The Burnt House (39 page)

Decker waited.

“Manny got stabbed in a bar fight and the knife went right through the heart. He didn’t stand a chance. Belize had his brother’s body in
the pickup. We needed to get rid of it before someone reported the incident.

“We were out in a flash. We drove and drove into the middle of the Mohave Desert. We buried him somewhere in the middle of nowhere. By the time we finished, it was close to daybreak. We left Nevada and drove to New Mexico because that’s where Belize wanted to go. As he drove he told me what had happened that night. He said that Beth had become enraged and suddenly charged Manny with a knife. That Manny reached for the first thing he could find just to fend her off. He said that Manny killed Beth in self-defense.”

“What did Belize say that Manny used to fend her off?” Decker asked.

“He didn’t say. He kept saying it was self-defense, but the law wouldn’t see it that way. Especially now that Manny was gone, it would look like the both of us killed Manny and Beth in order to steal the church money. He had this way of making me feel that I was part of it all, that I had no choice but to stick by him or else we’d both go down together.”

“Do you actually believe that Manny killed Beth?”

She shrugged haplessly. “I don’t know who killed Beth. I never questioned Ray’s story.”

“And do you also believe that Manny died in a bar fight?”

“Totally.” Lindie was on surer ground. “Manny was drinking really heavily and was acting really belligerent. He was picking fights with everyone he met. I think it was his way of atoning for what happened…his personal method of suicide.”

Decker nodded, although he suspected that Lindie was now speaking as the loyal wife. It was clear to him that Belize Hernandez had killed Beth. Now he was just wondering if he killed his brother as well.

Lindie was still talking. “…kept saying he would rather die than to go back to prison. He told me I needed to help him, that we needed to start a new life together…from scratch. From where I was standing, that sounded like a great idea.”

Decker nodded.

“Belize actually convinced me that it was better that Manny had died. Now it looked like Manny and Beth had stolen the church money and disappeared together. I know now that I should have run when I had the chance back in Vegas. But you have to realize that I was scared out of my wits. What if Belize or Manny got mad and hunted me down? I knew that one of them had brutally killed Beth. I was convinced that they would have murdered me without blinking an eyelash.”

“Still, you went with Belize to southern New Mexico?”

“He had convinced me it was Manny who was the killer. It was very convenient for me to believe that.”

“Do you still believe that?”

“I never asked, Lieutenant. I’m not going to start now.”

Decker understood. “So you went with Belize to New Mexico.”

“Yes. We stayed there for about two years. As soon as we got there, Belize changed his name to Raymond Holmes. That was
fine
with me. Ray took odd jobs in construction. Then we moved to Arizona, where the building trade was booming. He worked for a firm and learned the business inside and out. My husband’s a smart man.”

“When did you become Mrs. Holmes?”

“About a year after we moved to Arizona. We settled down into some kind of parody of a normal existence. When Silicon Valley started its construction boom, we moved to San Jose. Ray began a business renovating old homes. He did very well financially. We had kids. We joined a real church. We never spoke about the incidents again.”

“And you never thought about leaving him?”

“I thought about leaving him all the time, Lieutenant. I thought about leaving him when I suspected he was having an affair with that flight attendant. It turns out I was right. I knew he was lying. For all his being a criminal, Ray was always a terrible liar. I could always tell when he was trying to snow me. I knew in my heart of hearts, he was lying about the flight attendant. I suppose I just chose not to believe the truth. You have to understand that I was very good at denying what I didn’t want to deal with. Staying with him was easier than divorce. And
I think in the back of my mind, I didn’t know what Ray might do if I tried to divorce him and take half of my rightful assets.”

“You thought he might get violent?”

“Maybe. We had this weird relationship, Lieutenant. We were stuck with each other forever simply because neither of us trusted the other one out of our sight.”

T
HE INTERVIEW LASTED
close to eight hours. By the time the statement was typed up and signed by Lindie, it was time for breakfast. Decker had been up for thirty hours, kept awake by the sheer energy that comes with solution. Although he was sure in his mind that Belize Hernandez had murdered Beth Devargas, there wasn’t enough current evidence to sustain murder beyond a reasonable doubt. There was enough proof to assign Belize some degree of culpability in his brother and sister-in-law’s demise. New evidence might be uncovered, but the case was over thirty years old. People die, things get destroyed, memories fade…

Lindie Holmes would probably accept some kind of plea to lesser charges in exchange for her statement and testimony. Decker believed her when she stated unequivocally that she hadn’t been involved in either Beth’s or Manny’s murder, but the assignment of charges was up to the district attorney’s office. Lindie probably wasn’t looking at any jail time because of her cooperation. Why she chose to cooperate when she wasn’t required to do so was left up to speculation. Decker
figured she had finally had enough of Raymond Holmes. The verification of her husband’s affair with Roseanne Dresden, the pilfering of her hard-earned cash, and thirty years of gnawing guilt had finally pushed her to the point of no return. She had confessed freely without much prompting. She not only wanted to be rid of the bastard, but she craved absolution for her part in the horrific past events. Decker couldn’t give her that kind of forgiveness. Neither could the Devargases, although their clemency would mean more than Decker’s. The only person who could truly exonerate Lindie Holms was dead.

The Holmes/Hernandez case would move past the grand jury: that much was certain. Decker had done all he could do. The rest was up to a good prosecutor and twelve intelligent people.

While Lindie was talking to the D.A., working out a deal to finally disentangle herself from her husband, Decker had a chance to catch up on his cell phone messages.

The news from Marge was good. “It glowed as blue as South Pacific. If there was that much protein after a cleaning, Lord only knew how much was originally there. We’re going after a warrant for the car. We expect something first thing in the morning.”

Decker glanced at his watch. It was already past “the first thing in the morning.” He called Marge on his cell. “Yo.”

“It’s been a while,” Marge said. “You must have had a productive evening.”

“I finished up about ten minutes ago.”

“Good stuff?”

“Yes, but it’s complicated. I’ll probably be back in L.A. around two. Did you pull the warrant?”

“We pulled the warrant, we have the car. Things are looking up.”

“Great. We’ll talk about it later. Cell lines aren’t protected, and for all I know, we’re being secretly taped by the enemy.”

“Who’s the enemy?”

“That remains to be seen.”

AS SOON AS
the plane took off, Decker fell asleep. He didn’t stir until he felt a slight shaking, courtesy of a flight attendant. He roused himself to a state of semistupor, and was barely conscious enough to drive home from Burbank. He was too tired to notice that he had accidentally driven to his house in the West Valley instead of the station house. Rina took one look at him.

“Go immediately to bed. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.”

“Can’t.”

“How long have you been up?”

“Awhile.”

“You’re the living dead.”

“I’ve got to go back to work. I probably shouldn’t be driving. Can you take me back to the precinct?”

“You’re asking me to be an accomplice in this folly?”

“I’m
finally
getting somewhere with both cases. I can’t stop now.”

Rina sighed. “Did you eat?”

“Just tanked up on coffee and even that’s not working anymore. Maybe some protein will help.”

“Salami sandwich?”

“Way too strong.”

“Egg salad?”

“That would be terrific, but only if it’s no inconvenience.”

“Not at all. Go take a shower and I’ll make you some lunch. You’ll feel better after you’ve changed clothes and have eaten.”

A shower and food were exactly what he needed. He dragged himself into the bedroom. By the time he’d cleaned up, he felt slightly renewed. He knew he shouldn’t waste time by eating at home, but he needed a few moments with his wife to center his aching body. “So tell me what’s new?”

“Your daughter made Model UN.”

“Really. That’s great!”

“Hannah was very proud, although I’m not surprised. The kid could debate her way to the Supreme Court.”

“Ain’t that the truth? Have you spoken to Cindy and Koby?”

“They’re doing fine.”

“How’s the construction going?”

“Quote, unquote—Mike is a godsend. If you’re going to be conscious this weekend, I’ll have them over for Shabbos.”

“That would be wonderful. To prove my gratitude, I’ll make ribs.”

“Yum, but don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” He finished off his sandwich. “This really hit the spot.” Rina knew him very well. She had made him a second one without even asking. Sheepishly, he picked it up. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Food always tastes better when you’re hungry. I take it the case is going well?”

“Not perfect, but good enough.” He gave her the salient details, leaving out the gory parts.

“Do you have enough to get it past the grand jury?” Rina asked.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure of that.”

“And you believe that the wife wasn’t there when it happened?”

“I do.”

“So where does that leave you in the case against Raymond Holmes?”

“You mean what do we have against him?”

Rina nodded.

“We have a signed statement given by Holmes’s father. In it, Ray told his father that he pushed Beth, and that’s how she died. Unfortunately, the father is now backtracking, claiming his memory is fuzzy. He’s now saying that it could have been Manny who pushed Beth and being that the guy is close to eighty, maybe he was confused.”

“And what do you think?”

“First of all, Beth didn’t die by hitting the back of her head against a wall. She died because someone bashed in her head with a blunt object. According to Lindie, there was spatter everywhere.”

“Ugh!”

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay. I should be used to it by now. So who do you think hit Beth Devargas?”

“Not that my opinion matters in a court of law, but I
know
it was Raymond Holmes. Manny wasn’t described as being violent or having a hair-trigger temper. By the accounts of those who knew him, he was a pretty decent guy who smoked a lot of weed and ate a lot of food. I think after Ray killed Beth, Manny couldn’t bring himself to turn in his brother.”

“Or maybe he was frightened of his brother.”

“Could be, but I don’t think so. According to Lindie, after Beth was murdered, Manny took over. Lindie described Manny as being very calm, probably more shock than anything else. After it wore off and Manny realized that he had buried his murdered wife, I think the boy was overcome with guilt. He had lost everything—his father, his brother, his wife. He was despondent. He drank himself into a fatal bar fight: his own brand of suicide.”

“Poor man. Trapped by being born into the wrong family.”

“Still, people make bad choices,” Decker told her. “He should have known his brother was bad news.”

“At least Manny was related to Ray. They had a history together. What was Lindie Holmes’s excuse?”

“Just plain dumbness.”

“And you really don’t think she was involved in the murder?”

“Not in the murder, no, but she did help Ray or Belize clean up the mess after Beth was killed. She also helped bury her brother-in-law in the desert.”

“So you’ll charge her with what? Tampering with evidence?”

“Exactly.”

“Suspended sentence.”

“Two for two.”

“And what about Roseanne Dresden? Do you think Holmes had anything to do with her disappearance?”

“That’s an open question.” Decker told her about the disposed carpet
mats that shone blue with blood protein after being sprayed with luminol. “I haven’t ruled out Holmes, especially considering who he is, but he’s down on the list. After his arrest, we got access to his credit cards. I turned up a receipt with his signature on it, putting Holmes in San Jose at ten-fifteen on the morning of the crash.”

“You found him an alibi.”

“I did. There is no way Holmes could have murdered Roseanne that morning, disposed of the body, and then hopped a plane back to San Jose and signed that receipt at ten-fifteen on that same morning.”

“Could Holmes have hired someone?”

“The next question, and it’s a very good question. So far we don’t have any evidence that proves or disproves that theory.”

“So that brings you back to Ivan,” Rina said. “All that blood on the car mats…and Ivan took in the car to be completely reupholstered. There’s a logical connection.”

“Logic doesn’t always enter into the picture, but we do what we can.” He looked at his wristwatch. “Ready?”

“Whenever you are.”

“That’s never.” He stood up. “But tuition is expensive and I’ve got to make a buck, though Lord knows there are easier ways.”

“But you love your job,” Rina said.

“Sometimes,” Decker admitted. “It’s rewarding when you solve some perplexing cases and put away some real bad people. But most of the time, the work is a lot of drudgery and just plain sad.”

MARGE WAS WAITING
for him, a cup of coffee in her hand. “We’ve got news.”

She wasn’t smiling but she wasn’t frowning. He’d just have to wait for the verdict. Decker pulled out the key to his office. “It’s been that kind of week.” He opened the door. “Come in and tell me all about it.”

She handed him the coffee and stared at his ravaged face. “When was the last time you had some sleep?”

“A while back.”

“Go home, Decker,” Marge told him. “We can execute warrants without you.”

Oliver walked into the office and regarded Decker’s puffy face. “You need sleep, Loo.”

“I do, but as long as I’m here, you two might as well bring me up to speed. Then one of you has the privilege of taking me home.”

“I can do it,” Oliver said. “I’m ready to pack it in myself.”

“What happened to your car?” Marge asked.

“Rina drove me. I’m not alert enough to be behind a wheel.”

“Good call.” Oliver leaned against the wall and looked at Decker. “You want to go first?”

Decker sipped coffee. By now, his gut was on fire from all the acid, but being conscious took precedence over comfort. “I have a quick question, first, and then I want you two to tell me what’s going on. My question is: Are we still considering Raymond Holmes as a suspect in Roseanne Dresden’s murder?”

“Why?” Marge said. “Do you have anything new that would point us in that direction?”

“No, but I’ll add this. If Holmes did it, it would most likely have to be a murder for hire. A credit-card receipt puts him in San Jose at ten-fifteen on the morning of the crash. So I’m flinging the question back to you. Do you have any indication that he was involved?”

Oliver and Marge exchanged looks. Then she said, “I’ll repeat what you told me over the phone. It’s complicated.”

“This is not what I wanted to hear,” Decker said. “Okay, what do we know so far?”

“We are pretty sure that the Beemer was a kill spot,” Oliver said. “Forensics stripped off the new carpet, went down to the original metal, and sprayed it with luminol.”

“It lit up like blue fireworks,” Marge said. “There was a big pool of blue on the rear floor behind the driver’s seat, but there was also a lot of fluorescent spatter.”

“On the steering wheel, on the dash, on the gauges, on the gearshift, on the convertible roof, which wasn’t replaced, just cleaned.”

“There was a steady stream that fluoresced on the glove compartment. It looks like the initial spurt that might come from a stab wound that hit a major artery.”

Decker said, “Do we know if the blood is Roseanne’s?”

“Not yet,” Oliver said. “We called up Shareen Lodestone and asked her if she might have something that contains her daughter’s DNA, like an old hairbrush or an old toothbrush.”

“No go on the toothbrush, but she does have an old hairbrush,” Marge said.

“We need a hair with a root,” Decker said.

“Yes, that would help,” Oliver said. “But even if we don’t find a hair with a root, we can always do a mitochondrial DNA. If Shareen’s mitochondrial DNA a is perfect match to the mitochondrial DNA extracted from the blood, we can establish that the blood has to have come from a female progeny of Shareen. The woman doesn’t have any other daughters. I think the conclusion is obvious.”

“Can we extract mitochondrial DNA from the samples we have?”

“According to forensics, definitely,” Marge told him. “The samples are not that old and not that degraded. Plus they found what they think might be tissue.”

“Excellent.” Decker smoothed his mustache. “So if there’s a match, we can be almost certain that she was murdered in her car.”

“With that much fluorescence, it’s a safe bet,” Marge told him.

“Can we put Ivan at the scene?”

Marge said, “We found some latent bloody prints. Several partials on the dash and a lovely right thumbprint on the steering wheel itself.”

Oliver said, “Meaning that the prints were made at the time Roseanne was murdered in her car.”

“You’re hesitating. What is it? The prints aren’t Ivan’s?” Marge and Oliver shrugged. Decker swore. “Do you have
anything
that links Ivan to the bloody scene?”

Oliver said, “We have his prints all over the place, but since he’s been driving the car for over six months that proves nothing.”

“Damn!” Decker told himself to backtrack. Let the evidence point to
the suspect and not the other way around. “Where is Ivan right now?”

Marge shrugged. “We have a warrant to search his car for blood, Loo, not one for his arrest.”

“We’re working on that,” Oliver told him. “As soon as the blood is determined to be Roseanne’s, we’ll get a warrant for his arrest.”