Faye Kellerman - Blindman’s Bluff

“Yes, I did. Also showed them his DMV picture. No recognition.” She thought a moment. “Even if he was camping out, both Oliver and I decided he was creepy. His placidity…like he’d shoot you while bopping to the music on his iPod.”

“I trust your instincts…” His voice faded.

“You still there, Pete?”

“I’m here.” Decker hit his forehead. “I’ve been so caught up with Rina, I’ve been ignoring the obvious. The kid’s name is Esteban Cruz?”

“Unless he has a fake ID, yes.”

“Alejandro Brand’s grandmother was named Cruz.”

Marge sat up in Decker’s desk chair. “A cousin?”

“Does he look like Brand?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen Brand.”

“Brand was going on about Harriman…saying that he was an asshole who was out to get him. What if he hired a relative to do it for him?”

“Why would Brand think that Harriman IDed him? The guy is blind.”

“Brand doesn’t know that, and I didn’t correct him. I figured it would prod him to talk about the Kaffey murders if he thought that we had an eyewitness against him.”

Marge said, “Okay. What’s the next step?”

“A good question.” Decker’s brain was firing with ideas. “First of all, I want someone at my in-laws’ house full-time.”

“Already done.”

“Second, keep someone on Harriman twenty-four/seven until we figure out who Esteban Cruz is.”

“Done as well.”

“Third, let’s see if there’s a connection between Esteban and Alejandro.”

“You got it,” Marge said.

“Give me an update on what’s happening down there.”

“Gil and Resseur are still missing. Pratt and Messing are checking out their old haunts. Oliver checked out Sean Kaffey. He seems to be the smartest of the bunch. He’s a junior partner in a big law firm, making his own six figures. He doesn’t look like a good candidate for El Patrón. His dad, on the other hand, is an elusive guy. He flew back east on a private jet and is already back at the office working like a dog according to his secretary. She said he’d call me when he had a spare moment.”

Decker said, “Is it possible that he took Gil and Resseur with him?”

“I can try to locate the jet company that took him back home. See if they’ll let me peek at the airline manifest to see who’s on it.”

“Do your best. Could you also call Cindy and make sure she’s okay?”

“I’ll called her this morning. She’s fine.” Marge shifted the phone. “What’s happening up there with Rondo Martin?”

“I’m waiting in front of the ICU. Martin came out of surgery about an hour ago. I’m hoping to be able to talk to him in a bit.”

“That would be great…I mean, how do we know that Martin’s telling the truth?”

Decker paused. “What do you mean?”

“Martin is painting himself as an innocent bystander like Denny Orlando. But he also could have been a participant.”

“He’s in terrible shape. Why do you think he was involved in the murders?”

“It’s not what I think. It’s what Harriman said in his statement. I’ve got it in front of me. He mentions Martin a couple of times…that Martin was really pissed about José running out of ammo.”

Decker shifted the phone to the other ear. “That’s a good point.”

“Maybe Martin was riding Pine about fucking up. Maybe Pine got super pissed and shot Martin full of lead. Maybe that’s why Joe didn’t have enough ammunition to finish off Kaffey. Just because Martin was shot doesn’t mean he wasn’t involved.”

Decker exhaled. “That’s very true.”

The nurse peeked her head out of the ICU. “Mr. Martin is up. Please be brief.”

“Thank you very much,” Decker told her. Into the line, he said, “Martin’s conscious. I’ve got to go.”

“Good luck.”

“Keep a watch over the station house for me. Brubeck and I will be here for a while. Neither of us is going anywhere until we get some answers.”

ALTHOUGH MARTIN SMELLED a lot better, he looked a lot worse. Tubes were feeding him, medicating him, and plying his lungs with additional oxygen. Machines monitored his heart rate and his breathing. The obvious infected areas had been cleaned, but the lapsed time without proper care had taken its toll. Rondo wasn’t out of the woods yet, and Decker acted as if this was his one and only shot at the medal.

Martin acknowledged him with a slight nod. That was the best he could do.

“You’re a strong man, Rondo. You’re in good hands now. You’ll be all right.” There was no response.

But the eyes were still open. “I’m keeping watch over you until we arrange for something permanent. Brubeck and me. We’ll take shifts and watch over you personally.”

Another slight nod.

“Do you mind if I talk a little?” Decker asked. “I’ll tell you what’s going on from my angle. If I’m wrong about something, you can correct me. I’ll go slowly, okay?”

A nod.

Decker kept the recitation short. Gil Kaffey had survived. He heard the murderers speaking Spanish, but that’s all he could remember. Later, by sheer coincidence, someone overheard two men talking about the case. One of them seemed to have an insider’s knowledge. That man was Alejandro Brand.

“Does the name sound familiar?” Decker asked him.

Martin closed his eyes and then opened them. Decker thought he detected a shake of the head.

“Is that a no?”

A nod.

Decker said, “It could be that he also goes by the name Alejandro Cruz. How about that name? Familiar?”

“No…” he whispered.

“Okay, you don’t know Alejandro Brand or Alejandro Cruz. The guy is a member of the Bodega 12th Street gang. So was Joe Pine. Did you know that?”

A nod.

“You knew Joe was an ex-gangbanger?”

A nod.

“Did you know that Guy Kaffey hired other ex-gang members-supposedly rehabilitated gang members-as guards?”

A nod.

“I think that’s crazy.”

Martin muttered something. Decker leaned in close.

“Few…”

“A few what?”

The response was delayed. “A few gang…”

Decker put the pieces together. “There were only a few gang members in the group?”

A nod.

“We found more than a few with felonies.” Decker checked his notes. “This one guy, Ernesto Sanchez, was also a former Bodega 12th gang member. He had been arrested and served time for two assaults. Did you know him?”

A nod.

“Rondo…if you close your eyes…and think about the other people who invaded the Kaffey house… close your eyes and picture the scene.”

He cooperated, wincing as some vision coursed through his brain.

“Could one of those men at the scene be Ernesto Sanchez?”

A shake of the head. That made sense because Sanchez was at a bar. Messing had talked to several people who remembered seeing him. So far, Martin appeared credible.

The woman in scrubs walked in. She stopped and folded her arms across her chest. Her name tag identified her as Chris Bellows, MD, surgical resident. Her eyes were intelligent and annoyed, but she managed a fleeting smile. “You need to wrap this up. It’s time for Mr. Martin to receive his medications. He needs to sleep.”

“Five more minutes?”

“How about one?” Her face told him that she wouldn’t brook any argument. She glanced at her watch. “Starting now.”

Decker sighed. “Okay. This is what I’m going to do, Rondo. I’m going to read a list of the guards who worked for the Kaffeys and you tell me by nodding if I should be investigating them.”

A nod.

“There are about twenty-two names. I’ll have to go a little fast because I have to leave soon.”

“Thirty seconds,” the doctor told them.