Faye Kellerman - Prayers for the Dead

“That Bram’s gay. Believe me, I saw the way he looked at my wife.”

“When?”

“At the memorial service.”

Marge said, “You’re telling me that Bram-a priest, at his father’s memorial service, in full view of everyone, including you-leered at your wife?”

Decker sighed, rolled his tongue in his cheek. “Okay. So maybe it was my imagination.”

“I think so.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that the whole thing stinks.”

“What in particular?”

“Bram hiding the bloody clothes with the fuck mags in his apartment. Even if he was protecting someone, why would he keep incriminating material in his possession?”

“Like Luke said, maybe he didn’t have time to find a safe dumping ground.” Marge thought a moment. “Or if he’d been hiding magazines for someone, maybe Bram figured that the someone would want them back.”

“But Luke said the wrappers had his name on them. I can’t see Bram subscribing to that stuff for someone else.”

Marge shrugged. “So Luke’s lying. Maybe the wrappers had Luke’s name on them and Bram’s protecting Luke just like Luke stated.”

No one spoke for a moment.

“We should set up a polygraph for both of them,” Marge stated.

“Bram isn’t talking.”

“So we’ll go for Luke. One out of two ain’t bad.”

“Fine. We can do it after we check out Bram’s belongings.”

Marge stood. “Is Bram still at Van Nuys or did they move him downtown?”

“No, he’s at Van Nuys.”

“You want to come with me?” Marge smiled. “For old times’ sake?”

Decker smiled back. “Sure.”

“Are we going to spring him?”

“Well, if we find the cross in Bram’s belongings, and Luke swears he was at Decameron’s house, it’s pointless to keep Bram locked up.”

“What about the key with the ID tag of his apartment address?”

Decker thought a moment. “It was definitely the key to his apartment. But it wasn’t Bram’s personal key. Because I locked the door to his apartment using Bram’s own key ring.”

“So whose key is it?”

Decker waited a beat. “If he and Decameron were lovers, Bram could have given Reggie a key to his apartment.”

“And it just happened to be in Reggie’s pocket?”

Decker shrugged. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. First, let’s check out Bram’s belongings. If Luke’s to be believed, we should find an identical confirmation cross. You want to drive, Margie?”

“Sure.”

Decker pulled his wallet from his desk drawer. “How’re things working out with Oliver?”

“We have our rough moments.” Marge picked up her purse. “But he’s got positive attributes. He’s a clear thinker.”

“Good to hear.” Decker hesitated. “Sorry I jumped on you a few moments ago.”

Marge stood. “I understood your dilemma, Pete. But I felt Luke wouldn’t have opened up to me like he did to you. For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing.”

“The guy’s a jerk.”

Marge said, “Yeah, it was awful what he said to you.”

Decker shook his head. “I should have just shrugged it off without comment.”

“You’re human.”

Decker opened the door to his office. “Baby, ain’t that the truth.”

Rina placed the strap of her purse over her shoulder and locked the car, her heart beating hard in her chest. Because she had no idea what she was doing…what she would even say if given the chance to see him. As fate would have it, the situation took care of itself. She saw him bolting down the back stairs of the Van Nuys Substation. He started jogging through the parking lot away from the police complex. She had to sprint to catch up with him.

As soon as he saw her, Bram’s expression turned hard and furious. “Where’s your car?”

“Right over there.” Gasping, Rina pointed to her Volvo.

He grabbed her arm, pushed her forward.

“What are you doing?” Rina shook his arm off. “What’s the matter with-”

“Give me your keys-”

“What-”

“Don’t argue with me. Just do it!”

Rina flipped him the keys. She had to run to keep up with him. When he reached the Volvo, Bram opened the driver’s door, got in, and opened the passenger’s door from the inside. As soon as Rina was seated, Bram peeled rubber before she had the door fully closed.

“What is it?” Rina asked as she shut the door. “What happened?”

Instead of answering, Bram depressed the gas pedal. The car flew forward, the tires squealing as he turned onto Van Nuys.

Rina took a sharp intake of air. “You’re going to get a ticket-”

“So, you’ll fix it for me-”

“Bram, slow down!” she said. “You’re going to have an accident!”

Instead, he accelerated to overdrive, had to swerve to avoid hitting a stopped car.

“Stop it!” Rina screamed.

The car continued racing, Bram shooting one yellow light after another. The fourth traffic light was completely red as the Volvo entered the intersection. Bram depressed the accelerator to the max, narrowly missing side impact by a eighteen-wheeler semi. The blare of the truck’s horn ricocheted in Rina’s ears.

Rina pounded his shoulder. “Stop it! Stop it!”

Bram braked suddenly, pitching them both backward. Breathing hard, he brought the speedometer down to normal city limits.

Rina covered her face, cried softly, a sharp pain stabbing her body with each intake of breath. Recovering quickly, she immediately prayed her thanks to God and wiped away tears. She held her rib cage as she spoke. “You could have gotten both of us killed. Have you gone crazy?”

Bram whispered, “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

Rina said nothing. Signaling, he turned right, hooking onto the 405 North. Within minutes, the Volvo was going a smooth and safe fifty-five.

Rina finally managed to breathe without pain, her armpits damp with sweat. Some of her hair had fallen out of her scarf. She tucked it back in. Quietly, she asked, “Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer, didn’t acknowledge her question.

She became quiet as well, too nervous to talk. Nothing to do except wait him out. As soon as he got off at Devonshire and headed west instead of east, she knew where he was headed. He wasn’t taking her home. He was driving toward McCoy Park.

Years since Rina had been there. It hadn’t changed at all. A time warp of yesteryear when land was still an available commodity. A velvety green lawn hugging the foothills, dotted with several picnic benches. In the distance were the outdoor tennis courts. The sky was gray, the weather was cool, and the nets were empty. Since it was a school day and the park didn’t have a playground, there weren’t any children around. She and Bram owned the place.

He parked the Volvo, walked away from the car without a word. If she had had the keys, she would have driven home. Instead, she had no choice but to follow.

He turned to her, his face wan, his voice a shadow. “I am so sorry, Rina. I don’t know what…forgive me.”

She didn’t answer.

He ran his hand over his chin, surprised to find it roughened with stubble. “Are you all right?”

“I’m alive. It’s a good start.” She approached him tentatively. “Are you all right?”

“No, I’m not.” His eyes met hers. “What on God’s green earth were you thinking, showing up like that? The LAPD doesn’t have enough problems? You can’t do things like that, Rina. If you get dragged into this mess, you take your husband down at the same time.”

“I just wanted to talk…to help if I could-”

“You can’t.” He moved away from her, leaned against a giant budding sycamore and looked upward. “Go home, Rina. Just…go home.”