Prayers for the Dead (4 page)

He exhaled slowly, hoping Dolores Sparks would have enough emotional and physical strength to make it through the night. He would have liked to have questioned her, asked her what her husband had been doing, parked in the back alley behind Tracadero’s… asked her about Sparks’s daily habits. But nothing would have sunk in right now because the woman was still in denial. Perhaps when the shock wasn’t as overwhelming, they could talk. Tomorrow, he would try again.

No sense standing around, so he went downstairs. Maggie was shaking, a phone receiver in her right hand. She turned to Decker, her cheeks soaked with tears. “He’s not in. What should I do?”

“Why don’t you sit down, Maggie. Is there a doctor I can call? Maybe a close family friend of your mother’s?”

Michael came running down the stairs. “She’s asking for Bram, Mag. Is that him?”

“He’s not home! I called his apartment
three times
and just got the machine!”

“You called his
apartment
?” Michael sighed. “Maggie, you should have called the church!”

“Oh God, what’s the num — auto dial one, right?” She held the receiver to her ear.

Michael began to pace. To Decker, he said, “I gave her a sedative… to calm her down.” He rubbed his face, continued to pace.

Maggie shouted into the receiver. “Bram, if you’re there,
pick
up the phone! This is an emergen… Hello? It’s Maggie Sparks, can you please get my broth—”

Michael grabbed the phone away from her. “Get my brother on the phone, now. This is an emergency!” To Maggie, he said, “Go upstairs and look after Mom. And try not to be so hysterical!”

Maggie dashed up the steps.

Michael yelled into the mouthpiece. “You’ve got to get over here quick! There’s been a terrible…” Tears exploded from Michael’s eyes. “Police are here, Bram. Dad’s been murdered.”

Decker could hear a voice over the line saying, “Oh my God!”

Michael said, “You’ll come over?”

Another pause. Michael saying, “She’s in the bedroom with Maggie. I gave her a sedative… No… not yet. Can you call them? I can’t… no… no… no… he said he thought it was Dad, but I’m not sure… Look, why don’t
you
talk to him.” He shoved the phone in Decker’s face, and resumed pacing.

Decker said, “This is Lieutenant Peter Decker. To whom am I talking, please?”

A beat. Then a soft voice said, “I’m Dr. Sparks’s son Abram. What happened?”

The voice was calm, especially when compared to the surrounding hysteria. Decker said, “It would be better if we talked in person.”

“How’s my mother?”

“Resting. Your brother gave her a sedative. Is that all right?”

“Yes, that’s all right. My brother said my father was murdered. Is this true?”

“Yes, sir, that appears to be the situation. I’m very sorry.”

“Are you sure it’s him? Has someone identified him?”

“His personal identification was on him — his license, his credit cards, his professional cards. Besides, your father is a recognizable person in this community.”

“I want to see him.”

“I’d be happy to escort you to make an identification.”

“Tell me where to go.”

“I’m sorry but I’ll have to escort you. Anything I can do to help you and your family through this terrible crisis.”

Another beat. “I’m so stunned, I don’t… May I please talk to my brother again?”

Decker noticed he said “may” instead of “can.” Shaken but in control. “Of course.” He handed the phone back to Michael.

“When are you going to get here?” Michael barked into the phone.

“I’m going down… to make sure it’s Dad,” Bram answered. “Someone has to call the others.”

“Can you do it? Maggie’s useless and I’m… I can’t handle Paul right now.”

“All right. I’ll do it.”

“When are you going to get here? Mom’s asking for you.”

“As soon as I can, Michael. Where’s Maggie?”

“With Mom.”

“Mike, watch Mom like a hawk. Keep her away from the medicine cabinet.”

“Right.”

“Also, get Maggie to take her Theo-Dur—”

“She seems okay—”

“As a precaution, Mike. Her attacks are usually delayed. I can’t deal with Maggie’s asthma right now. Tell Mag to lie down and rest until I can get there.”

Michael nodded.

“Are you there?”

“Sorry, yes. I’ll keep watch over Mom.”

“And Maggie, too. Take care of
both
of them. Are you getting this down, Michael?”

“Yes, keep watch over Mom. And Maggie, too. Just get here.”

“As soon as I can. Put Decker back on.”

“Who?”

“The lieutenant.”

“Oh…” Again, Michael gave the phone to Decker.

“Yes?”

Bram said, “Do you know where the Church of St. Thomas is, Lieutenant?”

“Of course.”

“How far is it from where my father…”

“I could meet you at St. Thomas’s if you’d like, Mr. Sparks.”

“Thank you very much. I’d appreciate it. I need to call my other siblings. To tell them what’s going on. I’ll meet you outside the church in twenty minutes.”

“That’s fine.”

The phone disconnected.

Michael said, “Is he coming over?”

“No,” Decker said. “First he wants to identify your father. I’m picking him up in front of St. Thomas’s.”

“God…” Michael paced furiously. “I hope he gets here quick. I don’t think I can handle the others by myself!”

“Who are the others?” Decker asked. “Your siblings?”

Maggie came running down the stairs. “Michael, she’s moaning. What should I do?”

“I’m coming.” Michael bit his nail. To Decker, he said, “Excuse me a moment.” He started up the stairs with his sister. “Oh, Maggie. Take your Theo-Dur. As a precaution.”

“I’m all right—”

“Just do it, Mag. Don’t argue.”

Maggie seemed angry but said nothing. As they climbed up a serpentine twist of staircase, they disappeared from view, leaving Decker down below in the faded dowager of a house. He took the opportunity to nose around, went into the family room.

The walls held no artwork. Instead, they were plastered with family photos. The Sparkses appeared to have lots of children, although some of the adults could have been daughters or sons-in-law.

The most striking photos were two fourteen-by-twenties framed in gilt. The sittings appeared almost identical. Obviously, they had been taken on the same occasion, and it had been a formal one. Dad had been decked out in a tux; Mom, in a blue sequined gown. The men wore dark suits, the women expensive suits or cocktail dresses.

The first photograph held many more people — the parents, their children with spouses, lots of grandchildren, ranging from teens to infants. Too many people for Decker to sort out.

The second photograph was more manageable. Eight people. The parents — Azor and Dolores — with four young men and two young women, among them Michael and Maggie. Probably their children because all of them bore resemblance to the parents. Though the dress had been formal, the posing had been much more casual. All of the parties seemed relaxed — no frozen smiles, no stiff postures. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.

The kids broke down into two groups: Dad’s side with black, curly hair and blue eyes, and Mom’s side with light brown hair and green eyes. Michael and another brother looked like Dad, Maggie, the other men, and a sister favored Mom.

Decker took a closer look at the photo. One brother wore a clerical collar. St. Thomas’s was a Catholic church. Perhaps brother Bram was actually Father Bram. No wonder he had been so composed over the phone. The clergy was used to dealing with crises.

A good-looking man in a pale, scholarly way. A face with regular features, and accented cheekbones. Sharp, sea-colored eyes behind the rimless glasses. Oak-brown hair and long. It fell past his shoulders.

Decker continued to examine the picture, then did a double take. Another brother standing next to Dad. Bram’s face but without the academic pallor and glasses. Fleshier in the cheeks with shorter, styled hair.

Michael came down the stairway. “She’s sleeping, but it’s restless.”

“Do you have a family doctor you want to call, Michael?”

“No, not really. Dad has always handled our medical care. We’re generally a very healthy bunch, including Mom. Maggie’s with her. She’ll be okay.”

Decker pointed to the picture. “You have twin brothers?”

Michael’s eyes went to the photograph. “Actually, triplets. Luke and Bram…” He pointed to the faces. “These two are identical twins obviously. They look even more alike now that Luke has taken off a few pounds.”

“Bram’s a priest.”

“Yeah. But we’re not Catholic. Only he is.”

“Who is the other triplet?”

“Paul.” Michael’s coloring had returned. “He looks more like me than his own twins. That’s genetics. Toss of the dice. This one is my older sister, Eva. She was born after the triplets. She’s kind of… well, my mother’s favorite after Bram. I think Mom was really happy to get a girl after three boys.”

“I can imagine. How old are your sibs?”

“Triplets are thirty-five, Eva’s thirty.”

“And you’re…”

“I’m twenty-five. Maggie’s twenty.”

“Your mom had children every five years.”

“I guess she did.”

“When was the picture taken?”

“For my dad’s sixtieth birthday… about two years ago. Seems like a hundred years ago.”

Michael rubbed his eyes.

“I feel like such a jerk. I’m a med student. Second year. I’ve been to Africa on missionary work. I’ve taken care of very sick people. I shouldn’t be falling apart like this. I should be doing better. Dad wouldn’t approve.”

“You’re doing great under the circumstances, Michael.”

“I don’t think so…”

Decker patted his back.

Dad wouldn’t approve
.

Said a lot about the kid. Twenty-five, a med student, and still concerned about what Dad might think. Must be hard to be a son of a legend. Hard to forge that own identity. Said something for Michael that he chose to go into his father’s field knowing that people would always be making comparisons.

Michael said, “It’s just that it’s such a shock. What happened?
How’d
it happen?”

“He was found dead in his car.”

“Where?” Michael bit his nails as he walked back and forth. “In the hospital parking lot? I’ve told Dad those places aren’t safe. I’ve told him a hundred times that he should carry Mace or pepper spray. Something. Anything.”

“It happened in a back alley of Tracadero’s restaurant.”

Michael stopped walking. “What? Where?”

“In back of Tracadero’s,” Decker repeated. “Any idea what he was doing there?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Does your father eat at Tracadero’s?”

“Maybe for a special occasion. Like one of our birthdays. Dad does like good food.” Michael bit his lower lip. “Mostly, he ate at the hospital. He practically lived at the hospital.”

“Not home a lot.”

“Almost never except for Sundays.”

“Your mom is a nervous type?”

“No, not at all.” Michael became tense. “Why do you ask that?”

“Just because you keep sedatives in the house. I get the feeling she’s used to taking them.”

“Oh… only occasionally… to help her sleep. Usually she’s full of energy. The woman is tireless. Dad was never home when we were growing up. She raised us all really by herself. That’s why she needs sedatives… she’s so full of energy, if she doesn’t take them, she doesn’t sleep.”

Nothing to do with anxiety, guy?
Instead, Decker nodded sympathetically. How people deny. He checked his watch. “I’ve got to leave to meet your brother. Are you going to be all right by yourselves?”

“Yes… I’m… yeah, I’m okay. Just tell Bram… as quick as he can.” Michael looked seasick. “I mean… tell him everything’s under control… but if he could…”

“I’ll give him the message.” Decker regarded the young med student. He was dog-paddling, barely breaking surface, in an ocean of shock and grief. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yes,” Michael insisted. “Yes, I can handle it. Thank you, Lieutenant. Thank you for… I don’t know why I’m thanking you… I don’t know what I’m doing. Please tell Bram to hurry.”

“He takes care of the family, doesn’t he?”

Michael wiped tears from his eyes. “Bram takes care of the world.”

Impressive in size
and Gothic in style, the Church of the Holy Order of St. Thomas would have felt at home on the banks of the Thames. It was especially noticeable because West Valley architecture was typically confined to blocklong barrack shopping malls, and anywhere USA strip malls. True, there were a few magnificent million-dollar-plus housing developments. But the vast majority of the homes located within Devonshire Substation area were one-story ranch houses — three bedroom, two bath — serviceable and modest. The church’s spire loomed above its residential neighbors, overlooking its domain like a prison turret.

As Decker pulled the Volare curbside to the front steps, a thin man dressed in jeans, a black corduroy blazer over a black shirt, and running shoes bounded down the stairs. As he got closer, Decker saw the clerical collar. The man peered into the window.

“Lieutenant?”

Decker nodded, opened the passenger door.

The priest slid inside, shutting the door with excess force. Threw Decker a glance, then put on his seat belt. Decker studied the clergyman for a moment. Streaks of gray at the temple, wavy creases in his forehead. He was fine-featured, almost pretty. Dressed in satin and lace, he could have walked out of a Gainsborough. Except for the eyes — alert, too intelligent for peerage foppery.

Decker said, “I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances, Father.”

The priest nodded. “How’s my mother doing?”

“Pretty well, considering.” Decker pulled away from the church. “Michael’s anxious for you to be there.”

“I should be there. But I need to be here. I need a clone.”

Decker nodded. The priest had said
clone
, not
twin
. Ergo, the twin was obviously not a clone. Not the right time to press him on that.

Bram pushed locks off his forehead. His hair wasn’t quite as long as it had been in the pictures. But it still brushed his shoulders. Didn’t look like the padres Decker had seen growing up in southern Florida. Modern times. Modern priests.