Jupiter’s Bones. Faye Kellerman

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      “It’s not a problem for me.” Rina looked at Hannah, who was tugging on Decker’s sleeve.

      “Let’s play, Daddy,” the little girl shouted.

      “In a minute, honey,” Decker answered.

      “Hannah, let Daddy take off his jacket.”

      “You can take off your jacket in my room!”

      Hannah’s room was an outpouching off their master bedroom. Decker had built the house with only two bedrooms. In retrospect, poor planning. But after his divorce, he never assumed that he’d be hosting anyone other than Cindy.

      Hannah pulled at her father’s hand. “Let’s go, Daddy!”

      “Hannah, hold on!” Rina chided.

      The little girl looked disappointed, but remained quiet. Rina immediately felt guilty. “Oh, go ahead! We’ll talk later.”

      The five-year-old brightened. “Goody! Let’s go!”

      “A minute, sweetie.” Decker held back impatience. “Boys okay?”

      “They should be home any minute.”

      “Do you need me for anything?”

      “It’s all right. Go with your daughter. We’ll have the evening to catch up.” She looked at him with piercing eyes. “You are done with work, right?”

      Decker winced. “Scott and Margie are coming over around eight. But just for an hour or so.”

      Rina didn’t speak. She had heard that one before.

      “No, really,” Decker reassured her. “We’ll wrap it up quickly. It’s the Ganz thing. Which seems pretty straightforward … at the moment.”

      She had heard that one before as well. “It’s fine, Peter. I put Hannah to bed at that time anyway.”

      Again, Decker grimaced. “Didn’t I say that I was going to put her to bed tonight?”

      “You can do it tomorrow night.”

      “I said that last night, didn’t I?”

      “C’mon, Daddy! Let’s go do puppets!”

      “Go, Peter,” Rina told him. “I’ll call you when dinner’s on the table.”

      Hannah said, “You can sit on the floor while I get the show ready.”

      “Can I change my clothes first, Hannah?”

      “Sure you can change your clothes!” she shouted with generosity.

      “Maybe I can look at the paper while you set up?”

      Hannah’s face darkened.

      Rina said, “Now you’re pushing it.”

      “Silly me,” Decker said, “I meant after dinner.”

      Hannah recovered her cheer. “Sure you can look at the paper after dinner, Daddy. After we play squiggles.”

      “She’s made plans,” Decker said.

      “Yes, she has.” Rina smiled sadly. “Lucky her. She has yet to learn how futile plans can be.”

      Pluto led the detective duo into an alcove off the main sanctuary. It had enough room for a trestle table and four chairs. The walls were covered by bookshelves. As she sat, Marge caught some of the titles, all of them having to do with the metaphysical. No surprises there. Nova, the podiatrist, paused before choosing the seat opposite Marge. Immediately, Oliver took up the chair next to the Doc, closing in on the man’s personal space.

      Chunky and balding, Nova appeared to be in his middle thirties. He wore the costume of a privileged attendant—the blue robe and purple vest—but the vest sported an embroidered caduceus. His round face held an almost hairless complexion as well as dark, saucer eyes. Probably his hair was once dark brown, but because of its thinness and streaks of gray, it had taken on the sandier tones. His fingers were stumpy, his nails cut short. His hands were shaking—nervous. Marge felt he should be. He had no business signing a death certificate.

      Pluto remained at the entryway, his arms folded across his chest. His position made it clear to all that he had no intention of leaving. Marge looked up at him and said, “Thank you, sir, you can go now.”

      “I’d prefer to stay,” he answered.

      “I realize that,” Marge said. “I’m trying to be polite.”

      Pluto remained rooted to his spot.

      Oliver shrugged. “If our presence here is problematic, sir, we can take Nova down to the station house—”

      “On what grounds?!” Pluto blurted out.

      Nova’s voice held a tremolo. “Brother Pluto, I appreciate your show of solidarity. But if they want to talk with me in private, I have no objection.”

      Pluto’s eyes narrowed.

      Quickly, Nova added, “Brother Pluto, you know how much I respect your wisdom. If I require your help, I shall ask for it immediately.”

      Marge said, “Make it easy on all of us.”

      Pluto glared at the detectives. “We all have work to do. Be quick.” Then without another word, he turned and left.

      Oliver stood up and peeked around the opening. Pluto had remained nearby. Oliver gave him a wave. The short man turned an angry red, but finally left the temple.

      Oliver returned to his place. “I think Brother Pluto has a trust problem.”

      Nova said, “He’s protective.”

      “I think it goes deeper.” Oliver took out the tape recorder and handed it to Marge. “I think he doesn’t want you saying the wrong thing.”

      Nova bristled. “I can speak for myself.”

      Marge made the necessary identifications for the tape, then placed the recorder in front of Nova. “So you take full responsibility for your own actions?”

      “Of course!” Nova was indignant. “We’re all adults.”

      Marge said, “So tell me why you signed Jupiter’s death certificate when you’re only a podiatrist.”

      Nova raised his voice. “Detective, I am a trained medical practitioner. I was the most qualified here to make such a determination.”

      “And if you were on a desert island, I’d say fine and dandy,” Marge said. “But here in L.A. there are better people to make that determination. As a medical practitioner, you must know that suspicious deaths require investigations—”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ