Hangman (2 page)

S
TRAIGHT OUT OF
a Diego Rivera painting, he showed up with an enormous bouquet of calla lilies that took up most of his upper body. Size for size, Decker matched every inch of Christopher Donatti’s six-foot four-inch frame.

“You shouldn’t have.” Before Chris could register surprise, Decker took the flowers, tossed them on the marble counter near the door, and then turned him around, pushing him until he was flat against the wall. Decker’s movements were hard and rapid. He pressed the nose of his Beretta into the base of the man’s skull. “Sorry, Chris, but she just doesn’t completely trust you right now.”

Donatti said nothing as Decker patted him down. The man was packing good-quality pieces: the tools of his trade. He had an S&W automatic in his belt and a small .22-caliber Glock pistol in a hidden compartment in his boot. With his own standard-issue Beretta still at Donatti’s neck, Decker picked his pocket, tossing his wallet on the counter. He told him to take off his shoes, his belt, and his watch.

“My watch?”

“You know how it is, Chris. Everything these days is micro-mini. Who knows what you’re hiding inside?”

“It’s a Breguet.”

“I don’t know what that is, but it sounds expensive.” Decker relieved him of the gold timepiece. It was incredibly heavy. “I’m not stealing it. I’m just checking it out.”

“It’s a skeleton watch. Open up the back and you can see the movement.”

“Hmm…it’s not going to explode on me, is it?”

“It’s a watch, not a weapon.”

“In your hands, everything’s a weapon.”

Donatti didn’t deny that. Decker told him to keep his hands up and his body against the wall. He slowly backed up a few inches to give himself some room. With an eye on his hands at all times, Decker began to remove the ammo from Donatti’s guns.

“You can turn around but keep your hands up.”

“You’re the boss.”

He rotated his body until they were face-to-face. Stripped of his weapons, Chris seemed impassive. There was flatness in his eyes; blue without any luminosity. It was impossible to tell if he was angry or amused.

One thing was certain. Chris had seen better days. His skin was patchy and wan and his forehead was a pebble garden of pimples. He’d grown out his hair from the crew cut he had sported a half-dozen years ago; the last time Decker had seen him in the flesh. It was brushed straight back, Count Dracula style, and trimmed to the bottom of his ears. He was still built lanky but with bigger arms than Decker had remembered. He had dressed up for the reunion, wearing a blue polo shirt, charcoal gabardine pants, and Croc boots.

“I’m starting to get a little pain in my arms.”

“Lower them slowly.”

He did. “Now what?”

“Take a seat. Move slowly. When you move slowly, I move slowly. If you rush me, I shoot first and ask questions later.” When Donatti started to sit on the chair, Decker stopped him. “On the sofa, please.”

Donatti cooperated and plopped down on the cushions. Decker
tossed him his watch. He caught it one-handed and placed it back on his wrist. “Is she even here?”

“She’s in the bedroom.”

“That’s a start. Is she coming out?”

“When I give her the okay, she’ll come out.”

“Where’s Gabe?”

“He’s not here,” Decker said.

“That’s probably better.” Donatti dropped his head in his hands. He resurfaced a moment later. “I suppose your being here makes sense.”

“Thanks for your approval.”

“Look. I’m not going to do anything.”

“Why the armory, then?”

“I always pack. Can I talk to my wife now?”

Decker stood at the marble countertop of the hotel bar, the Beretta still in his hands. “A couple of ground rules. Number one: you stay seated the entire time. Don’t approach her in any way, shape, or form. And no sudden movements. It makes me jumpy.”

“Agreed.”

“Mind your mouth and your manners and I’m sure everything will go swimmingly.”

“Yeah…sure.” His voice was a whisper.

“You look a little pale. You want some water?” He opened the bar. “Something stronger?”

“Whatever.”

“Macallan, Chivas, Glenfiddich—”

“Glenfiddich neat.” A moment later, Decker handed him a crystal cut glass with a healthy dose of Scotch. Donatti took a delicate sip and then drank a finger’s worth. “Thanks. This helps.”

“You’re welcome.” Decker regarded the man. “Your color’s coming back.”

“I haven’t had a drink all day.”

“It’s only twelve in the afternoon.”

“It’s almost happy hour New York time. I didn’t want her to think I’m weak. But I am.” Another sip. “She knows I’m weak. What the fuck!”

“Watch your mouth.”

“If my mouth was my only problem, I’d be in good shape.” He handed Decker his empty glass.

“Another?” When Donatti shook his head, Decker closed the cabinet. “What happened?”

“What happened is I’m an idiot.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“I’ve always had reading comprehension problems.”

“You’re missing a crucial element here, Chris. You don’t use your wife as a punching bag even if she did have an abortion.”

“I didn’t punch her, I hit her.”

“That’s not acceptable either.”

Donatti rubbed his forehead. “I know that. I’m just correcting you because I knew I was using an open hand. If I would have punched her, she’d be dead.”

“So you were aware that you were beating the shit out of her?”

“It’s never happened before, it won’t happen again.”

“And she should believe you because…”

“I can count the number of times I’ve lost my temper on one hand. Look, I know she’s scared, but she doesn’t have to be. It was just…” As he started to get up from the couch, Decker waved the gun in his face. He sat back down. “Can I see my wife, please?”

“At least, this time you said please.” Decker stared at him. “Let me ask you a couple of theoretical questions. What if she doesn’t want to talk to you?”

“She wouldn’t have agreed to meet with me if she didn’t want to talk to me.”

“Maybe she just didn’t want to tell you over the phone. That would give you time to plan something dangerous and probably stupid.”

“Is that what she said?” Donatti looked up.

“How about if I ask the questions?”

“I’m not planning anything. I was an idiot. It won’t happen again. Just let me see my wife, okay.”

“What if she doesn’t want to see you anymore? What if she asks for a divorce?”

“Don’t know.” Donatti kneaded his hands together. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“It would piss you off, right?”

“Probably.”

“What would you do?”

“Nothing with you around.” His eyes finally sparked life. “Decker, she’s not going to ask me for a divorce—at least not now—because, first and foremost, I’ve got enough money to engage her in a very expensive and protracted legal battle for Gabe. It would be easier for her just to wait me out until he’s eighteen, and Terry is nothing if not practical. I’ve got another three and a half years before I have to confront this issue. I’d like to see Terry now.”

He was panting. Decker said, “Another Scotch?”

“No.” Donatti shook his head. “I’m fine.” He took in a deep breath and let it out. “I’m ready when you are.”

Decker gave him a hard look. “I’ll be watching your every move.”

“Fine. I won’t move. My butt is glued to the chair. Can we get on with it?”

There was no sense putting off the inevitable. Decker called out her name. He had placed Terry’s chair to the side so he had a clear path from the barrel of his gun to Donatti’s brain. Not that he really expected a shoot-’em-up, but Decker was a Boy Scout and a cop and always tried to be prepared. Terry had curled her legs under her long dress, but her posture was erect and regal. Again, she was sleeveless, her long tanned arms adorned with several bangles. Her eyes were on Donatti’s face even though he was the one who had trouble meeting her gaze.

“You look good,” he told her.

“Thank you.”

“How do you feel?”

“Okay.”

“How’s Gabe?”

“He’s fine.”

Donatti exhaled and looked up at the ceiling. Then he focused on her face. “What can I do for you?”

“Interesting question,” she told him. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

He scratched his cheek. “I’ll do anything.”

“Can I quote you on that?” Before he could answer, she said, “I’m not ready to come back with you.”

Donatti folded his hands in his lap. “Okay. Are you ever going to be ready?”

“Possibly…probably. Just not now.”

“Okay.” Chris glanced at Decker. “Could we get a little privacy, please?”

“Not gonna happen.” Decker held up the flowers. “He brought you these.”

Terry glanced at the lilies. “I’ll call for a vase later.” To Chris, she said, “They’re lovely. Thank you.”

Donatti fidgeted. “So…when do you think…I mean how much longer do you want to stay here?”

“In California or here in the hotel?”

“I was thinking away from me, but yeah, how much longer are you going to be here, too.”

“I don’t know.”

“A month? Two months?”

“Longer than that.” She licked her lips.

“That’s getting a little on the expensive side. I mean, not that I’m begrudging you the money…”

“It is expensive,” Terry said. “I want to rent a house. Technically you’d be renting it. I saw one that I’d like. I’m just waiting for you to write the check.”

Decker was amazed at how confidently she spoke, daring him to deny her anything.

“Where?” Donatti asked.

“Beverly Hills. Where else?”

As she started to stand, Decker said, “What can I get for you?”

“I’m a little thirsty.”

“You sit back down. What would you like?”

“Pellegrino, no ice.”

“Not a problem. What about you, Chris?”

“Same.”

“Give him a Scotch,” Terry said.

“I’m fine, Terry.”

“Did I say you weren’t?” she snapped back. “Give him a Scotch.”

Donatti threw up his hands. Decker said, “No problem just as long as both of you stay put.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Donatti said testily. As soon as the Scotch reached his lips, he seemed to calm down. “So…tell me about this house that I’m renting.”

“It’s in an area called the Flats, which is prime real estate here. It’s twelve thousand a month—about as minimal as it gets for that neighborhood. It needs a little work, but it’s certainly live-in ready. The main reason I chose Beverly Hills was for the school district, which is a good one.”

“No problem,” Donatti said. “Whatever you want.”

Judging by this conversation, it would seem that Terry was in control of the relationship. Maybe she was most of the time. Obviously most didn’t equate to all.

Donatti said, “Do I get a key?”

“Of course you get a key. You’re renting it.”

“And how long do you intend to live out here…in the house that I’m renting?”

“Usually leases are for a year.”

“That’s a long time.”

Terry leaned forward. “Chris, I’m not asking for a legal separation just a physical one. After what happened, that’s the least you can do.”

“I’m not arguing with you, Terry, I’m just trying to get an idea of how long. If you want a year, take a year. It’s about you, not me.”

She was silent. Then she said, “You’ll know where I am, you’ll have a key to the house. Come whenever you want. I’m not going anywhere. Fair enough?”

“More than fair.” Donatti forced his lips upward. “It’s not bad for me to have a hitching post on the West Coast anyway. It’s probably a good idea.”

“So I did you a favor.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Twelve thousand a month. How big is this sucker?”

Terry gave him a smile—a cross between humor and flirtatiousness. “It has four bedrooms, Chris. I think we can work something out.”

Donatti’s smile turned genuine. “Okay.” He took a sip of his booze, then laughed. “Okay. If that’s what you want…fine. Maybe you’ll actually miss me when I’m gone.”

“You can dream.”

“Very funny.”

“Are you hungry?” Terry’s eyes ran up and down his body. “You lost weight.”

“I’ve been a little anxious.”

“How would you know what anxiety feels like?”

Donatti looked at Decker, his eyes unreadable. “The girl’s a wit.”

“Are you hungry, Chris?” Terry asked him.

“I could eat.”

“They have a world-class restaurant.” She glanced at a diamond wristwatch sitting among her gold bracelets. “It’s open. I wouldn’t mind something.”

“Great.” He started to stand, but then looked at Decker. “Can I get up without you shooting me?”

“Go down to the restaurant and get something for the two of you, Chris. Get a table next door for me. We’ll catch up with you in a minute.”

Donatti’s expression turned sour. “We’ll be in a public place, Decker. Nothing’s going to happen. How about a little privacy?”

“I’ll be sitting at another table,” Decker said. “Whisper if you don’t want me to hear. Go ahead. We’ll meet you there.”

Donatti rolled his eyes. “Do I get my steel back?”

“Eventually,” Decker said.

“You can keep the ammo, just give me the pieces.”

“Eventually.”

“What do you think I’m going to do? Coldcock you?”

“I wasn’t even thinking along those lines, but now that you mention it, you are unpredictable.”

He turned to Terry. “Do you care if I pack?”

“It’s up to him,” Terry said.

“They’re worthless without ammo.” When Decker didn’t reply, Chris said, “C’mon. It would show good faith. All I’m asking for is what’s mine.”

“I hear you, Chris.” Decker opened the door. “But you can’t always get what you want.”

The two men faced off. Then Donatti shrugged. “Whatever.” He swaggered through the door without looking back.

Decker shook his head. “That’s one icy dude.” He regarded Terry. “You handled him very well.”

“I hope so. At the very least, it’ll buy me some time to think.”

Decker noticed she was shaking. “Are you all right, Terry?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little…” Perspiration dripped from her forehead. She wiped her face with a tissue. “You know what they say, Lieutenant.” Nervous laughter. “Never let them see you sweat.”