Hangman (33 page)

B
Y NINE IN
the evening, Decker’s eyes were buggy from staring at the computer and he was reaching diminishing returns. When Rina knocked on his office doorjamb, holding a big paper bag, he was grateful for the interruption. He rolled his chair away from his desk and stood.

“Hey there.” He gave her a kiss. “What brings you into the bowels of purgatory?”

“How about seeking wit and charm?”

“Then you definitely came to the wrong place.”

Rina sat down in front of her husband’s desk. “We had lots of leftovers from lunch. I thought you might be hungry.”

“I should be. All I had today was coffee and this morning’s cereal.” He looked at the clock and sat down across from her. “I’m sorry I never made it home. It’s especially disappointing because the boys came all the way out to see me. Are they upset?”

“Not at all.” Rina sat down. “We had a fine time, actually.”

Decker was heartened and disheartened at the same time. “Yeah, everyone’s so used to being my being gone it’s like ‘what’s the big deal.’”

“It’s not that we didn’t
miss
you. We toasted you in absentia.” She opened the bag and handed him a wrapped package. “Turkey sandwich on rye with horseradish and mustard. You will make it for dinner tomorrow, right? It’s in your honor.”

“Absolutely.”

“Then we’re all fine. What are you working on that’s consuming so much time?”

“We found something suspicious at Chuck Tinsley’s apartment. We’re trying to find more suspicious evidence. I’ve been on the computer for the last four hours, but haven’t turned up anything useful. It’s a wonderful machine, don’t get me wrong, but it’s always open for business.”

He unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite.

“Wow, this is good.” Another bite. “Eating is making me hungry.”

“Sometimes it works that way.”

“Delicious. Have anything to drink?”

Rina reached into the bag. “Coke Zero or Dr Pepper?”

“How about both?” His wife handed him the cans and he popped open the Dr Pepper. “On the plus side of the day, Marge and Scott also found a missing woman in a hospital in Las Vegas. A one-car crack-up. She’s in guarded condition, but alive.”

“You don’t mean Terry, do you?”

“No, not Terry.” Decker gulped down half the can of soda. “She’s still missing. I don’t reckon I’ll find her any time soon. It comes down to this. Either Donatti did it and since he’s a pro, we’ll probably never find her, or she’s in India with a billion other people. I’m certainly not going to look for her there. I already told the West L.A. detective on the case that if Terry is alive—and I think she is—she’ll eventually make contact with her son.”

Rina nodded.

“How’s Gabe doing? Did he eat with the family?”

“Where else is he supposed to eat?”

“Just wondering how he’s integrating himself. Are you getting him a piano?”

“Renting him one. He’s paying for it with money his father gave him. It makes him feel like he’s pulling his weight.”

“Is it a problem for you?” Decker countered. “Keeping the kid?”

“Honestly, I’m okay with it. What about you? You seem to still have doubts.”

“Of course I have doubts. There goes retirement and travel.”

“Retirement would be very bad for you, and how much travel are you really going to do with your first grandchild on the way?”

“Maybe not so much,” Decker admitted. “Cindy’ll need her gun to keep me away.”

Rina smiled. “That’s my guy. So, since you’re not going to retire and a world cruise isn’t on the immediate horizon, we might as well give the kid a home.”

Decker sneered. “As long as he doesn’t do drugs, doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t make a pass at my daughter, and doesn’t steal me blind, I suspect it’ll be okay.”

“You know, it’s funny,” Rina said. “It’s not that I feel exceptionally compassionate. I’m okay with Gabe because he’s not a bother. He does his own thing and pops his head out once in a while to get fed.” Another pause. “You should hear him play, Peter. It transforms him into something otherworldly. Then he stops and he’s fourteen again.”

“That’s right. He doesn’t drive yet. Terrific. That means one of us is going to have to take him to school.” Decker thought. “He’s not going to want to continue at a Jewish school. What are we going to do with his schooling?”

“He’s got lessons arranged with this hotshot piano teacher in the middle of the school week at USC. He practices six hours plus a day. We should consider homeschooling him. Not you or me personally, but someone. He’s bright. I’m sure he could finish the high school curriculum in a year.”

“Yeah, he said something about going to Juilliard next year.”

“He also told me that he’d like to go to a regular university like Harvard. Because of his talent, he has lots of options. If his mother is alive, she’s going to eventually try to reunite with him. He’s not only exceptional, but he is her only child.”

Her only child
. Decker raised an eyebrow. “I suppose we can deal with him living with us for a year or so—as long as he isn’t a psycho like his dad.”

“Time will tell. So far, I don’t see any indication,” Rina told him. “Who’s the missing woman in the hospital?”

“She’s a nurse—a former friend of Adrianna Blanc. Both of them worked at St. Tim’s. She disappeared a few days ago. While looking for Adrianna’s boyfriend in Las Vegas, Marge and Scott talked to a couple of cops who told them about a Jane Doe in the hospital. A one-car collision in the middle of nowhere could be an accident, suicide, or possible homicide. Whatever it was, she knows way more than she told us in our original interviews.” He finished his sandwich. “That went down well.”

“You want dessert?”

“No…well, what do you have?”

“Apple pie.”

“Leave it with me. I may succumb.” He checked his watch. “I’ll try to be home in an hour.”

“That means two hours. So I’ll see you around eleven, okay?”

“Fair enough.”

Rina stood up. “I saw Wanda and Lee at their desks when I came in. There’s also half a chocolate cake in the bag for you to share.”

“No wonder everyone loves you. No one cooks or bakes like you. You’re the candy man—the candy woman.”

“That’s me.” Rina grinned. “I spread good cheer and calories wherever I go.”

THE HIT CAME
a little before eleven on Wanda’s computer: an opal ring surrounded by diamond chips set into gold plate. The piece was a high school graduation gift to Erin Greenfield from her grandparents.

The young woman had just turned twenty-two when she was found in a vacant lot, strangled to death in Oceanside, California, two years ago. According to her roommate, she had gone out the
night before and didn’t come home. When she didn’t show up for work the next day, the search was on. Her nude body was found that afternoon in a commercial flower field.

With gloved hands, Decker regarded the ring from Chuck Tinsley’s stash, comparing it to the badly reproduced photograph printed off of the computer.

Wanda said, “I counted the amount of diamonds surrounding the opal. Both the ring and the photograph have nine. What struck me was the gold plate. I examined the ring for a fourteen-K stamp and I didn’t find any. The stones look like real stones but not set into real gold. I would think that would be unusual.”

“I don’t know a thing about jewelry,” Decker said. “I would like a better image of the ring on Erin’s finger.”

“I’ll see what Lee can do,” Wanda said. “I looked up Oceanside. A nice little beach resort, but it’s near Camp Pendleton. Lower-than-average murder rate but slightly higher rape and assault rates. Quite a few bars catering to the Marines. A single guy wouldn’t stick out that much.”

“He might blend into the crowds even more if he was wearing a uniform.”

“Good point. Uniforms also inspire trust.”

“Doesn’t Oxnard have a naval base?” Decker made a few clicks of the computer. “Yeah, here’s something—NBVC—Naval Base Ventura County. There’s also a Point Mugu Naval Air Weapons Station. There’s a Port Hueneme Naval Base. When you looked up Tinsley, did you happen to know if he served in the military?”

“Don’t remember. I’ll see what I can do on the computer, but it’s too late to call any agency.”

“Do what you can.” With the ring still on his desk, Decker dialed up Marge’s cell. She answered on the third ring. “How was
O
?”

“Beautiful.”

“Are you actually working or still digesting linguine?”

“We are actually working. And you?”

“We found another piece of jewelry in Tinsley’s stash that might be a match to a strangled woman.”

“That’s big.”

“It could be. When you searched his apartment, did you or Scott find any kind of a military uniform?”

“I didn’t. Let me ask Scott. I got to find him first. Let me call you back.”

“Right.” As he waited, he phoned his wife. “Can I have an hour extension? I have a lead I really need to look into.”

“It’s fine. I’m up anyway, talking to the kids. We’re having a lot of laughs.”

“And probably most of them at my expense.”

“When do you realistically think you’ll be home?”

“In an hour.”

“I’ll see you at midnight. Don’t turn into a vampire.”

“I’d love to be a vampire. They suck blood; I wallow in it.”

OVER THE PHONE,
Oliver said, “You know, there was something in his closet—more like a Halloween costume than an actual uniform. It was army green with bars sewed onto the shoulders, but made out of cheap material. Clearly not standard army issue.”

Decker explained the circumstances.

“It wasn’t a real uniform, but I suppose if you’re in a dark bar, trying to make time with a drunken chick, she might not know the difference.”

“I’d love to bring it for testing,” Decker said. “Can we find a way to get back into his apartment? He’s probably not going to give us access again.”

Oliver said, “I’ll ask Marge and maybe we can come up with something. You know, Tinsley wasn’t wearing a uniform when he was talking to Adrianna.”

“That’s because macho army man doesn’t really fly with the super-edgy L.A. chicks,” Decker said. “Although Adrianna’s murder fits the profile of the two unsolved cases, there are some differences. The two other bodies were found in wide-open spaces—one in a lot and one in a flower field. Not in the middle of a residential area, hanging from a cable cord.”

“So what are you thinking?” Oliver asked.

“Tinsley is definitely a candidate,” Decker said. “But Garth is still missing and Mandy’s in the hospital. I’m wondering if Garth and Mandy murdered Adrianna and Tinsley had the bad luck to find her body. Or it wasn’t luck at all. Garth set Tinsley up because he found his business card in her pocket.”

“So how does Tinsley’s jewelry figure in?” Oliver asked.

“Maybe we accidentally stumbled on a serial killer.”

“If Tinsley’s a serial killer, why did he agree to let us search his house?”

“Because we were looking for things associated with Adrianna’s death and he didn’t kill Adrianna. You know how these guys are. One mold. They’re arrogant as hell. Who bagged the jewelry from Tinsley’s apartment?”

“Marge did.”

“Good move. Wanda and Lee Wang just came into the room. I’ll keep you updated, and you do the same.” Decker hung up and pointed to the chairs. Wanda had rolled up the sleeves on her lime green shirt. Wang was dressed in a black polo shirt and khakis.

After they sat down, Wang said, “Almost all military information sites are off-limits without a password. It’s better to wait until morning to start delving into this.”

“It’ll keep as long as we have an eye on Tinsley. Besides, I’m not positive he actually served.” Decker recapped his conversation with Scott.

“Okay,” Wanda said. “So he could be a pretender like the Boston Strangler.”

“Albert DeSalvo,” Decker said.

“What’s the next step, Rabbi?”

“As it stands, we can’t say for certain that the jewelry belonged to the victims.”

Wang said, “So we’re not pulling Tinsley in?”

“Not yet.” Decker smoothed his mustache. “We’ll keep him in the crosshairs and hope that the techs can get DNA evidence from the pieces. If we can get DNA that matches up with Erin Greenfield and Roxanne Holly, then we can put their jewelry in Chuck Tins
ley’s hands. That’ll take a couple of weeks. While we’re waiting, one of you should call up Oxnard and the other take Oceanside to get the details of the murders.” He exhaled loudly. “I’m exhausted. Let’s all go home and get some sleep.”

Wang rubbed his eyes. “Sounds like a good idea. Want me to put the jewelry back with evidence?”

“That would be great, Lee. Thanks.”

“So you really think you just stumbled across a serial killer?”

“Maybe yes, maybe no.”

“That would be weird,” Wanda said. “In literature, that’s called poetic justice.”

“In Jewish law it’s called
Midah kenneged midah
.”

“What does that mean?”

“‘Manner begets manner.’ What goes around comes around.”

T
WELVE STRETCHED TO
one in the morning. At half past, Decker pulled into his driveway, spent and depressed. It was his official birthday and his sons had flown in from the East Coast just to be with him, and not only had he disappeared for most of the day, he had done it on Shabbos. He wondered why he kept at it. Crime was never going to vanish. There would always be that “just one more case” sitting on his shoulder. But then there was the flip side. Why stop working, taking with you years of experience, to putter around, trying to figure out how to make yourself useful when you’re already doing something useful in the first place?

He quietly closed the car door. Rina insisted that she’d wait up, he insisted that she should not. Who knew who’d be the winner of that little bet? As he approached his front door, he saw a big manila envelop sitting on the welcome mat. He picked it up. There was handwriting on the front—a name but not his.

Gabriel Whitman.

What was
that
about?

He placed the key into his door, opened it, and stepped inside.
Rina was up and wrapped in a cotton robe. She had her fingers on her lips, and then she pointed to the couch. Gabe was sprawled out, one foot dangling over the sofa, sleeping soundly. The two of them went into the kitchen. Decker showed his wife the envelope. “This was on the front porch.”

“It wasn’t there when I came back from the station house,” Rina said. “I would have noticed it. Would you like some coffee or tea?”

“I’d love some herbal tea. I’ll make it. I’m antsy. I need something to do.” He filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove. Then he opened the tape end of the envelope with a knife but didn’t look inside. “If it concerns Terry, Gabe would want to know. I need to wake him up.”

“Okay. Want me to wait here?”

“No, I want you to come with me for moral support.”

Together they went back into the living room. Decker sat down on the edge of the sofa but even that didn’t rouse the teen. Finally, he placed a hand on his shoulder and gently shook him. “Gabe.” Again: “Gabe, it’s Lieutenant Decker.”

The boy bolted upward. “I’m up, I’m up.” He rubbed his eyes and groped for his glasses on the end table. When he found them, he put them on. “I’m up.”

“I need to turn on the light,” Decker said.

“Go ahead.” Gabe squinted with the illumination. “What’s going on?”

Decker handed him the envelope. “Sorry to wake you, but this was sitting on my front door when I came in tonight. I thought you’d want to look at it. I opened it up but I didn’t take anything out of it.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

Gabe slowly removed the papers. There were a stack of them—something about power of attorney to his dad for his businesses. But then he saw the handwritten letter. His hands started shaking as he read the note.

Wordlessly and with trembling fingers, he handed the letter to Decker. Then he lay back on the couch, his glasses still perched on
his nose, staring at the ceiling. When Decker finished the letter, he handed it to Rina. Then he said, “I’d like to have a handwriting expert go over it with some of your mother’s known samples—”

“It’s her handwriting.”

“Just in case. You never know.”

“It’s her handwriting. More than that, it sounds like her. That’s one of her favorite expressions—‘sordid mess.’”

“Your father probably knows her favorite expressions as well.”

“It’s not my father writing for my mother. It’s my mother. Face facts. She dumped me and she dumped me here. Sorry.”

Rina sat beside him. “I already rented the piano, so you might as well stay.”

Gabe gave her the briefest of smiles, but then his eyes watered up. “Thanks.” He rubbed them furiously. “I should tell my dad about this. Chris called me yesterday. I would have told you sooner, but you haven’t been home.”

The teakettle started to whistle. Rina stood up. “I’ll get it. Do you want some tea, Gabe?”

“I’m okay, thanks.”

“Take some anyway.”

Gabe nodded. After Rina left the room, he said, “I’m glad my mom’s alive, but fuck her. Fuck the both of them. They don’t give a shit about me. Why should I give a shit about them? The only thing I feel bad about is you being stuck with me.” He looked at Decker with moist eyes. “I really can go live with my aunt.”

“You’re staying here. We’ll work out the details. How’s your hand, by the way?”

“It’s fine. This, too, shall pass.”

Decker didn’t talk, giving the kid a few moments of silence to start digesting the horrific breach of trust. Then he said, “When you spoke to your dad, did he tell you anything?”

“Nothing you didn’t already know. He knew about Atik Jains. He asked me about other men she was with. I told him I didn’t know anything, which is the truth. I mean, I don’t know that she ran off with an Indian doctor.”

Decker was quiet.

“I bet my dad’s in India right now chasing her down. Well, good luck to the both of them. Neither one is my concern anymore.”

“Why do you think that Chris is in India?”

“I dunno. I just get the feeling that he’s out of the country and knows where she is.” He looked at Decker. “I mean, do you think she’s in India?”

“I don’t know, Gabe. That’s the God’s honest truth.”

“You know, all she had to do was tell me: ‘Gabe, I’m going to India. Don’t try to find me. I’ll write to you when I can.’ All she had to do was let me know.”

“Maybe she was afraid you’d tell your father.”

“I wouldn’t tell my dad. Plus, he’d find out anyway. She didn’t have to be so dramatic.”

Rina came in with tea. “Here you go, Gabe.”

“Thank you.” He sipped the cup. “Thanks. It feels good.”

“You’re welcome.” Her eyes darted between Gabe and Decker. “It’s late. I think I’ll go to bed.”

Decker gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’ll be in soon.”

Rina mussed her husband’s hair. “If you say so.”

When she was gone, Decker said, “Gabe, I don’t know where your mother is and I don’t know why she didn’t tell you. But I think whatever it was, she probably didn’t want you to know until you’re a bit older.”

Gabe looked angry. “Why do you say that?”

“Because maybe if you find out why she left at this stage of your life, you wouldn’t be able to forgive her.”

“Wouldn’t forgive her?” Gabe laughed angrily. “What’d she do? Rob a bank? Rape a goat?” When Decker was quiet, he said, “Seriously, what could she have done that I wouldn’t forgive her? Cheat on my dad? Leave my dad? She should have done that a long time ago.”

Decker licked his lips. “Do you remember what your parents fought about when your dad beat her?”

“Of course. Chris thought she had an abortion instead of my aunt.”

“What would you say if I told you that your aunt didn’t have an
abortion? That the papers weren’t your aunt’s papers but your mother’s papers.”

“No way.” Gabe shook his head. “Mom was seriously pro-life. She’d never get an abortion.”

“I think you’re right. If your mother ever got pregnant, she’d keep the baby. The problem was…and what your dad suspected all along…that if she got pregnant, it probably wasn’t going to be his child.”

Gabe was quiet.

Decker said, “I think the paper your dad saw wasn’t an abortion receipt, but an OB checkup billed as an abortion for your mom’s own protection. When your dad hit the roof, your mom calmed him down by saying it was for your aunt and not herself. And she even registered under your aunt’s name. But for whatever reason, she kept her own middle name. If your dad would have checked—and maybe he did—he would have found out pretty easily that your aunt’s middle name is not Anne, like your mom said, but Nicole.”

Gabe looked sick. “Do you know this for certain? That she was pregnant?”

“No, I don’t. It’s all conjecture. But I did notice when I saw your mom that she was wearing loose clothing and her face was a little rounder. Like you said, she would have never had an abortion. She could hide a lot of things from your father, but she couldn’t hide a pregnancy. And she couldn’t pretend the child was Chris’s when the actual father was a dark-complexioned Indian. She had a decision to make and she chose the life of her baby.”

Gabe started to speak but couldn’t. Tears pooled in his eyes, then ran down his cheeks. Then he whispered, “Dump one, get another. She wanted a new start without Chris but also without me.”

“She would have taken you if she could have.”

“So why the hell didn’t she?” He was enraged.

“Gabe, your father might let your mom go, but he’d never let her take you. You’re his only child. The only thing he has in this world.”

“Chris doesn’t give a shit about me!” Gabe sputtered out. “You know he doesn’t even believe I’m his biological son. And after what you told me, maybe I’m not.”

Decker looked at him intensely. “You can’t seriously believe that.”

“It’s what Chris thinks and maybe he’s right.”

“Your dad was wrong about a lot of things. Chris never thought your mom would have the gumption to fall in love with another man. He never thought she’d have the nerve to leave him. He never thought she could hide from him, and he never thought she could lie. He was wrong about all those things and he’s dead wrong if he thinks you’re not his kid. The Terry back then is not the Terry now. Your mother was completely smitten with him. Back then, in her eyes, your father walked on water. For better or worse, Gabe, you are Chris Donatti’s son.”

THE NEXT MORNING,
and with Gabe’s permission, Decker went through the papers Terry had sent him. He wasn’t interested in the power-of-attorney documents, just who prepared them and who notarized them. He wanted verification that Terry’s signature was from Terry and not some proxy. At eight
A.M.,
he called up the law firm and spoke to the answering service, telling them that he had an emergency situation and needed to talk to Justin Keeler right away. He got the call back two hours later.

“This is Justin Keeler.”

“Lieutenant Peter Decker with the LAPD. I’ve been working on a missing persons case for the last week. Her name is Terry McLaughlin—”

“You can stop right there, Lieutenant. You must know that I’m going to invoke attorney–client privilege.”

“So she is your client.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“I’m in possession of some papers given to her son, Gabriel Whitman, that she supposedly signed and notarized. They were prepared by you and notarized by a Carin Wilson. Does she work for you?”

“Carin Wilson works for us. How’d you get the papers?”

“Gabriel is living with me and my family. The envelope was on our doorstep last night. The papers didn’t come in the mail. Some
one delivered them by hand. All I want is verification that Terry McLaughlin signed these papers and it’s not a forgery.”

“If they’re notarized by Carin Wilson, I guarantee you that the papers are not a forgery. She’s fifty-two and has been a notary for twenty years.”

Decker paused. “I’m still a little squirrelly about this, Mr. Keeler. I’m sure someone with Terry’s ID signed the papers. I want to make sure that the woman you think is Terry is the real Terry McLaughlin. Can I come down and show you a picture of her?”

“To say yes or no would also be a violation of attorney–client privilege. How about if you mail me the picture. If there’s a problem, I’ll let you know.”

“Mr. Keeler, all I’m trying to do is give the poor kid some information about his missing mother. Terry’s husband is a violent guy, capable of murder. I just want to make sure she’s not dead.”

Keeler sighed. “She’s not dead.” A pause. “I shouldn’t have told you that. But if her son read the letter in the packet, he already knows that she’s alive.”

“So Terry McLaughlin really did write the letter?”

“I can’t tell you any more.”

“You obviously know the contents of the letter.”

“I can’t tell you any more. Just read the damn letter.”

“I did.”

“So respect her damn wishes. And if you care about her, get her violent husband off her back.” Keeler hung up the phone.

Decker massaged his temples just as Gabe walked into the kitchen. He was still wearing pajamas. His face was pale and pasty and his forehead, despite the cream he had slathered on it, was still broken out. “Bad time?”