Faye Kellerman - Blindman’s Bluff

Decker mentioned Rondo Martin and Brand didn’t react. “That name doesn’t sound familiar?”

Brand thought a moment. “You name a lot of people. I get them mixed up.”

“He’s a tough white dude. Could he be El Patrón?”

Brand was dismissive. “I don’ know what El Patrón’s name is, but I don’ thin’ it’s somethin’ stupid like Rondo Martin.”

SOME WHITE DUDE who flashes a lot of cash?” Marge said. “Boy, he really went out on a limb.”

“Like they say in the electronic world: GIGO.” Oliver smiled.

“How very techie of you.”

“I also know LOL and IMHO.”

“You don’t have a ‘humble opinion,’ Scott.”

Oliver said, “No, it means ‘in my highest opinion.’”

“Or ‘in my honest opinion.’” Decker exhaled aloud. “Wow, this is a lot more fun than talking to bullshit cons who feed me crap.”

The three of them were sitting in Decker’s office, kicking around ideas. Oliver had on a black suit, Marge had on a gray suit, and Decker was wearing a brown suit. They were appropriately dressed for a funeral, an event that would have dovetailed nicely with their sagging spirits.

Gil was missing, Resseur was missing, Grant was nursing wounds at the Kaffey compound in Newport, and Mace was somewhere…not exactly missing, but he wasn’t answering Decker’s phone calls. Neptune Brady and his crew had been unceremoniously axed. The leads were thinning, and the case was growing frosty.

Decker smoothed his mustache. “I am concerned about Brett Harriman. You should have seen the look in Alejandro Brand’s eyes when he talked about him.”

“He’s behind bars,” Oliver said. “He’s got other things to worry about.”

“He’s a Bodega Twelver,” Marge said. “He knows people on the outside.”

“Exactly,” Decker said. “I’ve talked to a few of the jailers in County. They’ll keep their ears open. But someone needs to talk to Harriman, tell him to be careful.”

“He can’t exactly look over his shoulder,” Oliver said. “Well, he could, but it wouldn’t do him any good.”

“Maybe he has his own way of discerning if someone is around him. In the meantime, he shouldn’t be out and alone until we get a better handle on Brand.”

“I’ve got some news about the Saturn, but don’t get excited.” Marge flipped a couple of pages of her notepad. “The lead was a bust. The Saturn was used and sold to a rental car service called Cheap Deals. It was rented to Alyssa Mendel and on the day that Harriman showed up at your house, Mendel was visiting her eighty-five-year-old aunt Gwen. She lives across the street and a few doors down from you.”

“Well, that’s good for me, but bad for the case.” Decker paused. “Rina’s going to have a field day when she finds out that the Saturn was nothing. I bought all this security equipment because I was so nervous.” A beat. “I might as well install it. I’m still a cop, Brand is still a Bodega Twelver, and I still got two nasty homicides.”

“I have three locks on my condo,” Marge said. “If I ever have a heart attack, no way the paramedics will be able to get in.”

“What are you doing to the house?” Oliver asked Decker.

“Updating the alarm, adding a couple extra horns, video cameras, motion sensors, rekeying the locks, checking the window locks…basic stuff that couldn’t stop a professional, but it might give pause to an amateur.” Decker flipped through his notes. “Oh yeah…this may be important. When I mentioned the name Rondo Martin, Brand appeared as if he didn’t have a clue who he was.”

“He could have been lying,” Oliver said.

“In my opin-” Decker smiled. “IMHO, Brand wasn’t faking.”

Marge said, “That doesn’t say anything about Martin’s involvement. Maybe Martin’s involvement wasn’t common knowledge-in contrast to Joe Pine or José Pinon.”

“Exactly. Brand admitted knowing Pinon and said Pinon was a former Bodega 12th member who apparently went through rehabilitation at a place called Go-carts. I had Wang look up community centers for gangbangers and there’s a government and privately funded community service group called GOCOTS.”

“Get Our Children Off the Streets,” Marge said. “When I was looking for Jervis Wenderhole on the Bennett Little case, I came across the name.”

“Guy Kaffey was on the board of directors. I had Wang go down the list of personal bodyguards as well as company security guards. Guy hired quite a few ex-Bodega 12th members.”

Oliver said, “He might as well have given Pinon a gun. Oh, wait. He did give Pinon a gun.”

Decker said, “Brand told me that Pinon was not only involved but that El Patrón was pissed because Pinon had fucked up by not finishing off Gil Kaffey.”

“So what do we think about Gil Kaffey?” Oliver asked. “Suspect or victim?”

“My first thought was victim. But then he went missing and I was shot at. That could have been a setup on Grant’s part. Or on Gil’s part. Or on Resseur’s part. Or none of the above.” Decker blew out air. “When we find Gil and Resseur, hopefully we get some answers.”

“I just thought of something,” Marge said. “Brand told you that El Patrón deals drugs.”

“Gotta deal drugs if you’re El Patrón,” Oliver said.

“Yeah, it does sound like a lie, but hear me out. Rondo Martin policed an agricultural community. I bet there are some sneaky-ass farmers who might plant some…marginal crops.”

Decker thought about it. “Martin developed contacts with marijuana growers and took the business to L.A.?”

“Just a thought.”

“Did you get any indication that illegal stuff was being grown in Ponceville?” Decker asked.

“No, but we’re not going to get that kind of information from talking to the sheriff. Maybe Willy Brubeck’s father would know about things like that.”

“More likely someone in the ciudads knows about those kinds of things,” Oliver said.

“We’re off to Ponceville tomorrow at ten,” Decker told them. “I’ll not only inquire about Rondo Martin the shooter, I’ll also ask questions about Rondo Martin the dealer.”

“Be careful, Pete,” Marge told him. “A dealer who’s good with a gun is a formidable enemy.”

RINA REGARDED THE video camera set under the roof of the porch and aimed at the door. “It’s beginning to look like a fortress.”

Decker was up on a ladder, adding a few finishing screws. “You can’t even see it from the street.”

“So how does it act as a deterrent if you can’t see it?”

“The point of the camera is to give you a bird’s-eye view of what’s going on out there.”

“So I can see my neighbor’s niece drive away?”

“The Saturn turned out to be harmless, but it was a wake-up call to update our security. Why are you giving me a hard time when all I want to do is protect my family?”

“You’re right.”

Decker stopped hammering. “What did you say?”

Rina smiled. “You heard me.” She regarded the sunset-a stunning display of golds and violets. The day had been hot, but the evening was balmy. She had changed into a short-sleeved white blouse and a denim skirt. Her black hair was covered by a colorful silk scarf that hung down her back. “Can I help out to speed things along?”

He readjusted the arm on the camera. “No, thanks. I’m good…almost done.”

Hannah walked out. She had put on her pajamas and wore fuzzy slippers. “When are we eating?”

“As soon as your father’s done.”

“In about fifteen minutes,” Decker said.

She huffed and stormed back into the house.

“We’re hungry,” Rina said.

“I want to do this right. Why don’t you set up the table and by that time, I’ll be done.”