Serpent's Tooth (15 page)

“A bunch of yahoos—”

“They’ve lifted their hiring freeze, Dad. I’m just the type of person they’re looking for. Young, female, well educated, with a parent in law enforcement—”

“Congratulations. You’ve succeeded in really
aggravating
me.”

“The thing is, Father, I really want to
solve
crimes, not wear sunglasses.”

Decker laughed so loudly he was afraid he’d wake up Rina. “Now I know why I love you, Cin.”

“Although there are some good agents out there.”

“Maybe one or two.”

“So why are you calling at eleven-thirty at night? No, I’ll tell you. Like most men, you never use the phone for chitchat. You use it to make appointments or to do business. You want to do chitchat, you invite me over for dinner or out for breakfast. So what do you need to know?”

Decker was surprised by her perceptiveness. “Which French existentialist wrote the book about a guy getting arrested for not crying at his mother’s funeral?”

“Camus.
The Stranger
. Why?”

“I take it you read the book, then.”

“In French actually.”

Decker broke into soft laughter.

“What?”

“A Columbia graduate who reads Camus in French becoming a cop. Maybe you
are
better suited for the FBI. Sit
around all day musing about life while constructing serial-killer profiles. They certainly don’t
solve
any serial killings—”

“You’re being very insular and petty.”

“Your ex-Criminal Sciences professor is a jerk. What is existentialism anyway?”

“Everything is random…purposeless. Each person for himself.”

“Sounds like the FBI—”

“Daddy—”

“Kinda like a dog-eat-dog philosophy?”

“Not exactly. Since the world is purposeless and meaningless, it’s up to humankind to impart humanism into it through
free will
. Ultimately, our job is to civilize our societies.”

“
Humankind
?”

“Columbia was very PC. Why are you asking about Camus?”

“Just wondering if I got my money’s worth from Columbia.”

Cindy laughed. “There’s more to it than that. But I won’t press. However, if you’d like to tell me…take me out for breakfast—”

“You’re on.”

“Great. When and where?”

“Gotta be somewhere kosher. How about Noah’s bagels? I’ll meet you halfway in Sherman Oaks. Six-thirty on the dot.”

“Six-thirty? You mean A.M.?”

“Some of us have jobs. Six-thirty at Noah’s. Are we on?”

“Yes,
if
you promise to tell me about your case.”

“No dice. This isn’t business, just chitchat.”

“But maybe you’ll accidentally let a few things slip?”

“At six-thirty A.M., this is a real possibility.”

She laughed, hung up, and so did he.

But his thoughts weren’t on Cindy. They were glued to a mental video camera that was in rewind. Back to Jeanine Garrison’s office. The moment he first saw her. Again, he
felt a jolt of lightning in his groin. In his head, he went through the interview, slowly…deliberately. Her initial anger, her sudden display of inappropriate sexuality, her animation when she talked about tennis.

A stunning, erotic woman in black. Dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

Another jolt hit him. But this one came straight to the brain.

Jeanine patting her eyes. Then she had looked up. Decker had seen her face, had seen those eyes.

They had been totally clear—bright blue and shining like diamonds.

Completely dry.

A pleasant breakfast
with Cindy followed by a morning of meetings, paperwork, and crime. Decker took his lunch break at two-thirty, eating his sandwiches, going over the articles from yesterday’s computer search on Jeanine Garrison. A half hour later, he heard a knock on the door. Scott Oliver entered the office, noticed the clippings on Decker’s desk.

“You’re kinda fixated on this—”

“They knew each other,” Decker sat up, stretched. “Something she didn’t admit in the interview.”

“Why should she? Who’d want to be associated with a mass murderer?”

“That’s the point, Scott. If she didn’t know him well, she would have admitted it openly…
wondered
about it. At least, she might have brought it up. Because it’s weird not to.”

“Wendy Culligan didn’t bring up knowing Harlan.”

“But she brought it up to Brenda Miller. Besides, Wendy had nothing to gain by anyone’s death…as opposed to the Garrison offspring. Harlan Manz takes out thirteen people and suddenly Jeanine Garrison’s a millionaire.”

“Along with her brother.” Oliver paused. “Why do you think it’s
her
and not David Garrison?”

“Picture shows Manz with Jeanine, not Manz and David.”

“Can I play devil’s advocate for a moment?”

“Shoot.”

“Deck, why would she do it? And don’t just say for the money. Obviously, Daddy took
good
care of her. Even her brother admitted that. Besides, a piece of ass like Jeanine…she could marry money in a snap.”

“But in both cases, she’d still be dependent on someone else’s goodwill.”

Oliver said, “All I’m saying is, her addict brother has as much to gain as she does.”

“Absolutely.” Decker stretched. “And according to Webster, David had lots of animosity toward his parents…his father. But…” He organized his ideas. “Webster saw David as a talented but troubled individual. David’s a
successful
artist. You see him hanging out with a loser like Manz?”

“Not hanging out with him, Pete.
Using
him.”

Decker thought about that. Oliver had a good point. “So give me something that links David Garrison with Harlan Manz, and I’m all over his ass, too.” He stacked the printouts, laid them neatly on his desk. Focused his attention on Oliver. “How’d that call to Brenda Miller go?”

Oliver smiled—a white crescent of teeth. “She was great! Understood completely. Even said she
admired
my integrity.” He rubbed his hands together. “Can’t wait until this case is over. At this point, I don’t care
how
it’s resolved, just as long as it
is
resolved.” He paused, eyed his boss. “Jeanine got to you, didn’t she, Rabbi?”

Decker felt his face get hot. “She’s dangerous, Scott. A knockout bitch with an ice-queen smile that gets you rock hard. Not too many of those around.”

He paused.

“Men’ll do incredibly dumb things to get laid by a gorgeous piece of ass. Something tells me she knows how to use that fact for her own purposes.”

Oliver’s eyes fell on the pile of articles. “So if you can’t fuck her in the flesh, you’ll fuck her over instead.”

Decker smiled. “Believe me, I’m
not
interested in fucking her. And even though I think she’s hinky, I am
not
out to get her. But then I examine what we have. So far, things
are…well, they’re not pointing
to
Jeanine. More like…revolving
around
her.”

“You want to revolve around her, Deck?”

“No, Scott, I’d like to keep my marriage intact.”

“But she did get to you.”

“Yep. She’s got a Svengalian quality to her…the voice, her manner. Very rhythmic, very intoxicating. She’s the type of woman who could get even honest men to do hinky things…let alone slackers like Harlan Manz.”

“Things like pop her parents? Then pop himself?”

“Who said he popped himself?”

“Ballistics.”

“Not exactly. Ballistics says that the bullet in Harlan’s head came from the gun at Harlan’s side. It never said that Harlan actually fired that
specific
gun.”

“You’re stretching.”

“Yes, I am.” Decker laughed. “Aw, well. Maybe I’m doing this because it’s better than attending a lunch meeting with some brass from Parker Center.”

“Now that I can believe.” Oliver paused. “An ice queen, huh? I gotta meet this woman.” He produced a sickly smile. “Then again, my track record with the opposite sex ain’t too hot.”

“You’re showing some unusual insight.”

Oliver squirmed. “Loo, you’re so straight, at times I think you’ve got a rod up your ass. She makes
you
poke your zipper…man, that scares the shit out of me.”

Before Decker signed out, he made two quick calls. First one was to Terrance Howell, who wasn’t in or wasn’t answering. Decker left a message on his machine. As luck would have it, he caught Sonia Eaton right as she was leaving. She couldn’t talk now. Perhaps they could talk tomorrow evening. Could she ask what it was about?

Decker hedged, then said something about Harlan Manz aka Hart Mansfield. As he understood it, Sonia had played tennis with him a couple of times. Just wanted to ask her a few questions about him and the matches. The police were trying to get a lock on the mass murderer. Maybe
insights could prevent tragedies like this in the future.

Sonia’s voice turned cold. “Lofty ambitions. I didn’t know the LAPD cared.”

Decker was silent.

“Look, I barely knew Hart. Maybe I spoke a dozen words to the guy.”

“You played a doubles match with him for the New Christian Hospital charity games. About two years ago?”

A long pause. “Where’d you dig up that?
Why’d
you dig up that? You aren’t going to publicize it, are you?”

She sounded horrified. Decker was soothing. “Not at all.”

An impatient sigh. “I swear I barely remember him.”

“But you did play tennis with him.”

“Just that once. And that was at the behest of one of my friends.”

“Maybe I could talk to your friend, then?”

Sonia snorted. “I’m not about to give out names and numbers over the phone. I don’t even know if you’re for real.”

“I can give you the number here at the station house—”

“I’m a busy woman. I don’t have time for this nonsense! What’s your name again?”

“Lieutenant Peter Decker.”

Sonia said, “Look, Lieutenant,
if
you know about that tennis match,
and
you know about me, you probably know about my friend. So what’s this all about?”

Decker weighed his options. He decided to be truthful—at least partially truthful. “I found a photograph of you with Harlan from the local newspaper—
The Valley Voice
. There were two other people in that match. Your partner, Terrance Howell, and Manz’s partner, Jeanine Garrison. And yes, I’m going to phone both of them. You could help me out by telling me which one of them asked you to play with Manz.”

A long pause. She said, “I suppose you’ll find out soon enough. It was Jeanine.”

“Thanks. Were they an item, ma’am?”

“That’s all I’m going to tell you, Lieutenant Peter Decker from the LAPD.”

Decker laughed. “Thank you for your time. I really do appreciate it.” He tried one more time, doing the sympathy ploy. He sighed deeply into the phone. “This terrible ordeal at Estelle’s…I don’t know…we were all affected by it.”

The line was quiet.

Decker continued, “I would really like to prevent things like that in the future.”

“How
can
you?” Sonia sounded upset. “How can anyone
prevent
monsters from going crazy?”

“Well…we talk to people.” Decker was really winging it now. “We try to get profiles, ma’am. On who may be likely to do this kind of thing.”

“I hope you conclude that it’s not
too
many people.”

“No, no, no,” Decker reassured her. “No need to be alarmed. But if we, as law enforcement providers and protectors, get…even a tiny, tiny insight into what makes these guys tick…what can I say? I think it’s worth the intrusion.”

“Maybe.”

Sonia sounded wary. But she continued to talk anyway.

“Look, I wish I could tell you more. But I’m not going to talk behind Jeanine’s back. She’s not a close friend, but she is a…an acquaintance. A very formidable person. You’ll know what I mean once you meet her.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” Decker paused. “Formidable, huh?”

“You don’t want her as your enemy.”

“Ah! Can you tell me if she and Hart dated?”

“Jeanine doesn’t date.” Sonia’s voice had turned flat. “She has…admirers. Shuffles them around like cards in a gin game.”

“She likes tennis players, doesn’t she?”

“She likes…” Sonia paused. “I’ve really talked too much. I’ve got to go.”

“Ms. Eaton, let’s do us both a favor. I won’t say any
thing about this conversation, if you won’t say anything. Strictly confidential?”

“Fine with me.”

“Can you do me another favor?”

“What?”

“Since this is just between the two of us, can you just complete your sentence?” Decker asked. “Jeanine likes…what?”

Faint laugh. Sonia said, “Jeanine likes anything that doesn’t stand in her way.”

It was only six-thirty. Surely some florist would still be open.

Decker got off the freeway, started cruising the boulevard for an open shop. If he didn’t find one, he could always go to the market. Smiles carried flowers. Not very nice ones. Dyed mums in a terra-cotta pot. Emergency flowers. Like if you forgot the secretary’s birthday. Not for the wife. Rina would see through it. Besides, he really did want something extra special…something that conveyed what years of being a man had taught him to repress.

Lord, he was tired. Weary and disappointed in himself. He used to think he was impervious to women’s wiles. After his divorce, he had developed a hard shell, a seasoned air, and a wizened attitude. No bitch was ever gonna fuck with his brain again, thank you very much.

When he met Rina, he had known immediately that she was a jewel—a rare, precious diamond. Still, he had taken his time. Hadn’t stopped dating other women until it had become clear
she
was committed. That she wanted him as much as he wanted her. And even when she wanted to go to New York to think things over…well, that had been cool with him. Though when she had returned, he had been glad to see her.

Glad, but cautious.

He doubted his blood pressure rose beyond a notch.

Everything on an even keel.

The courtship had proceeded nicely. She placed no demands on him—other than religion.

Religion.

Yeah, that had been a biggie. But once that was resolved, things ran smoothly. Of course, he had to become the type of Jew she wanted. An Orthodox Jew. Keeping kosher, keeping the Sabbath, keeping family purity. Had to do it. Otherwise, marriage would have been out of the question. And he had wanted to get married…very, very badly.

But he never felt compromised. Because Rina was a traditional woman herself. She took care of the house and children, he took care of
everything
else.

An old-fashioned family and that was fine with him.

And he was in
charge
…the illustrious
paterfamilias
.

Man, had he been fooling himself. Meeting Jeanine, being bowled over by her sexuality, realizing what a sensual woman could have done to him. If Jeanine carried the moniker seductive kitten, Rina would have been tagged a full-fledged man-eating tigress. There had been times when Decker had thought about her…times late at night. His lust had been so overwhelming, so damn powerful, he had needed no physical contact to achieve orgasm. Only had to close his eyes…picture her face…

He would have done anything to
get
her. Anything at all. And had another man entered the picture, he would have done anything to
keep
her. Lie, cheat, steal…

Maybe even murder.

He broke out in a sweat.

All of his macho posturing…a facade maintained by Rina’s indulgence. After Jan, he hadn’t become any smarter. He had just been lucky. Really, really lucky. He had met a femme fatale, but thank God she turned out to be as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside.

Thank you, God. Thank you, thank you, thank you!