Faye Kellerman - The Burnt House

“Bontemps is working on it,” Marge said.

Oliver said, “It sure would help if we could put a face on the body. Are you sure there’s no way we can use the facial bones to create soft tissue?”

“You heard the pathologist,” Decker said. “The facial bones are way too delicate. We’re working on a computerized model, but that’s going to take time also because we need measurements. All we can do is be patient.”

Oliver said, “On to the other missing person in our lives.”

“Roseanne Dresden,” Marge said. “Did her stepfather call today?”

“Like clockwork. I’ve got to say that his theories are sounding a lot less loony now than they did a few months ago.” Decker began to tick specific incidents off his fingers. “WestAir has not helped us substantiate that Roseanne was on flight 1324. Also, the first victims list that the paper received did not include Roseanne’s name on it, and no one at the paper remembers who called in Roseanne’s name as a victim. Furthermore, according to you, Margie, the desk attendant at WestAir…what’s her name?”

“Erika Lessing.”

“Right. She swears that Roseanne did not board the flight from Burbank. Now, Roseanne could have come on board from an earlier flight from San Jose, but so far no one’s verified that. Then, when we add to the mix a cheating husband as well as a cheating wife who had an ex-boyfriend in San Jose, we come up with a lot of unanswered questions. We need to start retracing Roseanne’s last steps. It’s time to pull a warrant for her phone records and her credit cards, her ATM accounts…any paper that might give us ideas about her last days on the planet.”

“Any specific judge in mind, Loo?”

“Try Elgin Keuletsky.” Decker spelled it out loud. “Present what we have and I think he’ll be simpatico.”

“What about Ivan Dresden?” Oliver asked. “I thought we were going to interview him and ask for his help in locating Roseanne.”

Decker said, “We will, but later. Right now let’s stay clear of him. Don’t even let him know we’ve got suspicions. After we get a better handle on Roseanne’s final days, maybe we’ll be lucky and something will point to Ivan as the bad guy.”

“We’ve interviewed some of Roseanne’s friends,” Oliver said. “How about if I talk to a few people who know Ivan…discreetly, of course.”

“Discreetly?” Decker answered. “Do you have someone in mind, Scott?”

“Well, we can’t talk to any of his friends or coworkers without him getting wind of our poking around. But as I recall…there was a lap dancer that Ivan put the make on.”

“You have a name?”

“No name, but I have a club-Leather and Lace.”

Decker smiled. “And you’re familiar with the establishment?”

“I’ve been there a couple of times.”

“And you want to go down to the club and find this elusive lap dancer?”

“I think it would be negligent not to.”

Marge said, “I might have a name. Try Melissa or Miranda.”

“Where’d you get that from?” Oliver asked her.

“Erika Lessing. Apparently he was two-timing Erika and his wife with someone with a name like that.”

“I’ll check it out.” He looked at Decker. “What do you say, Loo?”

“Okay, Scott, you win. I’m assigning you a trip down to Leather and Lace.”

“So I can put in for charges like drinks and the cover?”

“As long as they’re reasonable and part of the assignment.”

Marge said, “You must be in hog heaven…or in your case pig heaven.”

Oliver tried to look wounded, but in actuality he was feeling no pain. A lap dancer paid for by the LAPD. If that wasn’t paradise, what was?

D ECKER COULD SMELL the aroma from the driveway, the undeniable scent of garlic, onion, and herbs: a sure indication that something good was going on in the kitchen. Involuntarily his mouth started to water. Although he wondered why Rina was cooking midweek, he didn’t question her decision. He was famished and tired and delighted that dinner or some facsimile was minutes away. When he came through the door, the background noise of conversation abruptly stopped and he found that there were several sets of eyes focused in on him-Rina, Cindy and Koby, and their elusive teenage daughter of late, Hannah Rosie.

His wife looked put together, her long black hair in a ponytail and covered with a bandanna, although there was moisture on her brow, meaning the kitchen was probably hot. Cindy and Koby had on jeans and T-shirts. Hannah was dressed in a jean skirt over leggings, a scoop-neck T-shirt, and combat boots. She had beads around her neck, her earlobes jeweled in big white hoops, and her wrists were bedecked in multiple bangles. No piercings or tattoos, but only because tattoos were forbidden by Jewish law and Hannah had a fear of needles. Thank God for small favors.

“Hi, kids,” Decker began cheerfully. He kissed his wife and his daughters, and hugged his son-in-law. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“We’ve finalized the plans, Dad. I thought that maybe you could take a look at them tonight…if you have a moment.”

“I think we can work that out. How do they look?”

“The plans are beautiful,” Koby said. “The cost is not.”

Decker poured his son-in-law a scotch. “Don’t worry about it.”

“He means that and so do I.” Rina had inherited some paintings from an old lady whom she had befriended. A half-dozen of them turned out to be valuable, one of them extremely valuable. That one constituted their retirement, giving the Deckers a lot of emotional freedom and flexibility.

“You are always generous, but I do worry.” Koby took a nice-size shot. “We are living in a nutshell barely big enough for the two of us. Now we have big plans for eighteen hundred square feet of living space.”

“Eighteen hundred seems reasonable, especially if you’re thinking about starting a family…hint, hint.”

Cindy smiled. “Eventually, hint, hint.”

“Reasonable if we had a bigger budget.” Another sip. “This is good.”

“Thank you,” Decker said. “Another?”

“It sounds tempting, but no.”

Rina clapped her hands. “Shall we sit down?”

“I’ll serve with Cindy, Eema,” Hannah volunteered.

“Good idea, Hannah Banana.” Cindy made a face. “Does it bug you when I say that?”

“Nah, but only you can get away with it.”

The meal was copious. Rotisserie chicken over rice pilaf, green beans, and, of course, the requisite salad. Hannah had also grilled some corn and red peppers. Everyone sat down at the table, dishes were passed around, and the meal began. For the first five minutes, there was little talk except to relay compliments to Rina and Hannah for cooking such a delicious feast. Halfway through his dinner, Decker made a stab at conversation.

“So tell me about the plans?”

“They are lovely and costly,” Koby replied.

Cindy said, “They look terrific.”

More eating.

Decker said, “Well, anytime you want me to help you get started…knocking out walls, just give a ring.”

Koby said, “That may be sooner than later. How about this weekend?”

Cindy cleared her throat. Koby said, “I was thinking only about the kitchen.”

“Koby and I have been having a little debate on this.” Cindy’s smile was tight. Uh-oh, Decker thought. “I don’t want to do things piecemeal. I think we need to hire a contractor because the plans have become more complicated. Koby would rather gather up a crowd and do it all himself-like a barn raising.”

No one spoke.

“I like building things,” Koby said.

“Kobe, you’re working a full-time job and moonlight as it is. It’s a lot of weight to hold.”