Faye Kellerman - Blindman’s Bluff

“Around seven-thirty.”

“We’re only going out for about an hour.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Rina said. “It’s going to take me a little time to get home, and I want to pack dinner for my husband. I’m meeting him at the recital.”

Joy said, “Well, aren’t you the nice wife!”

“Sometimes when he’s working big homicides and he’s been up for about twenty hours, he forgets to eat.”

No one spoke and the elevator doors opened and the group got out.

Ally said, “What do you think Smiling Tom was doing with his PDA?”

“I thought about that, too,” Rina said. “Maybe going over testimony before he translated it. Whatever he was listening to, it had to have been sanctioned by the court. No one would be that brazen to approach the witness box listening to music.”

“Good call,” Ryan told her.

Joy said, “He looks pretty damn brazen to me.”

“Yes, he was rather theatrical.” Rina opened the double glass doors to freedom. “I’m on for lunch tomorrow.”

“Great,” Kate said. “We’ll see you then. Wish your husband good luck.”

“Yeah, pump him for some juicy details,” Joy interjected.

“He’s pretty tight-lipped, but I’ll do what I can.”

Joy was pleased with Rina’s answer. She added, “And as long as you’re packing something for him, pack something for me. Whatever you ate this afternoon looked a hell of a lot better than the swill I had.”

ALTHOUGH RINA WAS early, Peter was earlier. While all the other parents were crowded toward the front, Peter had chosen a seat in an empty back row, sitting straight up with his head back, his eyes closed, and his mouth slightly open. She climbed over the folding chairs and gently shook his shoulder. He gave a snort at the same time his eyes popped open. “What?”

Rina took out a sandwich. “Here.”

Decker rubbed his eyes and stretched. “Hi, darlin’.” He leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Do you have something to drink? My mouth feels like cotton.”

“Caffeinated or decaf?”

“Doesn’t matter. I won’t have any trouble sleeping tonight.”

She handed him a can of Coke Zero. “It’s turkey and pastrami on a baguette.”

“I’m starved.” Decker took a bite. “It’s delicious. Thank you.”

“You haven’t eaten?”

“No.” He popped open the Coke Zero and downed the entire can, and immediately Rina handed him a caffeine-free Diet Coke. “I think I’m dehydrated.”

“I also have water if you want.”

“A little later, thanks.” He finished half the can. “How was your day in criminal justice?”

“Fine. How was yours?”

“Awful.”

“The murders are all over the news.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Some guards were killed as well?” Rina asked.

Decker nodded and finished the Coke. “I must thank Hannah for getting me out of the squad room. I left in a hurry. Things are a mess.”

“Are you going back?”

“Probably. I’d like to finish some of my paperwork and strategize.”

Rina knew from experience that multiple murders mean multiple, multiple suspects. “Are you awake enough to drive, Peter?”

“I’m fine.” He smiled to prove the point. “Really, I’m fine. I was probably out for around twenty minutes. I feel remarkably refreshed.”

“One of my fellow jurors wants to know all the juicy details of the Kaffey homicides.”

“Tell her to read the papers.”

“I shall.” Rina took Peter’s hand. “I’m glad you made it to the concert. Hannah made a point of asking about you.”

“Lord only knows why. She hides herself as much as possible in the back row. I wouldn’t even notice her except that she’s tall. She never has any solos. Does the teacher have something against her?”

“Mrs. Kent is Hannah’s biggest fan.”

“So why doesn’t she ever have a solo?”

“I don’t think she wants one. She likes to see her father in the audience. It makes her feel like you care.”

Decker shrugged. “I keep wondering with the kids, including Cindy who is in her midthirties, how long will I have to jump through hoops just to prove I love them?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Rina shrugged. “Probably the rest of our lives.”

DECKER WAS DEAD to the world from twelve midnight until six-thirty the next morning when the alarm rang out. The bed was empty, but he heard noises coming from the kitchen. He showered and shaved and dressed and walked into the breakfast room at seven where coffee was already brewing.

“Good morning,” Rina said. “How do you feel?”

“Not too bad.” He poured a cup of java from the drip machine and took a sip. “Wow, that’s good. Do you want me to wake up the princess?”

“I’ve already done that. She’s in a good mood.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“You. She told me-and I quote-‘It was really nice for Abba to show up. I know he must be swamped at work.’”

“That’s lovely.” A pause. “How long do you think her appreciation will last?”

“In the short run, it won’t last very long at all. But in reality, it’ll last a lifetime.” Rina kissed his cheek. “I’ll take her to school on my way to court.”

“That would be great.” He checked his watch. “I need to go. I’ll stick my head in the lion’s den and say good-bye.”

“This morning, you’ll probably have more of a lamb than a lion.”

“Whatever I get is fine.” He put down his mug. “She’s a good girl. She’s my baby and I love her dearly. If I’m a safe target for some of her frustration, so be it. If God’ll just keep her safe, I’ll take all those slings and arrows.”

OLIVER KNOCKED ON the doorjamb and without waiting for an invitation, he walked into Decker’s office. He had a mug of coffee in one hand and was holding a sheet of paper in the other. The man looked positively drained.

“Get any sleep last night, Oliver?”

“A couple of hours, but I’ll be all right.” He handed Decker a neatly typed up paper that resembled a family tree. “I’ve outlined Kaffey Security 101. If you look at the top of the sheet, I have Neptune Brady in the starring position because he’s the head honcho. Then I branch off.”

“Well done,” Decker said.

“Not too bad for a zombie.” Oliver smiled. “I divided it into two categories-guards at the ranch and personal bodyguards. Personal bodyguards-which I’ve abbreviated as PBG-are or were used mainly when Guy and Gilliam went out in public-restaurants, charity functions, business functions, parties. At least one PBG was with them at all times.”

“What about if they went out individually?”

“Don’t know about Gilliam, but there was definitely one on Guy. When no one was home, the security guards, or SG, watched the properties. So far I got fourteen names, but you can see there’s overlap. Rondo Martin, Joe Pine, Francisco Cortez, Terry Wexford, Martin Cruces, Denny Orlando, Javier Beltran, and Piet Kotsky worked as personal bodyguards and security guards.”

Decker regarded the paper. “You’ve crossed off Alfonso Lanz and Evan Teasdale. Those are the dead guards, right?”

“Yep.”

“And these circled names-Rondo Martin and Denny Orlando-they’re the missing guards?”

“Right again. No luck locating them yet, but we’ve been doing some hunting. When we went to pay a visit to Denny Orlando’s apartment, his entire family was there, waiting for Denny to come home.

Marge and I talked to the wife for a while. She described Denny as a good husband, a good father-they have two kids-and said it’s not like Denny to up and disappear.”

“That means nothing.”

“I agree. He still needs to be probed, but you get that initial feeling about a person. Sometimes it’s wrong but more often than not, it’s right. We didn’t find anything that points Denny in the direction of hit man. When we asked Brady about him, he seemed stunned. Denny always impressed Brady as a straight shooter. He’s a deacon in his church.”