Blindman’s Bluff

TWENTY-SEVEN

THE PAIR LOOKED like Marge and Oliver. The woman had on a gray sweater with the sleeves hiked up at the elbows, dark blue trousers, and sneakers, but the man’s dress was a giveaway-a spiffy blue sports jacket, khaki slacks, and oxfords. As they came closer, their faces took form.

“What are you doing here?” Decker said.

“I called up Marge,” Cindy said. “I thought she’d want to know.” To Oliver, she waved. “Hello, Scott, how have you been?”

“I’ve been dandy, Cynthia. How’s married life?”

“So far, it’s an excellent fit.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re well.”

“Thank you.”

Marge said, “Now that we got the pleasantries over with, you wanna tell us what the hell happened?” She looked at Cindy. “Either one of you.”

Although there was no reason for them to have come down, it was good to see friendly faces.

Decker said, “As we were leaving the house, someone took aim and fired. We’re here, we’re whole, but Grant went to the hospital with a gash in his leg.”

“He was shot?” Oliver asked.

“I don’t know. It was dark and I couldn’t tell. Maybe his leg was ripped open when I fell on him.”

“Did you discharge your gun?” Oliver asked.

“Nope.”

“That’s good,” Marge said. “Less paperwork.”

Cindy said, “They came, they shot, they left-”

“They?”

“They, he, she…I couldn’t see a thing,” Cindy said. “Last thing the Loo wanted was to accidentally pop a neighbor out walking the dog.”

Marge said, “If Grant was shot, that means every single Kaffey has had a close encounter with molten lead.”

Decker rubbed his forehead. “I was thinking the same thing. We’ve run out of family suspects.”

“And maybe that’s the point,” Marge said. “To confuse us. Because all three Kaffeys are all alive.”

“Maybe all three were in on the hit together,” Oliver said.

“Could be,” Marge said. “It appears that Grant got away with the least damage.”

“Mace’s wound was minor as far as shotgun wounds go,” Decker pointed out. “And don’t forget Antoine Resseur is still missing.”

“Why would he shoot Grant?” Oliver asked.

“To have Gil all to himself.” Decker held up his hands. “You asked for a motive, I gave you the first thing I thought of.”

Cindy checked her watch. It was almost ten. They’d been at the scene for three hours. “Luckily, I was off duty, and I didn’t discharge my weapon thanks to Papa’s instructions. Instead of doing extra paperwork, I get to go home.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Decker kissed his daughter’s cheek. “Until we know who the good guy is and who the bad guy is, keep an eye over your shoulder.”

Cindy pointed to her chest. “We’re the good guys.” Then she swept her hand across a twinkling L.A. basin. “Those are the bad guys.” She kissed Marge and Scott. “Take care of the Loo in my absence.”

Decker watched his daughter slide into the driver’s seat of her car and kept staring until her taillights faded into nothingness. “I’m ready to pack it in.”

“I told you we shouldn’t have bothered,” Oliver said to Marge.

“And I told you, you didn’t have to come with me,” she countered.

Decker said, “Since you two were nice enough to drive all the way out here, come to Beverly Hills with me. We can kick around a few ideas.” He exhaled forcefully. “My brain is still in overdrive, and I could use some fresh input.”

“What’s in Beverly Hills?” Oliver asked.

“Rina’s parents. We’re spending the night there.” He gave them the address. “It’s about twenty minutes from here.”

Oliver made a face. “You’re voluntarily sleeping at your mother-in-law’s?”

“I’m sleeping at my mother-in-law’s, not with my mother-in-law,” Decker told him. “I like Magda. She provides us with room service and first-class food at any hour. Plus, the accommodations are spacious and cheap.”

Oliver thought about it. “Does she need any borders? Maybe she’d like a handsome police detective to protect her.”

“She already has that. It’s called a son-in-law.”

MAGDA’S SPREAD INCLUDED finger sandwiches, vegetable crudités with onion dip, fresh fruit, slices of pound cake, slices of chocolate cake, almond cookies, potato chips (for a little crunch), mixed nuts, and mint candy.

“I’ll go make a fresh pot of decaf if anyone wants,” she said.

The woman was on the dark side of eighty, as thin as linguini, and never appeared in public without makeup. Her blond hair was meticulously coiffed-teased and sprayed for maximum volume. Rina often said that her mother was the night person while her father, Stephan, got up with the sun. He was sleeping while she was in her element playing hostess. She wore knitted black pants that hung on her clothes-hanger hips and a red cashmere sweater.

“If you’re having some, I’ll take some,” Oliver told her.

“I’ll have a cup,” she told him. “What is cake without coffee?”

Rina said, “I’ll do it, Mama.”

“No, no,” Magda insisted. “I like to make coffee. You sit and eat, Ginny.” She smiled at Oliver. “By the way, my granddaughter made the pound cake.”

“Obviously Hannah learned from the best,” Marge said.

Magda patted Rina. “I don’t know if you mean me or Ginny, but we both take the compliment.” She disappeared into the kitchen.

To Decker, Rina said, “You made her very happy when you said you’re a little hungry.”

The Loo smiled. “Do I know my mother-in-law or what?”

“This is really good,” Marge said as she bit into an egg salad sandwich. “I feel like we should be having high tea.”

“If you would have given her a little more time, I’m sure she would have baked scones.” Rina stood up. “I’ll keep her company. You two keep an eye on him. He’s out of my sight for a couple of hours and he gets shot at. I am not pleased.”

As Rina was walking out, Decker said, “It wasn’t planned, you know.”

She turned and looked over her shoulder. “Unlike last time?”

“How many times do I have to apologize…” Decker was talking to the air. “That woman has a gigabyte worth of memories, most of them infractions that I’ve committed for the last nineteen years.”

“That’s the point,” Oliver said. “You exist so she can tell you what you did wrong.”

“That is neither just nor fair,” Marge said. “And Rina is certainly not like that. The situation was unusual.”

Decker said, “We can change the subject now.”

Oliver complied. “What do you guys think about all the Kaffeys having war wounds? Do you think it’s possible that there’s actually someone out there who wants to annihilate the family or is it collusion?”

Decker popped a cashew into his mouth. “Who’d want to hurt the family?”

Oliver took another piece of chocolate cake. “What about the guy back east who’s in competition with the Greenridge Project?”

“Paul Pritchard of Cyclone Inc.” Decker took a mint from the candy bowl. “Lee Wang gave me some articles that quote Pritchard. He says he isn’t worried at all about Greenridge. He thinks the project is a big lox. Now that could be bravado. But even if Pritchard was worried, do you think he’d be worried enough to murder an entire family?”

“Far-fetched, but not impossible.” Marge picked up another egg salad sandwich. “Is there another family member who’ll inherit if the rest of the family is murdered?”

Oliver spoke with a mouthful of chocolate cake. “Doesn’t Mace have a son?”

“He does,” Decker said. “His name is Sean.”

Marge said, “Even if all the principal Kaffeys were dead, Sean Kaffey wouldn’t inherit everything. Grant has a kid. And would Sean be stupid enough to gun them all down within a ten-day period?”

Oliver said, “What would be the harm if I looked into him? It sounds stupid, but greedy people act stupid all the time.”

“Sure, look into Sean, but don’t forget basic police work. We need to find Gil Kaffey and Antoine Resseur.”

Marge took out her notepad. “You want me to make that my personal mission?”

“Priority number one,” Decker told her. “Find out everything you can about Resseur. Grant said the breakup between Gil and Antoine was friendly, but maybe it wasn’t.”

Marge said, “Maybe their breakup was staged to keep Resseur out of the picture while Gil knocked off the rest of the family. It still strikes me as odd that whoever blasted Guy and Gilliam to smithereens didn’t bother to finish off Gil.”

“Agreed.” Decker took another handful of nuts. “But we all know that if Gil contracted for the hits, he didn’t do the actual shooting.”

Everyone agreed.

“Oh, we got some good news today,” Decker said. “Sheriff T from Ponceville finally sent us a copy of Rondo Martin’s prints via FedEx. We found a match with a bloody print at the scene.” Amid high fives, Decker said, “Now we can prove that Rondo Martin was at the scene. We need to find him.”

“I’ll mark that as priority number two,” Oliver said.

Decker smiled. “Then this is number three. Brett Harriman identified Alejandro Brand’s voice as one of the voices he overheard at the courthouse. Unfortunately that’s not enough to indict Brand on murder charges.”

“You think he did it?” Marge asked.

“He knows something.” Decker shoved the nuts in his mouth and chewed. “Foothill picked up Brand on meth manufacturing charges so I got a copy of his print. Nothing in the system and no match from the unknowns at the crime scene.”

“That’s a bummer,” Oliver said.

“It should be that easy,” Decker said. “Brand is in jail and isn’t going anywhere soon. I’d like to dangle a carrot of a reduced sentence to get him to talk about the hit.”

“And you still think Harriman’s information is reliable?”

“He picked out Alejandro Brand’s voice after rejecting two other tapes. Plus, Rina identified Brand as the guy she saw at the courthouse. Also, if Harriman was making things up, how would he know about Joe Pine?” Decker paused. “On the other hand, he’s a weird guy. He showed up at my doorstep this afternoon.”

Oliver made a face. “Why?”

“He just wanted to talk to Rina. He asked if I had set up a lineup for her to identify Brand.”

“The P.D. would have a field day with that.”

“She sent him away,” Decker asked. “But as she watched him go, she noticed a car following Harriman.”

Marge told Oliver the story. “I’m checking out Saturns with Popper Motors.”

Decker said, “Be interesting to see if any of the skid marks from tonight’s getaway matched the treads on any of the Saturns from the dealership.”

“But first we have to find the car,” Marge said. “If the guy at Popper Motors can tell me some names, I can drive by the addresses and see if any of them own a navy Saturn with tinted windows.”

Decker eyed a piece of chocolate cake and then decided to wait for the coffee. “Willy Brubeck and I are going up to Ponceville to see if we can’t get a better fix on Rondo Martin. While we’re there, we’ll check out the Mendez family and a possible connection to Ana Mendez. While I’m gone, you two double-check Riley Karns and Pablo Albanez. Both the men knew where the horses were buried, so both the men could have dumped Denny Orlando.”

“I’ll take Karns and you can have Albanez,” Marge told Oliver.

“Sounds good.”

Decker said, “And last, we need to find Joe Pine or José Pinon.”

“Are they definitely one and the same?”

“That’s a good question. Start with José Pinon because that’s who Harriman mentioned.”

Marge said, “We’re still trying to get a copy of his prints. Brady doesn’t have them on file. We’re trying to push Juvey at Foothill to get us a copy because he had some teen offenses. Those records have been sealed unfortunately, but we’re trying.”

Magda came back, Rina in tow carrying a tray with a silver coffee service and five mugs. Decker jumped up. “I’ll take that.”

“Thank you,” Rina said.

“Who wants decaf?” Magda announced.

“I’m game.” Decker took a piece of chocolate cake and ate it in four bites. “Delicious. Who made this one?”

“I did.” Magda beamed. “Your wife made the almond cookies.”

“Those are great,” Marge said. “I’m a disaster in the kitchen, and you have three women who could open up a bakery.”

Decker debated, then took a second piece. “It’s an XX conspiracy to keep me fat and happy.”

He patted his burgeoning stomach.

“One out of two ain’t bad.”