The Mercedes Coffin (43 page)

A surge of cops converged on him. He heard his own voice. It kept repeating, “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.” He shook off the bodies around him. “I’m fucking okay! Leave me alone!” Trembling from fear and adrenaline, he rubbed his arms and waited for his eyes to focus. He was still viewing his life with rods instead of cones. A slew of paramedics were kneeling on the lawn, working frantically at the spot where he had stood a few moments ago.

“What the fuck happened?” he heard his voice ask.

“Someone shot the bastard,” a disembodied voice told him.

“How the fuck did that happen?” Decker spun around and was staring at Cressly. “I was inches from the bastard. Whoever the fuck shot at him could have gotten me!”

“It wasn’t one of us—”

“Then who the fuck was…” It was then that Decker noticed a commotion off to the side. The cops wrestling someone to the ground. He ran to the spot.

Ryan Goldberg was facedown with a cop on his back, a gun to his head, and twenty cops ready to beat the shit out of him if he moved. His hands had been drawn behind his back and secured with a plastic tie. A pistol lay a few feet away from where he had been tackled.

Decker was rendered speechless.

Somehow Liam O’Dell had made it through the yellow tape and over to the scene. He was frantic, waving his arms and shouting over and over:
“Why’d you do it, Mudd
?
Why’d you do it? Why’d you do it?”

Ryan answered. “Because Rudy is bad.”

The cops hoisted Ryan to his feet and pushed O’Dell aside. He tripped and almost fell on the ground. As he got up, he shouted. “Fuck, Mudd! Now you’re going to jail. You’re going to jail!”

Ryan turned around and smiled beatifically. “Irish, I’ve been in jail for the last fifteen years. Wherever I’m going, it’s got to be better.”

“Oh Christ!” Liam tried to run after him, but the cops held him back, threatening him with jail if he didn’t get the fuck out. He shouted, “I’ll get you a lawyer, Mudd.”

“Call my brother,” Goldberg shouted back. “He’s a lung doctor.”

IT TOOK A
full week for Rina to even speak to him, and when she did, her conversation ran monosyllabic.

“I’m sorry!” Decker told her for the umpteenth time.

“It’s fine, Peter.”

“It was stupid. I admit it. It was stupid, stupid, stupid. It’ll never happen again.”

“I said it’s fine. I know you were just doing your job.” Rina tightened her robe. “I’m very tired. I’m going to bed.”

He heard the door close a little harder than it needed to. He sat at the dining room table in his pajamas, looking down at his dinner plate. The meat loaf had congealed and the vegetables were wilted. When he looked up, Hannah was looking at him with pity. “Not too hungry?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll wash your plate.”

“No, I’ll do it.” He checked his watch. “It’s almost ten.”

“Top of the morning,” Hannah said. “She’ll get over it.”

“Eventually, I suppose she will.” Decker said.

“She has a point. It was stupid, Abba.”

“Et tu, Brute?”

Hannah came over to him and hugged his neck. Decker patted her arm. “Thanks, Hannah, I needed a hug.” When he turned around to look at her, she was in tears. He took his daughter into his arms and embraced her tightly. She was wearing flannel bottoms and an oversized sweatshirt and looked so forlorn and vulnerable. Just when he thought his guilt level had topped out, it went up another notch. “I’m so sorry, pumpkin. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I was so
scared
!”

“I know, pumpkin. It was wrong for me to do something so dangerous.”

“Weren’t you scared?”

“Of course.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“It’s hard to explain, Hannah. The situation just kind of ran away from me. I was so focused on saving those women, I didn’t see anything else.”

She was silent.

“I had on a bulletproof vest and a helmet.”

“Your job isn’t supposed to be dangerous enough to need those kinds of things.”

“Mostly it isn’t.”

“Except when it is.” She broke away from him and folded her hands in front of her chest. “You were already shot twice. What are you trying to prove?”

Decker sighed. “I’m not proving anything. Like I said, the situation just got away from me.”

“That’s no answer,” she harrumphed. “Well, it is an answer, but it’s a lame answer.”

“It is a lame answer, but it’s the only one I have.” Decker tried out a smile. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Her face softened and the anger melted away. “I love you, Abba. I know that sometimes I can be difficult.” Her lip quivered. “I do appreciate you.”

“I know you do, Hannah, I know you do.” He held out his hands and she fell into his arms again. “Love you, pumpkin pie. Can I tuck you into bed?”

“I’m not ready yet. I have to sign off, I have to organize my backpack, I have to brush my teeth and hair and put on my acne medicine.”

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

“It may take a while.”

“I’m not all that tired. I’ll wait.”

DRESSED IN A
coral silk blouse, a white pleated skirt, and white sneakers sans socks, Genoa Greeves looked a step away from the tennis court. Her legs were bare, her calves strong and muscular. Again, she had her laptop and took notes as Decker recounted the probable trail of events.

Ryan Goldberg had fallen madly in love with Melinda Little. Egged on by Rudy Banks, Goldberg had decided to be a man and confront Bennett Little. But being as Goldberg wasn’t quite right in the head even back then, he had asked for Rudy’s help — could he arrange the meeting and also come with him just to make sure things didn’t get out of control?

Decker said, “Ryan made a lot of mistakes… falling for the wrong woman… the wrong women. There were others. But this was a real bonehead thing to do.”

“Like inviting the fox into the henhouse,” Genoa said.

Decker continued.

Rudy arranged the meeting, but he knew that Bennett Little would never have agreed to meet with him. Little didn’t trust him, didn’t like him. As a matter of fact, Little had been so angry at Rudy Banks because of Darnell Arlington’s expulsion that he wouldn’t even talk to Banks on the phone.

“That much we got out of Goldberg. This is where conjecture comes in. I think Rudy did some improvising.”

“Go on.”

“If I had to lay out a scenario, it would probably be this. Rudy Banks called up Leroy Josephson, promising him a career as a rapper if he would just waylay Ben Little and bring him to a spot where Goldberg could talk to him. When Josephson asked how to do that, Banks probably gave him a gun and told him to use his imagination.

“Now, Little would never have met with Banks, but Little couldn’t resist a student in trouble. Just after he had phoned his wife to tell her that he was on his way home, I’m thinking that Leroy Josephson flagged Little down just as he exited the civic center parking lot. Probably Little stopped for him, they talked, and eventually Leroy got into the Mercedes. Maybe Leroy was invited into the car, maybe he forced his way in. Then Leroy pulled the gun on Little.”

“Why do you assume that?”

“Why else would Little have driven all the way out to the foothills? That was the designated spot where Ryan Goldberg and Rudy Banks were waiting for them. Also, Leroy had the gun drawn when he and Little got out of the car.”

“That’s awful.”

Involuntarily, Decker rubbed his neck. “Goldberg told us that all he had wanted to do was to talk to Little, to find out if Ben loved Melinda as much as he did. He told us that Little was patient with Goldberg’s pleas. He also remarked that Little didn’t seem surprised by the affair, he didn’t even seem upset by it. In the end, Little told Goldberg that it was up to Melinda. He couldn’t make that decision for her.”

Decker shifted in his desk chair.

“This part is where Goldberg’s memory got murky. Rudy was telling him things and Leroy was telling him things and Little was telling him things.”

“What things?” Genoa asked.

“Something like… are you just going to take that? Come on, Mudd, show him who’s boss.” A pause. “It appears that Rudy wanted a confrontation between two guys who weren’t anxious to fight. But words got heated. Mudd remembered someone coming after him, and he threw a punch. The next thing that Mudd remembered was Little lying on the ground. Rudy went over to Little and felt for a pulse. He told Mudd that Little was dead.”

“From a single punch?’

“Mudd was a big guy. Rudy also could have been lying. Rudy told Mudd to put Little in the trunk of his car and he’d take care of everything. Mudd complied. Then shots rang out. Mudd claims he didn’t know who did the shooting. Just that Little was dead.”

“Hmmm… sounds like a convenient time to forget things.”

“Could be Mudd’s lying, but remember also that Mudd wasn’t too focused to begin with. He admitted being stoned. He was always on one kind of drug or another.”

“That seems convenient, too.”

“Agreed.”

“Go on.”

“Mudd said he went crazy after the shooting. Rudy managed to calm him down and get him into his car, but before they left, he remembered Rudy with his hand on Leroy’s shoulder, talking to him. Goldberg couldn’t hear what he was saying. Ryan also seemed to remember that Rudy gave Leroy money. That would fit with Wenderhole’s version of Leroy carrying around a lot of cash. What I think happened was that Ryan and Rudy went home while Leroy drove Little’s car to Clearwater Park. Then he called up Wenderhole to pick him up.”

“I see. And Goldberg just let the incident go without a protest?”

“Apparently he did. Mudd must have read about it in the papers. He must have been scared. But he swore that after that night, he never talked about it again… except to tell Melinda that he didn’t kill her husband.”

“But you’re not so sure about that.”

“No, I’m not. What I am certain about is that for fifteen years, Mudd lived with the guilt.”

Genoa said, “But if Mudd lived with the guilt for fifteen years, why did he suddenly snap?”

“Again, no one knows for sure,” Decker answered. “This is my theory for what it’s worth. When I visited Mudd that one time, he said he called up his old bandmate, Liam O’Dell, to ask questions about why I was there. Liam made the mistake of telling him that I was looking for Rudy, probably in regards to Ekerling’s murder. I think my investigation unleashed something inside of him. He told his doctors that he suddenly wanted to find Rudy himself and take care of something that should have been taken care of a long time ago.”

“How’d he find Rudy?”

“Not by any brilliant deductive powers. The standoff made the news. Somehow Mudd managed to find a secret spot with a good view of the Sand Dune’s front lawn. He waited for Rudy to come out, and from there, we all know what happened. I thank God every day that Goldberg was an accurate shot.”

“How’d he do that? Wasn’t it pitch-black outside?”

“It was actually light gray. The sun hadn’t come up, but it wasn’t nighttime.”

Genoa said, “I can’t understand this. If Rudy was involved in Primo Ekerling’s death, and you think he was…”

“Definitely.”

“Then why did he dispose of Ekerling’s body in the same way that he disposed of Little’s body? Didn’t he think that someone would put two and two together?”

“We were dealing with two deaths, fifteen years apart, in different parts of L.A. The principal investigators on the Little case had retired. Banks probably thought that no one would notice.”

“I did.”

Decker smiled briefly. “Yes, you did. And maybe Banks thought that even if the cops did realize the similarities, we’d blame the murders on Ryan Goldberg. He was the one who was unbalanced.”

“But Ryan had nothing against Primo Ekerling. Primo was his friend.”

“You’re right, Ms. Greeves. I can’t answer that question well. I don’t know what went through Rudy’s head.”

“All right.” She clicked on her laptop. “That’s not a completely sufficient answer, but I suppose it’s the best you can do.” She typed away. “That’s taken care of. Now what about Cal Vitton? Why did he commit suicide? Or was it murder?”

“We’ll never know for certain. I think it was suicide.”

“Why?”

“Okay, let me see if I can make some sense. Phil Shriner had passed along Rudy’s name to Cal Vitton as a suspect in the Little murder. Shriner knew that Melinda had had an affair with Rudy and he thought that Rudy looked like a pretty good candidate for Ben Little’s murder. But Vitton never followed through. Maybe he forgot about the tip or maybe he chose to forget about it. I think Vitton didn’t want to antagonize Rudy because Banks knew that Vitton’s younger son was gay.”

“I thought you said that everyone knew that Vitton’s son was gay.”

“But Cal J hadn’t come out of the closet. Big Cal was embarrassed about it and didn’t want the information to be common knowledge. Big Cal was from the old school where homosexuality was an embarrassment.”

“Vitton was embarrassed enough to hide a murderer?”

“Maybe. Besides, Vitton didn’t know for certain that Rudy had anything to do with Little’s death. I’m betting that he probably chose not to find out one way or the other. I do know that Big Cal had been so ashamed of his son’s homosexuality that he didn’t stop Rudy and other boys from bullying his own flesh and blood.”

“That’s appalling.”

“Yes, it is.”

“So why should Vitton have sudden pangs of remorse?”

“Maybe Vitton knew it was all going to come out in my investigation. Maybe he didn’t want to be around to see his reputation crash. Or maybe he was just depressed. Then again, maybe Rudy slipped him some pills, aimed the gun at his head, and somehow had Cal pull the trigger.”

“Cal pulled the trigger?”

“Yes, we’re certain about that. It’s the
why
that’s a mystery.”

There were lots of mysteries that they’d never know now that Rudy Banks was dead. Like whose blood was splashed under the baseboard of his apartment.

Win some, lose some.

“As far as Little’s death, I can’t say for sure who actually killed him, but I think we can safely narrow it down to three people. Two are dead, the other’s in custody.”