Faye Kellerman: Blood Games

“Tell me about your day,” Rina said.

“Pretty routine except for the last half hour.” Decker recapped his puzzling conversation with Wendy Hesse.

“That poor woman.”

“She must be really hurting if she wants a homicide over suicide.”

“Is that what the coroner ruled? Suicide?”

Decker nodded.

“So then … she just doesn’t want to believe it.”

“True. Usually the ominous signs are there but parents look the other way. I honestly believe that Wendy is dumbfounded.” He smoothed his mustache. “You know when we first met and you were adamant about sending the boys to Jewish day school, I thought you were nuts. For what we were paying in tuition, we could have sent the boys to Lawrence or Bell and Wakefield, not a school housed in a one-story dilapidated building that doesn’t even have a library and a computer lab.”

Rina smiled. “Many people would have agreed.”

“But I’ve gotta say, most of the kids we’ve met are nice. Granted, I’m seeing the worst of the prep school teens, but I don’t think those places breed healthy attitudes. On balance, you did the right thing.”

“The school, although disorganized and sorely lacking in resources, is a very kind place. Thank you for saying that.”

Decker leaned back. “You talk to any of the kids today?”

“Of course, the boys are busy as usual. I did Skype with Hannah this morning. She was just going to bed. She’ll probably be up in a couple of hours.”

“I miss her.” Decker looked sad. “Maybe I’ll give Cindy a call. Find out what she’s up to.”

Rina smiled. “Grandchildren are always the antidote to what ails you.”

“You want to take a ride over and see them?”

“You should ask Cindy first.”

“Yeah, I guess I have to do that.” Decker made a phone call and hung up grinning. “She said, come on over.”

“Then let’s go.”

“What about Gabe?”

“I’ll tell him we’re going,” Rina said. “He likes Cindy and Koby, but I have a feeling he’ll decline. He wasn’t himself today. Maybe it has to do with his mother. Anyway, when he gets like that, he retreats inward.”

Decker took in her words. “Should I talk to him?”

“He’ll just tell you everything’s okay.”

“I don’t want him to feel like a stranger,” Decker said. “But I don’t do much to make him feel like a member of the family. I’d feel really guilty if I came home one day and found him in the same condition as Gregory Hesse.”

Rina nodded. “I think his music is and always was his salvation.”

“Is it enough?”

“I don’t know. All I can tell you is he’s functioning well. He takes the bus twice a week to USC for his lessons, he did all his own college applications even though I offered to help, he went for his own interviews and auditions even though I offered to come with him, and he booked his own flights and hotel rooms even though I offered to do it. He’s already guaranteed admission into Harvard and Juilliard. It seems to me like he wouldn’t be planning his future if he didn’t think he had one.” Rina paused. “If you want to do something nice for him, take him out driving. That excites him.”

“Okay, I’ll take him out on Sunday.”

“He really admires your Porsche.”

“Uh, let’s not carry this niceness thing too far. Being emotionally sensitive is one thing. The Porsche is quite another.”

THE COFFEE BEAN was about two miles from the Starbucks where Gabe had encountered Dylan and posse, hopefully out of their range of operation. Not that he expected to meet up with anyone else at six in the morning. The place was empty and that was just fine. He had chosen a padded leather seat in the back, after he bought a bagel and a large coffee as well as the New York Times. When he lived back east, he read the Post. It felt strange reading the intellectual paper when all he wanted to do was read “Weird but True” or “Page Six” to find out who was banging whom.

The café was about fifteen minutes away from his bus stop to USC. Tuesdays and Thursdays were lesson days with Nicholas Mark, and although he wasn’t scheduled to meet with his teacher until eleven, he decided to get a jump on the day. He had slept fitfully last night. His mother’s voice knocking around in his head …

He slathered cream cheese onto his bagel and started skimming through the news, which was even more depressing than his current life. A few minutes later, he felt the presence of eyes and looked up.

A kid in the Jewish school uniform. Not surprising since the place was a two-minute walk from the day school. She must have had mufflers on her feet since he hadn’t heard a thing until she was standing over him, clutching her backpack as if it were armor.

Her smile was shy. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he answered. Upon a second glance, he realized that she was probably older than he had initially thought. She had a mocha complexion, a small, pointed chin, full lips, and big black round eyes topped with black eyebrows carefully arched and shaped. Her hair was equally as dark, very long and tied into a ponytail. She was actually cute, although her body wasn’t much—two scoops of ice cream for a chest and not a curve in sight. “Did you need something?”

“Do you mind if I sit down?”

He was the only occupant in the entire place. He shrugged. “No, go ahead.”

But she didn’t sit. “I heard you play last year at graduation,” she told him. “My older sister was in Hannah’s class. You were …” She clutched her backpack to her chest. “Just … fantastic!”

Gabe said, “Thank you very much.”

“I mean it was like …”

She didn’t finish the sentence. Silence ensued. It was awkward.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” Gabe picked up his coffee cup and sipped it, his eyes slipping back to his paper.

“Do you like opera?” she blurted out.

Gabe put down the paper. “As a matter of fact, I do like opera.”

“You do?” Her eyes got wide. “Well, that’s good. Then at least these won’t go to waste.” She put down her backpack and started rummaging through it until she found what she was looking for—an envelope. She offered it to him. “Here you go.”

He regarded her for a few moments, then took the envelope and opened it up. Tickets to La Traviata this Sunday at the Music Center. First row loge. “These are good seats.”

“I know. They cost me a lot of my own money. Alyssa Danielli is playing Violetta. She’s wonderful, so I’m sure it’ll be wonderful.”

“Then why aren’t you going?”

“I was gonna go with my sister, but she flaked on me. I just couldn’t compete with a pool party and the lure of Michael Shoomer.”

“So why don’t you find someone else to go with?”

“No one my age is going to want to spend their Sunday afternoon at the opera.”

“What about your mom?”

“She’s busy. She’s not interested anyway. The only reason my sister agreed to go is I told her I’d clean her room. So I guess now I don’t have to do it.” She looked wounded. “You might as well use them. Take your girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Well, then take a friend.”

“I don’t have any friends. But … I certainly will use a ticket if you’re going to throw them away. Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Then thank you very much.” He handed her back the envelope with a single ticket.

“You’re welcome.” She heaved a big sigh.

Gabe tried to stifle a smile. “Would you like to go together?”

The kid got excited. “Do you have a car?”

“No, I’m only fifteen. But we can take the bus.”

She looked horrified. “A bus?”

“Yeah, a bus. That’s how you get around if you don’t have access to a car.” Her complexion darkened, and Gabe pointed to a chair. “Why don’t you sit down? I’m getting a pain in my neck looking up at you … although it’s not that far.”