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

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СКАЧАТЬ Karns answered. “Now I’d like to get back to me business in peace if you don’t mind.”

      “Just a few more questions. The animals’ corpses must have been very heavy. You had to have had help to lug them over to the grave.”

      “We did the grave first, Guv. Then we put them to sleep near the hole.”

      “Ah, that would make sense.”

      “You’d know it if you really had horses.”

      “I had horses but I never put them down. The vet always did it.”

      “Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t get your hands dirty.”

      Decker ignored the snide comment. “And you’re sure that you and Paco did all the digging by yourselves? If you’ve been honest until now, don’t go blowing it on a simple question.”

      Karns lowered his eyes. “Maybe Pine helped, too. Why don’t you call him up?”

      “We can’t find Joe. Any idea where he might be?”

      “No, not me.” Back to eye contact. “Go ask Brady. He’s in charge.”

      That was Decker’s next step.

      The head of Kaffey security picked up on the third ring, but the connection was lousy. “I can barely hear you, Lieutenant. Can you text me?”

      Decker hated texting. His thumbs were too big for the phone’s keyboard. He pulled the unmarked onto the shoulder just before the entrance to Coyote Ranch’s freeway ramp. “Where are you?”

      Static.

      “I can’t hear you.”

      “What about now? Can you hear me?”

      “Better,” Decker said. “Don’t move. Where are you?”

      “At the Newport Beach residence. Mace and Gr … (static) … hired me … an eye on the place and, more important, on them.”

      Decker wasn’t sure he heard right. Grant continued to trust Neptune Brady even after Gilliam and Guy were murdered under his watch? He said, “I need to talk to you.”

      “I can’t leave … (static) … promised … (static) … protect them.”

      “You’re breaking up, Mr. Brady.”

      “Damn this reception.”

      “I heard that.”

      “I can’t leave my post, Lieutenant.”

      “Then I’ll come out to Newport.”

      “I’ll ask Mace and Grant. If it’s … (static) … it’s okay by me. When … (static) … be here?”

      “It’ll take me at least a couple of hours.”

      “… (static) … bosses don’t mind, how about three?”

      “Three would be perfect.”

      Brady might have tried to say good-bye, but all Decker heard was the crackle of white noise then silence.

      After marking the mug books with Post-its, Rina turned to the first preselected page. “This guy here—Fredrico Ortez—he could be the slighter man of the two.”

      Decker said, “Could be or definitely?”

      “It’s either this guy or maybe this guy.” She turned to another page. “This man here … Alejandro Brand, the guy with the scar. The two men look alike—at least in the mug shots.”

      They did resemble each other—shaved heads, narrow faces, small noses with broad nostrils, thick lips, and deep-set eyes. Under distinguishing marks, both had tattoos of animals: Brand had a snake on his arm, and Ortez sported a dragon on his chest. Other marks included XII and a B12 for Bodega 12th Street.

      Rina said, “I thought they might be brothers except they have different last names.”

      “Didn’t you tell me that one of the guys had a snake tattoo?”

      “I did. Maybe you should take a closer look at Brand?”

      “Maybe I will. What about the bigger of the two men?”

      “Maybe this guy …” Rina showed him a picture. “Or maybe him or him. I’m less sure about that one.” She closed the books. “To tell you the truth, after a while everyone begins to look alike. At the time, I could picture them in my head, but things fade. I just gave them a glance.” She shrugged. “Sorry.”

      Secretly, Decker was relieved. “You did great. I’ll copy down these names and see if we have any legitimate reason to bring them into the station house. And even if we don’t have anything on them now, these guys are mess-ups. If I tailed them for an hour, I’m sure I could catch them doing something illegal.”

      “I could have been more precise if I looked a little harder, but he kept telling me not to stare … the blind guy … Harriman.”

      “He used good judgment.”

      “I don’t know if I could pick them out of a lineup.”

      “You won’t have to. If I can bring in these jokers on something else, I’ll record the interview and send the tapes over to Harriman along with some similar tapes. He told me he could identify the voices. Let’s see if he means it.” Decker closed the mug books and stood up. “I have to go to Newport Beach. It’s a long ride. Want to keep me company?”

      “What’s in New—Oh, that’s the Kaffeys’ main house. I suppose I could go look at the art galleries. See if there are any botanical paintings I want to add to our collection.”

      Decker frowned. “Two-thirds of the collection is sitting in closets. And we didn’t pay for those. Why would you want more and pay for them?”

      “I don’t pay for anything, Peter. I cull. I talk about what I have, and the gallery owners talk about what they have. Sometimes I trade up and sometimes I trade down. It’s kind of fun.”

      “My idea of fun would be to sell the collection and put the money in the bank.”

      “That is an option.”

      “But not yours. And that’s why I’m a philistine and you’re a connoisseur.”

      “You’re not sentimentally attached to the paintings like I am. I see one painting and I think of Cecily Eden and how much fun the two of us had together talking about plants and gardens although I’m still mystified why she left her paintings to me and not her heirs.”

      “She knew you’d appreciate them and you do.” He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s get going. If I have a spare minute, I’ll come with you to a couple of the galleries. It would give me great pleasure to see you dangle a Martin Heade in front of the wide-eyed art dealers.”

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