Faye Kellerman - Sanctuary

Decker got comfortable in his seat. “Mr. Holmes, I’m sure you know that money is always considered a prime motive for murder. Tell me everything you know about the Yaloms. I want to know what they had…what someone could have been after.”

Holmes’s eyes went upward. “The bank holds the mortgage on his home. We also hold a note for a loan totaling three quarters of a million dollars. He was timely with his payments.”

Decker said, “Is the loan secured or unsecured?”

Holmes winced. “Unsecured.”

“So you must know something about Mr. Yalom’s assets,” Marge said.

“I felt…” Holmes squirmed. “I felt comfortable loaning him the money.”

“You arranged the loan personally?” Marge asked.

“Yes.”

“Tell me what you know about Mr. Yalom’s investments.”

Holmes hesitated. “I know there’s no confidentiality with the dead, Detectives. Especially murder victims. But, like I told the department yesterday when the detective called, I still feel…unloyal talking about Mr. Yalom’s affairs, even to policemen.”

Like I told the department yesterday? Decker pulled out his notebook and scanned through the pages. Who the hell did Holmes talk to? “Mr. Holmes, do you remember whom at the department you spoke to yesterday?”

Holmes made a quizzical face. “Detective Misheria or Mishtara, or Mistara. He had a broad Texas accent. He didn’t speak to you?”

Decker shook his head. “No, we…must have missed each other.”

“I didn’t talk to him for very long. I was very busy. But I did let the authorities into the box. Anyway, it wasn’t the appropriate time to start talking about Arik Yalom’s foreign investments.”

Again, Marge and Decker passed meaningful glances. “Well, maybe you can help us out now,” he said. “Who handled Mr. Yalom’s overseas operations?”

Holmes snorted. “I wouldn’t exactly call them operations.”

“More like risky business ventures,” Marge broke in.

Holmes pursed his lips. “Ah…you must have seen all the certificates in his safe-deposit box. Yes, he had invested in quite a few speculative ventures.”

“Your idea?” Marge asked.

“Of course not! We’re in the business of keeping money, not losing it. I was quite blunt with Arik. I told him-straight out. But Arik had his own mind when it came to business.”

Marge said, “Did Mr. Yalom have success with any of his mining investments?”

Holmes chuckled. “Success is a state of mind.”

“Meaning?”

“He felt he was successful.”

“What about you?” Decker asked.

“Sergeant, I could have doubled that man’s portfolio with my eyes closed. The typical balance we’re currently recommending is twenty percent cash, ten percent debits, seventy percent equities. It’s not fancy, it’s not exotic. But it is prudent. Arik wanted big time.”

“Did he get big time?” Marge asked.

“Not to my knowledge. Not only were his cash reserves depleted from a high inventory in stones, but any profits he made from his legitimate business went toward venture capital in his Africa scheme. I’m not saying there isn’t money to be made from alluvial mining of Angola beds. There are stones to be found. But it’s iffy at best, and you know the political situation in Africa right now-volatile with a capital V. Mr. Yalom would have done much better with a simple conservative approach.”

Marge said, “Especially with the lock VerHauten has on the diamond industry.”

Holmes folded his hands across his stomach. “Exactly.”

Decker said, “Mr. Yalom seems to have gone head to head with VerHauten.”

Holmes said nothing.

Marge said, “Or don’t you know about his correspondence with them.”

“I know Arik had certain ideas about VerHauten. A lot of people do.”

“Do you want to elaborate?”

“What can I say?” Holmes clapped his hands. “He claimed he had inside support from the company. Either he was lying or something went bad. Because the relationship turned hostile and he went after VerHauten. Like a gnat going against a lion. Sooner or later, a quick swat was bound to squish him.”

“Arik was squished?” Marge said.

Again, Holmes chuckled. “VerHauten simply has the resources, and they don’t appreciate being bad-mouthed. You can’t buck city hall.” He paused. “Perhaps I should paraphrase that. You can’t buck two hundred years of experience and four billion dollars in assets.”

Decker closed the driver’s door to the Plymouth, slipped the key in the ignition but didn’t start the car. “Someone should inform Shaul Gold that it’s against the law to impersonate a police officer.”

Marge said, “You think it was Gold?”

“I know it was Gold. He used his cowboy accent.”

“The case has been high-profile, Pete,” Marge said. “It could have been a lackey for VerHauten. Perhaps they had a vested interest in seeing Yalom and his wife…terminated.”

“They’re a multibillion-dollar company. Why would they bother with small potatoes like Yalom? No, VerHauten didn’t call. Gold did. He knows Arik’s been doing some funny business in Africa. He’s tracking down our leads. He’s traveling the same road we are. In this case, he questioned Holmes before we did. I don’t like that, Margie. He’s fouling up our element of surprise. The man needs a few guidelines.”

“Should we pay him a visit?”

Decker nodded and called up his number from the car radio. The phone rang and rang. Cutting the line, Decker tried him at the office. Again, no one picked up. He slammed down the mike. “Now what?”

Marge said, “I like your truism about money as a motive for murder. There was a lot of angry correspondence exchanged between Yalom and VerHauten. Let’s pay the giant a visit. I’m sure they have a local office.”

“And do what?” Decker answered.

“Wing a line of questioning. Find out why the letters turned so hostile.”

“Marge, I’m sure Yalom was hostile so VerHauten answered him aggressively. I’m sure VerHauten couldn’t give a solitary hoot about Yalom.”

“They obviously cared enough to correspond with him over several years.”

Decker thought about that. He reached into his pocket and took out the stock ownership pilfered from the safe-deposit box-Southwest Mines. He showed it to Marge. “We could use this as an entrée maybe. Say we’re investigating the company. Wondered if they had any information on it.”

“Good idea.”

Decker paged through his notes. “A woman by the name of Kate Milligan signed this letter to Yalom-Damn. The letter was postmarked from Belgium.”

“VerHauten must have a local listing somewhere near the diamond center.”

Decker tried LA information. Nothing for VerHauten. He tried three other directories, the results equally frustrating. Then he tried New York City for a listing in Manhattan.

Zip.

He slammed down the phone. “What’s going on here! A multibillion-dollar company and I can’t find a fucking listing for them.”

“They probably have some weird subsidiary name.”

Decker rubbed his face. “Now what?”

Marge shrugged helplessly. “Anything new on the Yalom boys?”

“They’re still checking out terminals. Thank God for computers. Without them, the task would be unthinkable. You want to call up some airports ourselves?”

“No, I’m still curious about VerHauten,” Marge said. “Why don’t we go back down to the diamond center and grab ourselves a random dealer. Someone over there has got to know something about VerHauten.”

Decker thought a moment, then started the motor, pointing the unmarked for downtown LA.

Unsure how to start, Decker took out his shield and flashed it to the first Chasid he saw. The man was five ten, his face hidden behind a thick pelt of beard and side-curls. He wore the requisite uniform-black suit, white shirt, and black hat. His tzitzit-prayer fringes-were peeking out from under his shirt. He fingered them vigorously as he eyed the gold badge.