Serpent's Tooth (22 page)

“No, she’s—”

“Second, third, fourth—”

“Second.”

“You’re forty-six?” Hayden said.

“Yes.”

“Mid-life crisis time, Lieutenant?”

Decker smiled. “No, I already went through that. Hence the age difference between my wife and me.”

Again, Rina shot him a “behave yourself” look.

Hayden gave a sly smile. “You were married when you met your current wife?”

“Divorced.”

“What was the reason for the divorce?” Catherine asked.

“Irreconcilable differences.”

“Were you having an affair while you were married to your first wife, Lieutenant?” Hayden asked.

“No.”

Catherine said, “You’re under oath.”

“I know that. No, I was not having an affair.”

“Ever had an extramarital involvement?”

“No.”

“Not even a one-nighter during your marriage to your irreconcilably different first wife?”

“Nothing until we were legally separated.”

Hayden said, “Was your second wife married when you met her?”

“Widowed,” Rina spoke up.

Abruptly, Hayden faced her with stern eyes. “I was asking a question to your
husband
, ma’am.”

“My apologies.” Rina’s voice was sincere, her soft eyes upon Hayden. Immediately, he looked away. Her interruption seemed to throw his rhythm off. As he faltered, Catherine picked up the slack.

“How’s your sex life, Lieutenant?”

“Fine.”

“How would you rate it? Excellent, very good, good—”

“Excellent.”

“How often do you have sex?”

“Meaning?”

“Once a week, twice a week—”

“Must be more than that if he rates it excellent,” Hayden broke in. “How about it, Lieutenant? How many times a week do you have sex?”

Decker looked at Rina.

Hayden said, “Why are you looking at her, Lieutenant? Can’t you answer the question for yourself?”

“It’s complicated—”

“It’s a simple question,” Catherine said.

“With a complicated answer.”

Rina broke in. “We’re Orthodox Jews.” She paused. “
I’m
an Orthodox Jew. The religion prohibits sexual encounters during a certain period of every month—during the woman’s menses and for seven days afterward. Then she undergoes ritualistic purification by bathing in prescribed waters. When she is done, she is permitted to resume relations with her husb—”

“This is for real?” Hayden spoke derisively.

“Yes, sir, this is for real,” Rina answered without malice. “If you’d like, I will bring you some beautifully written
books explaining the sanctity of this ritual more clearly than I have done.”

Hayden averted his eyes, quieted his voice. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”

Rina let his admission hang in the air. Then she said, “Generally, it works out to two weeks of abstinence followed by two weeks of sexual activity. In our specific case, it’s a little shorter—more like twelve days off and eighteen days on—”

“Why’s that?” Catherine asked.

“You get some kind of special dispensation?” Hayden butted in.

“In a manner of speaking—”

“What was the reason?” Hayden grew a sneer. “He couldn’t
wait
?”

Nickerson said, “Sergeant Hayden—”

“She brought it all up!” Hayden defended himself.

“Medical factors,” Rina answered. “Anyway, there was a reason I bothered to tell you all this. It explains why my husband couldn’t answer your simple question about a
weekly
sexual allotment.”

Her eyes lowered, then rose to meet Hayden’s head-on.

“A point of information. During the times of activity,
all
forms of play between husband and wife are permitted.” She gave him a serene smile.

A blush coursed through Hayden’s cheeks. Again, he looked away.
Son of a bitch
, Decker thought. Rina’s modest dress notwithstanding, the jerk had the hots for her.

And why not?

Decker regarded his wife, studied her sculpted face, her open eyes shining like jewels, her red, moist lips. The band of gold fabric arcing across the top of her head, her hair tucked into a net, giving it the appearance of a Cleopatra cut. Just like the alluring Egyptian queen, Rina exuded confidence.

Hayden tried to regain his aggressive stance, stuttered out, “So you consider yourself a religious woman, then?”

“Yes.”

“And you follow this…” He waved his hand in the air. “This…”

“Religious ritual?” Rina tried.

Nickerson broke in. “Sergeant Hayden, no charges have been brought against Mrs. Decker—”

Hayden said, “She’s claiming religion to be an integral part of her husband’s sex life.”

“And…” Nickerson asked.

Hayden hesitated, eyes darting from Rina to Decker. Catherine glared at her partner, said, “Lieutenant, during the period when charges were brought against you by Jeanine Garrison…were you abstaining from sex with your wife?”

They say timing is everything. Decker smiled to himself. “No. We were involved during that period.”

“So you were having sex with your wife?” Hayden said.

“Yes.” Decker refrained from adding, “You wanna hear details, guy?”

“When was the last time you had sex?”

“Last night.”

“With your wife?”

Strapp interrupted this time. “Sergeant Hayden, was that really necessary?”

“We have serious charges brought against your lieutenant,” Hayden countered. “We’ll do what’s necessary—”

“That’s what you think,” Decker said.

Hayden zeroed in on Decker. “What did you say?”

Decker shrugged. “That’s exactly what I was doing, Sergeant. Running an
investigation
. What started as a mass murder began to look like murder for hire. And no simple hit at that. Thirteen people dead, thirty-two wounded, many more traumatized for life. I’d say the stakes were pretty high.”

Catherine said, “High stakes or not, no one in this department has a right to harass anyone else.”

“I agree, Officer Bell. I assure you no one was harassed, sexually or otherwise. Jeanine Garrison is making noise because she’s got something to hide.”

Hayden said, “And you have proof of these allegations, Lieutenant?”

Rina asked, “Forgive a layman’s ignorance, but why would Lieutenant Decker be investigating if he had proof? I thought that was the purpose of an investigation. To gather evidence.”

Catherine said, “We’ve run far afield.”

“No, we haven’t” Strapp said. “As a matter of fact, Mrs. Decker is right smack in the center of the damn ballpark. We’re trying to run an investigation and Jeanine Garrison’s ludicrous charges are slowing everything down—”

Hayden said, “It’s for us to determine whether or not the charges are ludicrous.”

“Hook me up to a polygraph,” Decker said. “Ask me the same questions. Draw your conclusions. You call the shots.”

Hayden and Catherine exchanged glances.

Decker said, “Is there a formal one eight one complaint being pressed?”

Hayden said, “Yes.”

Decker closed his eyes and opened them. “Then I can only help myself by taking a polygraph. How about this? If I pass, department rules it as an Unfounded. If I
don’t
pass, I’ll go along with the departmental ruling of a Sustained.”

Catherine finally took a seat at the table. “We can’t base our ruling on a polygraph. But you can take one.”

“Set it up.”

She pulled out a notebook from her jacket, flipped through some pages. “Possibly we can hook you up with a polygraph in two weeks.”

“Why so long?” Strapp said.

“The examiner I use is on vacation.”

“So get another examiner,” Decker said.

“I like this one.”

Strapp said, “My man has to cool his heels for a couple of weeks because your examiner is basking in the sun?”

“If he’s innocent, it’ll keep,” Hayden said.

Decker said, “I can wait. Can I get back to work now?”

Catherine glanced at her partner. Hayden nodded, turned off the video camera, and removed the cassette. “I’ll call you with the details.”

Decker smiled. “I’ll be waiting.”

Strapp got up. “I want a copy of the cassette.”

“Certainly,” Catherine said. “Despite what you’ve been led to think, IAD is very up-front.”

“A bastion of honesty,” Strapp said. “Two weeks. You go longer than that, I make noise.”

Hayden nodded deferentially. Even though he wasn’t under Strapp’s jurisdiction, the captain’s rank still demanded respect. As soon as they were out the door, Strapp shoved it closed. “Bastards!” He turned to Nickerson. “What do you think?”

Nickerson yawned. “They’re lightweights. All sound and fury signifying nothing. Brilliant stroke to bring the wife in. Kept it civil.” He turned to Rina, smiled. “You were very good.”

“Thank you.” Rina paused. “Good at what?”

Nickerson laughed. “The way you explained your religious beliefs about sex. Open. Unembarrassed. Straight out. Even…” He smiled. “Excuse me, Lieutenant, for my candor, but your wife is very…appealing. At least Hayden thought so. See him blush?”

“Blush?” Rina asked.

“You’d better believe it,” Decker said. “Frankly put, he had the hots for you.”

“He did
not
!”

Nickerson said, “It was the sex talk combined with the dowdy dress. The quiet ones. Gets ’em every time. Good move, Mrs. Decker.”

Rina said, “I always dress like this, Mr. Nickerson.”

Nickerson stuttered, “Well, yes, of course…”

“Not always this somber,” Decker remarked. “But she does always dress modestly. Can I have a few moments with my wife in private?”

Nickerson stood up. “I suppose you deserve that.” He saluted. “We’ll be in touch.”

After the defense rep left, Strapp laid a strong hand on
Decker’s shoulder. “Despite what they say, the polygraph means a lot to IAD. You beat that, we’ll be fine.”

“Thanks for your support, sir.”

“Can’t let the bastards get in our way.”

Decker nodded.

Strapp looked at Rina. “Mrs. Decker.”

“Captain.”

Strapp went out of the room, closed the door. Immediately, Decker let out a gust of air, slid back in his seat.

“Are you okay?” Rina asked.

“Fine, fine.” He pulled her onto his lap. “You were
wonderful
. People say they love one another. But you did more than words could ever convey. You came through for me. I’ll never forget this, Rina. Never.”

“It wasn’t hard.” Rina grew misty. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Decker grew tense. “Bastard! Probing like he did.” He imitated Hayden. “
What was the reason? He couldn’t wait?
”

Rina smiled. “For a moment, I considered telling him about my hysterectomy—”

“Don’t you dare! None of the bastard’s business!”

She shrugged. “I didn’t because I thought it would work against you. Make me look…less desirable—”

“That would be
impossible
!” Decker said.

“Besides, then I’d have to explain why I got a period at all. And how a period is defined by Jewish law. In reality, I didn’t think the sergeant was up to grasping the intricacies of remnant endometrial tissue sloughing from a subcervical hysterectomy. Hayden is just not very clever.”

“He’s an idiot!” Decker pulled her close, kissed the nape of her neck. “Know how I feel right now? Like the luckiest man alive. To be honest, it was harder than I thought it would be. I actually told a little fib.”

Rina dried her eyes, turned around to face him. “What kind of fib?”

He pulled her back into his arms. Kissed her neck again.

“Hmmm, you smell nice.”

“What was the fib, Peter?”

“The complaint against me while I was on the Gaines
ville force. It was justified.” He kissed her again. “Hayden had my psyche nailed, darlin’. I
was
caught up in the whole antiwar thing. But from the unpopular side. I had just come back from Nam. Confused, scared, full of self-doubt…but mostly angry. I had an ugly temper, Rina.”

“You?”

“You don’t become this controlled a person unless there’s something to control. Most of the time, I could hold it in check. Then…I don’t know. There was this typical college demonstration. Nothing unusual. Just wimpy, little know-nothing jerks spouting off…”

He looked away.

“Something snapped. I lost it. I took the loudest, most obnoxious one and dragged the kid, stomach down, over a hundred feet of rocky, newly laid asphalt—”

“My God!”

“By the time I was done, the kid’s stomach looked like raw meat—”

Rina shook him off. “That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, it was bad. It’s hard to understand unless you’ve been there.”

Head pounding, Rina took in a deep breath, let it out slowly. Obviously that had been a long time ago. Right now, Peter didn’t need a morality lesson. “I suppose you’re right.”

Again, Decker kissed her neck, which he noticed had visibly tensed. “I acted out of anger and that was wrong. But honestly…the release of such raw…fury…it felt good.”

Again, Rina broke away, stared at her husband.

He met her gaze, thought for a moment. “Don’t worry. It’ll never happen again.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I trust you to know the truth.”

Rina tried to relax but failed. “As long as it’s true confessions, how’d you get him to drop the charges against you?”

“It was a her,” Decker said. “I did a big no-no. After the complaint was filed, unknown to my superior, I
con
tacted
her. Went to her dorm. I remember putting on a T-shirt and jeans…sandals. Tried to look as uncoplike as I could. I apologized profusely. Just about went down on my knees. Offered to make amends any way she saw fit. Laid on the charm and hoped for the best. Much to my astonishment, the next day she dropped the complaint.”

“And?”

“And the rest, as they say, is history.”

Rina stared at him, openmouthed. “Jan?”

Decker laughed. “The one and only complaint against me that she’s ever really
dropped
.”

Tricky business, talking
to teens. Authority figures left them frosty and distrustful. The “cool” grown-up approach was also out. They were suspicious of anyone who tried too hard.

How to manipulate them?

Webster figured he’d play into their overinflated sense of importance. Their opinions about Harlan Manz
really
mattered to the police.

He parked the unmarked about a block down, hit Westbridge Prep just as the four-thirty dismissal bell rang out. The campus sat on acres of lawn, a Federalist-style complex, complete with bell tower. Behind the main four-storied structure were wings and extensions. The buildings were herringboned in brick, unsuitable in L.A. earthquake country. No matter. To parents, New England architecture connoted New England universities. The physical image fueled the Harvard dream.

For the role, Webster had donned a black silk jacket, black T-shirt, and jeans. Professional but not off-putting. The school gates had opened, and adolescents swarmed out. Noise. Lots of it. Males letting off steam, shouting and cursing and posturing bravado. Estrogen-ladened girls, flailing their hands with exaggerated movement, while rattling off Valleyspeak between nervous giggles. The parking lots roared volleys of cars: four-wheelers and Jeeps as well as sports car convertibles—Mustangs, Camaros, Thunder
birds, as well as older Jags, BMWs, a Mercedes, and a Porsche Carrera. The driver of the Porsche was pitted with acne. Who knew? Maybe the wheels helped him get laid.

Webster’s eyes panned over the scenery, spied an average-looking group congregating on the sidewalk. Three blue-blazered boys, and two white-shirted, plaid-skirted girls. The boys were big and thick—football players or wrestlers. One of the girls had blond hair; the other lass had tresses of garnet red. Webster ambled over, presented his badge, watched them grow wary. Then he spoke.

“Any of y’all happen to be members of Greenvale Country Club…through your parents, maybe?”

The tallest of the boys stepped forward, eyes focused on Webster. Around six two with a refrigerator chest. Simianfeatured. Bushy hair, swarthy complexion, hooded eyes, and the ever-present adolescent gaping mouth. “What’s going on?”

Webster said. “We’re doing a little follow-up on the tragedy at Estelle’s. On the shooter—”

“Harlan Manz,” the redhead broke in. She had been bronzed by the sun, her ruby mane tied back in a braid.

Webster took out his notebook. “And you are…”

“Kelly Putnam.”

“Don’t tell him your name,” the blond girl scolded.

Long straight hair, blue eyes, creamy skin, and legs that didn’t quit. A nice young package. Then Webster thought about the Loo’s Fact Sheet earlier in the day, Decker being raked over the coals…

Blondy said, “Can I see your badge again?”

“Sure.” Webster showed it to her. “Detective Thomas Webster, LAPD, Homicide Division.”

The blond stared at the shield, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue. “How do I know that it’s for real? You could be a perv in cop’s clothing.”

“Good to be cautious,” Webster said. “None of you have to talk to me. I’m just trying to get a fix on Harlan Manz.”

“Why?” Simian asked. “He’s dead.”

“We’re trying to understand the situation. Give some
closure to the victims of this terrible tragedy. Any of y’all happen to know him? Harlan?”

“Why would we know him?” Simian asked.

“That’s why I asked if any of y’all happened to be members of Greenvale. He worked there…’bout two years ago.”

One of the boys spoke up. He was a tad shorter than Simian. Pug features, straight dark hair, and green eyes. He held out a meaty hand. “Rudy Wright.” He pointed first to Simian. “Jack Goldsteen.” Then he cocked a thumb at the last male friend. The smallest but only in relationship to the other two. He was fair and had the finest features but was far from delicate-looking. “He’s Dylan Anderson.”

“Pleased to meet you boys.” Webster shook hands all around. “And thanks for talking to me. We’re pretty upset ’bout Estelle’s. Figured taking it to the public might help.”

He turned to Blondy.

“I didn’t catch your name, miss.”

“It’s ms. to you and that’s because I didn’t tell you.”

Kelly the redhead let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s Sarah Amos—”

“Kelly!”

“Stop being so nasty, Sarah.”

“Screw you!” Sarah turned to Webster. “What do you want to know about Harlan?”

Webster looked into her eyes, hoping his excitement wouldn’t show.

Sarah
Amos
.

In one school, how many Amoses could there possibly be?

“Did you know him, Ms. Amos?”

“Sure, I remember him.”

“We all do,” Kelly interrupted. “Hart Mansfield. I realized who he was right away. When I told my parents I thought it was the same guy, my dad didn’t believe me. Said I was just being an…”

She sighed.

“An overly emotional, hormonally driven, hysterical fe
male adolescent. Dad equates enthusiasm with hysteria. To Dad, excitement means an eagle on the eighteenth hole.”

Jack said, “Yeah, your old man is pretty grave.” To Webster, he said, “He’s a sports lawyer. Negotiates multimillion-dollar deals for free agents.” He turned back to Kelly. “Maybe it’s me, but I think he’s looking me over.”

Kelly said, “Wouldn’t doubt it, Lug. Despite your Neanderthal appearance, you do have solid raw talent.”

Webster said, “Your dad belongs to Greenvale, Kelly?”

“But of
course!
” She spoke in a French accent. “He belongs to all the
right
places.”

“You know, I had a hard time believing it myself,” Rudy said. “About Harlan, I mean. What a shock! You don’t expect a normal-looking guy with a good backhand to suddenly kill twelve people.”

“Thirteen,” Webster corrected.

Rudy grimaced. “God, that’s awful!”

“You should be talking to Amy Silver,” Jack said. “She was there. At the restaurant.”

“She was one of the girls at the Sweet Sixteen,” Webster said. “She’s been interviewed.”

“She hasn’t come back to school,” Kelly said. “I’m not good friends with her, but I did visit her. She’s really a basket case, poor thing.”

Webster said, “So you remember Harlan Manz, Ms. Sarah Amos? Did you ever meet him?”

She shuddered. “Couple of times.”

“Take lessons from him?” Webster asked.

“Nope,” Sarah said.

Kelly added, “I don’t think he taught teens. More like worked with women my mom’s age.”

“He taught teens,” Sarah said. “He taught my brother.”

Webster counted one one thousand. “And who might your brother be?”

“Sean Amos,” Dylan said. “Mr. Studmuffin—”

“Fuck off!” Sarah whined.

“Don’t tease her, Dyl,” Kelly said. “Ain’t her fault that she has the bad luck to share progenitors with
him
.”

Sarah had become edgy. “Sean doesn’t like to talk about
Estelle’s. I mean, he was really freaked when he found out about Harlan.”

Jack said, “I was freaked, too.”

Rudy said, “Speak of the studmuffin, that’s him in the red Acura convertible.”

Webster’s eyes went to a blond boy wearing a white shirt and sunglasses. His hair was down to his shoulders. Webster said, “Nice wheels.”

Dylan said, “Yeah, if you don’t mind changing tires every five thousand miles.”

Jack added, “Tread wears out faster than a virgin in an army barracks. Something screwy with the alignment and balance.”

Dylan said, “Wasn’t there a recall on the car, Sarah?”

“Beats me,” Sarah said. “I don’t talk to Sean about his car.” In an undertone, she added, “If I can help it, I don’t talk to Sean, period!”

“Would he mind if I spoke to him?” Webster asked.

Sarah shrugged. “Probably. Sean doesn’t like anyone to invade his
personal
space.”

Sean honked, but Sarah waved him over. The boy frowned, blasted the horn. Sarah, God bless her, remained rooted, continued to motion to him. Finally, he killed the motor, double-parked, and got out. Jogged over to his sister.

“Whaddaya
doing
? I gotta go!”

Sarah said, “Sean, this guy’s from
Homicide
—”

“What?” Sean took off his sunglasses. Glanced at Kelly, then at Webster with midnight-blue eyes. “Who are you?”

Kid spoke with a very slight Texas drawl. Webster took out his shield, introduced himself. Sean’s expression turned dark. “Whaddaya doing talking to a cop, Sarah? You outta your
mind
”

Sarah turned red. “I didn’t say any—”

“Just shut up and get in the car.”

“Sean, I—”

He grabbed her arm. “Just
shut
up and get—”

“Drop her arm
now
!” Webster ordered.

Immediately, Sean let go of his sister’s biceps, raised both his palms in the air. “No prob…
sir
.”

Webster glared at him. “You know the drill, son?”

“I don’t know
what
you’re talking about.”

“How ’bout this? You keep your hands to yourself. Is that clear enough?”

“Fine. Can I go now…
sir
?”

To Sarah, Webster said. “You okay, Ms. Amos?”

“She’s
fine
!” Sean sniped at his sister. “Now look what you’ve done. Get in the car.”

Sarah hugged her books tightly, didn’t move.

Webster said, “I’ll take you home if you want, Sarah.”

Red-faced, Sean silently mouthed, “Get! In! The! Car!”

Sarah blinked back tears and ran toward the Acura. Again Sean gave Kelly a sidelong glance, then turned his stormy eyes to Webster. “Is that what you do for kicks, Detective? Hassle
minors
? Your
superior
will hear about this!”

Webster said, “Uh-huh. In the meantime, quit grabbing girls, including your sister.”

Sean bit his lip, spoke to the group. “You guys are stupid fucks. You’re playing into their bullshit. You know how cops twist words. Go home.” He slipped on his shades, muttered, “Bunch of retards!” and jogged off.

Webster let out a gush of air. “Whew! What’s his problem?”

But the kids had turned silent. Sean had done his job. Finally, Rudy said, “Sorry. I’ve gotta go.”

“We all do,” Jack said. “Weight-training practice.”

Rudy said, “That’s not a problem, is it?”

“Not at all,” Webster said. “Thanks for your help.”

Dylan shrugged. “We really didn’t do anything. You coming, Kelly?”

“In a minute.”

Rudy paused, then said, “Sean’s an asshole but he has a point, Kel. We shouldn’t be sticking our noses where they don’t belong.” He turned to Webster. “No offense.”

“None taken. Thanks again.”

When the boys were out of earshot, Webster said, “You don’t have to talk to me, either.”

Kelly was silent.

Webster said, “You used to date Sean, didn’t you?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“He kept looking at you.”

“He dated my older sister, Tara.”

“And?”

“Why do you think there’s an ‘and’?”

Webster looked around. “Kelly, it’s not real private here. Can I meet you someplace public but more discreet? I’ll call my female partner to come join us. Her name is Detective Marge Dunn. Phone the police station at Devonshire and ask for her and about me, too. We’re both legitimate.”

“It’s okay. I believe you.”

“Tell me a place.”

“It’s not necessary.” Kelly fiddled with her plait. “I don’t have anything to say.”

“You don’t like Sean much, do you?”

“Why is that relevant?”

“He seems…cautious around you.”

“Why are you asking about Sean? I thought you wanted to know about Harlan Manz.”

She’s gotcha, Tom
. “Well…” Webster’s mind raced for a logical retort. “Sarah said he freaked when he found out about Manz. That he acted strange—”

“So?”

Webster stalled. “Maybe he knew something about Harlan. Something that made him feel guilty when the shootings at Estelle’s went down.”

Kelly played with her braid.

“Were they tight?” Webster asked. “He and Harlan?”

“How should I know?”

He was probing too deeply. “Yeah, that’s true. Anyway, thanks a heap for your time—”

“I hate him,” Kelly blurted out.

Webster paused. “Harlan?”

“No, Sean. I hate his fucking guts.” Kelly’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He knocked up my sister. Paid for the abortion, of course. Then dumped her. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he spread rumors about her. Horrible lies. He said she was…she was
diseased
.”

“That’s despicable.”

“My sister hasn’t been the same since. She was a straight-A student. Now she’s lucky if she pulls C’s. He ruined her. Just…buried her self-confidence.”

Her eyes moistened. But she held the tears in check.

“Your parents know about the abortion?” Webster asked.

“Of course not.”

“How old is Tara?”

“Seventeen.”

“And you are?”

“Fifteen and a half.” Kelly paused. “I saw him shove Tara once. After he dumped her. She just wanted to
talk
to him and he…he pushed her away like she was
rancid
or something! I became infuriated!”

“I don’t blame you.”

“Yeah, well, listen to this. Later that day, I caught him alone. I told him that if he ever, ever dissed my sister again, I’d go straight to his
mother
. He tried to scare me, grabbed my arm just like he did to Sarah. I took my other hand and slapped his face. Hard! I
stunned
him. He’s been nervous around me ever since. He’s all bluff and no bite.”

“So his mother never knew about the abortion?”

“No.”

“How’d he get the money?”

“Detective, obscenely rich boys like him
always
have money.”

“And you think his mom would be upset about the abortion?”

“She’d have a fit and a half because she’s a
real
right-to-lifer. Card-carrying protestor with pictures of aborted fetuses and all that crap. Never mind that she dresses like the whore of Bourbon Street. When it comes to politics, she’s Madame Reactionary.”