False Prophet (4 page)

“This ain’t nothing.” Decker took a deep sniff. “He’s got fresh shavings in here. You should have gotten a whiff before he raked the stalls.”

“Lucky me.”

“Did he rake while you were interviewing him?”

“No, he just sat on the cot and answered my questions — ‘Yessim. Nossim.’ But I think he understood everything I asked him, Pete. Claims he didn’t see or hear anything. Now the stable is away from the house, but I would think that sound carries pretty well in these open spaces. There were a lot of smashed items in Lilah’s bedroom. Maybe he just tuned the noise out.”

“Maybe.” Decker related the incident with Lilah and
el otro hermano
. “Totes was very protective of her according to the maid, threatening Lilah’s nameless brother with a shovel. If he had heard something suspicious, he might have done something. He didn’t mention anything about the fight to you?”

“Not a word. But with a guy like Carl, you’ve got to know the right questions beforehand. He doesn’t volunteer a thing and I don’t think it’s because he’s holding back. He’s just too basic to improvise. I asked him if he knew anyone who didn’t like Lilah. He said ‘nossim.’ Now if I had asked him, did Lilah have a fight with her other brother two years ago, I probably would have gotten a ‘yessim.’”

“Specificity is the name of the game.”

“And short questions,” Marge said. “Anyway, he swore he didn’t hear or see anything when he got up this morning at four-thirty.”

“That’s his usual rising time?”

“Yes. It was dark outside. He didn’t see anything.”

“You think he was being truthful?”

“I think he was, but it’s hard to say. Remember that beekeeper’s retarded son last year? Totes was wary in the same way when questioned. Both didn’t look you in the eye.”

“He’s as retarded as Earl Darcy?”

“No, Carl’s higher-functioning,” Marge said. “He takes care of himself and the horses. Besides being the stable hand, he’s the grounds keeper. Takes care of the fruit trees, maintains the huge garden out back. She’s got a few acres here. Keeping it up is a lot of responsibility.”

“You know, the maid mentioned that Lilah sends people from the spa to fix things in her house, pick stuff from the garden. She mentioned someone named Mike.”

Marge said, “I’ll check him out.”

“What about Totes as a suspect? What does your gut say?”

“Gut-speaking, probably not. You told me Lilah didn’t know who attacked her. I don’t think Carl has enough smarts to plan an assault without being recognized.”

Decker said, “How long has Carl been working out the horse?”

“He took it out maybe a half hour ago, says he tries to work out each horse for an hour. Jesus, that’s six hours in the saddle every day. Guy must have nothing but a big callus for a butt.”

Decker slapped his notepad against his palm. “You get used to it.”

“Macho Pete.”

Decker smiled, thinking that Marge wasn’t so bad in the machismo department herself. At a fit five-ten, one fifty-five, she could successfully floor most men without breaking a sweat. Her most feminine feature was her eyes. Soft and doelike, they inspired trust. Everyone told Marge their secrets.

She said, “Why don’t you take a look around while I organize my notes?”

Decker agreed, strolling the stables, taking in the scenery. Lilah had prime horses — well-muscled with straight backs and princely gaits. The Lippizaner was the jumper, the two Thoroughbreds were young with fine-looking legs. The Appaloosa in the middle stall looked to be about twelve — probably dead broke and a great trail rider. Aps were good range horses — fearless and surefooted. He returned to Totes’s stall, sniffed the towels and bedsheet.

“His clothes are dirty, but his linens are clean. The maid said she doesn’t do his laundry.”

Marge said, “He’s got a small empty washbasin outside. Next to the toilet.”

“Who buys his food?”

“He told me Lilah gives him some canned goods — tuna, chili and beans. And then there’s the garden — actually it’s more like a farm. A half acre’s worth of vegetables, most of the greens and herbs grown for the spa. VULCAN advertises homegrown fruits and vegetables. Guess Lilah needs something to justify those rates.”

Decker smiled and rolled his shoulders.

Marge said, “Totes helps himself to the veggies. To the fruits in the orchards, too. I guess if you don’t mind simple living and the smell, it’s not a terrible life.” She checked her watch. “How about we grab some lunch after you’ve spoken to Mr. Totes?”

“I want to stop off at home,” Decker said. “I’ve got some baked goods in the car that were supposed to be Rina’s breakfast. Want to come over for lunch?”

“I’m sure Rina would love that.”

“I’ll need you as a buffer.”

“She giving you a hard time?”

“Nah,” Decker said. “She’s just being pregnant. Stop by with me. She likes you. Sometimes I think she likes you better than me.”

“You go it alone this time.” Marge stood on her tiptoes and patted his cheek. “You’re a big boy, you can handle it.”

Decker smiled. “You want to explain to Totes that I’m your partner? He’s already had one interview today. I don’t want to confuse the guy by suddenly presenting myself.”

“Sure.”

“While I’m talking to him, can you do me a favor?”

“Name it.”

“Frederick Brecht’s not at the spa and supposedly no one had his office number. The Vulcanites are very closemouthed.”

“I’ll look him up. You want me to call him?”

“I don’t know if he’s aware of what’s happened. The maid didn’t call him; the spa isn’t concerned about Lilah’s absence. The manager there… what the hell was her name?” He flipped through his notepad. “Uh… Kelley Ness… she told me that Ms. Brecht wasn’t expected in today, but she didn’t sound uptight.”

“Did you ask Kelley about this Mike person?” Marge said.

“No. If Mike’s there and involved, I don’t want to spook him. I don’t want to interview this Mike guy or Doctor Freddy by phone. I want to see their reactions to the news in the flesh.”

“Makes sense,” Marge said. “How about you talk to Totes while I break for lunch? Afterward, I’ll take a peek around the spa and you check out Doctor Freddy.”

“Sounds good,” Decker said. “By the time I’m done with Freddy, maybe Lilah will be able to talk.”

Marge said, “What should we do about Davida Eversong?”

Decker made a face and leaned backward. “What does she have to do with any of this?”

“You haven’t talked to Morrison yet?”

Decker was taken aback. It was unusual for the captain to stick his nose into Decker’s affairs. “Christ, what is it, Marge?”

“Just wanted to know a little about the case. Mentioned the fact that since Lilah was Davida Eversong’s daughter, it could get some press.” Marge sighed. “That maybe we might want to break the news to Ms. Eversong first and tell her to keep a low profile so we can do our jobs. I seemed to get the impression that he’s worried that Eversong might play this for some publicity. Should I try to dig her up?”

Decker thought for a moment. “Not just yet. Let me at least try to talk to Lilah first. She may have her own method of dealing with her mother.”

Plumes of dust obscured the corral’s ground as the palomino kicked up cloud banks of grit. The tomtom sound of hooves beating against the dirt, the horse rounding each bend of the fence seamlessly. In lesser hands, the stallion could have easily lost its footing, but Totes handled the animal with the combined expertise of professional cowboy and jockey.

Riding bare chested, the man was so thin he looked like an antenna. In his time, Decker had known many hands like him. Their strength was often deceptive. The guy was probably one wiry sucker.

Marge caught Totes’s attention. He pulled on the reins, stopping directly in front of them, spraying them with dirt. He untied the bandanna from around his neck and wiped perspiration off his face and neck. A watery sheen had coated his chest and stomach, but he didn’t bother to swab it away.

“Carl, this is my partner, Sergeant Decker,” Marge said. “If you don’t mind, he’d like to ask you a few questions.”

There was a moment of silence. Totes’s eyes were unreadable, hidden behind the shadow of his cowboy hat. He had a long face that matched his lean body. His nutmeg-colored cheeks were gaunt, hairless, and mottled with acne scars and moles.

“My partner needs to ask you a few questions, Carl,” Marge said.

Totes nodded.

“How ’bout we go in the stable?” Decker said. “You can brush your horse down while we talk.”

Totes nodded but made no effort to dismount. The palomino was prancing about, chafing at the bit, sweat pouring down his flanks.

Decker said, “You need to cool him off first?”

“Yes sir, I do.”

“Go ahead,” Decker said. “I’ll wait.”

Totes clicked his tongue and he and the horse trotted slowly around the corral.

“Swift, sport,” Marge said.

“Like you said, you’ve got to know the right questions.”

“I think you’ve got a good fix on the dude, Pete.” Marge slung her purse over her shoulder. “And now if I’m no longer needed…”

“Give me about a half hour.”

“You won’t need that much time, but go ahead.”

After Marge left, Decker leaned against the railing as Totes led the golden beauty through a series of cool-down exercises. The sky was clear and cloudless, the mountains studded with wild flowers. Watching Totes in the saddle, Decker felt jealous of the stable hand’s freedom, of his skill, too. Totes might be blunted mentally, but he’d mastered all the subtleties of riding. Fifteen minutes passed before Totes decided it was time to call it quits. He dismounted, took off his saddle, and led the horse by the reins around the corral. After the animal had been sufficiently cooled down, Totes brought him to the stable. Decker walked abreast of the horse, admiring his stately walk.

“Miss Brecht has some beautiful animals,” Decker said, once inside the stable.

Totes nodded and placed the horse in the middle stall opposite the Appaloosa. He took out a wire currycomb and brush and began to groom the beast. The comb had just made contact with the horse’s skin when Totes stopped, turned around, and looked at Decker.

“You can pull up a bucket and sit if you want.”

“I don’t mind standing.”

Totes didn’t respond. He paused, then returned his attention to the horse.

“Miss Brecht a good rider?” Decker asked.

“Yessir.”

“This one her favorite horse?”

“Yessir.”

“What’s his name?”

“Apollo.”

“Apollo,” Decker repeated. “After the sun god.”

Again, Totes stopped what he was doing and pivoted to look at Decker. He took off his cowboy hat, wiped his forehead with his arm, and put the hat back on. His hair was cropped short — one step above a five-o’clock shadow. Eyes, pale blue. They held a vacant stare.

“Apollo’s a great name,” Decker said. “Lilah must be a very experienced rider to handle a stallion. She doesn’t look like she has enough weight to manage him.”

Totes didn’t answer. He continued grooming the animal.

“How long you work for Miss Brecht, Carl?”

“Five years.”

“She have the horses before you came to work for her?”

“A few.”

“She have Apollo?”

“Yessir.”

“How old is he? Around six?”

“Yessir.”

Unimpressed.

Decker said, “Did she have the Appaloosa when you came here? He looks older, around twelve, thirteen, maybe?”

“Twelve and a half.”

“He’s in good shape.”

“Yessir.”

“Has Miss Brecht ever lived with anyone in the five years you worked here?”

No response.

“Has Miss Brecht ever lived with her brother Freddy, the doctor?”

Totes hesitated before answering. “Nossir.”

“Do you see Miss Brecht’s brother around here a lot?”

A pause. “Yessir.”

“Was he here last night?”

Totes stopped what he was doing, but didn’t turn around. “I don’t remember.”

“See anything strange last night?”

“Nossir. ’Ready told your lady pardner that.”

“I know you did,” Decker answered. “I’m just… you know… trying to figure out a few things. Did you happen to see anyone near Miss Brecht’s house during the night?”

Another pause. “Nossir.”

“Did you happen to see Miss Brecht last night?”

Totes continued brushing but didn’t answer. Decker didn’t know if he was thinking about the question or if he was just that dull. Dragging answers out of him was like wading through sludge.

“She don’t ride at night so I probably didn’t see her. I only see her when she rides.”

“Do you pick the vegetables for her spa?”

A pause. “Nossir.”

“Who does?”

“Who what?”

“Who picks the vegetables for her spa?”

“Someone from the spa.”

“Do you know a guy named Mike from the spa?”

“Don’t know him, nossir.”

Decker waited a beat. “Carl, do you ever
see
a guy named Mike from the spa picking vegetables for Miss Lilah?”

“I see him,” Totes said. “But I don’t know him.”

“But you know what he looks like.”

“’Course.”

“Was he here yesterday?”

“Nossir.”

“You’re sure.”

“Yessir.”

Decker sighed inwardly. “Carl, does Miss Brecht ever go running at night?”

“Don’t recall.”

“Maybe Miss Brecht went running last night,” Decker suggested. “You might have seen her?”

Totes turned slowly and faced Decker, a confused look on his face.

“Did you see Miss Brecht run last night, Carl?”

Totes shook his head.

“But she does run at night?”

Totes scratched his nose. “Don’t recall.”

Decker bit back frustration. “So nothing unusual happened last night?”

Totes nodded slowly.

“And you didn’t see Miss Brecht’s brother — Frederick Brecht — here last night.”

“Nossir.”

“What about Miss Brecht’s other brother — the one who had the fight with her about two years ago.”

Totes removed his hat. The empty expression in his eyes had been replaced by hot blue flames. “What
about
him?”