Faye Kellerman - Decker 05 - False Prophet Page 5

  Kelley bit her lip. "You're asking strange questions."

  "On the contrary, they're not strange questions. They're just

  not the ones you expected. So keep things simple and answer them."

  Kelley paused. "Miss Brecht took the day off."

  "Is that unusual?"

  "Not at all. She frequently takes Wednesdays off. She experiments with new recipes for the kitchen. What's this all about, anyway?"

  "She hasn't called in, has she?"

  "No, she hasn't."

  "Then you probably don't know."

  "Know what?"

  "Miss Brecht was attacked last night—"

  "My God!" Kelley's hand went to her throat. "Wha... Is she all right?"

  "She's going to be okay. She was beaten. She's in the hospital now, but she's conscious. I need a guest and employee list— everyone who was on the grounds last night. Especially the men."

  Kelley covered her mouth and shook her head. "This is outrag... God, I'm shocked. This is horrible. Does her mother—?"

  "We'll take care of her mother, Kelley. I'm requesting that you don't talk to anyone about it."

  "Of course. How about Frederick? Does he know? Frederick's her brother."

  "He's being contacted."

  "I don't know what to say...." Kelley said. "I'm..."

  "Were you here last night?"

  "Of course. I live on the premises."

  "Then you know who else was here last night. I'll need that list as soon as possible."

  "You don't suspect any of the guests—"

  "We'll be as discreet as we possibly can."

  "Where is Miss Brecht?" Kelley said. "Can I call her?"

  "My partner is going to talk to her soon. I'll tell him you'd like to speak with Miss Brecht. Back to the list, Kelley. I'm especially interested in the men who work here—cooks, janitors, handymen, teachers. Do you have male instructors?"

  "Just Eubie Jeffers and my broth— Oh, you can't possibly think they had anything to do with Lilah."

  "What kind of suit is this Ms. Betham involved with?"

  Kellcy wrinkled her forehead. "Ms. Betham is a psychotic old

  witch. She actually had the audacity to claim that... that one of the men who works here made a pass at her."

  "Which one?"

  "The whole suit is ridicu—"

  "Which man?" Marge pushed.

  Kelley hesitated, then said, "My brother, Mike. If you knew my brother, you'd know how inane the suit is. I shouldn't be telling you this, but since you're not investigating that... she was the one who made a pass at my brother. And when he refused, she became vicious. We have none of that kind of nonsense in Valley Canyon Spa. Most of our clients have been referred to us by former clients. She was what we call a 'walk-in.' They're always the ones who give us the most problems."

  "Was your brother, Mike, here last night?" Marge asked.

  Kelley's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"

  "I'm not saying anything. I'm not even suggesting anything, Kelley, I'm simply asking. Was your brother on the premises last night?"

  "He lives here."

  "Your brother often visits Miss Brecht's house, doesn't he?"

  "No, he doesn't often visit Miss Brecht's house!"

  "I mean to pick vegetables from the garden, maybe fix the sink... that kind of thing."

  "Oh..." Kelley relaxed her shoulders. "Yes. Lilah does send him on errands for her. That should show you how much she trusts him."

  Marge remained casual. "You want to start compiling that list, I'll look around the grounds, get my bearings. You don't mind, do you?"

  Kelley had turned pale. "I'm not sure I should do anything without Ms. Brecht's say-so."

  "Ms. Ness, why aren't you jumping to help out? Your employer was attacked, beaten. Don't you want to find who did it?"

  "Of course I do! It's just such a shock— My God, this is un-believablel"

  Marge stood, slung her purse over her shoulder. "You know the best thing to do when you've been jolted by something like this? You do something concrete. Like make a list. The little details always bring you back to earth. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about."

  "I guess—-"

  "I'll be wandering around," Marge said. "Page me when you have the list."

  "Detective!" Kelley blurted out. "Detective, no offense, but I don't want to scare the women by having the police nose around."

  "I understand completely. I guarantee you, I won't be disruptive." Marge winked. "Hey, I'll grab myself a guava juice and blend in with the crowd."

  The group had begun the cool-down portion of the workout when Mike Ness heard his name over the loudspeaker. Towel wrapped around his neck, tank top soaked with perspiration, he told his ladies to "keep it moving" while he answered the page. The afternoon high-impact aerobics class was held in the Jazzarena, its back wall a giant mural of famous musicians. The room's phone was embedded between Dizzy Gillespie's eyes. Ness picked up the receiver.

  "Mike, I just want to warn you. The police are here, poking around."

  Ness couldn't answer. He felt his heart race. "Apparently something happened to Lilah last night—" "What!"

  "She was attacked, Mike."

  Ness felt his knees buckle. Why did everything he touched turn to shit? "Wha... what happened, Kell?"

  "I only know that she's in the hospital. I don't even know which one. I'm going to do some calling around. You don't know anything about this, do you?"

  "Of course not!"

  Kelley paused. "Please. Just act normal. If the detective asks you where you were last night, say you were sleeping in your room, okay?"

  "I was sleeping in my room. What the hell are you saying?" Kelley sighed. "I'm nervous, Mike. I mean, the detective—she's

  a woman by the way—she was professional but pushy. All of us should just stay calm and cool, all right?"

  "I am calm and cool."

  "Well, bully for you."

  "That was mature, Kell."

  Kelley paused again. "Michael, I'm scared1."

  "Have you spoken to Davida?"

  "She's not in. I don't even know if She knows about it. The detective didn't want me talking to her but screw that! I can't get hold of Freddy, either. I don't know what to do, Mike."

  "There's nothing to do, Kell. What are you worried about?"

  "I just didn't like her attitude. She was too inquisitive."

  "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't detectives supposed to be inquisitive?"

  "No, it was more. She was like accusing everyone."

  Ness felt the phone slipping out of his hand. He wiped his sweaty palm on his gym shorts. "Accusing who?"

  "She wants a list of all the men who work here."

  "Was Lilah raped?" Ness whispered into the phone.

  "I don't know."

  Ness took a deep breath. "Give her what she wants. I've got to button up this class—"

  "The detective will want to talk to you."

  "So?"

  "So... is that okay?"

  "Yes, it's okay!"

  "I'm sorry, Mike, I'm just so nervous!"

  Ness sighed. Little Kelley always did have a nervous tummy, always throwing up before finals. "Calm down, sis. Do some deep breathing."

  "It's just that this job is so important to me—"

  "Kell, I've got to go. We'll talk later."

  Ness hung up, clapped his hands, jogged to the front of the room. Its mirrored wall was bisected horizontally by a ballet barre.

  "Nice job, ladies. Real nice job. Now that you've burned off approximately two hundred and fifty calories and sweated off your weight in salts, you should immediately be thinking about what?"

  A middle-aged woman in striped leotards yelled out, "Electrolytes!"

  "Exactly," Ness said. "Your electrolytes are sorely in need of rebalancing, so we have for your dining pleasure our famous

  potassium-rich broth and organic veggies grown, in Lilah Brecht's own garden. These comest
ibles are being served in the lobby from three-fifteen to three-forty-five. Be sure to partake of the feast and your body will say thank you. I'll see you all at four for yoga." Wiping his face and neck, Ness waited in the rear as the women filed out. After the ladies left, he walked over to the video-camera stand, peered into the camera's lens, and stuck out his tongue. Then he turned off the machine.

  No sense worrying about fuckups when they're out of your control.

  He removed the camcorder from the stand. It was one of those tiny buggers—fitted snugly in the palm of his hand. Perfect for shooting on the sly. He'd check the tape later, see if it picked up all his body exercises, how he moved to the beat. He enjoyed watching his tapes, liked seeing his lithe body move and sweat, liked the defined muscles of his arms and legs. He knew he'd never be Schwarzenegger—he wasn't the buffed-up type—but at least now he felt good about the way he looked. You had to look good always or it was all over with the ladies....

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a chickadoodle approaching him. Just what he needed—another sex-starved teenybopper. She was built, and not shy about showing it off. Her smile was too white to be natural.

  "Hi, I'm Aurora," she said.

  "Hi." Ness shifted his weight and folded his arms across his chest. "Have a good workout?"

  "Great."

  "Good to hear, Aurora."

  "Really gets the endorphins going, ya know?"

  "It can, that's true."

  "I can feel it."

  "Good." Ness started backing away. "Keep it up."

  "Can I ask you a question?"

  Ness looked at his watch, then at the chick. She seemed nervous, waiting for him to make his move. She was going to wait for a long time. "What's up?"

  "Umm... I wanted to know if we should be taking salt pills?"

  A good fake, Ness thought. What she really wanted to know was if he was available for fucking.

  "Not necessarily, Aurora," Ness said. "Our consomme is a

  perfectly balanced electrolye replenisher—sodium as well as potassium." He strolled toward the door. "That's why it's so important that you take your broth break. The liquid contains everything your body needs. We sell it at our health-food store. Be sure to buy some when you leave the spa. After your home workout, your salts will be depleted same as here. If you have our broth, you won't have to worry a bit about your electrolytes." He stopped talking when he hit the threshold. "Anything else?" "No, that's okay. I can see you're in a hurry." "You just caught me at a bad time." Ness flashed what he hoped was a disarming smile. "I'll be here for yoga if you think of anything else."

  "Thanks. I'm going in for the broth right now." Ness waited until she was gone before he allowed the anxiety to resurface. What the hell had happened last night to bring the police out nosing around? He tossed the damp towel in the hamper and was about to lock the door. Sensing someone behind him, he turned. He knew without introduction that he had found the chick detective. Actually, it was more like she had found him.

  As he cruised the 405 Freeway south. Decker thought about the baby. It had been his idea. Not that Rina hadn't wanted children. But she would have preferred to wait a couple of years, let everyone get to know one another as a family before adding another member. Even though he was forty-two, she was only thirty and it was maternal age that was the big factor in problem pregnancies.

  Rina's plan would have prevailed if he hadn't been shot. It had been an odyssey that had led him from coast to coast until he found the missing kid and the psycho who abducted him. Unfortunately, the psycho had a gun. Psychos always have guns.

  After the initial recovery from the gunshot wounds, Decker had been insistent that the baby schedule be pushed ahead. After all, he wasn't a youngster and both of them had had previous fertility problems with their first spouses. What if it took a long time? What if medical intervention was needed? Why wait, only to discover a problem that could take years to fix? Rina understood his logic and agreed.

  But the truth of the matter was, he'd needed this baby. After his

  brush with the other side, he'd hungered for something life-affirming. What better way to regain a sense of potency than to sire a baby?

  He rolled up the window of the unmarked, shutting out noise as well as air, and turned on the air conditioner. A Freon-scented wind blasted his face.

  Deliriously happy when Rina had told him the news, he had taken the whole squad room out for happy hour and actually gotten drunk. Not seriously plastered, but tipsy enough for Marge to have to drive him home.

  Then reality had come knocking. Another body to feed and clothe and educate, stretching his paycheck that much further. Then there was Rina's morning sickness and moodiness, and the cold shoulder given to him by his stepsons. Both had been slow to adjust to the idea of an interloper. Lately, things had been better; all those Sundays spent in the park launching model rockets definitely helped. But Sammy and Jake were still wary critters.

  Fair enough. With time, he'd prove them wrong.

  What hurt most of all was the reaction of his nearly adult daughter. Cindy had seemed so independent. She'd spent last summer in Europe, was away at college this year. She rarely wrote, never called. Never stayed on long when he phoned. But when they did speak, the conversation had always been friendly and upbeat. She had seemed to adjust well to his marriage to Rina. In fact, Cindy and Rina had always gotten along. Great—better than he could have hoped.

  It shocked him how she had responded to the news—that awful silence. Would it have actually hurt her to tell him congratulations when she finally did open up?

  Man oh man, did she know how to hit.

  Don't you think you're rushing things, Dad?

  It had been his turn to pause.

  Well, if we did rush things, Cindy, we can't exactly take it back now, can we?

  That's true.

  Another silence.

  Well, good luck.

  Snide tone. As in good luck, you're gonna need it, pal.

  Cindy, I love you—

  Look, Dad. I'm an adult, not a child. You don't have to reassure me. I'm well aware of the fact that you will love me no matter how many

  other children you'll have. And I'm sure you'll have lots because Rina's young. If that's what you want, I wish you well.

  Cindy, I'm not reassuring you—

  Yes, you are. Don't lie about it.

  Okay, maybe I am. But it's not as if it's a horrible thing for a father to say to his daughter.

  Stony silence.

  Decker sighed. I'm sorry if I upset you—

  I'm not upset.

  If I upset you by trying to reassure you.

  Oh. Pause. It's okay.

  Would you like me to call you tomorrow?

  Whatever.

  Then I'll call you tomorrow.. Sure. She had paused a moment. How's your arm, Daddy?

  Don't worry about me, honey, I'm just fine.

  Yeah, you're always fine. I'll talk to you later.

  He had called her the next day. And the next and the next, receiving the same frosty attitude each time. Nothing more than a perfunctory chat, a sincere inquiry into the state of his health, and a cold reponse when he told her he was okay. He knew she wanted him to confide in her, but it simply wasn't his style. He refused to complain to anyone, let alone his daughter.

  And so it went. Finally, Rina suggested he wait until Cindy came to him.

  Of course that conversation had led to a fight, he accusing her of interfering with his daughter. Later, he regretted his words but didn't feel like apologizing. Rina didn't push it; she was good about things like that.

  After he cooled off, he admitted to himself that Rina's advice had been good. He knew that his constant calling was giving Cindy the message that he was insecure about their relationship. Over the months, he'd weaned himself down to a phone call a week.

  And each time Cindy remained aloof.

  Well, maybe she'd warm up after the baby came.

  And maybe h
e'd win the lottery, too.

  Frederick Brecht's office was in Tarzana on the western end of Ventura Boulevard—the glitzy shopping strip for the San Fernando Valley. Decker had expected a medical building, but in-