JARED AND AMY Little were home by 9:45. There were quick introductions, then Amy scurried upstairs while Delia woke her husband. The next fifteen minutes were devoted to Jared ushering his grandparents out of the door and walking them to their car. When he came back, he said, “Just give me a few minutes to change.”
“Take your time.” Oliver checked his watch. Not too much time. It’s already a little after ten. When Jared was out of earshot, he turned to Marge. “What do you think?”
Marge said, “Delia’s story explains Ben Little’s toys.”
“I could also see how the situation would build up resentment in Melinda.”
“Man, ain’t that the truth. His spending her money.”
“In her mind, the agreement looked like collusion between Ben and her parents.”
“Lots of resentment,” Marge said. “But enough to murder?”
“I don’t know,” Oliver said. “I’m usually pretty good at reading women—for survival’s sake—but Melinda’s hard to decipher.”
Marge said, “I’m just wondering how much Ben actually kept Melinda’s gambling in check.”
“I was thinking the same thing. What if Melinda was overspending, figuring that Ben would cover it with her own trust fund money? Then what if Ben suddenly cut off the access to their bank accounts? Did the resentment build to a breaking point? Or maybe she got herself in such a fix that Ben’s life insurance policy was her only out.”
“A life insurance policy is always a good motive for murder.” Marge put her finger to her lips when she saw Jared bounding down the steps. The man had his mother’s coloring—sandy blond hair and dark eyes—but his father’s sharp features. He had changed into sweats and slippers. He plopped down on the couch and threw his head back. He closed his eyes and asked them how it went.
“Your grandmother was easy to talk to,” Marge told him.
Oliver added, “Very forthright about everything.”
He leaned forward, eyes open. “That means Mom, right? It’s hard on Grandma…their estrangement. Did you get what you were after?”
Marge said, “The only thing we’re after right now is information…what was going in your parents’ lives when your father was murdered.”
“Also anything unusual going on in the marriage,” Oliver said.
Marge said, “Sorry, but we needed to ask.”
Jared said. “I was only thirteen. I paid way more attention to the Lakers than I did to my parents.”
“If there’s trouble, kids are astute about those kinds of things.”
Oliver said, “And some parents make it obvious that things aren’t going too well.”
“Not mine,” Jared countered. “I’m sure they argued, but they did it quietly.”
“So as far as you know, things were peaceful?” Oliver asked. “It’s important to the investigation.”
Jared sat back in an armchair and directed a laser beam stare at Oliver. “It may be important to the investigation from your perspective, but the way I’m hearing things, it seems like you’re implicating my mom.”
Marge said, “No, that’s not what we’re doing.”
Jared slowly turned his eyes in her direction. “Then explain it to me, Sergeant.”
“I suppose I want to know if your mother was actively gambling. That could open up a lot of previously unconsidered avenues.”
“Like my father’s life insurance policy?” Jared snapped.
“I’d be lying if I said we’re not thinking about that,” Marge answered. “If your mother was gambling heavily, it would be a way to get hold of money. But I’m thinking more about some underworld figure going after your father because of your mother’s unpaid debts. If I may be blunt, the murder was execution style.”
Good cover, Dunn. Oliver chimed in. “Someone was trying to make a point. Like Sergeant Dunn said, sometimes kids hear things. Maybe you didn’t because, like you said, they argued quietly. But we have to ask, Jared.”
“It’s a fifteen-year-old case,” Marge said. “You were thirteen. You’re not expected to remember everything.”
“I can’t even remember what I had for breakfast,” Oliver said. “Anyway, if you want more neutral questions, can you remember anything about your dad that would have indicated he was worried or nervous about something?”
“My dad wasn’t the nervous type. He was a doer.”
“Yeah, that’s why it would stand out if he was nervous.”
“Well, he wasn’t…not that I remember. Dad could always figure out a pathway of action. And if it didn’t work, that was okay, too, as long as we learned from our mistakes.”
“So as far as you saw it, nothing unusual was going on at the time?”
“No, I already told you that.”
“Fine,” Marge said. “Anything else you’d like to add that would help us along?”
Jared was still on the previous topic. “Did you ask Nick these questions?”
Oliver said, “I asked him some things. In light of what your grandmother said, I’ll probably call him up again.”
Marge said, “Maybe he’d remember more than you. He was older.”
“Doubt it,” Jared said softly. “Nick had a way of zoning out when…” He looked away.
“When what?” Marge asked. “When your parents fought? It’s okay if they fought. It’s okay if your father yelled. My father was a big yeller. He screamed more than he talked.”
“My dad rarely raised his voice.”
“I like the emphasis on the word rarely,” Marge said. “So the couple of times he did raise his voice, I bet it made an impression on you.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
Oliver shrugged. “It’s certainly your prerogative not to talk.”
Silence.
Marge stood up. “Jared, we’ve taken up enough of your time. Thanks for allowing us to come into your house and bring up painful topics.”
Jared regarded her with suspicious eyes. “I went to law school. I did plenty of interrogation in my course work. By your line of questioning—the hit-and-miss quality—it’s clear to me that you don’t have a clue as to who did it.”
Oliver smiled cryptically. “We have clues. Eventually we’ll put them all together. And when we do, we’ll have answers.”
Marge held out her hand. “Good-night, Jared. Thanks again.”
Jared waited a beat. “Are you going to be interviewing my mother again?”
“Most likely,” Marge told him.
“So then you can ask her what they fought about.”
“We already did,” Oliver said. “Just like you, she said they rarely fought.”
“More like they didn’t fight at all,” Marge said. “That I have a rough time believing.”
Jared sighed. “It was money.” Marge waited for more. “The few times I heard my parents arguing, it was about money. She was spending too much. And they weren’t knock-down, blow-out rip-roaring fights. I just remember hearing my dad’s voice in anger. And that was unusual.”
“Thanks, Jared, for being candid.”
“And isn’t that what most couples fight about?” Jared said. “Money?”
“Money is definitely a flash point.”
“Money as well as kids, the in-laws, and sex…” Jared shrugged. “I think you can sum up most of the flash points with those four topics.”
Oliver said, “Money, the kids, sex, the in-laws, lack of attention, too much attention, not talking, talking too much, working too hard, not working hard enough, being a stick in the mud, being a good-time Charlie, being too risky, being too conservative, being too cultured, being a bore, being stuck-up, being white trash.” He threw up his hands and gave him a pained smile. “My ex had an infinite list of topics to argue about.”
THE SUIT WAS CLEARLY expensive. So were the shoes, the bag, and the jewelry. But the apparel just didn’t sit right on the woman. The shoulders were too big, the purse was small, the skirt was too long, and the heels were too high. Now the jewelry…
The jewelry was nice.
She seemed lost. Marge wondered how she had gotten past the squad room secretary. She stood up from her desk and walked over. “Can I help you?”
“Help would be nice.” Marge noticed that the woman’s eyes had gone cold. “Originally, I came to see Captain Strapp.”
“He’s over on the other side of the building. I’ll call his secretary and find out if he’s in, if you want.”
“Don’t bother,” the woman said. “He isn’t. I’m not pleased.” She reached in her clutch, pulled out a note, and gave it to Marge along with a hard stare. “I was told that this man was in charge?”
Marge read the note and glanced in the direction of Decker’s office. “Uh, have a seat and I’ll check to see if Lieutenant Decker’s in.”
“You’re staring at an open door so it’s obvious that he’s in.” She snapped her clutch shut. “It’s good to know that someone is running the department. Apparently, your captain has an absentee problem.”
Marge said, “Whom am I speaking to?”
“Genoa Greeves.”
The name meant nothing to Marge. “If you’d just sit tight, Ms. Greeves, I’ll go check if the lieutenant’s in. Often his door is open, but he’s somewhere else.”
“Thank you.” Genoa busied herself in the contents of her purse.
Decker was in. Marge said, “There’s some weirdo named Genoa Greeves asking to speak with you.”
“Genoa Greeves?” Decker stood up and put on his suit jacket. “Where is she?”
“In the squad room.” Marge was taken aback. “Should that name register something?”
“She’s the billionaire who reopened the Little case.”
“Well, that explains the ’tude.”
“Strapp will want part of this. You want to call him for me?”
“He’s not in.”
Decker made a face. “Not good. Find out where he is and get his ass over here ASAP. Otherwise, he’s going be pi-issed.” He spotted his target and walked over with an extended hand. She graced it with a two-fingered dead-fish shake. “I’m Lieutenant Decker, Ms. Greeves. I’m the one who’s doing most of the work with the Little case. Let’s talk in my office.”
Genoa followed him. As Decker closed the door, she said, “Not much of an office. I hope that doesn’t reflect your competence level.”
Decker smiled as he pulled out a chair for her. “This is about as big as they make them around here. And I’m sure you didn’t travel all this way just to talk architecture. What can I do for you?”
“Where’s your captain?”
“I’m sure he’ll be here momentarily. If you want to talk about progress on the case, you’re better off talking to me.”
“He shunted the case to you?”
“Captain Strapp is running the precinct. He did you a supreme favor by assigning the case to me. I’ve worked hundreds of homicides, and I’m much more familiar with handling cold cases.”
“Are you good?”
“I’m terrific.”
“When I googled you, it said you were a sergeant.”
“I got promoted. That shows you how good I am.”
“Do you have any suspects?”
“We call them people of interest. A few.”
“And how far away are you from solving the murder?”
Decker regarded her. Expensive clothes, but they didn’t sit properly. Her face was made up, but she was clearly not used to using cosmetics. Her hair was shoulder length and recently styled. It was her dark brown eyes that said it all. Cold, calculating, piercing. “I’m hoping weeks or months. It could be years.”
“Or it could be never.”
“Absolutely.”
“Would offering individual bonuses for those who solve the murder increase the incentive to work harder?”
Decker thought a moment before he spoke. “Downtown L.A. is filled with cold cases. People just like Ben Little…shot down, killed, no one ever apprehended for the murder, no one brought to justice. There are thousands of grieving families that have no idea about the last minutes of their loved ones, no idea if the monster who killed their wives, their daughters, their husbands and sons is still out murdering others. If we had a lot more people, we could do more with those cases. But we don’t have the manpower, so ninety-nine percent of the cold cases remain cold. That’s just the way it works.”
Genoa was annoyed. “I’m not here for a sob story, Lieutenant. Only results.”
“And I’m not giving you a sob story, so please just hear me out. Normally, a cold case wouldn’t be assigned to an active lieutenant running a detectives division. But for Dr. Little, I got word to do it personally because you’ve promised a large sum of money.”
“If the case is solved.”
“Exactly. If the case is solved.” Decker paused. “Believe me, we can use money. I can use money. And you can promise me more money if you want. And if I solve it, I’ll take the money. I like money. But I swear to God, Ms. Greeves, I can’t work any harder than I’m working on it already. And frankly, I don’t need any kind of incentive. The solve is my incentive. I don’t like unfinished business.”
Genoa stared at him with steely eyes. “You’re blowing me off.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“I bet you were a real bully when you were a kid.”
“And I bet you don’t know a thing about me, although you probably figured out that I played high school football because of my size. Would you like me to bring you up to date on the case? Maybe if I tell you a couple of things, you can even start remembering Ben Little and your past and help me out.”
The woman held his stare, but then finally blinked. “All right.” She made herself comfortable in the chair. “What do you have?”
“Would you like some water or coffee before I start? It may take a while. I’m sure you’ll have questions.”
“Water would be nice. Normally, I carry around a backpack with all my staples.” She smoothed her skirt. “Normally I dress in jeans and a T-shirt. I don’t know why, but I felt impelled to dress up for this occasion.”
“Not for LAPD’s sake, I hope.” He gave her a genuine smile. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been back in Southern Cal.”
“I hate it here. It’s only bad memories.” She regarded him neutrally. “You seem pretty sharp. I suppose I shouldn’t be antagonizing you.”
“I’ve had a lot worse. Honestly, I’m a pretty nice guy.” He presented her with a plate of Rina’s cookies. “Want one? Freshly baked by my wife.”
“Your wife is the milk and cookies type?”
Decker laughed. “If only life were that simple. Help yourself. I’ll get your water.” When he had returned, she was on her second cookie. By the time Decker was just about done with his recitation, Strapp made his entrance. The captain appeared cool and collected, but Decker knew the man well enough to see the nervousness. Strapp held out his hand. “I’m sorry I missed you, Ms. Greeves. Next time, if you’ll tell me when you’re coming, I’ll be sure to be here.”
“That’s precisely why I didn’t tell you,” Genoa answered. “I wanted to see what’s going on before you had a chance to prepare for me. Your lieutenant here was just bringing me up to date. He’s working hard but as of yet, it hasn’t produced much. Maybe you could get him more help in locating Rudy Banks.”
“I’ll look into it,” Strapp said.
But his eyes were blanks. The captain only had a vague notion as to what was going on with the case. He had no idea who Rudy Banks was or how he fit into the picture.
Decker said, “I was just explaining to Ms. Greeves that since we found blood in Mr. Banks’s apartment, Hollywood had become interested in his disappearance.”
“Because the place is in their division and because of the Ekerling case,” Strapp ad-libbed.
“Exactly,” Decker said. “I’ve contacted Ekerling’s girlfriend. She had Primo’s old toothbrush. We’re in the process of extracting the DNA. But even if we find something, the case will probably go to Rip Garrett and Tito Diaz. They’re the primaries on Ekerling.”
Strapp nodded.
Genoa said, “And what about the thugs behind bars for the Ekerling case?”
Decker said, “They claim they’re innocent of everything except the car theft.”
“And what do you think?” Genoa asked.
“Honestly, I haven’t decided yet. I’m looking into them, but I have to do it discreetly. Ekerling is not my official case.”
“That’s ridiculous. You people should be working together, not worried about territorial claims.”
“It is ridiculous, but the structure was in place long before I arrived,” Decker said. “We do what we can.”
Genoa rolled her eyes. “Would it help if I promised Hollywood some financial incentive if they cooperate with you?”
Decker smiled. “As well intentioned as that might seem, Ms. Greeves, it might build a little resentment. Would you mind if I tried it my way a little longer?”
Genoa shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She stood up and faced Strapp. “I’ll check back in a few weeks. I offered your division more money for a quicker solution, but your lieutenant claims to be working as hard as he can.”
Strapp’s eyes twitched. “I’m sure that’s true.”
“Also, I’ve had a chance to look at your computer system. It’s a dinosaur.”
“We get castoffs,” Decker said.
“I’d like to redo your entire computer system. It would be good publicity for me, and it might even help you solve cases better.”
“I’m sure it would,” Decker said. “Any help you could give us would be terrific.”
“Really appreciated,” Strapp answered.
Genoa took out her sunglasses and put them on. “Your lieutenant seems to be a man of principle, Captain Strapp. In my dealings, that’s very rare. The last man of principle I knew was Dr. Little. Look what happened to him.”