The Mercedes Coffin (21 page)

“Of course,” Marge said. “When was she to get the money?”

“It was in two stages. Half when she was twenty-five and half when she was thirty. But we could see the writing on the wall. It wasn’t going to work.” She lowered her head. “The trust provided us with a onetime spendthrift clause just for these kinds of problems. The clause meant we could take back the money from the trust and put it in our account at any time.”

“I see where this is leading,” Oliver said.

“She was furious. She threatened never to talk to us and that we’d never see our future grandchildren.” Delia’s eyes welled up with tears. “It was a terrible scene! Thank God for Ben.”

“What happened?”

Delia swallowed back a sob. “He offered us an alternative. We would give Melinda the money, but Ben would have full power to manage it.”

Marge said, “And you didn’t have a problem with having your son-in-law in charge of the money?”

“Whatever he’d do, it had to be better than what Melinda would have done. He promised to spend the money on things for the family — education for their future children; the boys weren’t born yet. He said he’d use it for a life insurance policy and the occasional toy for the family like a boat or a car. He’d buy her jewelry so she felt like she would have something of her own. He promised that he’d manage her money and we could rest assured that it would be put to good use.”

“And Melinda agreed to that?”

“It was either that or no money at all.”

“So she agreed?”

“We had her put it in writing.” She looked away and sighed. “And Ben, God bless him, kept his word. He consulted us with every purchase, even though he didn’t have to. It was our idea to use it for the Mercedes. We wanted to reward him.”

She hung her head.

“No one counted on him dying. Once he was gone, she ripped through all of it: their savings, her jewelry, the boat, the motor home, the cars, and his life insurance. It was just damn lucky that she couldn’t touch the boys’ educational funds. She gave me this cock-and-bull story about hiring a private detective and that’s where all the money went. For what she went through, she could have hired all of Pinkerton. It was so obvious, it was pathetic.”

Marge said, “Maybe she was trying to save face.”

“Or trying to get us to give her more money. We didn’t fall for it. All of our financial support went for the care of the boys. We bought them clothing, we bought them computers, we paid for their health care, and we paid for their tuition to private schools. Each Christmas they got a box filled with the latest toys. Melinda got a five-hundred-dollar gift certificate to Saks.”

“That’s not too shabby,” Marge said.

“Oh, but to her… she was seething, but what could she do? She couldn’t support them on her own. She needed us.”

“And after she remarried?”

“She dropped us like a hot potato.” More tears. “After all we did for her, she just cut us off. And she wasn’t much better to the boys. Lucky for us that they remained close… Jared did, anyway.”

“And Nick?”

“As I said before, I’d be happy to welcome Nick into the fold. Nick and Jared talk a lot. Jared always makes sure to tell me that Nick says hi.” She inhaled deeply and let it out. “You win some, you lose some. I’m closer to Jared than Melinda is… not that she cares much. Her true love is gambling. Mike is the best husband she’ll ever find because he funds her. What does he care? He has millions. You think he’d give anything to his stepsons?”

Oliver said, “He doesn’t share the wealth?”

Delia paused. “Actually, that’s not fair. It could be that he has offered and they’ve refused.” She wiped her eyes. “It’s still such a shame. She’s my only child. Of course, I love her. We love her. We’d love to have a relationship with her, but not if we have to be abused by her tantrums. I will no longer allow her to scream at us. I don’t want to hear a litany of everything we’ve done wrong.” She clasped her hands tightly. “God, I miss Ben. Please find out who did this.”

“We’re working hard on it,” Oliver said.

Marge asked, “When the murder happened, what were some of the theories?”

“What do you mean? The police said it was a carjacking.”

“I know that. But Ben was going home from a civic meeting. There were other people in the parking lot. How does a guy like that get carjacked?”

“I don’t know, Sergeant,” Delia said. “But a brand-new Mercedes might have attracted attention.”

Oliver said, “Don’t you think he would have noticed someone rushing up to the car. All he had to do was put his foot on the gas pedal and take off.”

“Detective, sometimes you’re just too close to notice things. I should have been suspicious when Melinda wanted to learn poker from her father, but I just thought it was cute. I should have been suspicious when Mark taught her craps, but I just thought it was father-daughter bonding. I should have been suspicious the first time we took her to Vegas when she was twelve and she begged us to let her put a quarter in one of the slots. And we capitulated even though we could have gotten kicked out of the casino. I just thought she was enthusiastic. By the time I actually got a healthy dose of suspicion, it was too late. Maybe that’s what happened to Bennett. By the time he actually noticed the monster, there was already a gun to his head.”

ANOTHER LATE NIGHT.
Decker pulled the car over a half block from home and made the call from there. He didn’t want Rina to overhear because he knew what she’d say. He was prepared to leave a message and was surprised when Donatti answered. It was almost one in the morning back east.

“You’re in bed.”

“I wish. I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours.”

“Cut down on the uppers, Chris. They’re bad for your liver, plus they’ll turn your baby blues a nasty shade of red.”

“What do you want now?”

“Rudy Banks is missing.”

“And?”

“I thought you might be able to help out.”

“Jesus, Decker, I barely know what’s going on in my territory, let alone three thousand miles away. What do you expect me to do?”

“Just ask around, all right? We found blood in his apartment.”

“Don’t you have techs for that kind of thing?”

“Yes, we do. I think it’s a crime scene, but I don’t think it’s Rudy’s blood.”

“If it’s not Rudy, what do you care?”

“See, that’s the problem. I do care. All you have to do is call up your ill-tempered producer friend Sal and have him ask around. At the very least, it would be handy to know if Banks is alive or dead.”

“What am I getting out of it?”

“You get me as your father figure. Better than that demon seed who spawned you or the monster who raised you.”

“It’s true I haven’t had luck with fathers. So why the fuck would I want you?”

“Because deep down, Chris, there’s a little boy inside crying for help. Oh, wait. I forgot. Deep down inside, you’re a stone-cold psychopath.”

Donatti’s comeback was to cut the line. Decker folded back his cell and stowed it in his pocket. He had a smile on his face.

JARED AND AMY
Little were home by 9:45. There were quick introductions, then Amy scurried upstairs while Delia woke her husband. The next fifteen minutes were devoted to Jared ushering his grandparents out of the door and walking them to their car. When he came back, he said, “Just give me a few minutes to change.”

“Take your time.” Oliver checked his watch.
Not too much time. It’s already a little after ten.
When Jared was out of earshot, he turned to Marge. “What do you think?”

Marge said, “Delia’s story explains Ben Little’s toys.”

“I could also see how the situation would build up resentment in Melinda.”

“Man, ain’t that the truth. His spending her money.”

“In her mind, the agreement looked like collusion between Ben and her parents.”

“Lots of resentment,” Marge said. “But enough to murder?”

“I don’t know,” Oliver said. “I’m usually pretty good at reading women — for survival’s sake — but Melinda’s hard to decipher.”

Marge said, “I’m just wondering how much Ben actually kept Melinda’s gambling in check.”

“I was thinking the same thing. What if Melinda was overspending, figuring that Ben would cover it with her own trust fund money? Then what if Ben suddenly cut off the access to their bank accounts? Did the resentment build to a breaking point? Or maybe she got herself in such a fix that Ben’s life insurance policy was her only out.”

“A life insurance policy is always a good motive for murder.” Marge put her finger to her lips when she saw Jared bounding down the steps. The man had his mother’s coloring — sandy blond hair and dark eyes — but his father’s sharp features. He had changed into sweats and slippers. He plopped down on the couch and threw his head back. He closed his eyes and asked them how it went.

“Your grandmother was easy to talk to,” Marge told him.

Oliver added, “Very forthright about everything.”

He leaned forward, eyes open. “That means Mom, right? It’s hard on Grandma… their estrangement. Did you get what you were after?”

Marge said, “The only thing we’re after right now is information… what was going in your parents’ lives when your father was murdered.”

“Also anything unusual going on in the marriage,” Oliver said.

Marge said, “Sorry, but we needed to ask.”

Jared said. “I was only thirteen. I paid way more attention to the Lakers than I did to my parents.”

“If there’s trouble, kids are astute about those kinds of things.”

Oliver said, “And some parents make it obvious that things aren’t going too well.”

“Not mine,” Jared countered. “I’m sure they argued, but they did it quietly.”

“So as far as you know, things were peaceful?” Oliver asked. “It’s important to the investigation.”

Jared sat back in an armchair and directed a laser beam stare at Oliver. “It may be important to the investigation from your perspective, but the way I’m hearing things, it seems like you’re implicating my mom.”

Marge said, “No, that’s not what we’re doing.”

Jared slowly turned his eyes in her direction. “Then explain it to me, Sergeant.”

“I suppose I want to know if your mother was actively gambling. That could open up a lot of previously unconsidered avenues.”

“Like my father’s life insurance policy?” Jared snapped.

“I’d be lying if I said we’re not thinking about that,” Marge answered. “If your mother was gambling heavily, it would be a way to get hold of money. But I’m thinking more about some underworld figure going after your father because of your mother’s unpaid debts. If I may be blunt, the murder was execution style.”

Good cover, Dunn.
Oliver chimed in. “Someone was trying to make a point. Like Sergeant Dunn said, sometimes kids hear things. Maybe you didn’t because, like you said, they argued quietly. But we have to ask, Jared.”

“It’s a fifteen-year-old case,” Marge said. “You were thirteen. You’re not expected to remember everything.”

“I can’t even remember what I had for breakfast,” Oliver said. “Anyway, if you want more neutral questions, can you remember anything about your dad that would have indicated he was worried or nervous about something?”

“My dad wasn’t the nervous type. He was a doer.”

“Yeah, that’s why it would stand out if he was nervous.”

“Well, he wasn’t… not that I remember. Dad could always figure out a pathway of action. And if it didn’t work, that was okay, too, as long as we learned from our mistakes.”

“So as far as you saw it, nothing unusual was going on at the time?”

“No, I already told you that.”

“Fine,” Marge said. “Anything else you’d like to add that would help us along?”

Jared was still on the previous topic. “Did you ask Nick these questions?”

Oliver said, “I asked him some things. In light of what your grandmother said, I’ll probably call him up again.”

Marge said, “Maybe he’d remember more than you. He was older.”

“Doubt it,” Jared said softly. “Nick had a way of zoning out when…” He looked away.

“When what?” Marge asked. “When your parents fought? It’s okay if they fought. It’s okay if your father yelled. My father was a big yeller. He screamed more than he talked.”

“My dad
rarely
raised his voice.”

“I like the emphasis on the word
rarely,
” Marge said. “So the couple of times he did raise his voice, I bet it made an impression on you.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

Oliver shrugged. “It’s certainly your prerogative not to talk.”

Silence.

Marge stood up. “Jared, we’ve taken up enough of your time. Thanks for allowing us to come into your house and bring up painful topics.”

Jared regarded her with suspicious eyes. “I went to law school. I did plenty of interrogation in my course work. By your line of questioning — the hit-and-miss quality — it’s clear to me that you don’t have a clue as to who did it.”

Oliver smiled cryptically. “We have clues. Eventually we’ll put them all together. And when we do, we’ll have answers.”

Marge held out her hand. “Good-night, Jared. Thanks again.”

Jared waited a beat. “Are you going to be interviewing my mother again?”

“Most likely,” Marge told him.

“So then you can ask her what they fought about.”

“We already did,” Oliver said. “Just like you, she said they rarely fought.”

“More like they didn’t fight at all,” Marge said. “
That
I have a rough time believing.”

Jared sighed. “It was money.” Marge waited for more. “The
few
times I heard my parents arguing, it was about money. She was spending too much. And they weren’t knock-down, blow-out rip-roaring fights. I just remember hearing my dad’s voice in anger. And that was unusual.”

“Thanks, Jared, for being candid.”

“And isn’t that what most couples fight about?” Jared said. “Money?”

“Money is definitely a flash point.”

“Money as well as kids, the in-laws, and sex…” Jared shrugged. “I think you can sum up most of the flash points with those four topics.”