Peter Decker 2-Book Thriller Collection: Blindman’s Bluff, Hangman. Faye Kellerman

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       10

      The two cops stationed outside Gil Kaffey’s ICU room momentarily confused Decker because he had approved only one uniform. As he neared the area, he realized that the second sentry was actually a rent-a-cop. Seeing Decker approach, the men stopped their conversation, straightened up, standing with legs apart and arms behind their backs, and watched him suspiciously. Decker flashed his badge to the LAPD uniform—a fifties-plus man with salt-and-pepper hair named Ray Aldofar who had gone a little soft around the middle. The rent-a-cop’s name tag said Pepper. He was young, fit, and short and had combative eyes.

      “Gentlemen,” he said.

      “Lieutenant,” Aldofar answered. He made the introductions to Pepper and called him Jack.

      It was Decker’s turn to be wary. “Who hired you to watch this room, Mr. Pepper?”

      “Mr. Kaffey insisted on having someone from his private staff.” His voice was officious.

      “Which Mr. Kaffey?”

      “Grant, Mace, and Gil.”

      Decker peered through the glass windows of ICU. Gil was sleeping and still hooked up to a number of tubular apparatuses. “Gil Kaffey is coherent enough to hire his own security?”

      Aldofar stepped in. “I was here when they brought Jack in, Lieutenant.”

      “Who is they?”

      “Grant Kaffey and a big guy named Neptune Brady. He’s the head of Kaffey security.”

      “I know who Neptune Brady is.”

      Aldofar said nothing. Pepper said, “Mr. Kaffey and Mr. Brady hired me to do a job. I was cleared by hospital security.”

      “You weren’t cleared with me.” When Pepper bristled, Decker said, “I’m sure you’re good at your job, but I’m investigating a multiple-murder homicide. I need to know who has access to Gil Kaffey and since you don’t report to me, you may miss something that I need.”

      Pepper remained on the defensive. “The Kaffeys are entitled to hire me.”

      “Except if it interferes in a homicide investigation.” Meaning how do I know if Mace or Grant Kaffey were in on the murders? Decker said to Aldofar, “I need to see that visitors’ list.”

      The cop took out his notepad and flipped over several pages. “Here it is … everyone who’s gone in and out of the room, just like you requested.”

      Decker took the list. Most of the visitors had been hospital personnel: Dr. Rain, attending doctors, and nurses. Family included Grant and Mace, who had come four times together. Grant had visited an additional four times by himself. Two times, Grant had brought along Neptune Brady, and Brady visited two more times alone. Antoine Resseur—Gil’s ex—had come by two times. Since only approved people had been allowed access, there were no other visitors. There had been at least a dozen attempted flower deliveries to the hospital room and all of the ICU; the bouquets were forwarded to the family compound in Newport.

      Decker gave the notepad back to Aldofar. “Keep your eyes open. Put me down on the list. I’m going in.”

      He looked at Pepper.

      “I know you have a job to do, but so do I. Let’s try to avoid stepping on each other’s toes. It works to your benefit, sir, because I have bigger feet.”

      As Gil’s eyes slowly opened, his face twisted in pain and he moaned. Within seconds, a young blond nurse named Didi was at his bedside injecting something into his IV line. “Demerol,” she told Decker.

      “Is it going to put him back to sleep?”

      “It might.”

      Decker waited. Gil closed his eyes and opened them several times. After about ten minutes, he managed to look at him with lids halfway closed. “Do I know you?”

      “Lieutenant Peter Decker of LAPD, Mr. Kaffey. I’m investigating what happened at the ranch. How do you feel?”

      “Shit.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      As he pulled up a chair, Didi the nurse said, “Did you clear this with Dr. Rain?”

      Gil said, “Leave him … leave him.”

      “Just a few minutes,” Didi told Decker. “Just because he can talk doesn’t mean he should.”

      “I won’t tire him out,” Decker said.

      “You’re … the head?”

      “I’m leading the investigation, yes. We have a lot of people working on this, and anything you can tell me might help.”

      “I feel … real … shit …” His head bobbed. “Shit.”

      “It hurts to be shot …”

      Eyes opened and stayed that way. “You ever …”

      “Yes, I’ve been shot. It hurts.”

      “Burns like shit.”

      “Yes, it does.”

      Gil’s head bobbed. “They said sí, sí … I heard it.”

      Decker took out his notepad. “The men who attacked you spoke Spanish?”

      “Yeah … sí, sí.”

      “Do you speak Spanish?”

      “No … just sí, sí.”

      “Did you recognize any other words?”

      “It happened … fast.”

      “I’m sure you were in total shock. How many people attacked you?”

      Silence.

      Decker said, “Sometimes it helps if you close your eyes and view it like a movie or a photograph in your head.”

      He closed his eyes. “I see one … two …” He was counting them in his foggy brain. “Three …” His face, pale to start, went ashen. “Flashbulb in my eyes … then bang … Bang, bang, bang!”

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