The Beast A DeckerLazarus Novel (26 page)

“He was kind to the tiger,” Marge said.

“Well, there you go. Learn something new every day.”

Penny said, “Tell me about this place—Global Sanctuary.”

Decker said, “Would you like to visit? We’re going tomorrow. You’re welcome to come.”

“Will you be back in time for the funeral? Say by three-thirty or four?”

“We should be,” Oliver said. “But I can’t promise anything.”

“I’ll follow you there with a car service.”

Graciela said, “We picked a casket over the phone. What’s there to do other than putting him in the ground?” She turned to her brother. “Did you call a minister to handle the service?”

“The funeral home is providing one. Good enough.”

“You’re right. Because anything I’d say wouldn’t be very nice.”

Penny smiled. “Try to be forgiving.”

“I’m here, right?”

“Yes, you are.” Penny turned to Marge. “When are you going to this Global place?”

“Around ten.”

“Do you have directions?”

Decker said, “I suggest you all go in one car, Mr. Penny. The place is in the mountains. It’s hard to find. You should be back by two-thirty unless there’s terrible traffic.”

“Okay.” Penny was still shuffling papers. “I’ll be here, ready to go, at ten of.”

Decker said, “May I ask your reason for wanting to visit the sanctuary?”

“Dad left them two million dollars. It’s a small proportion of his estate, but it’s not an insignificant amount of money.”

“It’s a lot of Birkin bags,” Graciela said.

Penny smiled. “As the executor of the will, by law I am bound to follow Dad’s instructions. But before any checks go out, I want to make sure this place had nothing to do with his demise.” He put the papers down. “I suppose you can’t guarantee that until you find out who did this. Where are you in the investigation?”

Decker regarded the lawyer. “You know, usually in murder cases, you get your suspects by following the money. I don’t know if you’re bound by confidentiality, but if you could tell us where your father’s money is going, it might help.”

“Confidentiality is arguable, since he’s deceased.” Penny picked up the papers. “But I suppose no one from the estate is going to sue me if I talk.”

“Are there others besides Sabrina, you, and me?”

“I’m getting to that.” He cleared his throat. “Let me go through this in an organized fashion. That’s the only way I know how to be. Gracie, pay attention.”

“I’m listening, dear.”

Penny said, “Some of dad’s holdings are in prime New York real estate. We can go several ways with that. If we choose to liquidate, that’s going to take some time. My law firm will take care of that. The rest of his holdings are in stocks and bonds and other tradable commodities. We can liquidate all of those holdings with a few phone calls. This is where you come in, Lieutenant. You’ve been in his apartment. I have not.”

“What do you want to know?”

“As far as I know, Dad had nothing of value in that place. Am I correct?”

“No Renoirs hidden in the closet,” Oliver said.

“Any hidden cash?” Penny asked. “That would be like Dad.”

“We didn’t come across anything, but whoever murdered him could have taken a stash,” Marge told him. “We’ll turn the place inside out, but we have to wait until after the building has been fumigated.”

“Why is the building being fumigated?”

Decker smoothed his mustache. “Well . . . your father owned more than just a tiger.” He gave them a brief recap of the situation. Both of them were stunned by the magnitude but not surprised by the behavior.

Graciela said, “So actually Dad did own some collectibles.”

Penny smiled. “I suppose it’s safe to say that Dad’s collectibles will not add any value to the estate.”

“Too bad about the snakes,” Graciela said. “All those shoes that won’t be realized.”

Penny smiled and continued with the will. “The instructions are that the bulk of his holdings should be split three ways: Gracie, myself, and Sabrina Talbot—his ex-wife.”

“We’ve met Sabrina,” Oliver said.

“Isn’t she a hoot and a half,” Graciela said.

“She seems like a nice lady,” Oliver said. “She also appears to be very wealthy. I bring this up because she doesn’t seem to need money.”

“Put it this way,” Graciela said. “If I needed a loan, I’d go to her
before I’d go to the bank.” She turned to her brother. “How much do we pocket from the old coot?”

Penny said, “Around eighty million each.”

Oliver cleared his throat and looked away.

Decker had opened his notebook and was writing down information, at a momentary loss for words. “So you each get eighty million?”

“Before taxes,” Penny reiterated. “Uncle Sam will take half.”

“That’s still a lot of Birkin bags,” Graciela said. “Dad spent his money on what he wanted to do, and that was about the only honest thing he ever did do. He lied to my mother, he lied to Sabrina. He was vicious to me during the fifteen years I suffered from cervical dystonia, even suggesting that I was doing it to myself to soak money out of him. And I might add that I never asked him for a dime. Do you know what that horrible man did?”

“Gracie—”

“He tried to procure women for my husband while I was inflicted with my condition.” She turned to her brother. “Don’t scold me. Back me up on this.”

“It’s all true,” Penny said. “He was a rotten dad.”

Graciela said, “Am I mourning? Perhaps a piece of me, but a very small piece. For me, his inheritance is reparation. Some of it will go to my foundation. The rest will be put in my own trust for my children and grandchildren. I certainly don’t need any of it to maintain my lifestyle, but I’m not going to refuse it. That would be plain dumb.”

Decker looked at Penny. “You don’t have to answer this, Mr. Penny, but what are you planning to do with the money?”

He took a sip of water. “Eighty million dollars is a lot of money to me. After taxes it’ll be around forty million, which is still a lot of money to me. I don’t need it to live on, but it does bump up my cash reserves.” He smiled. “Perhaps now’s the time to get my wife her own Birkin.”

“She already has one.”

“She does? When?”

Graciela waved him off. “His right hand doesn’t know what his left hand is doing.”

Decker said, “As long as you’re telling numbers, is there anyone else besides Global Sanctuary that stands to gain from your father’s death?”

“Yes. I have some names. I haven’t the slightest idea who these people are.” Penny read off a sheet. “In alphabetical order we have Ginger Buck, Rocki with an
i
Feller, Vignette Garrison, Georgie Harris, Randi with an
i
Miller, and Amber Sweet. As you can see, they’re all women—I’m assuming Georgie is a woman.”

“They all sound like hookers,” Gracie said.

“I won’t argue with that,” Penny answered. “Are you familiar with any of them?”

“Vignette Garrison is the head of Global Earth,” Decker told him.

“So she’s a legitimate person. What about the others?”

Oliver looked at Marge, then at Penny. “Randi Miller may have worked for a massage parlor that did outcall service. Your father may have been one of their clients.”

“Big shock!” Graciela said.

Oliver said, “We didn’t know Randi’s last name, so this is helpful.”

Marge said, “I’m wondering if Randi and Rocki are the same person . . . Feller and Miller?”

“How about Georgie and Ginger?” Oliver said.

“Could be,” Marge answered. “Prostitutes alter their names to avoid having a record when the cops look them up. Let me go look them up, since we have last names.”

“Perfect,” Penny said. “I’m not cutting two checks if it’s the same person.”

Marge had her yellow pad in hand. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Penny said, “It appears that Dad left Global Sanctuary some money and also left money to Vignette Garrison.” To Decker, “Did he have something special going with this woman?”

“I think he liked her cause.”

Graciela said, “How much did he leave these . . . women, Darius?”

“A million each.”

“Not worth killing over.”

Oliver made a face. “With all due respect, Ms. Johannesbourgh, I beg to differ.”

Graciela didn’t appear to hear him. “So Dad’s estate was around two hundred and forty million?”

Penny said, “Yes. If we don’t liquidate the real estate immediately, the buildings have a tremendous upside.”

“Do we need to liquidate?”

“Not unless someone wants more cash.”

“What’s the proportion?” She turned to Decker. “You’d think we would have talked about this beforehand.”

“You didn’t know anything about your father’s estate?” Oliver asked.

“No.” She shrugged. “That’s me. I’m so je ne sais quoi.”

“Gracie, I’m going to have to put a gag on you.”

“Make it a Ferragamo scarf and we have a deal.” When Penny looked displeased, she said, “Okay. Back to business. What else does Dad own?”

“If we liquidate the stocks and bonds, it’s about thirty million cash each before taxes. Although I wouldn’t recommend liquidating anything. He’s got a solid portfolio.”

“What about estate taxes?”

“We have enough to pay taxes, but there won’t be any leftover cash. But the good news is we won’t have to liquidate anything to pay the taxes.”

“So just split and transfer?”

“That’s what I’d recommend.”

“Your firm will manage the buildings?”

“We can put the entire holdings in trust for the three of us. Sabrina will have to agree to it.”

“I’m fine with it. You can talk to Sabrina when she gets here tomorrow.”

“I’ll give her a call after we’re done.” He turned to Decker. “Are we done?”

“A couple of questions,” Decker said. “It sounds like your dad could make enemies. But he was pretty reclusive for the last twenty-five years. Can you think of anyone who would have killed him now . . . as an old man?”

“I can’t help you with that because I haven’t been in my father’s life for years,” Graciela said.

Oliver said, “How did you feel about your father marrying Sabrina Talbot?”

Graciela said, “Dad was an incorrigible womanizer. I was surprised when he actually married again. Neither one of us went to the wedding.”

“We weren’t invited,” Penny said.

“And wouldn’t have gone had we been invited,” Graciela said. “I had nothing to do with Sabrina until after they divorced. Dad gave her half of his holdings as part of her settlement. None of us were pleased with his generosity.”

“Did you sue?” Decker asked.

“Gracious no. But even if we were inclined—and we weren’t—it never came to that. Sabrina gifted two-thirds of the settlement to our children. It was an extremely gracious act. Sabrina deserves whatever happiness she gets.”

“About your dad’s enemies?” Decker turned to Penny. “Any thoughts?”

“No one comes immediately to mind.”

Oliver said, “With the names in the will, you pointed us in a certain direction.”

Marge came back into the room. The two siblings looked at her with expectation. “I pulled up a lot of information.”

“Are they hookers?” Graciela said.

“A few have been arrested for prostitution.”

Darius said, “Even so, they’re entitled to the money, unless they had anything to do with Dad’s murder. Being a hooker per se doesn’t exclude you from being a beneficiary.”

“You were always so straitlaced, bless your little heart.” Graciela yawned. “How much longer?”

Decker said, “I’m sure I’ll have some questions tomorrow, but I know it’s been a long day for both of you.” He gave them each his card. “If you think of anything that might help, please call, regardless of the hour.”

Graciela nodded and stood up, holding her Birkin bag with two hands. Penny neatened his pile and slipped them into the folder. “Our car is waiting.”

Decker said, “Thank you both for coming in. I’ll see you both at the funeral.”

Penny turned to Oliver. “I’ll be here at nine-fifty.”

Oliver was standing. They shook hands. “I’ll see you then, Mr. Penny.”

Graciela looked at the untouched treats provided. “Would you happen to have a lid for the coffee? I could use some caffeine. Also . . .” She made a face. “Maybe a paper bag? I just love doughnuts.”

“Of course.” Marge got up. Stick-thin Graciela was a good lesson about the errors of first impressions. “I’ll find you something.”

“If not, just a napkin or two is fine.” She returned the smile. “I’ll just wrap it up and put it in my hoity-toity Birkin bag.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

A
FTER SHE HANDED
the printouts to Decker and Oliver, Marge said, “This is what I pulled up for Randi with an
i
Miller aka Rocki with an
i
Feller. The gal wasn’t much for originality.”

“Darius Penny will be happy.” Oliver’s eyes swept over the printout. “One check instead of two means another million for the estate.”

“A lot of Birkin bags,” Marge said. “Our Randi should get her money, as long as she’s cleared of Penny’s death . . . which I’m not so sure about.”

Decker was reading silently. Randi Miller was thirty-three years old, born in Montana. Her mug shots showed a thin woman with straggly blond hair, sunken eyes, and sallow skin. Her height said five foot five, her weight said 130. That was on a good day, judging from the bony arms and wrists.

Marge said, “I do see a resemblance between her and the woman in the store security video . . . the one carrying the massage table.”

“I dunno.” Oliver stared at the picture, then turned to Decker. “She looks a lot healthier in the video. What do you think?”

Decker studied the photograph. “I’d say yes, this is the girl in the video.”

Her last known address was in Sylmar, California. Decker knew the area well because it was policed by Foothill Substation, where he had worked for fifteen years.

He wrote down pertinent information in his notebook.

Ginger Buck was also known as Georgie Harris, Georgina Harris, Lynette Harris, Lynette Amber Harris, Amber Sweet, Sweetie Pie, and Cherry Pie. She was thirty-six years old, homegrown in SoCal. When she was nineteen, she had worked the porn industry for five years under the name of Amber Sweet. Then she must have fallen on hard times. The next decade showed up charges for prostitution, drugs, petty theft, shoplifting, forgery, and several drunk and disorderlies. Her vitals put her at five foot seven, 140 pounds. Her mug shot showed a woman with prominent cheekbones and a big chin, features that were commonly altered in plastic surgery, and Decker wondered if some sugar daddy hadn’t foot the bill for a new face. Brunette hair, her eyes were dark, and she had blemishes on her cheeks and forehead that might have indicated meth use.