Faye Kellerman - Prayers for the Dead

Drew stopped a moment.

“You know, he was an okay guy. We brought Henry of course. Dr. Sparks said something about how good I was with the little guy. I told him I loved kids. Sparks had a bunch of grandchildren. They started getting antsy at the table, you know, running around like kids do. I just got up and started playing with them. Felt a lot more comfortable with the kids than I did with the grown-ups. Especially when they started arguin’.”

Oliver’s eyes met Marge’s. “Who was arguing?”

“I don’t know. I left the table.”

“Think, Drew,” Marge prodded. “Was it Dr. Sparks and one of his children, Dr. Sparks and his wife-”

“No, it wasn’t the wife. She and him barely spoke. She was busy serving all this food. Man, I never seen so much food in my life. Turkey and ham and roast beef and mashed potatoes-”

“So if it wasn’t Dr. Sparks and his wife, it was…”

Drew held his finger in the air. “The priest. Dr. Sparks and the priest. Actually, I think the whole family was arguin’ with the priest.”

Oliver paused. “About what?”

“Stuff about God. Stuff I didn’t understand.”

Marge said, “You don’t remember any of it?”

“No.”

“You remember enough to recall them arguing,” Oliver said. “Doesn’t anything stick in your mind?”

Drew paused again. “Something about evil thoughts being evil or whatever. I remember that because I remember thinking: Drew, you’re in trouble. ’Cause you have lots of evil thoughts. Liz could tell you better.”

Marge said, “Did she participate in the argument?”

“I don’t know. If she did, it was probably on Dr. Sparks’s side. She wouldn’t do anything to piss him off.”

Oliver said, “Was the priest angry?”

Drew stopped rocking, folded his arms across his chest. “You know, everyone was dumping on him. His name was Bram.” He smiled. “Guess I do remember some things.”

“Go on,” Marge said.

“I remember thinking, ‘If I was getting dumped on, like he was, I’d either blow or go.’ He just sat there, real calm, just taking it. Never raised his voice.”

“Why were they dumping on him?” Marge asked.

“I don’t know. I guess they didn’t like what he was sayin’.”

“What was he saying?”

“I don’t know. I just felt for the guy, wondered why everyone was dumping on him. But maybe he was used to it. ’Cause when the missus called the kids for dessert, conversation went back to being polite. And the priest acted like nothing happened. Smiling with the kids. Playing magic tricks…you know, making nickels disappear and reshowin’ up behind their ears. I like that one. I do it all the time with Henry. The priest has a twin brother, you know.”

“Luke,” Marge said. “Was he dumping on him, too?”

“They all were-” Drew paused. “No, you’re right. How about that. You’re real good.”

Marge said, “Good about what?”

“The twin. A few minutes after they started arguin’, the twin got up and started playing with the kids, just like me. Must be another one who hates conflict.”

“You hate conflict.”

“Boy, yeah, I hate it. Bad Karma. When Liz starts to yell, man, I’m outta here. If I don’t leave, I blow.”

“I hear you,” Oliver stated.

“Maybe the twin was like that. ’Cause he just got up from the table and started making a building with Legos. He’s got two cute ones-boy and a girl. Twins just like he is. He’s actually a triplet, can you believe that? I wouldn’t have minded Liz having twins. But I think three would have been too much for me.”

Marge asked, “So the priest wasn’t angry at his father?”

“Not to my eye. Just ate his dessert and played magic tricks with his nieces and nephews.”

“How about Dr. Sparks? Was he angry with his son?”

“He didn’t appear pissed. He ate his dessert, too. It was pie. She’d baked like a hunnerd pies. I had two pieces-blueberry and peach. Man, that woman could cook. I told my wife afterward that I’d put on a tie any old day of the week, if they want to have us again.”

“What did your wife say about that?”

“She patted my head, said not to count on another invite for a while. Not because I blew it or anything. Just that Dr. Sparks doesn’t invite people to his house a lot.”

“Especially if there was tension in the family,” Marge added.

“I wouldn’t say tension. But they did have an argument.”

“Drew, maybe it was just an intellectual discussion instead of an argument,” Marge said.

“Ma’am, I don’t know too much about intellectual discussions,” Drew said. “But I do know a whole lot about arguments. Take my word for it. It was an argument.”

“Berger’s here, Loo. At New Chris.” Webster checked his watch. “Arrived ’bout ten minutes ago. He said that he and his wife went to a dinner theater in Tustin -”

“Tustin?” Decker interrupted.

“Yeah, a little off the beaten path.”

“I’ll say.” Decker spoke into the Volare’s mike, turned down the fan to the heater so he could hear Webster over the radio receiver. “It’s about a two-hour drive from New Chris.”

“Anyway, Berger said he and the wife saw My Fair Lady, had no idea what was roaring until he heard it on the radio. If he’s to be b’lieved.”

“You have reason to doubt him, Tom?”

“Nope. He came straight to New Chris from the theater. Wife dropped him off directly, didn’t even change. And he did come in wearing a suit and tie. Croc Ballys on the feet. The kind y’all wear only when you’re goin’ out.”

“Where is he now?”

“In a private meeting.”

“So you haven’t really interviewed him.”

“Not yet. He’s holed up with a bunch of ’em, consulting with one n’other-Dr. Berger, Dr. Fulton, Dr. Decameron. Now there’s a piece of work.”

“In what way?”

“Ya haven’t met him yet?”

“I haven’t. I heard he’s opinioned and open about his gayness.”

“Yes, sir, he is very decisive and very gay. I think the word is flamboyant. But I’ll tell y’all something. He’s real good with the staff. Nurses come up to him, he isn’t afraid to hug ’em or kiss ’em or let ’ em cry. And ya know he isn’t doin’ it to make time. What do you want Bert and me to do with Dr. Berger? I think it would be bad form right now to pull him out of an important meeting.”

“Agreed,” Decker said. “How is the staff interviewing going?”

“Bert and I talked to most of the night staff. Nothing that I think will impact heavily on the case, but a few interesting personal tidbits.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, things like how the doctor used a thermometer to make sure his coffee was the right temperature. He was so particular ’bout things, he once got mad because they changed the brand of surgical sponges. Claimed he could tell the difference.”

“Maybe he could.”

“I could tell you more, but I’d have to go over my notes carefully. And right now, they’re not in real good shape…my handwriting at this hour isn’t swift. I gotta go back and type everything neat-like.”

“It can wait until morning.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Decker said, “We’ll talk in the morning. Both of you, go to the station house and finish the paperwork. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“What about Dr. Berger? You don’t want me to wait to interview him more completely?”

“I’ll do him. I’ve got a brief stop to make. Probably by the time I’m done, he’ll be out of his meeting.”

“You sure you don’t want us to wait for him?”

“No, it’s all right. I’ll do it.”

“Thanks, Loo. I was hoping you’d be insistent.”