The Burnt House (42 page)

A moment of silence.

“I probably should have called him up.” He paused. “But I didn’t
do
anything. Why do I need a lawyer? I don’t
know
what happened to Roseanne!”

“She was murdered in her car.”

“I wasn’t
there
. I didn’t run after her.
Marina
ran after her. Why don’t you ask her what happened? She may actually have an answer for you!”

A
S IT TURNED
out, Patricia Childress a.k.a. Marina Alfonse had absolutely nothing to say. Thirty seconds into the questioning, she sobered up enough to ask for a lawyer—exactly what Dresden should have done. Decker thought that maybe he hadn’t asked for representation because he had actually thought he had done nothing wrong. And since there was no physical evidence that linked him to the murder scene in the car, maybe he was telling the truth when he insisted he wasn’t there. Dresden was eventually charged with tampering with evidence—suspended sentence and two years’ probation. Although the law may have allowed him to slip through the cracks, insurance wasn’t going to play so gently. He’d be tied up for years in court before he’d see a single red cent from his wife’s death.

Patricia Childress wasn’t going anywhere. The police had her bloody fingerprint at the scene, but most important, the knife that Oliver had pulled out of Childress’s purse had minute amounts of Roseanne Dresden’s blood on it. She had been charged with premeditated murder. Since she faced a possible death sentence, she pleaded guilty to
murder two and a minimum sentence of twenty-four years in prison in exchange for her full confession, telling police exactly what happened in Roseanne’s Beemer, and also where she had buried the body.

At the personal invitation of the Lodestones, Decker flew up to Fresno to attend Roseanne’s funeral. Afterward, Farley, somber and uncomfortable in a black suit, thanked him with a firm handshake and a whisper of a job well done. Shareen squeezed his hand, and with tears running down her face, thanked him profusely for all his hard work. He flew back down to L.A. on the same day and never heard from either one of them again.

IT WAS STILL
an hour away from Shabbos when Rina rushed out of the kitchen to answer the knock on the door. She was having a crowd tonight. Hannah had invited two friends to sleep over, and Jacob, on semester break, had brought home a couple of college buddies. She had also invited her parents, plus another couple who were new in the area. Counting Koby and Cindy and Peter—if he made it home from work on time—she was cooking for thirteen.

She couldn’t imagine Cindy and Koby coming this early. Maybe it was one of Hannah’s friends. She wiped her hands on her apron, threw open the door, and found herself looking at two strangers in their seventies.

The man was wearing an ill-fitting suit and tie; the woman was wearing a green dress, black orthopedic shoes, and had her gray hair knotted into a bun. They were dark-skinned Hispanics with wrinkled faces that had endured lots of sun damage. The woman was carrying an old-fashioned, patent-leather structured bag that was looped around her arm. She was also holding a plate of fresh and dried fruit. They looked as if they had just come back from church—fifty years ago.

“Hi.” Rina smiled. “Can I help you?”

The woman spoke. “We’re looking for Lieutenant Decker.”

Rina kept smiling, wondering what she should do. Peter was always
telling her to be very careful, that things happened when they were least expected. For all Rina knew, the two of them could be A-list terrorists.

A terrorist with a fruit plate?

“I believe he’s still at work,” Rina told them. “Would you like me to give you the address of the police station?”

“We called,” the man groused out. “They said he’d left for the day.”

“Oh.” Again, Rina smiled but still didn’t let them inside the door. “So he must be on his way home. Is there something I can help you with?”

The woman’s eyes watered. “Your husband was very kind to us.”

“And you are?”

“Sandra and Peter Devargas.”

Immediate recognition. Rina said, “Oh, please come in.”

“We can wait outside,” Peter grumped.

“You look very busy,” Sandra said.

“I’m always busy,” Rina said. “Please come in.” She stepped away from the threshold. “I insist!”

Reluctantly, the couple walked inside the living room. The woman said, “This is for your husband and you. Just a little something.”

“Thank you so much.” Rina relieved her of the fruit plate. “Please sit. Would you like something to drink? Water? Iced tea?”

“Something smells good,” Devargas said. “I guess anything would smell good after eating fast food for the last twenty-four hours.” His wife poked him in the ribs. The man said, “What?”

Rina smiled. “Thank you for the compliment. I happen to be cooking for our Sabbath, which we observe on Friday night. I made plenty of food. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

Devargas said, “That sound—” Another poke. “What? The woman asked us.”

“We’re fine, but thank you,” Sandra said.

Rina chuckled. “Honestly, it’s not a problem.”

Devargas shrugged, but Sandra was reluctant. Having dealt with older, ethnic women her entire life, Rina felt something click inside her head. “Really, do stay. I’m having a lot of people. I could always use another pair of hands.”

Sandra’s knuckles were white from clutching her purse. “Well, if you need some help, I’d be delighted to help you.”

“Great. You can make the salad. Just leave your coat and handbag on the couch. Peter will hang it up.”

“Where do I hang it?” Devargas asked.

“Sorry, I meant Lieutenant Decker. He can do it when he gets home, which should be pretty soon. Mr. Devargas, you sit down and relax while you can. There are going to be a lot of people coming in and out in the next half hour. If you wouldn’t mind catching the door, it would help me out.”

“Of course he wouldn’t mind.” Sandra followed her into the kitchen. As soon as she stepped into the warm, humid space, the old woman relaxed. “Just point me in the right direction.”

Rina gave her salad vegetables, a big bowl, and a knife. Sandra washed her hands meticulously and began slicing vegetables. They worked a few moments without speaking. Then Sandra said, “I’m so sorry to be barging in on you like this.”

“Please. My house is a bus station,” Rina said. “People in and out. They follow the food.”

“Yes, wherever there is family, there’s a meal.” The old woman sliced and diced the tomatoes with practiced skill. “Please understand my husband’s frankness. He isn’t used to fast food. I love to cook and I cook for him. And he is right. Everything does smell very good.”

“Thank you.”

“What are you making?”

“Well, this here is called a kugel, which is just a Yiddish word for pudding. Yiddish is the language that the Jews spoke in Europe. I made two kinds of kugel tonight—a sweet noodle pudding and a potato pudding.”

“Oh, it all looks so wonderful.”

“And this big pot here is a stew for tomorrow’s lunch. It’s called chulent. Jews aren’t allowed to cook on Saturday, but if we start the dish on Friday, then we can eat it hot on Saturday.”

“That’s interesting. What’s in it?”

“Meat, potatoes, beans, barley…but really you can put whatever you want in it.”

“So your husband doesn’t eat it?”

“No, Peter eats chulent. He loves chulent.”

“But how does he eat it if he’s a vegetarian?”

Uh-oh.
Rina smiled. “He isn’t really a vegetarian, Mrs. Devargas. We’re kosher. We can’t eat meat unless it has been ritually slaughtered according to our laws. So he tells people he’s a vegetarian whenever he’s in a bind and doesn’t want to insult anyone.”

“Oh…oh, I see.” Sandra nodded. “Well, it was nice of him to tell me that, then.”

“He told me that the food you served him was absolutely fantastic. Now that you’re here, I’ll ask you for the recipes.”

“It was just simple cooking.”

“That’s the best kind.”

Sandra smiled and blushed. “Slow cooking. We do a lot of slow cooking, too, especially on Feast Day. For the Santa Clara Indians, it’s August twelfth. If you’re ever in Santa Fe at that time, you must come and eat with us so we can return the favor.” She paused. “I’ll make sure that there will be lots of vegetarian dishes that you can eat.”

“That would be great. What do you cook?”

“So many dishes you can’t even imagine. The dancing goes on from dawn to dusk. The climax is a beautiful corn dance. My daughters…” Sandra looked the other way. “My daughters are very good dancers.”

“Do you dance?”

A hint of a smile. “Sometimes. Do you?”

“I kick up a storm at weddings.”

“Best time to dance.”

“Absolutely.”

Sandra finished the tomatoes and went on to the cucumbers. “It’s nice of you not to ask why we’re here.”

Rina said, “I try not to get involved in my husband’s business.”

“But you know who we are.”

“Yes. The case made headlines and Peter…Lieutenant Decker was very involved.”

“He helped us so much…with the situation.”

“Thank you, I’m sure he’ll appreciate hearing that.”

“Yes, I don’t think I ever thanked him properly.”

“That isn’t what I meant at all,” Rina said. “I’m sure you thanked him profusely, but you just don’t remember.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Sandra put down the knife. “But we didn’t come here to thank him, Mrs. Decker. We came because…” A sigh. “We need his help.” Sandra looked at Rina. “Maybe you can help. I have to say that it’s easier for me to talk to a woman than a man…even your husband. So if you don’t mind, maybe I can talk to you.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

Sandra set her shoulders square and began to talk. “This is the situation. As you know, my daughter, Beth, was murdered. There’s no debate on that. The problem seems to be who did it. The case never even got to trial. Belize Hernandez pleaded guilty to a lot of lesser charges and he is serving some time in prison…not as much as he would have if he had been convicted of murder, though.”

“It must be so painful for you.”

“God will take care of him and those who deserve to be punished. I firmly believe that even if my husband doesn’t.”

“Faith is a wonderful thing.”

“It is, isn’t it? But that’s not the problem we have, Mrs. Decker. Last week, we received a phone call from the state police in Nevada that a group of hikers in the Mohave Desert found some bones
right
around the same area where Belize Hernandez told authorities that he had buried his brother, Manny. I don’t know how the searchers missed it the first time. They must have gone over that spot fifty times. But maybe the recent rains washed the bones up or maybe an animal finally unearthed them. The desert is a very fluid thing. It gives and it takes. I suppose that’s life really.” She fluttered her hands. “I’m just talking silly.”

“Not at all.”

“I’m running off at the mouth because I’m nervous.”

“You’re perfectly articulate. Go on. I’m listening.”

“Thank you. You see we have Manny’s dental chart. The same dentist who kept Beth’s records kept Manny’s X-rays as well. It was a miracle that he had Manny’s because the boy only had one cavity his entire life. Good diet. Not a lot of sugar and lots of whole grains. Not like today’s diet, where everything is refined. But that’s an old lady talking.”

“I agree.”

“Anyway, we took the X-ray over to the police in Nevada. Right now they are trying to use it to positively identify the bones.”

“I see.” A kitchen timer went off. “Excuse me, one second.” Rina opened the oven door and took out two broccoli quiches. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh, please. I’m sorry for interrupting you.”

“It’s no problem. So what’s going to happen to the bones if they are Manny’s?”

“That’s the problem.” She sighed. “We are the closest of kin other than that person locked up in prison and his father, who doesn’t want anything to do with his dead son. It’s up to us to decide what to do with the remains.”

“Yes, that is a problem.”

“We can leave them with the police and let them keep them or dispose of them. That’s an option.” She paused. “But I seem to recall…that the last time we spoke to your husband, Lieutenant Decker seemed to be convinced that Manny didn’t do it…the murder.”

“Okay.”

“Do you think he was telling us the truth or was he just trying to make us feel better?”

“If Peter thinks Manny didn’t do it, then I would believe him.”

Sandra looked intently at Rina. “You said the case made the news. What do
you
think? Was your husband just being nice or do you think Manny was truly innocent of Beth’s murder?”

Rina gave the question some thought. She sat down at the kitchen table and so did Sandra. Finally, she said. “All right. This is what I think.
Sometimes Lieutenant Decker does say things that may soften a blow. But in this case, everyone who knew Beth and Manny, everyone who Lieutenant Decker talked to, the former waitresses who worked with Beth, all the old church members who came out of the woodwork to give their opinion, they
all
remembered Beth and Manny as a very loving and spiritual couple. Maybe they smoked a little marijuana, maybe they had some unconventional ideas about God, but they were very sincere in their beliefs and in their love for each other. Manny seemed to take his job as church leader very seriously. And Beth was very keen on organic farming. For her, farming for wholesomeness and goodness was a religious thing.”

Rina got up and stirred a pot of curried chicken soup.

“Actually, Beth was way ahead of the time. Or maybe she just grew up with a mother who knew all about food that was nutritious as well as delicious.”

Sandra rose and started chopping red peppers. “So you don’t think he did it…Manny?”

“I know, Mrs. Devargas, that nice people can do bad things. But from what my husband has said, from what the newspapers have said, and from what the people who were there have said, I think Manny and Beth were a committed married couple. Personally, I have a much easier time believing it was Belize rather than Manny.”

“But of course we’ll never know unless he confesses and that’s not likely unless he’s on his deathbed.” Her face became troubled. “And that’s not going to be in my lifetime!” She gasped and stuck her finger in her mouth. She had cut herself with the paring knife. “I’m such a klutz.”

“If you cook a lot, you cut yourself. I do that all the time.” Rina opened the cupboard and took out a bandage. “Here you go.”