Читать книгу Peter Decker 3-Book Thriller Collection: False Prophet, Grievous Sin, Sanctuary - Faye Kellerman, Faye Kellerman - Страница 27

The bungalow offered little room to pace.

Clutter, Davida thought. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a jewel-encrusted lighter. Goddamn room was nothing but clutter. She snapped the lighter shut, dropped it in the pocket of her silk kimono, then tapped her foot. Redone in Georgian style, most of the antique pieces picked up in Bath, the heavily wooded room now seemed ponderous—out of character with the semiarid climate that surrounded the spa. Southwestern would be more in keeping with the terrain. But that look was old and tiresome.

She drew nicotine into her lungs and flicked ashes into an empty Baccarat vase.

Where the hell was he?

She stared at the bar, then the clock—ten after seven. Though she needed nourishment, she knew she had to keep her head clear. Again, she surveyed the room. The John Constable landscape. The Sir Joshua Reynolds portrait—veddy English. Nice but passionless. Jimi had suggested buying into Diego Menéndez or Pedro Aguilar while Latin prices were still reasonable.

Davida thought for a moment. A hacienda look, perhaps? Hand-painted tiles, wrought-iron fixtures, textured plastered walls and polished pine frames for the windows. And of course, the mandatory furniture hunt across the border. All those handsome hombres with their dark mustaches, drinking tequila …

An idle moment of fantasy. Her eyes returned to the clock and she was back in reality.

Where was he?

She picked up the phone, then put it down when she finally heard footsteps. She drew back a maroon velvet curtain for a peek, dropped the drapery, and did a quick run to the mirror. When the door opened, she was scanning a magazine and didn’t bother to look up.

“What took you so goddamn long?”

“And good evening to you, too, Davida.” Ness tossed a sweat-soaked towel on a pink damask divan and took out two crystal tumblers from the bar. “What can I get you?”

Davida looked at the towel, then threw the magazine across the room. “I left a message for you over an hour ago!”

“I just picked it up, Davida! I don’t run to my box every two min—”

“I hate to be kept waiting!”

“So I’m here—”

“Where the hell were you?”

“Where the hell was I?” Ness slammed down his glass. “I was working, Davida, that’s where the hell I was. I was dodging cops, I was dodging my sister, I was trying to figure out what the fuck happened to Lilah this morning—”

“Lilah? Did something new happen to Lilah?”

Ness regarded Davida’s face. She seemed genuinely baffled.

“Her favorite horse is now tomato sauce on the mountains.” He plunked an ice cube in his glass and covered it with a healthy shot of Glenlivet. “It smashed headfirst into the rocks. Lilah would have been paste, too, if a big macho cop hadn’t caught her—”

“What?”

“You don’t know anything about this, Davida?”

“Of course not!”

“Oh, so today we’re playing indignant!”

“Mike, I don’t know a damn thing about this!” She tightened her kimono around her body. “Is she all right?”

Ness took a sip, then a swig. “Freddy says she’ll be okay. She was badly shaken up, but not hurt.”

“That’s good to hear.” Davida sat on the divan and folded the towel. “One less goddamn thing to worry about.”

“Your level of motherly devotion is touching.”

Davida threw the towel at him. “If she’s all right, why should I fret?”

“The girl is raped, then nearly killed.” He poured himself another shot. “I would think you’d be a little concerned.”

“Goddamn you, don’t you dare get self-righteous on me, you little prick!”

Ness felt his face burn. Goddamn bitch! “Apologize—”

“Mike—”

“Apologize!” he screamed.

“Easy, boy!” She strolled over to the bar and placed her hands on his shoulders. “I was just being my normal insulting self. Pour me a bourbon … please.”

Ness forced himself to breathe slowly. “You want me to brew some coffee for it?”

“Straight bourbon is fine.” She leaned against the wall. “What did the cops want?”

“You’re going to love this.” Ness handed her the drink and took a seat on the divan. “The police are asking for tissue samples—hair or fingernails—to match against the semen found on Lilah’s sheets. I gave them a few tresses.” He smiled. “I’m not exactly worried.”

She didn’t answer. She wasn’t paying any attention. As usual she was wrapped up in her own sordid shit. He took a slow sip of booze, enjoying the feel of it burning down his throat, while he studied Davida’s face.

“You’re panicked. You’re trying to hide it, but you’re freaked. What’d you screw up this time?”

“You’re very perceptive. Cheers.” Davida tilted her glass, then took a long drink of bourbon.

Ness let out a bitter laugh. “Man, I should have known something was wrong when you asked for straight bourbon.”

“It’s bad, Mike.”

“How bad?”

“I’m not sure, but I would think it’s very bad.”

Ness ran his finger over the rim of his glass. “What happened? Did Kingston screw up?”

“No, he’s just being obstinate.”

“More money?”

“No, he wants to see Lilah first—”

“Why didn’t you let me handle it in the first place?”

Davida hurled her glass against the wall. It shattered instantly, raining alcohol and crystal. “Are you going to rub my nose in shit or are you going to help me?”

Ness was silent. She was pouting! Why do all women pout?

Davida said, “You will clean that up for me, won’t you?”

“Christ!” Ness grabbed the arms of the chair and hurled his body upward. He took out a whisk broom and swept the broken pieces into a wastebasket, then held the receptacle in the air. “All done, Davida! All your garbage neatly swept away—”

“Michael—”

“If you want my help, stop power-tripping me!”

“Fair enough.” Davida tapped her foot. “I made an appointment to see him. Just to talk … try and reason …”

“And?”

“I don’t know and that’s the problem.” Davida began to pace. “I was waiting in the limo. I wasn’t there. I sent a delivery boy—”

“Who?”

“It’s not important.” She covered her mouth with a liver-spotted hand, then dropped it to her side. “The whole thing was taking too long, so I left. I called you as soon as I got back.”

“Christ! Why didn’t you come to me in the first place?”

“Believe it or not, it was out of concern for you. I didn’t want to involve—”

“A little late for that.”

“Michael, after the screwup with Lilah, I was trying to protect you! If something broke out, I didn’t want you around. I happen to care about you. If I were a different person, I might even love you.” She crushed out her cigarette. “But I’m way too selfish for that.”

Ness ran his hands over his face and wondered why his life sucked. “Has anyone tried to contact you?”

“No.”

“No, no one called? Or no, you didn’t pick up the phone or check for messages?”

“No calls, no one left me any messages. That’s why I think it’s very bad. Either he decided to shaft me … or something really bad happened.”

“When did this take place?”

“About two hours ago. Please handle it for me, Michael. Get help if you want. Just make sure I get what I want and I’m clear. Do whatever you have to do.”

Ness stared at the lone ice cube in his tumbler. Now she was getting all desperate on him. “I have limits.”

“Michael, I’m not asking you to commit murder … just …”

Ness waited.

“If there’s a … problem … clean up for me, please?”

“I love your euphemisms.”

“I don’t even know if there is a problem. Just handle what needs to be handled.”

“I thought you didn’t want to get me involved.”

“Things change, dammit! I suggest if you want to keep your job here—”

“And here comes the mean old threats.” Ness laughed softly. “Be my guest, Davida. Expose me. I don’t care anymore.”

But he did care! He hoped Davida wouldn’t see through his bluff.

Davida said, “Kelley might—”

“Oh, fuck you, Davida! You want a favor, don’t throw my past or my sister in my face.” He stood, slowly walking over to her. Man, she was a terror, but the bitch did have her good points. And he was about to exploit one of them right this f-ing minute. He slipped his arms around her waist. “You want my help?”

“You know I do.”

“Then beg me, Davida.”

“Michael—”

“Fucking beg me!”

There was a moment of silence.

Davida whispered, “Please, Michael.” She placed her hands on his chest and gently pushed him onto the divan. “Please help me.”

Ness felt his breathing quicken. “Show me how much you want my help.”

Davida let her kimono fall open as she dropped to her knees before him. “Please, please help me.” She wrapped her fingers around the waistband of his gym shorts and pulled the shorts down to his ankles. “You know I need you.”

Ness closed his eyes as she stroked his inner thigh.

“Say yes,” Davida whispered. “Say yes, you’ll help me.”

“Yes, I’ll help you.”

She parted his knees and lowered her mouth between his legs. Slowly, slowly, he gave way to her, running his hands through blue-black hair thickened stiff with spray. Irony of ironies, only with this old demonic bitch could he let himself go. It was all a sick game of domination—another role for Davida but one she played well. Sometimes she’d lead, today it was his turn. But they both knew who had whom by the proverbial balls.

He moaned. If you’re gonna be raped, lie back and enjoy it, man.

Goldin unwrapped a Nestlé’s Crunch bar.

“One of the few vestiges of my childhood. Slowly, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m on the dark side of thirty. Things I did that I used to consider cute are now just plain pathetic.”

“You’re stalling, Mr. Goldin.”

“Perry.”

“You’re stalling, Perry.”

“Yes, I am.” He took a bite of his candy bar. “Okay. Here we go. Take a good look at me. I was—and still am—everything that Lilah’s family didn’t want. I’m opinionated, I’m left-wing, I’m not interested in making impressions, I don’t care about money, I don’t care how I look, I don’t do honest labor, and I won’t tolerate being patronized. And in that family, I was patronized constantly and dished it back. They didn’t take kindly to that.”

“Lilah was rebelling when she married you.”

“Obviously. Lilah’s upper-crust WASP, I’m a walking Jewish stereotype. And maybe I was rebelling when I married her. But there was a hell of a lot more to it than simple rebellion. I was crazy about her. Lilah was a knockout—still is, I imagine.”

He looked to Decker for confirmation. Decker nodded and Goldin took another bite of his candy bar.

“She was also great in bed. Absolutely sensational. It surprised me, because she was young when we started up.”

“How young?”

“She told me she was nineteen, but I found out later that she wasn’t even eighteen. I’m eight years older than she. But Lilah had prior experience from somewhere. Man, she bowled me over with her looks and her sexuality. I was so hot for her, I would have done anything to get her. I even volunteered to apply to medical school for her. She and her mother had this thing for doctors.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Yeah, the old lady was always on some kind of drug regimen. She used her sons as candy men—legal meds of course. God forbid, I should cast aspersions on anyone’s medical ethics.”

“Did you go to medical school?”

“No, it wasn’t necessary.” He took another bite of chocolate. “Lilah took me as is. She told me I had passion, ideas, and ideals. Not to mention character and warmth.”

He laughed.

“Anybody would have seemed warm compared to those ice floes. Nobody but nobody in that family ever showed any affection or tenderness. Just anger and hysterics. I’ll tell you, my first marriage was an excellent training ground for a career in bridge. Nothing I’ve ever witnessed in twenty-five years of the most heated playing has ever come close to their tantrums.”

Decker said, “What pushed their buttons?”

“What didn’t? They’re flipped, especially the old lady. Every new moon, it was Davida enraged over treatment by a boyfriend—or a girlfriend. She’d jump anything with a heartbeat. Came on to me countless times. It was all real sick, but I put up with it, because I really wanted Lilah.

“Of course, when we announced our engagement, the old lady went off the deep end. I was great as hired help, but not marriage material, for goodness’ sake! But Davida wasn’t half as angry as Lilah’s brother. Talk about tantrums! Guy popped his seams, he was so mad.”

“Which brother?”

“King—oh, excuse me, Doctor Kingston Merritt, FACOG, s’il vous plaît.” Goldin leaned back in his seat. “Dr. Pomp and Circumstance. What an overbloated stuffed shirt. Good doc, though. Had more degrees than an isobar map. More than once I heard him talking to patients over the phone. Guy could be soothing when he wanted to be. Too bad he never showed that side to any of his family members.”

“Soothing?” Decker asked.

“Yeah, you know … ‘I’ll be right down, Mrs. So-and-so. You just keep breathing and everything will be just fine.’ Mr. Sincere.” Goldin shrugged. “Maybe his sincerity was genuine. But then he’d hang up the phone and breathe fire on me or his sister or his mother. A real Jekyll and Hyde.”

Decker wrote as he spoke. “What about the other brothers?”

“I never saw too much of John … he kept to himself. John was also a successful doc. Lived in this big house in Palos Verdes. You know, both he and King are OB-GYNs. You don’t have to be Freud to know why they both went into a profession where they could dominate women.”

“Davida?”

“The great Ms. Eversong herself. Woman has tremendous charisma … a real siren. She’d turn on the anger and have me quaking in my boots. And I wasn’t even a blood relative. As I look back, I think, why did I put up with it? My self-esteem wasn’t great, but it wasn’t ground level, either.” He sighed. “It was Lilah. She had such … power.”

Decker raised his brows. “Power?”

“Sexual power but also energy. She’d say these wacky things and I’d believe her because she radiated such force.”

“What kind of wacky things?”

“Predicting the future. That kind of rot.”

“Anything she say ever come true?”

“At the time I was married to her, it seemed like everything she said came true. Then one day when I was really ticked off at her, I did some mathematical computations showing her with numbers that her predictions weren’t any better than the law of averages would dictate. Man, she flew into a rage. After that, I kept my mouth shut about her powers.”

“So it was all nonsense.”

“Why?” Goldin said. “She’s got you believing in her magic? She can be pretty convincing. Don’t be fooled.”

Decker remained impassive but took in Goldin’s words. Time to change the subject.

“What was your impressions of Frederick Brecht?”

“Little Freddy. He was a pathetic kid when I married Lilah. Totally dominated by Davida—and Kingston and Lilah. Poor guy never had a chance.” Goldin paused. “I heard he became a doctor.”

Decker nodded.

“That’s good. Maybe now Davida will stop tormenting him. She was always biased against him because he was adopted—”

“Freddy’s adopted?”

“Is that significant?”

“I’m not sure,” Decker said. But he wrote the word adopted in his notebook.

“The family made no secret of it,” Goldin said. “Davida was in her forties when Lilah was born. I suppose her late husband wanted a son and Davida just couldn’t pull it off again. Hence Freddy.”

He thought a moment.

“Davida wasn’t nice to him, but Davida wasn’t really nice to anyone. She had a real combative relationship with King, who was her biological son. King was the bull seal of the family—Lilah’s surrogate father. He despised me, tried to buy me off. I refused the money, and Lilah and I married, much to everyone’s chagrin.”

“What about John Reed? You said you didn’t see too much of him.”

“John was actually all right. Not that we were ever friendly. But he wasn’t tangled up in Davida’s little web. His words to me were: ‘If you want your marriage to work, get the hell away from Mother.’ I tried, but …”

Decker said, “Davida can be a very formidable person.”

“So you know.” Goldin appraised Decker. “Old lady went for you, didn’t she? You’re her type. You’re Lilah’s type, too. Despite her brief fling with Jewish intellectuals, she really likes the big macho, shoot-em-up Gentiles à la Clint Eastwood, no offense.”

“I’m Jewish,” Decker said.

Without missing a beat, Goldin said, “Okay, so how about you talk for a moment so I can yank my foot out of my mouth.”

Decker smiled.

Goldin paused to take a breath. “You’re not putting me on?”

“No, Perry, I’m not.” Decker flipped a page of his notebook. “Why do you think Lilah picked you to rebel with?”

“I’ve often thought about that. Probably because I was handy—I was around. I was hired by King to teach Davida bridge. I wasn’t intimidated by Davida’s money and I think Lilah liked that. Also, Davida liked my attention and Lilah was acutely aware of that. My ex got a big thrill out of diverting my attention away from Davida. There was fierce competition between the two.”

“Competition and jealousy,” Decker said.

“You’ve got their number. Toward the end, Lilah was convinced I was sleeping with her mother. Nothing I could say or do could convince her otherwise. It was awful.”

“Were there good times?”

Goldin was thoughtful. “In the beginning, it was wonderful. We’d talk a lot about solving the world’s problems. The kind of thing you do when you’re young and idealistic. She seemed so moved, so full of desire to do good. Once we even sailed with Greenpeace into the North Sea waters to prevent the Soviets from whaling. With the wind-chill factor, it was forty below on the seas. We were all freezing our butts off. Lilah loved it—thrived on it.”

“Was that the extent of her altruism?”

“Not at all. We did a lot of other things on a smaller scale. Collected coats and blankets for the homeless, volunteered to serve in the hash lines at the missions. She even taught an arts and crafts class for the elderly at a recreation center. Matter of fact, one of Lilah’s students became one of her best buddies for a while. Turned out the old lady was from Germany and vaguely knew Lilah’s father.”

That got Decker’s attention. “She knew Hermann Brecht?”

“Vaguely. Lilah had a real hang-up about her father. Idolized him even though she never really knew him. We used to watch his movies together. I don’t mind movies that tell life like it is. But his movies … whew! What a thoroughly depressing, debilitating view of life. I’m not the least bit surprised old Hermann committed suicide.”

Decker said, “Do you remember the old woman’s name?”

“Sure. Greta Millstein. Like I said, they were pretty close. Greta was different—offbeat—and I think Lilah liked that. She claimed one of her daughters was a Jewish baby given to her by neighbors right before they were sent off to Dachau. Of course the family perished, so Greta raised the child as her own. Maybe she was snowing me because I was Jewish, but I saw no reason to doubt her.”

“Do you know where she lives?”

“I haven’t seen her in five years. I don’t even know if she’s still alive. Why are you interested in her?”

“Because she knew Hermann Brecht. And like you said, Lilah is obsessed with her father.” Decker looked up from his notepad. “Did Lilah ever mention her father’s memoirs to you?”

“Memoirs?” Goldin played with his beard. “Did Hermann Brecht write memoirs?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“If he did, this is the first I’ve heard about it.”

“Did Lilah ever intimate she’d been willed something by her father?”

“Not to me.” Goldin shrugged. “Sorry. What does this have to do with Lilah’s attack?”

“I’m not sure it has anything to do with it. Do you remember where Greta Millstein was living then?”

“In the Valley—a block-long apartment complex planted with rolling lawns and trees. I doubt if it’s there anymore. Some developer probably got his mitts on it and turned the space into a shopping mall.”

“Where in the Valley, Mr. Goldin?”

“Corner of Fulton and Riverside. I never knew the exact address, but Greta’s apartment number was fifty-four.”

“You’ve got a good memory.”

“Memory is my bread and butter, Detective.”

“Did you see Greta often?”

“Only occasionally. But Lilah used to visit her two, even three times a week. It was sweet to see them together—this wrinkled old woman and this beautiful young princess. They had this relationship that bridged what must have been a fifty-year age span. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know exactly. Frankly, that wasn’t uppermost in my mind. Lilah and I were having lots of problems by that time.” Goldin grew pensive. “She was on my case, nonstop. Instead of finding me enthusiastic and stimulating, now I was obnoxious and overbearing. Which I was, but I was always like that. She just didn’t like me anymore. I was crushed when she served me papers. I was angry and bitter and …”

He threw up his hands, shook his head, and became quiet.

Decker waited a beat, then said, “You seem all right now.”

Goldin smiled. “Yeah, I am. All the credit goes to my wife. Man, if Humpty Dumpty had known Wendy, he’d be sitting on the wall today. First time I met her, I wasn’t knocked off my feet like I was with Lilah, but …” He let out a soft chuckle. “God, I love that woman. She scares the hell out of me working downtown at night. But she’s altruistic—genuinely altruistic.” He sighed. “What can I do?”

Decker thought of Rina, how protective he felt toward her. Not that his feelings ever stopped her from doing dumb and dangerous things. “Before you leave, give me the address of the clinic.”

Goldin was surprised. “Why?”

“I’ll give it to the watch commanders at Central. Maybe the cruisers can beef up their passes. But that won’t stop the crime, of course.”

“Just like that?”

“I’m a great guy.”

“Thank you.” He smiled. “Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome,” Decker said. “Perry, you can’t think of any reason why Lilah stopped seeing Greta?”

“No … except …”

“What?”

“In the beginning, Lilah and I didn’t have much to do with Davida. But as we began to fall apart, she got closer to her mother. Also, around that time, Lilah stopped doing all her charity work. She reverted back to type, started spending lots of money. She bought the spa shortly after we divorced. I don’t know. I’ve always felt Lilah was using Greta as a mother figure. When she started up with Davida again, it was like she didn’t need Greta anymore.”

Goldin furrowed his brow in concentration.

“I felt bad for Greta. I even visited her on my own once or twice. She wasn’t the least bit upset by Lilah’s behavior. Took it all philosophically—as if she expected it.”

“Did she have any clues as to why Lilah stopped coming?”

Goldin shook his head. “I don’t remember her saying anything specific. Just something about she knew it wouldn’t last … ‘it’ being their relationship. Like I said, she was philosophical about Lilah’s rejection. I wish I’d reacted that way. Saved me a lot of self-flagellation.”

“Nah, that never gets you anywhere.” Decker flipped the cover of his notebook and stuffed it in his jacket. “You’ve helped me out. I’ll call if I have any more questions.”

“That’s it?”

“For now.”

“Sure, call me anytime. This was kind of fun in a way—macho therapy. You missed your calling as a shrink.”

Decker wondered how much money shrinks made. He said, “I’ll give you my number in case you think of anything significant to add.” He pulled out his business card and a picture of Rina fell out of his wallet. Goldin picked it up.

“Your daughter?”

“My wife.”

Goldin moaned. “Ye olde foot back in ye olde mouth.”

“She’s young, Perry.” Decker took the picture back. “Not as young as she looks, but young.”

“Can I see that again?”

Decker paused, then handed him the snapshot.

Goldin said, “Is she this pretty in the flesh—I mean, in real life?”

Decker said, “You’re asking me?”

“I’m not trying to be cute,” Goldin said. “I’m asking you the question in earnest, Detective.”

The guy had something on his mind. Decker said, “In earnest, she’s better. She’s six months pregnant and she still gets wolf whistles every time she walks down the street.”

“She’s pregnant?” Goldin asked.

Decker said, “It can happen.”

“No, I don’t mean it like that.” He handed the photo back to Decker. “Don’t let Lilah see her or your life’ll be hell.”

Decker said, “Go on.”

“Lilah’s competitive spirit isn’t confined to Davida. She loves married men. I should know. I must have fielded dozens of calls from distraught wives. If she finds out you have a beautiful—and pregnant—wife, you’ll never get rid of her.” Goldin bit his lip. “Lilah can’t resist a challenge.”

Decker placed his hand on Goldin’s shoulder. After all this time, the guy still sounded bruised and Decker knew that feeling. “She likes making mincemeat out of men?”

“Detective, it’s what she does best.”