rudy Banks and Primo Ekerling were in a punk group called the Doodoo Sluts.”

“Punk…” Arlington was pensive. “I wasn’t into punk much — white-boy rebellion. Not my thing.”

“What is your thing?”

“R & B. Hip-hop. I play bass. That’s what I played in orchestra. Later on, I switched to electric bass.”

“Do you still play music?”

“Once in a while, I’ll fill in a spot in the school orchestra. The kids get a kick outta that. Every so often I think about getting another band together, but with my own kids and my job, there’s no time left over.”

“You’ve played in bands?”

Arlington looked down and smiled. “Sure, before I got married.” He laughed. “Singing and playing was always a good way to get the girls. When I first moved in with Nana, she made me join the church choir. I didn’t want to sing in no church choir. I was resentful. But after a while… I really liked it. Being musical separates you from the crowd.”

“Did you have a band when you lived in L.A.?”

“Nah, my peeps were more into rap. Wanna know what’s funny? I had more talent than any of them. If anyone could have made it in rap, it woulda been me. Nana hated rap. She called it idiotic doggerel and told me I was too good for that stuff. I still like rap, but now as a parent, I see her point.”

“But your nana let you play in a band.”

“Nana loves R & B. She’s got good taste.”

“By the way, Rudy Banks went to North Valley High.”

Arlington smiled. “So that’s why I remember him from chorus. The other one… Ekermen—”

“Ekerling.”

“Did he go to North Valley?”

“No, he grew up back east.”

“So that’s why he don’t sound familiar and Rudy does.”

Marge nodded.

But the ages didn’t match up. Marge would check it again, but she had thought that Rudy had dropped out by the time Arlington was a freshman. If there was a reason to reinterview him, Marge would point out the inconsistency at that time.

THE ONLY REASON
Decker heard his cell was because it was still in his jacket hanging up in the bedroom closet. Once again, he’d forgotten to plug it into the charger. But this time it was fortunate. He slipped out of bed carefully, so as not to wake up his wife, and barely made it to the cell before the message machine kicked in. He closed the door to the closet and said hello.

“What do you want from me
this
time?”

It took a moment for Decker to wipe the sleep from his brain. The smooth, albeit irritated voice was instantly recognizable. “What time is it?”

“Your time or my time?”

“On either time, you’re up late.”

“It must be the drugs.”

“What do you know about a guy named Rudy Banks?”

A small laugh over the phone. “You throw names at me like I know every sleazeball in the world.”

“Take it as a compliment. Besides, how do you know he’s a sleazeball?”

“Who else would you be asking me about?”

“He’s a music producer. A former partner of Primo Ekerling.”

“The guy stuffed in the Benz.”

“Good memory.”

“My brain may be swimming in booze, but alcohol is a wonderful preservative.”

“Ekerling and Banks were in a punk group called the Doodoo Sluts in the late eighties.”

“I was twelve, Decker.”

“You’re a musician.”

“Classical musician.”

“Ever heard of the group?”

“Rings a tiny bell. What do you want with Banks?”

“Banks isn’t returning my phone calls.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like you.”

“You have any suggestions as to how I might get his attention?”

“No.”

“Do you have any relative in the recording industry that might evoke some reaction in the man?”

Donatti laughed. “I have friends everywhere. Watch your back.”

“I could give you the same suggestion. How about a name?”

Silence over the line. Decker waited him out. “Sal Crane.”

“Sal Crane,” Decker said as he wrote it down. “What does Sal do?”

“Sal does a lot of things.”

“In the music business?”

“How should I put this?” A long pause. “Sal works in… compensation. For instance, if a group covers a song, Sal makes sure that the original artists get royalties.”

“Using his name might be helpful then. Would he mind if I used his name?”

“No, he wouldn’t like it at all. But if you mention him to Banks, I’m betting that he wouldn’t call Sal to verify that you’re a friend. And even if he did, Sal wouldn’t take his call. Sal doesn’t like to be bothered by the little folk. It makes him irritated.”

“Sal’s got a temper?”

“Don’t we all.”

RINA POURED THE
coffee. “Who were you talking to in the closet last night?”

Decker hid his face behind the newspaper. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard you get up, close the closet door, and speak in low tones.”

Busted. “A snitch.”

Rina grinned. “Sure you weren’t playing virtual life behind my back?”

“Check my computer,” Decker said. “If there’s anything racier on it than the Porsche Turbo convertible, I plead guilty.”

Rina sat down. “First of all, why would
you
be speaking to a snitch? And second, why was your snitch calling you so late?”

“In answer to your first question, I’m working on an actual homicide instead of doing paperwork like a normal lieutenant. A lot is riding on a solve and I need help. Second answer is, snitches don’t keep banker’s hours.” He looked at her and smiled. “Any other questions, Ms. Curious?”

“Just one. Do I have to be careful?”

Decker looked at his wife’s face — a mask of concern. “About what?”

“About weird people showing up on our doorstep.”

“No. The snitch lives three thousand miles away, and there’s not a chance in the world that he’ll hurt you.”

“Oh…” A pause. “Him.” Rina tried to appear calm, although she wasn’t. She couldn’t imagine why he’d be using Donatti as a source of information. She changed the subject. “Cindy called. They’re coming over for Shabbos. She also said for you to phone her when you get a chance.”

“Like in right away?”

“Like in when you get a chance… which could mean right away.”

He checked his watch. “Do you mind if I give her a buzz now? Maybe I can get her before she starts work.”

“Of course not. I’ll wake up Sleeping Beauty. Can you take her to school?”