Prayers for the Dead (50 page)

Decker said, “When’s Berger going before the grand jury?”

“Originally, they had him down for next week. But the FBI keeps finding stuff. Apparently, Fisher/Tyne has not only been monkeying around with data — which is federal offense because they’ve been hacking into computer data banks cross-country — but the company’s also been covering up dubious results and negative side effects of their test drugs.”

“How?”

“They discount side effects as anomalies or just plain disregard the data. Ignore it. If a doctor says anything about the outrageous practice, the company hits the MD with a slander suit. Keeps the doc tied up with expensive litigation that encourages others to keep their mouths shut.”

“That’s not illegal?”

“Nope. But bribing is. FBI’s uncovered incentive bribes for looking the other way. Shockley is up to his
ears
. Scott has had the last laugh.”

She paused.

“Course that doesn’t bring Kenneth Leonard back to life. Poor guy. He finally decides to do the right thing and gets mowed down. Talk about bad timing.”

“Ironic,” Decker said. “Whole thing might never have been discovered if Azor hadn’t been murdered.” He exhaled forcefully. “And his murder had nothing at all to do with Fisher/Tyne.”

“It always boils down to a personal thing, doesn’t it?”

“Usually.”

Marge’s eyes met his. “Are you mad at me, Pete?”

“Mad at you?”

“For crapping out on you.”

“What are you talking about?”

Marge sat down at Decker’s desk across from him. “When you called me over to help Bram, I hesitated. I didn’t want to do it.”

“It’s understandable. You weren’t gloved.”

“Neither were you.”

Decker shrugged. “Thinking about it later on, I wondered if I did the right thing by yelling at you to come over. There’d been rumors that he was gay. Suppose he was HIV positive.”

“Yet you didn’t think twice about it, did you?”

“Rightly or wrongly, no, I didn’t.”

“I really admire you.”

“Nothing to admire. Like I told Michael Sparks, I didn’t think, I just did what I’d been trained to do.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Decker smiled. “You’re imparting undeserved nobility to my character.”

Marge said, “His blood was clean.”

“Thank God,” Decker said. “I’m not saying Bram’s death has a silver lining. In fact, the whole thing is simply an ugly, useless tragedy. But…”

He swallowed.

“But it does give you pause for thought. Life is short. When Rina feels like joining the human race again, I’m going to take a few days off.”

“Don’t be too radical, Pete.”

“Nah, never. I’m Joe American Dad, Margie. Mr. Straitlaced, Middle-Aged Fart.”

“You’re not
that
bad.”

“No, actually, I’m not. But I gotta act the part.” He grinned. “Otherwise my boys’ll have nothing to rebel against.”

Ginger’s barking woke Decker up from a luxurious Sunday nap. He arose from his living room couch, rolling his shoulders to relieve them of stiffness. Stretched a moment. It hurt. He gave his hair a cursory comb with his fingers, then answered the knock on the door.

Eerie seeing Luke. At present, garbed in black, his weight loss, his longer hair, and his glasses, he looked indistinguishable from Bram. As if that entire ordeal had been just a terrible nightmare.

“Did I wake you, Lieutenant?”

“Uh… no; the dog did.” Decker smiled. “It’s okay.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Not too bad.”

“Sorry to bother you at home.”

“How’s your family?”

“Fucked.”

Decker said nothing.

“Sorry, but it’s the truth,” Luke said. “I could lie, say that Abram’s death made us closer, made us appreciate one another. But the sad thing is… we’re the same people. Worse. Because we lost our family glue. And the world lost a truly good man.”

He looked down, then up.

“Ain’t a day that has gone by… when I haven’t looked in the mirror… and pretended my reflection was him. Most of the time, when I reach out at it and feel that cold, slick surface, reality just slaps me across the face. But then there are times… times when my fingers melt with his…”

Luke rubbed his green eyes under his glasses. He smiled coldly. “Maybe that’s drugs talking.”

Decker waited a beat, then said, “What can I do you for, Mr. Sparks?”

“Actually, I came to see your wife. Is she home?”

Decker paused. “I’ll go get her. You want to come in?”

“No, thanks, I’ll just wait here.”

Luke tore into his thumbnail as he waited. A moment later, Rina appeared, a child of around three riding her hip. A real looker that woman was even with the scarf covering her hair. Made her even more desirable. He had a sudden urge to rip it off and see what was underneath.

“Hello,” Rina said.

“Mrs. Decker…” Luke’s eyes moved sideways. “Thanks for seeing me.”

Rina waited. Her husband was still with her. Luke glanced at him and said nothing.

Decker relieved Rina of the baby. “Come on, Hannah Rosie. Let’s go play in the orchard.”

“Your shoulder, Peter. Let her walk.”

“I’m fine.” To Luke, Decker said, “Excuse us.”

“Can I pick the oranges, Daddy?” Hannah asked.

“Yes, you can pick the oranges.”

“Can I throw the oranges, Daddy?”

“No, you may not throw the oranges.”

“Can I throw just…” The little girl held up a lone finger. “Can I throw just… one orange?”

“Maybe one. If you walk.”

“I walk.”

Luke watched them go. “Cute kid. Got a couple of my own that age.”

“I know.”

Luke was momentarily thrown off-kilter. “Bram told you?”

“Yes. And I met your son at the memorial service.”

“Oh… oh yes, that.” Luke looked away. “I’ve been going through my brother’s things… I came across this.”

He reached into his jacket, pulled out a small wrapped package and an envelope. He handed them to Rina. “These were meant for you.”

Rina fingered the envelope, noticed the gum seal had been broken. “It’s been opened.”

“I opened it,” Luke said. “To see who it belonged to.”

Rina smiled softly. “Of course. That makes sense.”

He closed his eyes and opened them. “Actually, I did more than just read the name, Mrs. Decker. I read the entire card. I shouldn’t have, but I did.”

Rina took out the card and scanned Bram’s compact writing. Dated years ago. It had been written while he’d been in residence in Rome right before he was due to be ordained. Obviously, he had nixed the idea of sending the card. She wondered why he had kept it. Whatever the reason, she was glad he hadn’t thrown it away.

Emotional words, filling her soul with a bottomless ache. Too much to absorb in front of a stranger. She’d reread it carefully when she was alone, able to break down in private.

“It was a personal note.”

“I know. I apologize. I was just so… shocked. I never thought of my brother as an emotional being, much less being in love.”

Rina looked at him, said nothing.

“To tell you the truth, I’m not sorry I read it. Because it made me feel good… to think that Bram had experienced love and passion and fire and all that good stuff.”

He looked at her.

“I hope his feelings were reciprocated.”

Rina rubbed her wet eyes. “Thank you for bringing this over. It means a lot to me.”

“Does it?”

“You couldn’t possibly know how much.”

Luke stared at her. “Enough said then. I won’t pry.”

“Thank you.”

He paused, then said, “Do you know I was very jealous of your husband?”

“Jealous of Peter?”

“No, your first husband,” Luke said. “Bram and I had had a falling-out, weren’t talking much when he had hooked up with Isaac. I always felt we would have gotten back together sooner if your husband hadn’t gotten in the way. Because Bram loved him like a brother.”

“They were very close.”

“Anyway…” Luke clapped his hands. “I’m sure Bram would have wanted you to have the package. Even if it’s late.”

“Thank you.”

Luke bit a nail. “Pooch is his kid, you know.”

Wide-eyed, Rina stared at him, not knowing what to say.

“My son, Peter… he’s Bram’s kid. My daughter, too. I had chicken pox when I was twenty-two. An odd allergic reaction left me sterile. My wife and I tried all sorts of procedures for a long time. When nothing worked, I went to my brother.”

Luke looked away.

“He wouldn’t agree to artificial insemination… against his Catholic religion to mix seed or something like that.” Luke swiped at his eyes. “But apparently, nonvital organ transplants… or in our case, organ exchanges… were permissible. Which didn’t make a lot of sense to me… or maybe he got permission from the Pope. I never knew much about Bram’s affairs or his religion.”

Rina waited for him to continue.

“He donated one of his… you know.”

Rina couldn’t hide her surprise.

Luke said, “He would have given me both. Said they weren’t doing him any good. But my father put his foot down… wouldn’t allow it.”

“Your
father
did the surgery?”

Luke nodded. “Yeah, Mister Cutting-Edge Surgeon. Excuse me… Doctor Cutting-Edge Surgeon. He didn’t want Bram to do it. But my brother… once he got a bug in his head…”

Rina was silent.

“Dad did it after hours, in secret, off the record. No one knows. No one. Not even my wife. She thought I went in for a hernia. Anyway, with my dad holding the knife and Bram and me being identical, the exchange took. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, et cetera, et cetera.”

Rina remained quiet.

Luke said, “I bunked in at Bram’s apartment for about… four, five days. Dad did a good job. We healed up, both of us. Lo and behold, we still had beards and talked like men. Three months later, my wife became pregnant. Lucky all the way around. God only knows what my own DNA looked like after ten years of using.”

“That’s a beautiful story.” Rina stared at him. “Is it really true?”

Luke blushed. “Honest injun. Some endings are happy, Mrs. Decker.”

“More like bittersweet.”

“Yeah, more like bittersweet.” Luke’s eyes watered. “But we take what we can get. I don’t know why I told you. I guess I wanted you to know that he didn’t die empty.”

“Thank you, Luke.” Rina smiled sadly. “Thank you very much for telling me. It does make me feel better… for whatever that’s worth.”

“Thanks for your time.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

“Nah, don’t bother.”

Rina watched him go. As soon as his car motor faded to nothing, Peter and Hannah reappeared from the orchard. Peter was carrying a handful of oranges.

“Your daughter has an arm,” he said.

“How many did you let her throw?”

“Let’s change the subject. What did Luke want?”

Rina showed her husband the package, but not the card. “This was apparently meant for me… a belated birthday present that never arrived.”

“From Bram?”

She nodded, tore open the wrapping. Inside a box was a pair of tortoiseshell hair combs. She showed them to Peter. “He bought these a long time ago. It’s good he chose combs instead of a mood ring.”

“Very good. They’re beautiful.”

“Yes, they are. Bram always loved my hair.” She smiled at Hannah, lifted her into her arms. “Come on, pumpkin. Let’s go make some juice.”

“Can I throw the oranges, Mommy?”

“No, but you can squeeze them.” She kissed Peter. “Go back to sleep.”

“Good idea.” Decker lay back on the couch, stared at the ceiling, thinking about Rina’s words, that Bram had loved her hair.

Which gave Decker significant insight into their relationship. Which had to have been very personal. Because how else would Bram have known about Rina’s long, luxurious hair, which she usually kept covered for public consumption.

From the very beginning, Decker knew intuitively that Rina had loved Bram, knew that her love had been returned in spades. Maybe they had physically consummated the relationship, maybe not. What did it matter anyway? He had once heard a Jewish proverb stating that jealousy rots the flesh off the bones — the reason why man disintegrates after death. He could believe that. It was a petty, trivial emotion — a waste of time and precious breath.

Decker thought about his wife’s closeness to Bram, examined the feelings in his heart. They felt warm, very good indeed.

Faye Kellerman
is the New York Times bestselling author of nine previous Peter Decker/Rina Lazarus mysteries as well as the historical thriller The Quality of Mercy. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, novelist Jonathan Kellerman, and their children

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