“And I keep telling you that if you don’t stop, you’re gonna be out on your butt.”
“I’m gonna stop—”
“Jeffs …”
“I am! I swear I am.” Jeffers laid the racket in his lap. “I’m gonna find a rich white girl—”
“Yeah, right!”
“Hold on … I’m gonna find a rich white girl who hates her father.”
“That’s a possibility.”
Jeffers smiled. “Get her to think of herself as real baaaad, ’cause she’s fuckin’ a black man.”
“Go on.”
“Maybe even knock her up …”
“There’s a thing out there called abortion.”
“Yeah, but I’m gonna pretend I want the baby.” Jeffers smiled. “The product of our luv.”
Ness laughed.
“Then …” Jeffers pointed his finger in the air. “Then I hit the old man up for cash. Bye-bye spa, bye-bye tennis. I’m outta here.”
Ness grinned and patted the tennis instructor’s shoulder. “Keep dreaming, Jeffs. It’s good for the soul.”
Jeffers gripped his racket and stood. “So we’re all squared away?”
“Almost.” Ness slowly rose off the bed, smiled, and unbuckled Jeffers’s belt. “You owe me, you know.”
“I know.”
“You haven’t even repaid me for Betham yet.”
“I know.”
“When Lilah asked, I never said a word—”
“I said I know!”
“No need to shout, Jeffs. Just setting the record straight.”
“When I score big, Mike, you’ll get half. I swear it. Half off the top.”
“No offense, Jeffs, but I’m not holding my breath.” Ness pulled Jeffers’s belt from the loops. Inside the money compartment was a fold of twenties. Two hundred even. Ness counted out five bills and stuffed them in his pocket. He placed the rest of the cash, along with the belt, into Jeffers’s palm. “Know what I’d do if I were you, Eub?”
“What?”
“I’d take a ten and buy a single long-stemmed red rose for Patsy. She’s got another week here. Now, I’d say ten bucks on a rose is a very good investment for the future.”
Jeffers relooped his belt around his waist and stowed the leftover twenties back in the compartment.
“Good idea?” Ness asked.
“Good idea,” Jeffers answered.
Decker swung his legs over the bed and sat up. A bad night’s sleep and it was slow going the next morning. Too bad people weren’t batteries because a jump start would have been nice.
The shower helped some; so did the sting of the aftershave. As he dressed, he thought about Rina. She was always energetic, but now she’d progressed into a superhuman industrious phase. She hadn’t only prepared a farmer-sized breakfast but had cooked the meal at five-thirty A.M., humming as she stirred and mixed and fried. At that hour, her only company had been the dog, the birds, and a few mourning doves. Half asleep, he conjured up a mental picture of her outfitted in a simple smock covered by an apron, dancing as she moved from chore to chore, talking to the animals—a pregnant Cinderella. He felt bad he wasn’t more of a Prince Charming.
Towel-drying his hair, he walked into the kitchen just as the phone rang. Rina beat him to it.
“Hello,” she sang into the mouthpiece.
There was a pause, followed by a husky female voice.
“May I speak to Peter, please?”
Decker saw Rina’s smile fade.
The husky voice said, “This is Peter Decker’s residence, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” Rina answered. “Who is this, please?”
“Lilah Brecht.”
Decker saw Rina’s eyes widen.
“Who is it?” Decker asked.
“Lilah Brecht.” Rina put her hand over the mouthpiece. “Why is she calling you?”
“Can I have the phone, Rina?”
Reluctantly, Rina handed him the receiver.
Decker smiled at his wife and said, “This is Decker. How’d you get my home phone number, Ms. Brecht?”
“Lilah.”
“How’d you get my number?”
“Peter, I’m very sorry to bother you at home. I tried calling the station … I am sorry.”
He rolled his tongue in his cheeks, glancing at Rina who now seemed more perplexed than angry. “What can I do for you?”
“I need to talk to you, Peter.”
“Fine. I’m all ears.”
“I’d like to speak with you in person.”
“All right. Why don’t you come to the station house around eleven.”
“If it’s all the same to you, could you drop by my ranch around eleven?”
Decker felt his jaw tighten as his eyes drifted back to Rina’s face.
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” she said.
“Wait!” Decker called out.
“Pardon.”
“Hold on, Lilah.” His voice was stronger than he had intended. He placed his hand over the mouthpiece and whispered, “I didn’t ask you to leave.”
“You have that look on your face.”
“What look?”
“The ‘she’s going to overhear something’ look.”
“Rina—”
“Forget it, Peter. I’m going to wake the boys.” She stomped out of the room.
He glanced at the clock. Seven-oh-three and he felt a headache coming on. He returned his attention to the call. “Lilah, I hope to get a good handle on your case very soon. I realize you’ve been through hell—”
“I didn’t sleep at all last night. I didn’t dare sleep in … the room. It’s still a mess and … I slept in the guest bedroom, but I kept waking up every five minutes … in a cold sweat. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore so I called Freddy down at four in the morning. He bunked out on the couch. I … I just didn’t think it would be so horrible, Peter. And now …” She took a deep breath. “What … what they did was such a horrible invasion for anyone, but it’s especially dreadful for me. I have a business to run, Peter. I have to face people and be healthy and happy and …”
She erupted into tears.
Decker waited a beat. “I know this is a terrible time for you. And I’m sorry—”
“I know you are.” Her voice became soothing and seductive. “I can feel your pain through the phone wire.”
Mike Hollander’s words shot through Decker’s throbbing head. With an emphasis on the very, very part. Point of fact was, the woman was beautiful and in pain—a dangerous combination.
“Lilah, I don’t want this to sound