Faye Kellerman - Blood Games

“Oh …” She regarded Marge’s face. “You look very familiar.”

“Detective Dunn, LAPD.” She handed the woman her card. “I was wondering if I could come in.”

“Of course.”

Marge crossed the threshold. It was a cool February day in the Valley, but the house was as hot as a foundry. It had been a long time since the interior had experienced fresh air. The place was tidy especially considering the circumstances. Wendy Hesse sat down on a red sofa, and Marge sat next to her.

“Do you need anything?” Marge asked her.

“No, I’m …” She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ears. “People have been kind. Some are a little shy about approaching me, but for the most part, it’s been … Thank God for friends.” She needed her hands. “It’s Thursday?”

“Yes.”

“Almost two weeks.”

“Have you gone into his room yet?” When Wendy shook her head no, Marge said, “Would it be possible for me to look around his room? We’re still searching for a reason … all of us. It would be helpful if I could take Gregory’s laptop to headquarters and probe its contents.”

Wendy looked nervous. “Maybe I should ask my husband about this.”

“Sure.” Marge waited a beat. “Have you looked at Gregory’s laptop?”

She shook her head no.

“Do you know his screen name and password?”

“I know his screen name. I used to know his password, but I think he’s changed it.”

“Should we go to his room and see if your password works?” Wendy bit her thumbnail. Marge said, “Or I can bring his laptop out of the room if you’re not ready to go in yet.”

“I really should talk to my husband about this.”

“Whatever you want,” Marge told her. “I know that you’re interested in finding a reason—”

“I don’t know about that anymore.” She inhaled and let it out slowly. “What difference will it make? It won’t bring him back.” Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “Maybe it’s best to just let it go.”

“Whatever you think is best.” Marge proffered the woman her card and she took it. “Call if you change your mind.”

The woman stood and her sorrowful eyes met Marge’s. “Thank you for coming.”

“Sure.” Marge hesitated, but decided to ask the question anyway. “I understand that videotaping had become Gregory’s favorite hobby. Was he interested in making films?”

Wendy said, “Gregory was always the one that recorded family events.”

“So he’s had the interest for a long time.”

Wendy was silent.

“Just curious,” Marge said. “Do call if you need anything.”

When the woman still didn’t talk, Marge turned around and let herself out the door.

RINA LOVED THE quiet of Shabbat morning, when the neighborhood was without construction noise and leaf blowers. Through her kitchen window, she could actually hear birds chirping. Last year there had been a nest of finches in one of her bushes. She had heard a racket of squawks several times every day when the parents had returned to feed the young. Food was primal, and with a big family, much of her life revolved around meals.

She had been dressed for shul since eight, but Peter was taking his time. So she sat at her kitchen table, sipping coffee and reading the paper—a rare moment of alone time that proved to be short-lived. Gabe came in, dressed in a black long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Behind his wireless specs sat sleepy green eyes.

“Hey,” he said.

“You’re up early.”

“Yeah, I thought I’d catch up on a few things. Get a jump on the day.”

“Would you like some breakfast?”

“Yeah, that would probably make sense.” The boy took down a mug from the cupboard and made himself a cup of instant coffee. He was comfortable enough to open pantry doors and raid the fridge without asking permission. He fixed himself a bowl of cereal and began shoveling food into his mouth.

Rina said, “We’re eating lunch here today if you’re interested.”

“Thanks, but I’m going out.” He looked at her. “A guy I know is playing a piano concerto at SC. I thought I’d show him support.”

“That’s very nice. Is he good?”

“He’s very good.” Gabe gave her a sly smile. “But not as good as me.”

“That goes without saying.” She smiled back. “When’s the concert?”

“Three. But to get there on time, I’ve got to take a one o’clock bus, which means I have to leave here around 12:30.”

“Sorry I can’t take you.”

“That’s fine. I don’t mind walking. If I didn’t walk to bus stops, I’d get absolutely no exercise.”

“We’ve got a treadmill.”

“Yeah, my life’s already too much of that.”

“Poor Gabe,” Rina said. “It’s hard being a genius.”

He let out a laugh. “I like when you do that. It means that you’re not pitying me.”

“You, my boy, are anything but an object of pity. In fact, you’re overloaded with assets. You should lend a few out to those less fortunate. What time are you coming home?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Paul and I will go out to dinner. I suppose it depends on how well he performs.”

“Call and leave a message on the machine. Not that I have to worry about a big independent guy like you, but I’m a mother and I’ll fret if I don’t know where you are.”

“That’s okay. It’s nice to get a little mothering every now and then.”

The room went quiet. Rina studied his face. “She contacted you again?”

“Yeah.” Gabe plunked the spoon in his cereal and pushed the bowl away. “I found out that my sister’s name is Juleen.”

“Pretty name.” Silence. “What else did she say?”

“Nothing much. I told her that Chris knows about the baby and she shouldn’t worry too much about him.”

“Is that true?”

“Mostly. I mean he still likes her. He’s told me that he’d take her back, baby and all. But he certainly isn’t chasing her down. I think he likes being a martyr for a change. After all the misery he put her through, he’s happy with the role of the aggrieved spouse.”

“I’ve got an aunt and uncle; they’re about ninety now. For forty years, they lived in two separate houses and got together only on Shabbat. People used to ask, are they separated, are they divorced? Nope. Just didn’t want to live together all the time. For them, it worked.”

“As long as they’re okay, I’m okay.” He wiped his glasses on his T-shirt. “I think she wants me to come to India.”

“That would be an interesting trip.”

“Yeah, maybe in the future.” When I’m fucking ready, which isn’t now. Gabe put his glasses back on. “I should get started. What’d you make for lunch?”

“Corned beef and turkey.”

“Oh man!” He made a face. “Please save me some.”

“I will take some aside and hide it in the refrigerator where no one will find it.” Rina kissed the top of his head. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Gabe stood up and spontaneously gave her a small hug, then pulled away self-consciously. His face was warm, and he knew he was blushing. “Thanks, Rina. Not only did I land in the home of two of the nicest people in the world, you cook better than anyone I know.”

“You’d better believe it.”

He gave a small laugh and headed for the garage, the one place where he felt totally at ease—his piano, his music, his solace. Once in a while, when no one was home, he sat in the driver’s seat of Peter’s Porsche, his hand gripping the clutch, his eyes looking out the windshield and imagining an open road that led to anyone’s guess.

ARRIVING AT THE bus stop at ten to one, but Yasmine was nowhere in sight.