Peter Decker 3-Book Thriller Collection: False Prophet, Grievous Sin, Sanctuary. Faye Kellerman. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Faye Kellerman
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Триллеры
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780008108656
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hard, Cindy.”

      She laughed. “I’ll call you after I’ve scheduled my flight out, Daddy. You know there’s something wrong with your phone—”

      “Damn!” Decker gently hit his head with his fist. “I’m working on a bizarre case and we’ve changed our number. I forgot to tell you.”

      “Thank you very much.”

      “I’m sorry, Cindy. Mea culpa, twenty lashes with a wet noodle, ashes and sackcloth.”

      “Oh, Daddy!”

      He gave her the new number. “I love you, princess.”

      “I love you, too … I know I’ve been testy. And I know you’ve been trying really hard. It’s okay. You’re really a good guy.”

      “’Preciate the compliment, beautiful. Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome. Bye.”

      She cut the line.

      Decker hung up the phone, feeling on top of the world. A good talk will do that to you. That’s all she needed—a good talk, words of support from Daddy. Nothing like a father’s love to make you feel good.

      Then he thought: Maybe she felt better because she’d made it through her first year of college. Maybe it had nothing to do with their conversation and had a lot to do with finals being over and an A and three Bs at Columbia.

      With teenagers you never could tell.

      He shrugged, then laughed to himself. Of course it was their talk that had eased Cindy’s mind. His understanding words, his paternal love. The hell with being a shrink. What was that famous motto? When it comes to kids, take all of the credit, none of the blame. That sounded about right to him.

      It was all Ness could do to refrain from punching her lights out. Instead, he kept himself hidden, waiting until Davida opened the door to her bungalow. Then he moved in, pushing her inside with his body and shutting the door behind both of them. He latched the chain, then shoved her against the wall. Davida’s expression changed from frightened to furious, then back to frightened.

      “Where have you been?” Ness whispered.

      Davida cast her eyes down at her pumps, then slowly inched them back to his face.

      “I bought a new car, Michael. A black BMW convertible with a new Alpine stereo, DAT tape deck and CD.” Her lips formed a wide smile. “I drove it off the lot. Would you like to take a ride?”

      Ness closed his eyes, counted to ten, and opened them. “Do you have any idea how much shit you’re in?”

      “Me?” Davida laughed. “Why, Michael, I haven’t done—”

      “Remember that so-called little assignment you gave me yesterday, Davie?” He eased his grip on the old woman and stroked her arms, lowering his voice. “Kingston’s dead.”

      Davida brought her hand to her mouth. “Oh, dear!” She pushed Ness away and sat on her divan. “Oh, dear, are you sure?”

      “Yes, Davida, I’m sure.”

      Slowly, her eyes moistened. “I thought it might be bad, but I had no … I thought it was …” She choked out, “My poor baby …”

      Ness went to the bar and poured himself a Scotch. Davida wiped her cheeks, only to have them wetted again by a fresh flow of tears. Ness sat down next to her. After downing half the shot, he held the tumbler to her lips.

      “Drink.”

      She took the glass and sipped. “What happened?”

      “I thought you could tell me.”

      “I told you I left.” She lifted her head and faced Ness. “Was it bad?”

      Ness caught her eye, then looked away. “Yes, it was very bad.” He took the drink from Davida’s hands. “There’re going to be lots of questions. The police have been here—”

      “The redheaded detective?”

      “Different guys. Two clowns from Burbank—one of them couldn’t take his eyes off the women’s asses, the other one was clearly on a fishing expedition. They know some details, but not enough to cause damage.”

      “Did you get rid of them?”

      “Only temporarily, Davie. They’re not interested in me. I didn’t even know King. But they’re real interested in talking to you.”

      She took the tumbler back from him and finished the Scotch. “I was here all day yesterday. You know that. You were with me—”

      “Davida …” Ness took her hand. “I can vouch that I saw you yesterday. But I was also teaching class yesterday. I was in the weight room, I was at the pool, I took the ten o’clock broth break with the ladies in the snack bar. I was with other people and …” He sighed. “And you were not there.”

      The old lady just sat there, tears streaming down her cheeks. Ness patted bony, liver-spotted knuckles. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out.”

      Davida bit her nail and blinked away tears. “I swear I don’t know what happened. I wouldn’t hurt my own flesh and blood. You know I …” She started crying again.

      Ness buried his face in his hands, wondering how the bitch lied with such facility. Then he remembered what acting was all about.

      Or maybe she was genuinely grief-stricken. Her son was dead. But what did she expect, sending in some errand boy. She knew King had an explosive temper! But women like Davida never thought about consequences. Just like his mom. Users. They went on their merry way, exploiting their kids as if they were property. She was talking to him.

      “ … police say when they were coming back?”

      “No, they never do. They just pop up when you’re not expecting them.”

      Davida wiped her eyes. “Like audit letters from the IRS.”

      Ness smiled. “Freddy sent them out to Malibu—pretty clever stall on his part. You never answer the phones so the two of them are going to waste a couple of hours driving there and back. But you’re going to have to talk to them eventually.”

      “What do I say?”

      Ness shrugged. “You’re the performer.”

      “I’m an actress, Michael, not a writer.”

      “Then play it simple. Act the grieving mother and keep your mouth shut.”

      Davida blinked her eyes in rapid succession. “I don’t have to act, Michael.”

      “I’m sorry, Davida. But you should have known better. You should have let me handle Kingston.”

      Davida nodded like a chastised little girl. God, she was sick. But the bitch had a way of evoking pity. Ness sighed.

      “Does Lilah know?” Davida asked.

      “Yes, Davida, she knows. The cops have already talked to her—”

      “What’d she say?”

      “I don’t know. She’s been incommunicado, doing nothing but exercising—”

      “What?”

      “Leading the one o’clock class, even as we speak. She gave Natanya the afternoon off so she could take over. You know Lilah. When she’s truly hysterical, she aerobicizes. She’s been at it all day and hasn’t eaten a thing. Freddy’s really worried about her, afraid she’s gonna drop dead.” Ness gave her a half smile. “Or maybe that’s what you want.”

      And then Ness felt a whack across his face. It took him a few seconds before he realized she’d actually backhanded him. He touched his burning cheek, then shook his head. Didn’t know the bitch had it in her.

      Davida