Stalker (22 page)

By now, her pancakes had lost their luster, leaving a buttery film on her teeth. She put the half-eaten stack back
in the refrigerator, spilled out the orange juice, but helped herself to a second cup of coffee. Time to get down to business.

Out came the paper and pencil.

First she wrote down
Crayton
? Why would the mess in her apartment have anything to do with Armand Crayton? Even if Scott and Marge and her father were on the verge of digging up something about the case, why would the perp take it out on her?

But what if the perp had known about her prior acquaintance with Crayton, and thought she knew something about his murder?

But then why would he satisfy himself with just messing up the apartment? Why not just…
gulp
…kill her? Was this a warning of some sort?

Warning about what?

Remember
.

If it wasn’t Crayton, who could it be? Her dad had suggested three possibilities—Lopez, Marx, and Tropper. Take them and the motives one by one.

Suppose Lopez trashed her place because she didn’t let him drive her home. Rather unstable gent if that indeed was the case. She’d watch him over the next couple of days, talk to him…maybe even mention the incident and judge his reaction. But she’d have to do it subtly so as not to arouse suspicion.

She put a check by Andy Lopez’s name.

Tropper. Everyone at the scene had witnessed her triumph with Estella and how she got the gun away from her, deflecting what could have been a tragedy of domestic violence. Despite Tropper’s best efforts to make her look like a fool, Cindy had come through like a hero. Tropper was pissed, not only because she emerged victorious but also because her victory was done in public. He had tried to put her in her place, and instead she put him down. He had to have felt some embarrassment. Could he still be holding a grudge?

If he was, he was nursing it slowly, allowing Cindy to
type up his reports, fetch his coffee, and do his filing. Clark Tropper seemed more amiable than he had ten days ago. Downright friendly at times…asking her to introduce him to her father. Maybe
presumptuous
was the correct word. Was he luring her into believing all was fine, while rearranging her animals into Kama Sutra positions?

The phone rang again. She picked it up from the table and punched in the talk button. “Yo.”

“Weren’t we supposed to hook up?”

It was Hayley Marx. Cindy said, “We left it that you were supposed to call me.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I overslept.”

“So, it must have gone well last night,” Cindy announced. She hoped her voice was appropriately casual as well as bored.

“It was all right.” She sounded less than enthusiastic. “He was preoccupied.”

Cindy bit her lip. “About what?”

“He mentioned all the carjackings that are going on in his area. I think the heat’s on. You’d probably know more about it than I would since your dad’s in Devonshire.”

“You think my dad talks to me about work?”

“I dunno. You two seem close.”

“We are close. But Dad keeps his work to himself.”

Hayley said, “That’s cops in general—tight-lipped. Anyway, lunch has come and gone. How about dinner?”

“Where were you ten minutes ago? My mom just called. I’m going over to her place at six-thirty.”

“Dinner with Dad, then with Mom?” Hayley commented. “Cindy, you’ve got to get a life.”

Mocking her
. Cindy said nothing.

Hayley’s voice sounded casual. “I suppose we could go out to Bellini’s afterward. How about if I meet you there at, say…nine?”

How long did she have to stay at her mom’s to be polite
? “Make it nine-thirty. If I leave too early, I’ll hear about it from Mom for the next month.”

“I think you’re too enmeshed with your parents.”

“And I think you should give up the closet psychology.”

Hayley’s laugh was full. “Okay. Bellini’s at nine-thirty. It ain’t all that great, but at least they know my name.”

Then she disconnected the line. Picking up the pencil, Cindy tapped it against the sheet several times. Under the title of candidates, she wrote down
Hayley Marx
at the top of her list.

Decker woke up
with a blistering headache. He wasn’t used to sleeping in the daytime, and this particular sleep had been cruel, replete with distorted images that he was now desperately trying to erase. His sheets were sweat-soaked and his face felt swollen and itchy. Despite the pounding in his head, he realized the house was quiet. It was close to five. His family had probably gone back to shul, the boys for Mincha services and Rina had most likely taken Hannah to the afternoon youth program. Decker labored as he got out of bed, the soles of his feet tingling when they touched the ground. Trudging to the bathroom, he wiped his face and neck with a wet towel, brushed his teeth, then ingested a couple of Advil, knowing that while the tabs might not conquer the pain, they might hold back the army of throbbing nerve endings.

He put on his bathrobe and ventured out, finding Rina stretched out on the couch, her head and feet propped up on pillows of lace and satin. She looked up from her book, then closed it. “How are you feeling?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Rina took her feet off the couch. “Come, sit down.”

“You don’t want me near you.”

“S’right. I’m used to musky, wild beasts.” She tapped the seat cushion. “Sit.”

Decker did so, albeit reluctantly. “Where are our progeny?”

“The boys took Hannah back to shul.”

“Did they offer or did you make a request?”

“Actually, they offered.”

Decker raised his eyebrow. “They actually displayed some altruism. That’s nice. She didn’t call, did she?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“I didn’t hear anything, and there’re no new messages on the machine.” Rina shrugged. “You knew she wasn’t going to.”

“No. It would have been a nice courtesy, but I guess that’s asking too much.”

“It has more to do with assertion than courtesy, Peter.”

“You’re right about that,” Decker answered. “Anything I do will be interpreted as interference. You know, as pissed as I am at Oliver, there’s this side that says, hey, he’s a good cop. If she’s willing to accept his help, that’s not so bad. So wait till this resolves. And then when it’s all over, I’ll go ahead and beat the crap out of him—”

“Peter—”

“I’m kidding.”

“No, you’re not.”

He rubbed his forehead. “Do you
believe
his story? He just
happened
to be there when she got drunk.”

Rina said, “Actually, I do.”

Peter gave her an incredulous look. “You can’t be serious.”

“Peter, you knew he was in Hollywood, talking to that detective about the carjackings. It seems reasonable that he might run into Cindy.”

Decker grumped. “I don’t believe in coincidences. I bet he
planned
to meet her there and this drunk story is just a cover. They’re doing this to spite me.”

“With all due respect, I don’t see Scott as a predator. He’d never seek Cindy out, but if she was around and needy…I could see him saying, ‘Well, why not?’ Cindy, on the other hand, is very anxious to prove that she’s your equal. By coopting Oliver, she’s become one of your detectives,
de facto
—”

“Oh, please!”

“Which makes you not just her father but her peer. Which is why she’s so stubborn about accepting your help. She doesn’t want to break this facade about you two being equals.” She took his hand. “We know she’s terrified. I’m just wondering if there’s a way we can help her without getting in her face.”

“There’s a way,” Decker said. “I can find out who this bastard is and mow him down. It would be preferable to do it with her help, but not essential. If she’s keeping secrets from me, then I can keep secrets from her.”

“That’s all very well and fine except you haven’t any ideas about his identity.”

“She gave me some ideas,” Decker said. “I’m not exactly starting from square one.”

Rina said, “What kind of ideas?”

“A couple of co-workers. And I’m still not ruling out that this has something to do with the Crayton case.”

“That was over a year ago.”

“But it’s not over. We all feel that some of these recent jackings are connected to it.”

“What about the other jackings?”

Decker looked pained. “We’re still working out the details. Why does she
do
this to me? She knows how much I worry.” He bounced up and took the cell phone from its recharger. “Drives me crazy! I guess I have to realize that I’m the adult in this relationship.”

“Maybe that’s part of the problem. That you feel you’re the only adult.”

He stared at her. “Since when have you become so shrinky?” He made a face. “It’s those community college courses you’re taking. I hope it’s a passing phase. Whenever the wife starts getting too interested in psychology, watch out for the marriage.”

Rina laughed. “Don’t worry. You’re stuck with me.”

“I certainly hope so.” Cindy’s machine kicked in. Decker dutifully waited for the beep. “Hi, sweetheart, I just called to find out how you’re doing. Please call me back and let me know you’re okay. I love you.” He punched the end button. “Done.”

“Except now you’re worried about her not being home.”

“Exactly.” Decker tried her cell phone. When he didn’t get any response other than that terrifically maddening recorded message—
the mobile customer you are trying to reach is unavailable
—he paged her. Either she was slow to respond or she was purposely ignoring him. After ten minutes of flattening the floor, he gave up and sank into the couch. He held his head. “I’m at a loss here. Help me. What should I do?”

Rina took his hand. He was suffering. She was suffering, too. Yet she had to be the rational one, her concerns and feelings secondary because Cindy was his daughter. “You want to go over there, don’t you?”

“I don’t know!”

Rina said, “I think that when kids are born, they should be implanted with subdermal locators. The nurse could put it in right when he or she does the silver nitrate drops.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice.”

“Instead of schlepping out there, why don’t you page Oliver?” Rina suggested. “Maybe he’s with her.”

“I don’t want to think about that.” He wrinkled his nose. “But it’s a good idea.” He punched in Oliver’s pager and waited, pacing until he heard the phone come to life. Decker picked up the receiver with shaking hands. “Yo.”

“What’s up?” Oliver answered. “Is Cindy okay?”

Decker’s heart sank. If Oliver was asking, it meant she wasn’t with him. “I certainly hope so. I thought that maybe she was with you.”

Oliver hesitated. Now there was a real change of heart. But at this point Deck was probably so nervous, he’d accept any kind of protection. Oliver figured he fell somewhere between a territorial ape and a pit bull in Decker’s mind. “She’s not with me,” he said. “I’ve been at the Camry’s crash site with Marge for the last three hours. Is there a specific problem with her?”

“No. She’s just not home. Maybe I’ll swing by just to make sure.”

“Marge and I have about fifteen, twenty more minutes
here. I know it’s your Sabbath. If you want, we’ll go by. Save you the bother…if you want.”

Trying to be diplomatic by asking him
, Decker thought. “Did you see her this morning, Scott?”

Oliver inhaled sharply. Was Decker about to grill him? But before Scott could answer, Decker said, “I was wondering if she told you anything new. Anything she didn’t feel comfortable telling me?”

Okay. So that was it. Decker was scared shitless, taking help from anyone because Cindy was his daughter, a cop,
and
a reckless kid. “Actually, I did stop by around six. I made her breakfast, but she fell asleep before I was done cooking. No, she didn’t tell me anything new.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Decker shifted the phone into his other hand. “Find out anything at the crash site?”

“Amazingly, the techs pulled a couple of prints off the driver’s wheel.”

“When was this?”

“No more than a half hour ago. With this new computerized national fingerprint network, if the prints are there, we’d know something in a couple of hours
if
this was a weekday. As it is, we’ll have to wait until Monday.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing you probably don’t know. Yes, it appears that the car was pushed and doused with an accelerant. An amateur job, though, because too many things were left to chance. Someone was depending on the explosion to ignite the accelerant. A pro would have had some kind of remote device just in case it didn’t burst into flames. If we trace the driver through the fingerprints, maybe we can open some doors to the jackings. Provided we can find the driver. I’m sure Cindy got a better look at him than she remembers.”

“Probably. I’d ask her about it if I could
find
her. I’ve tried her pager, her cell phone, her personal phone. I’d try her at work, but first off, she’s not on duty, and second, if it got out that I was calling to check up on her, she’d explode. You don’t carry the baggage I do. Maybe you could call up Hollywood for me.”

“Sure, if that’s what you want.”

Trouble was, Decker didn’t know what he wanted. He said, “Did you ever get hold of Elizabeth Tarkum?”

“She’s away for the weekend.” Oliver made a snorting noise. “Now there’s a novel idea. People taking off work on weekends. I’ll try Tarkum on Monday morning.”

“Marge tell you about her conversation with Dexter Bartholomew?”

“That he got off on flirting with Crayton’s wife. And he didn’t want anything to do with his wife’s jacking, or, for obvious reasons, with Crayton’s death. We started kicking around some possibilities. First, a thing between Dexter Bartholomew and Lark Crayton. Then we thought about an affair between Crayton and Elizabeth Tarkum, which makes more sense because they were both victims.”

“Dex popping Crayton as revenge, then having his wife carjacked to teach her a lesson. Kind of a stupid plan. Carjacking is a weird way to perpetrate a revenge crime. And two similar carjackings of two socially acquainted people would automatically throw suspicions on the spouses. Which is exactly what’s happening.”

“Except that we didn’t connect them for over a year because the crimes happened in two different divisions. We might not have ever put the two together. It’s only because we’ve got a bunch of recent unsolved jackings that forced us to look elsewhere. An arrogant guy like Dex probably thought he got away with it.”

“And now that we’re digging this up again?” Decker asked.

“People who might have known something about the original Crayton jacking would watch their ass. That could include Cindy. I’m sure she doesn’t know jackshit about Crayton. But if Dex thinks she does, that might…you know what I’m saying.”

Indeed Decker did. But hearing it so concisely gave his already wired nervous system a start. “What about Stacy Mills? You said you felt she was hiding something. Why don’t you and Marge go track her down? Impress upon her
the need to be forthright. Maybe she was a friend of Lark or Armand, and one of them confided in her.”

“I have no problem with that, but what about Cindy?”

Decker held back a sigh. “I’ll swing by her place simply because I’m too nervous sitting here and doing nothing. It’s probably a total waste of time. She’s not home. I don’t know what I expect to accomplish.”

“Peace of mind maybe.”

“Oliver, I gave up on that romantic notion a long time ago.”