BETWEEN THE MEMORIAL and his impromptu meeting with Genoa Greeves and all of his other regular duties, Decker was a bundle of nerves; his mind was whirling with ideas and theories combined with worries about scheduling problems as the months marched into summer vacation time. When he reached home, all he wanted to do was strip his clothes off, take a hot shower, eat, and go to bed.
Rina, on the other hand, was dressed up—a short-sleeved pink sweater and a brown suede skirt. She had put on jewelry and makeup. But the tip-off was the kitchen. It was aroma free and dark.
“Hannah’s sleeping over Aviva’s. I thought we’d go out.” She regarded him. “Or maybe I can whip something up.”
“No, no, no.” Decker managed a smile. “We’ll go out, and we’ll go somewhere nice.”
Rina smiled back. “I made reservations in the city, but if that’s too far, I can change it.”
“No, I don’t mind driving. I’ll take a shower and then we can go.”
“You’re being a good sport about this. You really look tired.”
“A good cabernet and a steak will wake me up.”
“More like put you to sleep.”
“Then you can drive home.”
WHAT WOKE DECKER up was hearing about Rina’s day—the kids, the school, her gardening, her latest seed acquisitions, a new dish she was planning on making for Shabbos, Hannah’s choir practice, Sammy’s applications to medical school. Decker enjoyed hearing the melody of her voice. He loved looking at her. He savored her touch as they held hands across the table. Being other-directed prevented his brain circuits from going into overload.
After working through a sushi roll appetizer, he realized that he was genuinely hungry. He ordered a thick-slab prime rib cooked on the bone and prepared medium rare and it went down very well. They passed on dessert but took their time sipping tea.
Rina eyed him through the steam of her chamomile. “What’s new with you?”
“Nothing much.”
“That’s a fib.”
“Yes, it is.” Decker rubbed his forehead. “Well, this morning I was greeted by a spontaneous visit from Ms. Moneybags Genoa Greeves.”
“The tech billionaire who got the ball rolling.”
“In person. She proceeded to tell me that because my office was small, I was probably incompetent.”
“No!”
Decker smiled. “Something along those lines. We spoke a little and she thawed—but only slightly. By the time we were through talking, she promised to update our computer system for free.”
“The charmster at work, you sly fox, you. What did Strapp have to say about that?”
“He was as political as ever.”
“Figures. How’d you get her to do that? I’m assuming it was you and not Strapp.”
“That’s correct. Honestly, I think she appreciated my candor. She tried to offer me money to solve the case, and I told her she could offer but it wouldn’t help.”
Rina chuckled. “You had to say that.”
“Pretty moronic, huh?”
“You’re a man of integrity.”
“A man of stupidity.”
“How was the memorial?”
“Sad.”
“Did you find the information you needed?”
“I found out that Rudy Banks used to torture Cal Vitton’s son.”
“The music producer in Nashville.”
“No, that’s the older son. Banks used to bully the gay one.”
“I didn’t know Cal Vitton had a gay son. What did Rudy do to him?”
“Aside from the usual bullying, the worst thing Banks did was throw acid, aimed at the kid’s genitals, but he missed and instead the acid landed on Cal Junior’s back.”
“That’s monstrous!” Rina was aghast. “I hope he did some jail time.”
“Nope. Nothing. Cal J never told his old man.”
“But surely his dad knew something!”
Decker shrugged.
Rina was taken aback. “C’mon. When you found out about Sammy and Jacob, you were ready to tear the SOB apart!”
“Vitton is the ‘walk like a man’ type of guy.”
“Acid on the genitals, Peter?”
“If Vitton would have known, I’m sure he would have arrested Banks.”
“That poor boy—Cal J. How did he stand such humiliation and physical abuse?”
“I think Dr. Ben came to his rescue and Rudy was expelled.”
“So Rudy had a reason to hate Little.”
“True, but Little wasn’t murdered until five years later.”
Rina thought about that. “If Little got involved in Cal’s welfare, he must have said something to his father.”
“I’m sure he did. I’m sure that Cal Senior hated Rudy. He just didn’t have enough of anything to arrest him.”
“Acid on the genitals…how could any father stand for that?”
“I’m sure he didn’t know, Rina.”
“Talk about emasculation…” She thought a moment. “Did Vitton suspect his son was gay?”
“According to Lamar, Cal J hadn’t come out in high school, but everyone knew.”
“Is Cal really, really gay or just like…gay.”
Decker smoothed his mustache. He knew she was asking the question for a reason. “Uh…he’s not overly flamboyant, if that’s what you mean. He was definitely effete, but I’ve known guys like that who are married. I didn’t get a chance to say more than a couple of words to him. He’s not leaving until Saturday. Maybe I can catch him tomorrow.”
“What did Cal Senior think about his son being gay?”
“According to Lamar, he dealt with it by denying or not talking about it.”
“Hmmm…”
“What does hmmm mean?”
“How should I put this?” She tried to organize her thoughts. “I once knew a very religious family. They lived in one of the ultra-Orthodox sections of Brooklyn. Anyway, the family had quite a few sons and one was gay. He died of AIDS. The mother was broken up…just devastated. As for the father…he couldn’t wait to be done with shivah. I would have thought it was my imagination, but I wasn’t the only one who noticed.”
“I’m sure your perceptions are accurate.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Now it could be that the man had deep, deep feelings for his son, but he sure didn’t show it. What he projected was being repelled by his son’s makeup.”
“Okay. So, yes, maybe Cal was repelled by his son’s gayness, but I would bet that Cal Senior didn’t want anybody beating up on his son.”
“Of course not. I’m not saying that at all. If he would have found out about Rudy and the acid incident, I’m sure he would have arrested that jerk with glee. I’m just wondering…not that he approved of the bullying, not that he even knew the extent of it. Just like I’m saying that I’m sure the father didn’t pray for his son to die of AIDS. Still, his reaction was blunted…something was off. And just like that father, I can’t help but wonder if deep down inside, there wasn’t a little part of Cal Senior that agreed with the gay-bashing sentiment.”
THE BOTTOM OF his morning coffee mug had just touched his desk when the intercom squawked. “Good morning, Lieutenant; a man named Liam O’Dell is here to see you.”
A stroke of luck. He’d been meaning to call him, anyway.
“Thanks. You can send him in.”
A minute later, the Mad Irishman was standing at his door. Over his shoulder stood a well-built Hispanic uniformed officer whose eyes were pinned on the back of O’Dell’s neck. He said, “He didn’t make it through the metal detector, obviously. I patted him down for weapons, but didn’t do a strip search. It’s your call.”
“Thank you, that won’t be necessary.” After the officer left, Decker said, “You’re up early.”
“I didn’t go to sleep.”
That could explain why he looked so bad—droopy red eyes, blotchy skin, in dire need of a shave and ripe to the nose.
“Banks is gone.”
“Would you like a cup of coffee?”
O’Dell became agitated. “Did you hear me?” he yelled. “Banks is fuckin’ gone!”
Decker got up and closed the door. “Yes, I heard you and you better lower your voice or any second you’ll be on the ground, spread-eagled, with your arms cuffed behind your back. Now sit down!”
O’Dell turned quiet and plunked his rear end on a chair.
“I repeat,” Decker said. “Do you want some coffee?”
Liam nodded. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” Decker buzzed for another cup of coffee. “Banks moved out Saturday. I don’t know where he went. We’re looking for him. I was going to call you anyway, so I’m glad you dropped by. What are you so pissed about?”
“He owes me money. How am I ever going to get what rightfully belongs to me? Primo’s gone. Ryan’s as good as gone. I’m all alone in this now, and I can’t even find the bastard. I’m screwed!”
“The voice, O’Dell.”
“Sorry.”
The coffee arrived. The caffeine paradoxically seemed to have a soothing effect. Decker said, “Why don’t you just put out your own ‘best of’ album. If for no other reason, it might flush Banks out of the woodwork.”
“Where the fuck am I going to get money for that? To do anything in this bloody business, you need a backer.”
“I’m sure there are some Doodoo Sluts fans who might give you support. From what I understand, you had quite a crowd of admirers—male and female.”
“That was a century ago, mate. Rudy took them all. He probably fucked them over.” He took another gulp of the hot liquid. “I was really counting on the lawsuit. Not for me, but for Ryan. The guy lives like a junkyard dog.”
“I know. I went to visit him. His brother’s a doctor.”
“He told you that?”
“About ten times.”
“That sounds like Ryan.”
“Does his brother help out?”
“He does…he’s a good man, Barry is, but he can’t afford to put Ryan in the kind of home he needs.”
“Ryan said he was a lung doctor. They do pretty well.”
“He works at a university.”
“Aha.” Decker sipped. “Any idea where Rudy could have gone—a favorite club, a bar, a restaurant, a casino, maybe a massage parlor?”
“I’m in the dark, mate. I don’t know where he went or who he hung with. Whenever I went to see him, I tried to pick him off at his apartment.”
“Pick him off?”
“Y’know what I mean, mate.”
“Who is Rudy’s lawyer, O’Dell?”
“What?”
“Rudy’s attorney. You’re in a lawsuit with Banks. You have a lawyer. He must have a lawyer. Judging by the amount of lawsuits the guy generated, he probably has several lawyers.”
“He usually did his own defending. He’s a lawyer.”
“He’s got way too many suits to do it alone.”
“I suppose I could call me lawyer about it.”
“Please do.” Decker handed him the phone.
“Now?”
It was a little after eight. Decker said, “Even if your lawyer isn’t in, call and leave a message. If anyone knows where Rudy is, it would be his lawyer.”
“His lawyer won’t tell us, mate. Confidentiality.”
“I know that. I’ll deal with that later. For starts, I’d like to find out if Rudy’s alive.”
O’Dell made a tiny O with his mouth. “You think he’s dead?”
“That’s an open question.”
“Nah, he’s not dead.” O’Dell brushed Decker off. “He’s just runnin’ from his creditors.”
“Or from his dealers?”
Again, O’Dell paused. “That could be. Rudy used to deal, y’know.”
“Yes, I found that out. I think he might have used a kid named Darnell Arlington as one of his runners. Back then, he was around sixteen—tall and black. Built like a basketball player.”
“Name doesn’t ring any bell in me head. I didn’t buy the drug, Lieutenant. Rudy did. Rudy was the supplier for the band, the roadies, the girls, especially the girls.”
“What kinds of drugs?”
“From pot to H and anything in between. When we weren’t doing drugs, we were drinkin’ by the fifth. I don’t remember the kid, but I don’t remember much from those days at all. Not even the girls. That’s what really pisses me off. I don’t even know if it was good or not.”
“Where did Rudy get the money to buy the drugs?”
“Probably skimmed it from the band’s profits. He was in charge of the money. We were idiots for letting him do it, but we were also too stoned to care.”
“Ekerling seemed to be aware of things. How’d he let Rudy get away with handling the finances?”
“That’s what broke us up, mate. The money. When Primo started getting sober, he realized what was going down. The more sober he got, the more he and Rudy fought. When Rudy left the band, the Sluts wasn’t the Sluts. We tried to pick up the pieces, got a new lead vocalist, but it just didn’t click. And the times were changing. Grunge was pickin’ up and everyone wanted to sound like Kurt Cobain. I hate Seattle.”
“Does the name Jervis Wenderhole sound familiar? His street name was A-Tack.”
“Don’t know him, mate, but I don’t know everyone.” He finished his coffee. “So you think that Rudy’s dead?”
“He moved and we can’t find him. That’s all I know. Sure you don’t have a clue about where he might be?”
“Rudy always talked about moving to Mexico…money’s cheap and so are the women. That’s what he used to say.”
“Does he own property in Mexico?”
“I hope so. It would be something I could sell for cold hard cash.”
“Liam, if you think of anywhere he might be…if you find him, please call me right away. I found some blood drips in his apartment. More than a cut finger’s worth.”
“Oh bloody hell!” O’Dell looked grave. “Is it Primo?”
“It wasn’t Primo. He was O positive. The blood was B positive. There’s a nameless body out there, and Banks knows something about it.” Decker paused. “Was he mad at anyone specific?”
“No one specific, mate, just the world.”