Prayers for the Dead

23

Along with the other Dees, Oliver made himself comfortable in Decker’s small office. Really comfortable. He put his feet on the desk and said, “Just when I had Shockley nailed, you arrest the priest…which screams setup.”

Decker pushed Oliver’s feet off, sat back in his chair, paged through his notes. “So give me another scenario.”

Martinez loosened his tie. “We just ignore forensic evidence-”

“I’m not ignoring anything,” Oliver said. “I’m just saying that Shockley was involved-”

“Is that clock right?” Gaynor asked out loud.

Decker looked at his wall clock, then his watch. Ten minutes to seven. Another late night. “Yeah, it’s right.”

Gaynor shook his wrist, then laid his arms across his stretched stomach. “My watch must have stopped. I’ve got five-thirty.”

Oliver said, “Anyone want to hear my take?”

“Shoot,” Decker said.

Oliver ran his hand through limp black hair. “First off, the clothes weren’t drenched with enough blood to account for the priest doing the popping. You shoot and stab two victims like that, you’re gonna hit an artery. You hit an artery, you’re gonna get a bath.”

Webster scratched his head, the ubiquitous headphones dangling around the nape of his neck. “So Bram wasn’t the hit man. But he was there.”

Oliver said, “For all we know, he could have come to the scene afterward-”

Webster asked, “Then why would he keep silent if he didn’t do anything?”

Marge took off her gray suit jacket and draped it over the back of her chair. “He’s protecting someone.”

Decker said, “Who?”

“One of his family members, most likely.”

“No, no, no!” Oliver protested. “You’re moving away from Shockley!”

“Maybe the putz didn’t do it,” Marge said.

Oliver said, “Can I play this out for you?”

“Go,” Decker said.

“Okay. Somebody’s been fudging the Curedon data, right?”

Webster said, “Computer boys really have a clever way of phrasing things, calling the break-in a cuckoo’s egg. I’d just say someone was messing with my shit.”

Marge smiled. “Scott, all our information is based on Leonard’s ex-mistress. Hardly an objective source.”

“Not true,” Oliver said. “Decameron knew something was going on with the data. Because all of a sudden Curedon’s success rate dropped and the death rate rose. Only now we know why. Shockley was fudging the numbers-”

“Why would he do that?” Webster asked.

“To make the data look better or worse or something. Because he’s doing hanky-panky with Berger. The cuckoo’s egg had been traced to somebody at New Chris. It ain’t Decameron or Sparks. Who else is there?”

“How about Elizabeth Fulton?” Martinez said.

“But she wasn’t seen hanging around Fisher/Tyne, talking to Shockley.” Oliver clenched his fists. “Look, we know Berger was once a cheat. Say Shockley and Berger are doing some kind of research fraud. Azor Sparks found out. Shockley had him popped. Then Decameron and Leonard found out. Now they’re gone. See a trend here, folks?”

“On a superficial level, yes, there is a connection,” Decker said. “I do feel certain that Sparks’s homicide is related to this new one. Because all the homicides involve shooting and stabbing…weird MO to have both.”

“Absolutely, they’re all connected,” Oliver announced.

“Okay, so Berger was a cheat,” Webster said. “Why would Shockley mess his job up to do hanky-panky with Berger?”

“Fisher/Tyne was in on it,” Oliver said.

“Where’s your evidence?” Martinez asked.

“I don’t have evidence,” Oliver snapped. “If I had evidence, Shockley would be behind bars.

Decker said, “I don’t know if this is worth anything, but it’s interesting to note that Berger admitted his past errors right away. Maybe he wanted to keep us rooted in his past instead of concentrating on his present.”

“Exactly!” Oliver clapped his hands in triumph.

Marge said, “Fisher/Tyne cut the deal with Sparks for a lot of money. With Sparks gone, maybe Shockley figured he could redo Sparks’s contract and continue Curedon research with Berger at a reduced price.”

Martinez said, “Wouldn’t Sparks’s contract with Fisher/Tyne still be in effect with his widow?”

Marge said, “That’s the point. It was bad enough paying Sparks, but he at least developed the drug. Who wants to give all that money to his widow, especially when she can’t help the drug through its laboratory bumps? Scott’s suggesting that maybe Shockley was fudging the trial numbers, making them look bad to get Sparks’s Curedon contract stopped. Then maybe he and Fisher/Tyne would rewrite a new contract with Berger at a much lower fee.”

“But it’s Sparks’s drug,” Martinez countered. “You can’t steal his drug. There has to be some kind of patent law.”

Oliver’s eyes lit up. “That’s why Shockley’s doing funny business behind backs. He’s hoping nobody’ll catch on.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Martinez said. “Decameron would catch on.”

“And that’s why he’s dead!” Oliver said triumphantly. “Him and Leonard and Sparks. Shockley got two in one today.”

“And he popped Leonard because the guy found the cuckoo’s egg?” Martinez shook his head. “B movie, Scotty.”

“Hey, you can’t write it strange enough,” Oliver said. “Can I finish?”

“Go on,” Decker said.

“Shockley realized that Leonard had caught on because Leonard had been acting real nervous. Then when Leonard didn’t show up for work today, Shockley figured he had to be whistle-blowing. Who was Leonard going to drop a dime to first? Decameron, of course.”

Martinez said, “So Shockley went over there and blew them both away. And that’s why Decameron had Bram’s apartment key in his pocket. And that’s why the priest had bloody clothes and shoes in his safe.”

“So what was the priest doing there, hotshot?” Oliver asked.

“Homosexual love triangle,” Martinez said. “All three of them were gay.”

“Leonard had an affair,” Marge said. “With a woman.”

“A quick affair,” Martinez said. “You told us that yourself.”

“That’s also according to Leonard’s ex-mistress,” Marge said. “Maybe it was longer than she was letting on.”

“Or maybe it was quick because Leonard was bad in bed with women.” Martinez thought a moment. “Okay…so maybe he’s bi. Whatever. Suppose the priest was having an affair with Decameron-”

“Yeah, yeah.” Oliver yawned.

“Bram’s key was in Decameron’s pocket-”

Oliver interrupted him. “And Azor Sparks found out about it. He threatened his son and was going to fire Reggie. So Bram or Reggie shot Azor. Then when Bram saw Decameron with another man, he went hog-wild and shot and stabbed them both. Then he tore the place up. Then he took his clothes, stuffed them in his safe along with pincushion porno, and baked cookies for one of his sick parishioners.”

“He did bake cookies,” Decker said. “I’ll be a witness to that.”

“The rest of it stinks,” Oliver said. “Even assuming Bram might have had a reason to bump off Decameron…why would he bump his father? Wasn’t he Daddy’s golden boy?”

“When he behaved himself.” Decker told them the Dana story, how Azor had slammed his son mercilessly for a brief period of time.

Oliver whistled. “God, that’s the type of shit you see on the talk shows. I fucked my twin’s wife. And the guy was still willing to marry her? What a dunce!”

“No wonder he became a priest,” Webster said.

“That all took place years ago,” Marge said. “I can’t see Bram holding a grudge for that long.”

Webster said, “Wouldn’t be a grudge unless y’all held it for a long time.”

“An eighteen-year-old soap opera is a weak motivation for this murder,” Oliver said. “I still vote for Shockley.”

“I like Waterson and the bikers,” Webster said. “You know why I like the bikers?”

“Why do you like the bikers?” Marge asked.

“Because of the weird MO-the shooting and the stabbing. More than one person. Bumping both Leonard and Decameron off would be too much work for one man-either Shockley or the priest.”

Decker said, “Unless the one man just broke in and shot them both first.”

Webster stated, “By the position and quantity of the spatter marks, the deputy coroner told Bert and me that he thought that one of the stab wounds broke a main chest artery in Decameron.”

“Descending vena cava,” Martinez clarified. “Big one right after the aorta.”

Webster said, “Since it squirted that much blood that far, he reckoned that the victim had been alive when he was stabbed. Meaning someone didn’t take ’em out first with a gun.”

Marge said, “Not necessarily, Tom. Decameron’s heart might still have been beating even though he’d been plugged through the head. If he’d been stabbed then-brain dead but his beating heart still sending blood through his vessels-there would have been arterial spatter marks.”

“But you’re stretching,” Webster said.

“Not really-”

“But Decameron certainly could have been alive when he was stabbed.”

“Of course.”

Webster said, “Look, I got no stake in pinning the homicides on any specific individuals. I am trying to examine this logically. And my logic says more than one bad guy. And to me that spells Sanchez and Sidewinder.”

“I’m trying to be logical, too,” Oliver said. “What do all three victims have in common, Tom?”

“Curedon.”

“Exactly. If this was something personal with the Sparks family, why was Leonard bumped?”

“Then what’s the priest doing with bloody clothes?” Webster said.

“What does the priest have to do with bikers?” Oliver said.

Webster said, “Maybe through Waterson, Bram contracted with the bikers to blow Decameron away.”

Marge said, “Because of an eighteen-year-old grudge?”

Webster shrugged helplessly.

“I like the idea that Leonard was whistle-blowing to Decameron,” Marge said. “But suppose his finking wasn’t the reason behind his homicide. He wasn’t the intended victim. Decameron was. For Leonard, it was just bad timing. A case of wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I like that,” Decker said.

“Then where is our Curedon Fisher/Tyne-FDA data?” Oliver said. “Decameron was going to show it to us. It isn’t in his office, it isn’t at his house. Where the fuck is it?”

“If someone was looking for data,” Martinez said, “why wasn’t Decameron’s office trashed?”

Decker said, “Because his files were nicely laid out, Bert. A scientific thief, knowing what he was looking for, could easily lift the proper folder without tossing the place.”

Oliver said, “Be great if we could get that data-”

“Maybe we can,” Gaynor interrupted. “If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, we’ll just go to the mountain.”

Marge furrowed her brow. “That’s not the saying.”

“What are you saying, Farrell?” Decker asked.

“Can’t get the data from Fisher/Tyne. But maybe I can get it from the FDA.”

They all stared at him. Decker said, “You can do that?”

“I don’t know.” Gaynor shrugged. “But I’ll give it my best shot.” He checked his watch. “It’s past eight, Eastern time. All the offices are closed. I’ll try tomorrow.”

Oliver said, “Your watch stopped, Farrell. It’s past ten back east.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right.” Gaynor reset his watch. “Thanks.”

“Something’s bothering me,” Marge said. “Why would Bram keep his bloody clothing in his apartment safe. Why not just chuck the threads?”

Martinez said, “Maybe he didn’t know where to chuck it.”

“Anywhere’s better than in your apartment safe-”

“Which brings to mind another question,” Martinez said. “Safes don’t come with apartments like dishwashers. What was Bram doing with a safe in his apartment?”

“Hiding porno,” Oliver said. “Told you it was his den of iniquity.”

“You need a safe to hide porno magazines?” Marge asked. “You stick them under a mattress.”

Everyone was silent.

Marge said, “Sparks’s cross just happens to be left at the scene of the crime, a key to his apartment just happens to be in Decameron’s pocket. Then Bram, who by all accounts is a smart guy, brilliantly decides to hide incriminating evidence in a safe inside his apartment with explicit, raunchy gay porno.”

“I told you it smells like a setup,” Oliver said.

“But he was there,” Webster said.

“Yeah, he was there,” Marge said. “But in what capacity?”

Oliver laughed. “He gave Decameron last rites.”

Again, everyone was quiet.

Oliver laughed again. “Aw, c’mon!”

Webster said, “If someone’s setting him up, why isn’t he protesting?”

Marge said, “Because he’s protecting someone.”

Decker thought a moment. “Could be. Trouble is, the guy’s not talking.”

Webster said, “One of the most frustrating suckers I ever did meet. Couldn’t squeeze a word out of him.”

Martinez said, “He’s a priest. Maybe by talking, he’d be violating his sacramental seal.”

“Did he claim priest confidentiality?” Oliver asked.

“No, he didn’t claim anything,” Webster said. “Just sat there, stoiclike, telling me he was sorry he couldn’t help me.”

“Hate to be a broken record, but he’s protecting someone,” Marge stated.

“You know, you can protect someone without deliberately screwing yourself up,” Martinez said. “I still think it was a lover’s spat. I think Bram went too far. And after he realized what he’d done, he panicked and fled, stuffed his clothes in the safe until he could figure out what to do.”

Marge poured herself a glass of water. “You all realize that just because Bram was looking at porn, doesn’t mean he was actually doing anything.”

Oliver smiled at her. “Right!”

Webster said, “The lady has a point. I’ve taken many a gander at hetero porn. But I don’t cheat on my wife.”

“Yeah, but you fuck your wife,” Oliver said. “The priest has no release.”

“He has his hands,” Gaynor said.

“Masturbation’s a sin,” Martinez said.

“So is buggery,” Oliver stated. “And didn’t you just tell me you thought it was a lover’s triangle?”

Martinez said, “You know, for either sin, Bram as a priest was going to have to do major penance. As long as he had to atone, maybe he figured why not go all the way.”

Webster said, “Well, I reckon I could see Decameron jumping at the occasion to bugger a priest.”

“I liked Reggie,” Oliver said.

“I have nothing against the man,” Webster stated. “But he was unconventional. Taking risks with his job, knowing his boss is a major Fundamentalist, just to pick up a couple of hookers.”

Decker checked his watch. “Has Bram met bail?”

“Nope,” Gaynor said. “Bail’s two hundred thou. Lot of bread. Still, given his bank account, posting a ten-percent wouldn’t have been a problem for the priest.”

“But he hasn’t posted,” Decker said. “He’s doing penance of some kind.”

Martinez said, “You bet he’s doing penance. Betcha he’s been doing it for a long time…asking Jesus to forgive him for being gay, figuring if he prayed hard enough, Jesus would make him normal.”

“No, I don’t agree with that,” Decker said. “He once mentioned to me that being gay wasn’t a choice, but an inborn preference. So if he’s gay, maybe he doesn’t feel guilty about it.”

“No way, Jose,” Martinez countered. “We Catholics feel guilty when the weather turns bad. Intellectually, Bram may know being gay isn’t his fault. But emotionally, he’s doing penance for it.”

Too many questions. Decker said, “Since you like Berger as a baddie, Scott, go over to New Chris tomorrow and feel him out.”

“Great.”

“Tom, you like Waterson and the bikers. Go see what they’re up to.”

“Mah pleasure.”

“Farrell, you’re doing the FDA connection.”

“I’ll give it my best shot.”

“Good.” Decker turned to Martinez. “You give Bram a try tomorrow. You’re Catholic. Maybe he’ll relate to you.”

“Why don’t you do it, Loo?”

“I can’t. Conflict of interest. My wife knows Abram Sparks from the past.”

Five pairs of eyes were suddenly upon him.

He shrugged. “No big deal. Just don’t want to give grist to the mill should this case turn nasty, say I have a personal involvement. Which I don’t. But…” He shrugged again. “You know how it works.”

Marge said, “How well did she know him?”

“Pretty well at one time.”

Again, the room went dead. Martinez broke the silence. “He isn’t going to talk. He’s a priest.”

Webster said, “Not that I’m defending the guy, but if he did kill Decameron and Leonard, what’s the reason?”

“You have to go with the gay angle,” Martinez said. “The porno in the safe, the key in Decameron’s pocket…it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“It was Shockley,” Oliver announced. “He’s the only one that makes sense.”

“So why does the priest have bloody clothing?” Marge asked.

“We’re repeating ourselves,” Decker said. “Let’s finish up the paperwork and sleep on it.” He stood up and opened his office door. “Tomorrow’s another day.”

The house was dark and quiet. Decker tiptoed into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. A moment later, Rina came in.

“You have the ears of a bat,” Decker said.

“It’s called Husband Echolocation.” Rina kissed his cheek. “Sit. I’ll make you tea. You look tired.”

“I’m beat!” Decker took off his jacket and pulled up a chair at the kitchen table. “How’re my children?”

“Hannah’s asleep, but the boys are still up.”

“Dare I see them?”

“Depends on how intact your ego is.”

“Not too great right now. Think I’ll wait a bit.” He smiled at Rina. “How are you?”

Rina leaned against the counter and looked upward. “Not too great.”

“So you’ve heard the news.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t talk about it.”

“I know. I had no intention of pressing you for details.”

“Thank you.” Decker loosened his collar, removed his tie. “His parishioners are keeping a nice little vigil.”

“Bram wouldn’t want that. He doesn’t like attention.”

“Maybe he appreciates the support.”

Rina was silent.

“I’m sorry.” Decker waited a beat. “If you want to talk to me, I’ll listen.”

“What’s the point?” Rina bit her nail. “There’s no point.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Oh, Peter, of course not!” She sat next to him. “You’re one of the most honest people I’ve ever met.”

“One of the most?”

“There are a few others.”

“Who?”

“My parents, Rav Schulman, my late husband…Bram.”

Decker paused. “O-kay.”

Rina bit her nail again. “So I won’t bother telling you that you’re wrong-”

“No, don’t bother-”

“Or that you made a terrible mistake-”

“No, don’t bother with that at all.”

Rina’s eyes misted. She tried to cover it with a smile. Decker took her hand. “I know you’re hurting. And I feel lousy that I’m a part of it. It’s my own damn fault. I should have removed myself as soon as you told me you knew him.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Ego and curiosity. It was stupid of me to go this far…to execute the warrant. Ah well.”

The water began to boil. Rina got up. “So you’ve washed your hands of the case?”

“No, I’m still supervising. But I’m not doing any interviewing…no direct contact with any of the parties involved.”

“So who’s questioning him? Marge?”

“Does it matter?”

“No.” Rina set a steaming mug on the table. “Is he even talking?”

“No, actually, he isn’t.” Decker stared at floating tea and mint leaves. “Has he always been closemouthed?”

Rina thought a moment. The tears came back. She wiped them away. “Bram’s always been circumspect.”

“He talk to you at all while he was caring for Yitzchak?”

“Of course.”

“About what?”

Rina shrugged. “Sometimes, we talked about religion. About how Hashem gives true believers trials to test their faith. It’s a tenet of both religions. For us Jews, it’s Abraham and the Akeda.”

“The sacrifice of Isaac.”

“Right. Apparently to Catholics, Mary is the ultimate figure of emmunah.” She frowned. “That’s weird. I just used a Hebrew word for a figure in Catholicism. Anyway, she’s their symbol of faith. Mostly, Bram offered me lots of nondenominational words of comfort.”

Decker said, “Did he ever talk about his family?”

“Sometimes.” Rina nodded.

“Anything illuminating?”

“Meaning?”

“Did he ever tell you anything about his personal relationships with his parents, brothers, and sisters…friends, male or female?”

“Occasionally.” Rina got up. “You want some more tea?”

“I’d love some more tea.”

Nervously, Rina refilled the mug with steaming water. “News made mention of some gay angle. Because Dr. Decameron was gay.”

Decker nodded.

Rina sighed. “Did you find evidence of that?”

“We’re still assessing information and evidence. I’m not evading your question, honey, I’m answering it truthfully.”

Rina looked upward. “What a mess!”

Decker tried to think of a nifty response, drawing blanks instead. He stood up and said, “It’s late and I still have a couple of business calls to make. Think I can chance a couple of good nights to the boys without having my head blown off?”

“How brave do you feel?”

He kissed his wife’s cheek. “Not too brave. But a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

Wiping the counter, Rina thought about possible excuses for running out at ten-thirty in the evening: a friend needed help…Rebbetzin Schulman wanted her opinion on some papers she had written…she suddenly wanted to visit her parents.

She discarded them one by one, all of them downright lame. Peter would laugh in her face.

Despite what Peter would do, she knew she was going to see Bram. That was given. But it would simply have to wait until tomorrow.

She heard Peter saying good night to the boys, heard his feet against the wooden floor of the hallway. A door was shut with a click.

Silence.

Rina glanced at the kitchen phone. The business line came alive.

He was dialing out from the bedroom.

Walking over to the wall, Rina ran a finger over the receiver.

Now or never. While the phone was still ringing. Because once someone picked up, Peter would be accutely aware of the extension kicking in.

She shouldn’t.

It was unethical.

It was wrong.

But she couldn’t look past the scene in her head. The pain in Bram’s eyes as he eulogized his father…so reminiscent of her own heartbreak almost a decade ago.

He had been there for her in endless ways.

And now he was in trouble.

He would have done it for her without a second thought.

Quietly, she removed the phone from the cradle. As luck would have it, Marge picked up at the same time.

Rina held her breath as her husband started talking.

She was ashamed of herself.

So be it. The feeling would have to keep.