Читать книгу Peter Decker 3-Book Thriller Collection: False Prophet, Grievous Sin, Sanctuary - Faye Kellerman, Faye Kellerman - Страница 14

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 touch 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 scared!”

“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 comestibles 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 consommé 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 response 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 he’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 instead, the address corresponded to a two-story mini-mall; Brecht’s practice was sandwiched between a travel agency and a health-food store. Each business was allowed only two parking spaces. Brecht’s spaces, marked RESERVED FOR DOCTOR, were occupied. Decker pulled into one of the health-food store’s slots, hoping the owner wouldn’t call and have the car towed away.

The door to the office was glass backed by an attached white curtain that prevented unwanted onlookers from peeking inside. The glass was stenciled in gold

FREDERICK R. BRECHT, M.D.

HOLISTIC AND WELL-BEING MEDICINE

ACUPUNCTURE AND NUTRITION

CONSULTATION BY APPOINTMENT ONLY

Decker went inside and halted in his tracks.

The waiting room was unoccupied and without conventional furniture. Couches and chairs were replaced with brown mats that covered the waxed wooden planks of fir. In the center of the room was a pile of specialty magazines: Journal of Holistic Health. Annals of Eastern Medicine. The Vitamin Digest. Hanging from the ceiling were silk-screened lanterns emitting soft, filtered light. The wallpaper was imprinted with some kind of Chinese farm scene—kimonoed men and women with one-dimensional features tilling soil and pulling some kind of root from the ground. New Age synthesizer music, along with the odor of incense, wafted through the air.

Decker pondered the reception window, then stared at the cushioned floor, unsure if he should remove his shoes. He decided to brave the trek in shod feet, but found himself tiptoeing. He knocked on the frosted glass and a middle-aged woman slid open the panel. She wore no makeup but was decked with jewelry. Dozens of bracelets, a couple of silver necklaces, and earrings that were large and beaded and hung down to her shoulders. Her brown hair had been cut short, her eyes were deep-set. Her voice was a tinkle—like wind chimes—and at odds with the mature face.

“Yes?”

“I’m Sergeant Peter Decker of the LAPD.” He showed the woman his badge. “I’d like to speak with Dr. Brecht.”

“Dr. Brecht is not in today. Would you like to leave a message?”

Tinkle, tinkle.

Decker said, “Where is Dr. Brecht?”

“I don’t know.”

“Has he checked in today?”

Suddenly the light voice was as sharp as broken glass.

“I don’t know if I should answer your questions.”

“Why? Are you hiding something?”

“Of course n—”

“So why wouldn’t you want to answer a simple question? Has Dr. Brecht phoned in today?”

She was flustered. “Uh, I’m sure he will soon.”

“But he hasn’t come in yet?”

“No.” She sighed. “He left a message on the machine. ‘Althea, cancel all my patients today. An emergency came up.’ So I canceled his patients.” She played with a beaded earring. “No big deal. Today would have been a light day—three stress consultations, two deep-body massages, one biofeedback.”

“What time did he leave the message?”

“It was on the machine when I arrived at eight this morning. His first appointment wasn’t until ten so I had lots of time to cancel.”

“Does your answering machine record the time that the call was made?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“All right. Dr. Brecht has another office at his sister’s spa, is that correct?”

Something malevolent clouded Althea’s eyes. “It’s not an official office. You can’t make an appointment to see him there unless you’re a registered guest. Freddy helps his sister out. Which is more than I can say for her.”

“How often does he help out at the spa?”

“Too often.”

“Give me an estimate.”

“Maybe once or twice a week. Which may not seem like a lot to you, but it really does cut the efficiency of a practice. You know, Freddy is a very unique doctor. It was his treatment that cured my backaches and I really believe in him. So do a lot of people. He works very hard for his patients. I resent his jumping whenever his sister calls. He’s just too nice and she takes advantage of him.”

“How about his mother?” Decker asked.

“The great Davida Eversong? She and his sister are two of a kind. You think she’d ever help him out? To her, everything is Lilah, Lilah, Lilah. Of course whenever she needs a massage, she calls him and he comes running. Do you think she even pays him?”

“No?”

“Not a dime.” Althea sighed. “Well, I’ve just talked too much.”

“Do you think Dr. Brecht might be with his mother?”

She sighed again. “I didn’t lie, but I didn’t tell you the whole truth. I don’t know where he is but I do know he’s not at the spa. I’ve also called his house and his mother’s apartments. No one answered.” She suddenly blushed. “I wasn’t checking up on him. It’s just there are a few business matters I need to tell him about.”

“Business matters?”

“It’s of no concern to the police.”

Decker paused a moment, letting her know that at the moment everything was of concern to the police. “Why don’t you give me the addresses and phone numbers of Ms. Eversong’s and Dr. Brecht’s residences. I can get it myself, but you’d be saving me a few steps. And time may be of the essence here.”

“Why? What do you mean?”

“There was an incident last night concerning Dr. Brecht’s sister.”

“An incident?”

“She was attacked.”

“My God! What happ—”

“I know Dr. Brecht met her last night for supper,” Decker broke in. “Now you tell me he hasn’t shown up for work. I’m wondering if something might have happened to him.”

“Oh, my God!”

“Not that I have any reason to believe that something did happen—”

“Oh, dear Lord!” Althea tugged at her earring. “Omigod, omigod. Of course I’ll give you those numbers.” She yanked on a drawer and shakily drew out a piece of paper and a pen. “Why didn’t you tell me your business in the first place?”

She was scolding him. But she was giving him what he wanted so Decker let it pass.