The Beast (34 page)

Her eyes formed tears. “I tried to blank it from my mind.”

“You didn’t know what he did and you really never knew what happened to them.”

Her eyes watered. “He had a special room for them, and I was never invited inside the lair. After we divorced, I went into that room and I never saw anything bad.”

“What did you see?”

“Actually, it was completely sterile. The walls had been freshly painted, and there was brand-new carpeting. I thought he was being nice. After all, he was so generous with the settlement. I thought . . . actually, I don’t know what I thought. I was glad he was gone . . . out of my life.”

Decker said, “So . . . the room had been repainted and there was new carpet.”

Sabrina nodded while looking at her red fingernails. Her hands were unsteady as she wiped her eyes. “What does that mean, Lieutenant?”

Decker said, “It means, Ms. Talbot, that you probably dodged a bullet.”

THE PAPERWORK WAS
drowning him: reviewing what the other detectives had been working on, court cases, call assignments, and vacation times to figure out. Normally all this could have been easily done during working hours. But with Penny taking up so much of his time, Decker had fallen behind. He’d be lucky to get out by eleven.

Marge knocked on the open door, bringing in two cups of coffee. “You’re still here?”

“Got another half hour of odds and ends to button up.” He smiled at her. “Is one of those mugs for me?”

“Yes.”

“Decaf?”

“It could be, but that would require another pot.”

“Who cares about sleep?” Decker took the cup. “I’m much obliged, thank you.”

She sat down. Oliver walked in a moment later and took a chair. “So, how is my Lady Sabrina?”

Decker took a long sip. “She called you handsome.”

Oliver brightened. “That’s nice. Did you tell her my middle name is Mellors?”

Marge was perplexed. “I don’t get it.”

“That was very esoteric, Scott,” Decker said.

Oliver said, “Mellors was the groundkeeper in
Lady Chatterley’s Lover
.”

“Oh . . . okay.” She paused. “Wasn’t Mellors supposed to be young and virile?”

He glared at her. “What did I do tonight to offend you?”

Marge laughed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. And you are very handsome.”

“Too little too late.”

Decker said, “In answer to your original question, Sabrina Talbot
was cooperative and forthcoming. This is the deal. Sabrina never went with Penny to his sex clubs. But she saw him bring women home. According to Sabrina, they weren’t professional hookers, but they were young party girls whom he paid for sex. He was into humiliation. He liked to screw them in front of his wife. Sabrina never remembers seeing Penny threatening the girls. Apparently, he didn’t hit or beat them. He just had sex with them. He liked it in the ass. That was about as kinky as it got.”

Marge said, “Voyeurism, humiliation, and sodomy. On a kinky scale, I give it a six.”

“Five,” Oliver said.

“Whatever the rating, she doesn’t remember any disarticulated digits. But there’s more. Sometimes Penny was alone with the girls in a private room that was off-limits to his wife. During those times, Sabrina retreated to her bedroom and enjoyed the peace and quiet. So she has no idea what took place or what happened to the girls. When she woke up the next morning they were gone and Penny was at work doing whatever he did to make himself millions. After the two of them divorced, Sabrina went into the private room for the first time. It had been freshly painted and had new carpeting.”

Oliver said, “The slaughterhouse was right under her nose. You think she might have heard or smelled something.”

“The house is enormous,” Marge said. “And how often do you think she went by the servants’ wing unless he forced her?”

Decker said, “When you live with someone like that, it’s easy to turn a blind eye. Back to business. I need you two to go back to Santa Barbara and take a look at Penny’s fuck room with luminol. Set up a time and date tomorrow.”

“That’s not a problem, Lieutenant. I am happy to do that.”

“Anything from the party girls on Lankershim?”

Marge recapped the night’s conversation with Coco, including the gloved Shady Lady who didn’t work call-girl service anymore. When she was done, Decker said, “Could be a promising lead. And if she is short a digit and knows who did it, we could have another suspect in Hobart’s murder.”

“A revenge murder from so long ago?” Marge asked.

“It’s a dish best eaten cold,” Decker said. “So find Shady Lady and talk to her.”

“If we’re going to Santa Barbara tomorrow, when do we fit that in?” Oliver asked.

Decker looked at his watch. “Girls should be coming out just about now. There’s no time like the present.”

I
T WAS ALMOST
eleven, but the lights were still on in the living room. Rina and Gabe at the dining room table, playing cards. They both looked up when Decker walked in. “Who’s winning?”

“She’s killing me,” Gabe said.

“Must be gin rummy. She’s ruthless.”

Rina put her cards down, got up, and kissed her husband. “Paella is warming in the oven. Chicken and sausage.”

“I love you.”

“So take back what you said about me being ruthless.”

“I’m referring to your card playing.”

Rina handed him her cards. “Finish up for me.”

Gabe put down the cards. “I’m done anyway. I know when I’ve been bested.” He stood up. “I had a long afternoon in the recording studio with Yasmine.”

“Yeah, right.” Decker cleared his throat. “How’d that go?”

“We didn’t finish. Her voice is a little raw. I told her to practice scales and we’ll try again on Thursday.”

“I meant how did it go with Mom?”

Gabe tried to stifle a smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “I guess all the drama over the weekend turned out okay. Sohala has given us permission to talk to each other.”

“Good for you.” Decker smiled. “Anything specific that led to a change of heart?”

“I’d like to say I dazzled her with my piano playing—I probably did dazzle her—but it was Yasmine who made it happen. She just put her foot down, and her mother caved. I’m sure she’ll monitor Yasmine’s phone and computer and all that stuff, but at least I can call her without having to sneak around. I never wanted that.”

“I know you didn’t. Glad you worked something out. Now you have to go about the business of a relationship. That’s the hard part. You know Sohala’s right when she says you’re both very young. You’ve got a lot of mistakes in your future. Try to make them small ones.”

“I know all about mistakes. I’m the embodiment of my mother’s misfortune, and I wouldn’t make that mistake with Yasmine ever.”

“Good to hear. Take the relationship back a couple of notches, Gabe. It’ll be good for both of you. You won’t be sorry.”

Gabe’s shrug was noncommittal. With sex, it was impossible to put the toothpaste back in the tube, but at least Decker had said it out loud.

The boy said, “I love her and she loves me. That’s a real nice feeling.”

“You’re loved by many people, Gabe. Rina and me, your mother . . . even your father—as much as he can love anyone.”

“Right-o.” Gabe shrugged again. “I know my mom has sacrificed a lot for me. I know she loves me. But feelings are abstract.”

Decker gave the boy a brief hug. “They are indeed.”

Gabe smiled. “If I convert, will you adopt me?”

“You’re almost eighteen, so that would be silly. But if you want, I’ll call you son and you can call me Abba, like Hannah does. That way I won’t compete with your biological dad, who would get angry if he thought I was trying to take his place.”

“He wouldn’t care.”

“I will debate you on that one. The Chris Donatti I know never turns down an opportunity to be pissed off.”

AFTER STOWING AWAY
his dish in the cabinet, Decker dried his hands and gave his wife a weak smile. He said, “You want some tea?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Sit down. I want to talk to you.”

“This sounds serious.”

“Nothing’s wrong. Just have a seat.”

Rina pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. “What’s going on?”

“How wedded are you to Los Angeles?” Rina looked up at him and stared. “I know you have your parents here. But if they weren’t here, would you make L.A. your home?”

Rina continued to stare at her husband. “What’s on your mind, Peter? Did something happen at work?”

“No, nothing like that.” He took out two mugs. “I love my job, but I’m not sure that I love LAPD anymore: the bureaucracy, the red tape, the paramilitary structure. And I’m not sure that I love L.A. anymore . . . it’s very . . . crowded.”

Silence.

“Would you ever consider moving back east? You’d be physically closer to all the kids, including Gabriel.”

“Sounds like you already have something in mind.”

“I’ve been exploring some options in law enforcement. I wouldn’t do anything unless you were a hundred percent behind me, but I figured it doesn’t hurt to look.”

“What kind of options?”

“I’d like to remain in some kind of detective’s division. I’ve been looking at towns that are within three-hour driving distance to New York.”

“Not NYPD.”

“Not a chance. I’m way too old to start a career in the Big Apple, and that’s not what I want anyway. I want a smaller town with less crime and grime. It’s not that small towns don’t have crime; they
do—burglary, car theft, drugs, drunk and disorderlies, domestics, and even CAPS and murder. It’s the proportion. I’ve been researching several college towns, places where there are Hillels or Chabads. I know you need Jewish life, but we don’t have kids living at home. We don’t need a Jewish day school or a peer group for them.”

“So you’re looking at college towns?”

“The one I like the best is Greenbury.”

“The Five Colleges of Upstate.”

“It’s about a three-hour drive into Manhattan.”

“Without traffic.”

“Yes, without traffic. But at least you’d be within driving distance of the kids.”

“What about Cindy?”

“Funny you should ask.”

Rina stared at him. “She’s
moving
?”

“Well, it seems that Koby has applied to medical school.”

“
Medical school
?” Rina was shocked. “How long have you known about this?”

“Several months. Cindy didn’t want to say anything in case he didn’t get in. But then she figured she should prepare me for a possible move. Last week she told me he got in to a few places in New York and Philadelphia on an NIH nursing grant that would help pay his way to medical school and a Ph.D. program in nursing, as long as he commits to community service for five years after he’s done. Cindy has been exploring NYPD or Philadelphia PD. She wants to live in a big city because the kids are biracial. New York or Philadelphia is good because they won’t stick out.”

“What about their house?” Rina said. “They
love
their house.”

“Back east, they could probably swap across the board for a very nice and much bigger house in the burbs. Even if they scaled down to a tiny two-bedroom apartment in Manhattan, they’d save on car expenses and gas and could walk everywhere.”

“But you don’t want to live in New York City.”

“No way. I’m not asking you to move right away. Just . . . think about it.”

“I know it would kill you to be so far away from the twins.”

“It’s not only about me, it’s also about you. When Rachel and Sammy have a kid, are you going to want to be so far away?”

“I have to consider my parents.”

“I agree.”

She thought about his words for a long time. “If I moved, I know my parents would move . . . probably to Florida.” She shrugged. “We can visit all the parents at the same time. You know how well your mom and my mom get along.”

“They’ve reached that understanding that revolves around old age and food.”

Rina smiled. “As long as they’re swapping recipes, all is well.”

“Nothing is etched in stone, Rina. Just think about it.”

She looked at her husband. “You’ve always lived in warm climates, Peter. How are you going to handle the winters?”

He shrugged. “The same way that millions of other people have handled cold climates: warm jacket, gloves, and a hat.”

OLIVER LOOKED OUT
the side window, staring at a barren landscape in blacks and grays. This particular street featured characterless apartment buildings illuminated by an occasional flood of urine-colored lighting. At first glance, everything seemed quiet, but since Marge was driving exceptionally slow, Oliver could ascertain movement in the shadows.

They’ve been riding around for several hours, racking up mileage on the cruiser, looking for girls in the trade, trying to get a bead on Shady Lady. They spoke to hookers in the West Valley, yakked with the ladies in the East Valley, gossiped with the gays in West Hollywood, and questioned the multitudes in Hollywood proper. They conversed with females dressed as males, males in drag, and even a few transgenders whose sex was impossible to determine without seeing the goods. They stopped at sleazy motels and dark, booze-soaked bars. They spoke with proprietors, patrons, and employees. They crisscrossed through back alleys and made contacts with
streetwalkers. The work took time, it took patience, and it took luck. By two
A.M
., the detectives had run out of all three.

As they mopped up the last of Hollywood, heading toward the 101, Marge saw a lone prostitute, sticking a wad of bills into the top of her fishnets—which fell way below her micromini. In the not-too-far distance, Marge spied two hooded men walking behind her. When the girl noticed them, she sped up.

So did the men.

When they were around ten yards away, the girl turned and started to run. Marge cranked up the siren. The men scattered, but the girl was still tearing down the sidewalk when Marge pulled over. “Slow down.”

She kept running.

Marge kept pace in the car. “C’mon, honey. If I go away, you know your buddies will do a one-eighty and come back to get what they saw.”