Murder 101 (26 page)

Decker raised his eyebrows. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow.”

“Are you under a time pressure to accomplish all this?”

“I have until thirty to enter school. Then I have another ten years to pass all the bars. It’s not a problem. I’ve always been an excellent test taker. I’m not worried about passing or anything. I’m just procrastinating.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Of course, I’m going to go. I’m not self-destructive. I can’t figure out what I’m waiting for other than spite and even that’s worn off.”

“I suppose you’ll do it when you’re ready.”

“You know if I die, Dad gets his share, the school’s share, and my share, so I guess it’s to his credit that he hasn’t bumped me off.”

“Tyler—”

“We should find out if he’s rented out any silver Hyundai vans.” The kid shook his head. “I’ll go this August.” He looked lost in thought. “The department will be happy to get rid of me. I know I’ve been a pain in the ass.”

Decker didn’t deny it. But he didn’t confirm it either. “Tyler, if your father’s inheritance depends on you, why do you let him talk to you that way?”

The kid shrugged. “It’s unseemly to bring it up every time I have it out with my father—which is all the time. It’s dirty fighting.”

“Good for you. You’re a better man than I.”

“I suppose deep down I’m hoping for some kind of relationship after I’ve come through with the goods.” He looked upward. “Of course, he may blow me off anyway. I’m prepared for that. But I don’t want to give him ammunition. Can you change the subject?”

“How are you feeling?” Decker asked.

“I have a several tubes in my arm, a tube up my dick, I’m nauseated, and I can’t move. I hurt almost everywhere and the few places I don’t hurt, I’m plain sore. But other than that, I’m perfect.” He forced a smile. “I believe it was you who said no whining? Something about no one wants to hear me bitch?”

Decker changed the subject. “I have an assignment for you if you want it.”

“Thanks for the sympathy.” The kid looked up. “What?”

“Are you able to use your iPad?”

“Yeah, of course. First of all, I’m right-handed and I got hit on the left side. Second, both my hands are fine. What do you need?”

“Once you’re out of here, I still want you looking through the libraries for pilfered items.”

“Why? The case is obviously beyond a stolen book or a few stolen antique maps.”

“If Moreau and Latham were improvising with their own petty thefts, they had to fence their wares somewhere. We both saw the books and the maps in Goddard’s gallery. Not unusual for him to have things like that, but if we could find him holding stolen goods, we’d at least have a connection.”

“I would think he’d want to chuck anything that would tie him to them.”

“When it comes to chucking valuable things, people are funny. That’s why we find things like bloody clothes, bloody shoes, and murder weapons. Not to mention photographs and texts and phone numbers in cells. People don’t cover their tracks that well. And even when they do, they slip up. We need to check as many angles as we can think of. Are you in or out?”

“I’m in.” A beat. “Only because you’re still using the pronoun ‘we.’ ”

“Of course it’s a ‘we.’ ”

The kid gave a genuine smile. “I’m up to it.”

“I’d also like Rina to come sit with you. I’ll have an armed cop watch both of you. And she can help. She also knows how to shoot.” A pause. “You’ll all have to go together to the restroom.”

“She’s already seen me with a catheter. I’m beyond embarrassment. I’ll gladly do whatever you need. You might as well exploit me while you can.”

Decker patted the kid’s arm, and then he slumped in his chair. “We both could use some rest.”

“Go home.”

“Not a chance.”

“I could probably get a cot in the room if you want.”

“Don’t bother.” Decker took off his shoes and put his feet up on the end of the hospital bed. “I’ll just doze in the chair.”

“As soon as I’m up and about, I want to learn how to shoot a gun.”

“You don’t have to wait. I can take you to the range while you’re still in a wheelchair. We all could use a little brushing up.”

“Does the ‘we’ include your buddy?”

“I’m sure he hasn’t been to the range since he retired. So, yes, it probably does include Oliver.”

“Oliver is the last name, right?”

“Yes. His name is Scott Oliver.” Decker closed his eyes. Within a minute, he started drifting off until Tyler’s voice woke him up.

“What’s he like? Oliver.”

“He’s got a wicked sense of humor and dresses like a dandy.” Decker yawned. “He loves good clothes. It’s his weakness. He’s always looking for sales and outlets.”

“The
GQ
cop.”

“The
GQ
cop with a cop’s IQ. You two have a lot in common.”

“Like what? I don’t care about clothes.”

“No, not the threads.” Decker stretched out. “You’ve both got the fire.” He closed his tired eyes. “You both want to feel useful again.”

CHAPTER 26

R
ETIREMENT HADN’T TREATED
Scott Oliver kindly. He had gone soft around the middle and walked stoop-shouldered with a drawn face. His once dark hair was almost white. It dawned on Rina that he’d probably been rinsing it for a while. Even his clothes reflected a defeatist attitude—all function with little flair that once was his trademark. The only glimmer of the former detective was the twinkle in his brown eyes when he presented Rina with a gift pack of three expensive kosher wines.

“Might be hard getting these out in the boonies.”

“How thoughtful of you, Scott.” Rina gave him a peck on the cheek. “No trouble finding the place?”

“I may be fading but I still know how to read a GPS.” He set down his suitcase and took off his hat, his scarf, his gloves, and his jacket. “Where’s Deck? Working on a Sunday? Like I need to ask.”

“He’s making up for the days he lost tending to Tyler in the hospital.”

“Makes total sense. Deck did it right, you know. Getting a change of scenery but refusing to pack it in.”

“The move has its pluses but a few minuses . . . starting with the temperature outside.” She pointed to his jacket and accoutrements. “Can I hang those up?”

“I’m not a guest, I’m hired help.”

“Of course you’re a guest.”

“Rina, I don’t want to be a guest. Think of me as old Oliver. Well, not
old
Oliver.”

“The Oliver formerly known as Detective Oliver,” Rina said.

He laughed. “Just show me where I’m staying and I’ll make myself comfortable.”

“Down the hallway, first door to the right. How about some tea or coffee?”

“Normally, I’d say coffee but I’m so cold, tea sounds great.”

“Do you want me to turn up the heat?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Which door? I really need to do something, Rina. I’m going nuts.”

“First on your right. Tyler’s staying across from you.”

“Yeah, how’s the kid doing?”

“Grumpy, but that’s to be expected. How’s your arm doing?”

“Stiff . . . especially in the cold.” He rubbed his arms, and then lifted the handle on his suitcase. “I’ll just settle in.” A pause. “The Loo said it was your idea to call me.”

“The case has jumped from puzzling to dangerous. He needs someone with experience.”

“Thanks for thinking of me, Rina. I’m happy you did.”

“You’re welcome. There are clean towels on the bed. You have your own private half bath, but you’re going to have to share the shower with Tyler.”

“No problem for me, can’t talk for the blueblood.” He went to his room and closed the door.

Rina started the kettle for the tea. A minute later, she heard Tyler’s wheelchair rolling down the hallway. He came into the kitchen with a scowl on his face. “The enemy has landed.”

“Tea?”

“Sure.” He wheeled himself to the kitchen table. “How’s he doing?”

“He looks tired.”

“So now I have to deal with two codgers.”

“Two experienced homicide detectives, you mean?”

McAdams smiled. “At least it’s not Dad.” He sighed. “I assume Decker told you?”

“It’s all over the precinct. Your dad’s mouth has taken on legendary proportions.”

“Man oh man oh man.” He rolled his eyes. “So between getting shot and his charming personality have I garnered enough support for the sympathy vote?”

“Apparently not because Peter is putting you back to work.” When Tyler perked up, she said, “He wants us to start going through the reference library books tomorrow.”

“Yeah, right. Busy work.”

“Which is 90 percent of detective work.” She mussed his hair. “You know, I got a call from the provost of the college. He’s not happy about our having an armed guard with us. I reminded him that one of his students was murdered and the case is still unsolved.”

“So what did he say?”

“Not much . . . a little bluster followed by a lot of BS. But he didn’t say no, so you and I have a date with some musty old books.”

“Best offer I’ve had in a year.”

The front door opened and Rina pulled out a drawer and extracted a revolver. Tyler’s eyes went wide. She put her finger to her lips.

“Hello?”

Peter’s voice. Rina stowed the gun back in the drawer and shouted, “In the kitchen.”

Decker stepped in a moment later and kissed his wife. “Hello, gorgeous.” To Tyler. “How are you feeling, Harvard?”

“No one wants to hear my bitchin’ so I guess all right.”

Decker smiled. “Is Scott here?”

“He arrived around five minutes ago,” Rina said. “He’s settling into his room.”

Decker took off his coat and scarf. “I’ll just hang these up and go say hello.” To Tyler, he said, “Seriously. Are you feeling better?”

“Ready to take on the library, Old Man.” A pause. “Actually, it’ll feel good to do something even if it’s menial.”

“It’s not menial, but it is tedious. Get to know your adjectives.”

“Did you hear back from Professor Gold about the codebook?”

“Mulrooney gave him a copy, but I don’t know if he’s looked at it yet. I’m planning to see him tomorrow. Maybe being there in person will spur him on. I need a warm body in the car with me before Mike and my wife will let me go do my job. Scott will serve that purpose.”

“I’m sure.” McAdams looked pissed.. “For one thing, he knows how to shoot.”

Rina patted the kid’s shoulder. “Anything new with the case. Peter?”

“Well . . . we’ve called just about every hospital within a hundred-mile radius and have come up empty. Maybe I just grazed him.”

“I heard the unmistakable thud, Peter. You definitely hit bone.”

“You can’t go around for long with a gunshot wound. He has to have been treated somewhere. Maybe he has a private doctor who knows how to extract bullets and doesn’t ask too many questions.”

Rina said, “Someone he knew he could go to in case he got shot?”

“Yep.” Decker turned to McAdams. “That’s why I’m thinking a group of people are involved.”

“And you’re wondering why I don’t want you traveling by yourself,” Rina said.

“I’ll be fine.” Decker knew he shouldn’t be talking in front of her. After what happened four days ago, she was still scared. But often she had interesting things to add. More important, it wasn’t fair to keep her in the dark when she could be in danger. She should know everything he knew, which, at the moment, was paltry.

“Are you interested in dinner?” Rina asked.

Mercifully, she had switched the conversation. Decker said, “Always.”

“Then go change. I just have to warm everything up.”

“Need help?”

“You can set the table.”

“I can do that,” McAdams said.

“You baked the cake, he can set the table.”

Decker grinned. “You baked a
cake
?”

“Apple with a cinnamon streusel,” McAdams said. “Damn good especially considering I did it from a sitting position.”

“That is a feat. Did you meet Scott?”

“Not yet. I figure we’ll be forced to talk to each other over dinner.”

“It won’t be a strain. He’s a friendly guy, Tyler.”

“He may be . . . but I’m not.”

AFTER A GOOD
meal and flowing wine, Oliver had shed ten years in his face.

In vino veritas.

Decker cleared the dishes while Rina brought out coffee and Tyler’s cake. “I’m full right now. I’ll leave you gentlemen to your business.”

“Not this time.” Decker patted her seat. “You need to know what’s going on.”

“He’s right,” McAdams said. “Someone tried to kill you. And I’ll be insulted if you don’t try my cake.”

“And here I was thinking I could eat it by myself with a big cup of coffee.” She turned to Oliver. “The one thing about living in a cold climate is the sheer joy of curling up in front of a fire with dessert and a good book.”

“You know how I hate to get you involved, Rina, but this is an exception.” Decker smoothed his mustache. “And I can always use a different point of view.”

“I can grow six inches and pretend I’m Marge.” Rina poured coffee for all and then she sat down. “Marge was the designated barista and I’m sure not by choice.”

“I made coffee.” Decker was offended.

“Not cappuccino.”

“No, not that. But I made many a pot of rotgut coffee in my time at LAPD. And speaking of Marge, I got a report on Chase Goddard. Hold on, I’ll go get it.”

“Who’s on watch tonight?” McAdams asked.

“Sam Brook.”

“Sam?” He shook his head. “All righty dighty.”

“What’s wrong with Sam Brook?” Rina asked.

“Nothing if you like your guards around twelve years old and weighing ninety pounds.”

Decker said, “He’s a good shot.”

“Well . . . then he has one up on me.”

After Decker left, Oliver turned to McAdams. “How do you feel?”

“It sucks.”

“Yeah, it does. Deck likes working with you.”

“Now that’s a lie.”

“No, it isn’t. He didn’t at first, but now he does. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Decker didn’t tell you about the case?”

“Of course he did. But I’d like to hear what you have to say.” Oliver took out a notepad. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Let me go get my iPad . . . which I should have had with me.” He wheeled himself from the dining room and down the hallway.

Decker came back. “Where’d the kid go?”

“To fetch his iPad. Then he’s going to give me a rundown on the case.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s good for him to do it, good for Rina to hear the basics, and good for us to hear his point of view.”

“Still got the gray matter, Scott.” Decker grinned. “It matches your hair.”

“Excuse me, Mr. AARP, I think going au naturel shows the sign of a confident man.” No one spoke. “Do they sell Grecian formula here?”

“Yes.” Rina sliced the cake. “The population here is either college age or retirement age with very little in between.”

McAdams returned and proceeded to give a complete recap up to the point of his getting shot.

Oliver tapped his pencil against his pad. “You didn’t see anything?”

“As soon as I heard the noise, I locked myself in the closet.”

“Why?”

“Because Decker had spooked me with the silver van that was tailing us, and it was a good thing he did.” He looked down. “He tried to shoot the lock, but the closet is double reinforced wood and has a Medico.”

“What was in there that’s so valuable?” Oliver asked McAdams.

“I have a safe with a lot of cash.” No one spoke. “Fifty grand.”

“Whoa!” Oliver said. “That’s a lot of greenery to keep around. Maybe someone was out to rob you, son.”

“My first thought . . . until Decker showed up. Besides no one knew about the money.”

“What’s wrong with the bank?” Decker said.

“People talk around here . . . even bank tellers. I was hoping to fly under the radar.”

“It’s true,” Rina said. “People do talk.”

Oliver turned back to McAdams. “What else do you remember?”

“Not much after I got shot. Sorry.”

Rina distributed slices of the cake, licking her fingers when she was done. “So any theories as to what’s going on?”

“The whole thing sounds nutty,” Oliver said. “If you’re a professional, the last thing you want is attention from the heat. And the quickest way to bring heat on is to take swipes at police officers.”

“In America, that’s true,” Decker said. “Only stupid people try to bring down cops. Not so in foreign countries. Look at Mexico or Latin America. Gangs and cartels are always taking down cops.”

“You think this is the work of a Mexican gang?”

“He thinks we’re dealing with Russian mafia,” McAdams said. “Bratva is the local name for it.”

“Because of some stolen Russian icons?”

“The Petroshkovich icons . . . which is a thirty-year-old case, FYI,” McAdams said.

Decker said, “I think it has to do with Russian mafia because John Latham was the primary target and Latham’s specialty was Soviet art. I’ve worked what . . . three hundred homicides? This one feels foreign. These guys don’t care about cops because they’re not beholden to American law. And then when you throw in this codebook.”

“Yeah, it is kinda spy versus spy,” Oliver said.

McAdams said, “It could be a red herring—the codebook.”

“Someone went to all that trouble to produce a very complex and educated red herring?” Decker said. “I don’t think so.” He opened the manila envelope and pulled out the fax. “Marge’s report on Chase Goddard.” His eyes scanned the page. “Nothing much. A couple of DUIs in Miami.”

“He had a gallery in Florida?” McAdams asked.

“Uh . . . ten years ago . . . about two years before he moved to New York. He’s certainly hopped around.”

“So maybe we are dealing with a drug cartel,” McAdams said.

“Why do you say that?” Decker handed Oliver the fax.

“Isn’t Florida an entry point for drugs?” McAdams said. “Maybe the codebook has nothing to do with art. Maybe it has to do with shipments of drugs from Florida.”

“So now we’re tagging John Latham as a drug dealer?”

“It was one of your theories early on,” McAdams reminded him.

Oliver held up his hand. “Let me get this straight. Chase Goddard has had art galleries in Miami, New York, and Boston.”

“Not to bolster my theory, but maybe he’s distributing,” McAdams said.

“Or maybe he’s just following the money,” Rina said. “Most galleries are in big cities or resorts because who else can afford art and antiques.”

“Where there’s money, there’s drugs,” McAdams said. “And like Oliver said . . .” He turned to him. “Do I call you Oliver or Scott?”

“Oliver’s fine.”

“Like he said, who shoots up the police unless they’re in a chase or a shoot-out or they have utter disregard for the law. Drug dealers have utter disregard of the law.”

“Do you see Chase Goddard as a drug dealer, Deck?” Oliver said.

“Not really. He’s a little old and most dealers aren’t Harvard educated. Plus he was obsequious when Tyler mentioned his father. He seems to want business. I can see him buying stolen art and drinking too many martinis. I can’t see him in the back room castrating bodies and cutting heroin with quinine.”

“Heroin’s cut with quinine?” McAdams asked.