Authors: Faye Kellerman
And maybe that was a good thing.
Because there was life beyond the LAPD.
Someone knocked on his doorjamb, jogging him out of his reverie. Marge said, “A woman named Tess Wetzel is waiting outside. She wants to talk to you.”
“What’s it about?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
Decker paused, the name pricking at his memory cells. “Tess Wetzel?’
“That’s what she said.” Marge looked at her watch. “It’s kinda late. Tell her you left?”
“No, you can bring her in.”
“You’re the boss.”
Decker laughed. “Right.”
A moment later, a plain-looking woman of around thirty limped into the office. She walked with a cane, wincing at every step. Burdened beyond her years. She was on the heavy side, but still had curves. She wore baggy jeans under a loose cable-knit sweater. No makeup. No jewelry. A basic woman, yet there was something about her that connoted strength. Decker stood, held out the chair opposite his desk.
With effort, the woman lowered herself into the seat. Her voice was soft. “Thank you very much for seeing me.”
“No problem.” Decker sat, held out his hand. “It’s Mrs. Wetzel, is it?”
“Tess.” The woman laced her fingers around his, squeezed his hand, then quickly placed hers in her lap. Her eyes grew moist. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
Decker stared at the face…the pained expression…the iron will. He blinked, then said, “That entire night was a blur, Tess, but I remember you clearly. Although I don’t think we were ever properly introduced.” Again he held out his hand. “Lieutenant Peter Decker. Pleased to meet you.”
She smiled, then started crying. Buried her head in her hands. “I’m sorry.”
Decker leaned over, about to place his hand on her shoulder. Thoughts of Jeanine’s harassment suit flitted through his brain. Aw,
screw
that! He patted her arm gently, offered her a tissue. She took it and wiped her eyes.
He said, “It’s wonderful to see you up and about.”
“Of sorts.”
“Can I get you something, Tess?”
“Nothing.” She blew her nose. “I came to thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, although I didn’t do anything more than my job.”
“I didn’t know cops were trained to splint legs.”
“I had some medical training when I was in the army. Amazing. It came back to me in a second.”
“You should have been a doctor,” Tess said. “You have a great bedside manner.”
Decker smiled. “Thank you. How are you coping?”
Tess looked away. “Not too awful. Been so busy thinking about myself I haven’t been able to think much about…about Ken.”
Decker nodded.
Tess blinked tears. “We weren’t getting along so hot, you know.”
Decker waited.
“That night…” Tess cleared her throat. “That night…Ken was telling me it was over…between us. That he was gonna leave me for some little…floozy he was messing around with…at the office.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I remember sittin’ there, Lieutenant. Just sittin’ there like a piece of wood. Not feelin’ anything. Still, the tears wouldn’t stop comin’.”
Decker nodded.
“I remember thinkin’…thinkin’…I wish I was dead. I wish
he
was dead. Next thing I knew, he was.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she cried silently, her gaze fixed on his wall.
Softly, Decker said, “You didn’t mean it, Tess. Don’t
you even give it a second thought because you didn’t
mean
it. You think about yourself now—yourself and your kids. You have children, right?”
“Two.”
“You had
nothing
to do with your husband’s death. There’s only one man to blame for what happened that night.”
“Harlan Manz,” Tess whispered.
“He’s the only one responsible for your husband’s death,” Decker said. “Is that clear?”
Tess didn’t respond right away. Then she said, “At the hospital…we formed a group…those of us who were hit but weren’t on the critical list.”
“A survivors’ group?”
“Yes. We started talking among ourselves. Because only we knew what it was like.”
“I think that was a great idea.”
“I’m still in contact with a few of the women. The waitress there named Carol. We became friends. We have kids the same age and all. I was thinking like…maybe you could come talk to us one day.”
“Anytime.” Decker paused. “What do you have in mind?”
“Just talk about…what happened. And
why
.”
“That’s tough. Because we really don’t know why. We have theories, we have suspicions, we have profiles and psychologists and criminal experts—all of them yakking about this kind of thing. But that’s all we really have, Tess. Just talk. Still, I’d be happy to address your group and answer any questions you people might have.”
Decker pulled out his calendar.
“Did you have a specific date in mind?”
She shook her head no. “I’ve got to call some of the others first. Can I get back to you?”
“Absolutely.”
She started to rise. Decker bolted out of his chair to aid her, but she stopped him. “I can manage.”
“Okay.”
She stood, leaned on the ball of her cane. “This is gonna sound crazy…but…”
Decker nodded encouragement.
She started to talk, then stopped. She tried again. “The shooting…there was a lot of shooting.”
“Yes, there was.”
“Ken and me…it seems like we was hit right away.” Her eyes moistened. “Right off the bat.”
“I understand.”
“There was all this shooting. Even after we was hit.”
“Yes, there was lots of fire.”
“I got this bad habit…of being curious…too curious. Even after I was hit…instead of just staying down like a normal person, I had to look.”
Decker’s heart started racing. “What’d you see, Tess?”
“Lots of very scared people. Somehow…seeing them so scared…it made me less scared. Does that sound crazy?”
“Not at all.”
Tess grew silent. Decker tried to hide his disappointment. Well, what did he expect? “No, it doesn’t sound the least bit crazy.”
Tess dropped her voice to a whisper. “Suddenly it stopped…the shooting. After it was over…everyone moaning and crying…but nobody dared to move. Too afraid that it would…you know…start up again.”
Decker nodded.
Tess said, “So no one moved…even after it was over…except that one guy.”
One guy?
Decker tried to keep calm. “What guy was that, Tess?”
“Some guy in a heavy green jacket…it was cold that night.”
Decker sat up. A
green
jacket? Harlan was found dead, wearing a
green
jacket. “You saw a man in a green jacket walking around
after
the shooting stopped?”
Tess appeared confused. “He was more like standing around. But I’m not
positive
. Because the one time I mentioned him, no one knew what I was talking about. But like
I said, I have a bad habit of being curious. That’s how I found out about Ken and his floozy.”
Decker forced himself to talk slowly. “Tell me about this guy. What did he do?”
“He didn’t do anything really. Just bent down, then stood up, put his hands in his pocket…he looked around, then walked out the door. Isn’t that odd?”
Decker agreed. It was very odd. Casually, he told her that he’d look into it.
Placing his hands
on his desk, Strapp made a tepee with extended fingers. To Decker, he said, “And how many of Estelle’s people did you interview?”
“All of them. But that doesn’t—”
Strapp interrupted. “Tell me if I’m wrong about this, Lieutenant.”
The captain’s eyes went from Decker to his Homicide team minus the old guy, Farrell Gaynor. Dogs encircling him like prey. Well, fuck that. He’d run
his
investigation in
his
own way, at
his
own pace. Less chance of errors—procedurally as well as politically.
“Any of you in this room,” Strapp addressed them. “I
welcome
the chance to stand corrected. Now you people interviewed every single patron and employee at Estelle’s. Correct?”
The question was rhetorical so no one answered.
Strapp said, “How many were there, Lieutenant?”
Decker could see where this was leading. “One hundred forty-eight—”
“And not
one
of them mentioned a phantom man—”
“In a
green
jacket,” Marge interrupted.
“Yes, Detective, I know the details. Can I finish?”
“Sorry, sir,” Marge replied.
Strapp said, “So I’m right about this, am I not, Decker? That no one mentioned a
phantom
guy…in a
green
jacket?”
Oliver spoke up, “Sir, many of the witnesses mentioned that the shooter wore a green jacket.”
“Harlan Manz wore a green jacket, Detective.” Strapp grew irritated. “Forget about the jacket. I want to know
which
of your one hundred and forty-eight witnesses mentioned this phantom guy?”
Decker said, “Captain, it was right after—”
Strapp held up his hand, signaling quiet. “Yes, I know, I know. Everyone had been in shock. And it takes time for the shock to wear off…for the memories to come back. This is all true. And I’m willing…to entertain Mrs. Wetzel’s…what was her first name, Pete?”
“Tess,” Decker said.
Strapp clasped his hands together. “All right. Let’s say Mrs. Wetzel’s observation was more than a figment of her imagination. Before we proceed any further—with our outer-space conspiracy theories and teenage hit men postulations—we go back to
basics
. How about doing a little
police
work?”
Decker said, “I had every intention of having my team reinterview every single person at Estelle’s that evening—”
“Good,” Strapp said. “Because now it’s an order! Just damn well make sure you don’t
push
anyone. If they don’t want to talk, we come back. Because it’s only been what…about three weeks since the incident. We’re still dealing with open wounds. So that’s what we do. We concentrate on interviews.”
The captain looked pointedly at Martinez.
“We forget about tailing a gawky teenager whose only crime is playing Scrabble.” His eyes turned to Webster. “And we forget about Sean Amos, whose only crime is being a schmuck.”
“He roughs up women,” Webster said.
“He grabbed his sister’s arm, Detective,” Strapp said. “No, it’s not
nice
. But if we arrested every older brother who manhandled his younger sibling, we’d have no civilian population.”
“It’s different when you do it in front of a cop,” Webster said. “It makes a statement.”
“It says nothing, Webster. More important, it means nothing with regard to the murders at Estelle’s. Lay off Amos, is that
clear
?”
“Very.”
“Good.” Strapp faced the others. “We also forget about Jeanine Garrison—”
“What about David Garrison?” Marge interrupted. “Do we forget about him as well?”
Strapp’s face turned red. His hands clenched into fists. “Detective Dunn, you’re here by my good graces, not by
his
.” He cocked a thumb in Decker’s direction.
“It was a legitimate question, Captain,” Decker retorted. “Do we view David Garrison as a plain suicide or do we hunt around?”
“For now, it’s a suicide,” Strapp said. “If Forensics tells us differently, we barrel ahead into a homicide investigation.”
Strapp looked at his watch.
“It’s eight-thirty. No sense bothering people at night. All the interviewing is to be done during work hours, but not at the expense of your other investigatory duties. Is that clear?”
“Couldn’t be any clearer,” Oliver said.
“Are you being snide, Detective Oliver?”
“I’m always snide, sir,” Oliver answered. “It’s part of my personality.”
“It’s a rotten part.”
“I’m sure my ex-wife would agree with you, sir.”
Decker smiled, looked down.
Strapp caught it, started to sneer, but smiled as well. He threw his head back, exhaled slowly, then looked at the group. “You should see yourselves. Like a bunch of hyenas ready to pounce. And for what reason? Because I’m telling you to do sound police work.”
He turned to Decker.
“Lieutenant, given Tess Wetzel’s revelation, what would you do?”
Decker ran a hand over his face. “I’d handle the inves
tigation more or less the same way. Because at the moment, we have nothing on Jeanine Garrison other than a photo of her and Manz. And that’s not indictable evidence. I do believe Tess Wetzel’s disclosure. So maybe I’d make the interviewing more top priority. But basically, the captain and I are in agreement.”
Martinez said, “So then we don’t have a problem.”
“I have a problem,” Webster said. “We’re sidestepping a killer because she’s connected.”
“So get me evidence.” Strapp became suddenly angry. “I can’t
believe
you people. A bunch of asses. Finally, you get a big break…some outside confirmation that maybe there was a second shooter…and you’re mired in shit. Stop blowing smoke through your butts and start asking the right
questions
. And maybe you’ll even get the right
answers
”
He turned to Decker.
“I don’t want you questioning anyone, but you can draw up the list of people to be interviewed and divide them any way you see fit.”
Webster said, “Then I reckon you don’t want us questioning Jeanine Garrison…’cause she wasn’t there.”
“That’s right, Webster,” Strapp said. “I reckon you don’t do that. It’s not only
pointless
, it’s
stupid
.”
“Aren’t pointless and stupid the same thing?” Oliver asked.
Webster said, “You can be pointless without being stupid.”
“Well, your idea, Webster, was both.” The captain turned to Decker. “Anything else you want to discuss?”
Decker shook his head.
“Meeting is over.” Strapp turned back to Decker. “I need to talk to you alone. The rest of you…
out!
”
Slowly the group got up, left the captain’s office feeling depressed and put down. Strapp found their resentment palpable. Too bad. You want to bolster the ego, get yourself a whore. Strapp waited until the last of them had filed out, then closed the door a little too hard. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “You want coffee, Pete?”
“You’re offering me coffee?” Decker paused. “Gotta be bad.”
Strapp sat down, buried his head in his hands. “God, what a mess.” He looked up. “What a fucking mess!”
Decker waited. Strapp said, “I got an apology call from Jeanine’s lawyer…her behavior this morning.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Quote, unquote. ‘She was in shock at her brother’s untimely demise, she was hysterical. She didn’t know what came over her. She’s extremely sorry for her unprecedented outburst.’”
Decker shifted in his seat. “Obviously someone told her that slapping constitutes legal assault. Her lawyer was feeling you out to see if I’m going to file an assault charge against her.”
“They realize it’s a possibility.”
“A
strong
possibility.”
“They want to deal. You be gentlemanly, she won’t proceed with the harassment suit. Let bygones be bygones.”
“And what about my hearing with the IAD?”
“What about it?”
“Does she call them up and tell them she was lying?”
“Decker, if she doesn’t pursue the charges, you’ll beat the in-house investigation.”
“No, that’s not true. If she doesn’t pursue the charges, I’ll get an Unsustained from IAD. Which is what I’d probably get in any case. I want my record to remain spotless. Which is what I deserve. I want her to call IAD and tell them she was lying. I want a decision of Unfounded.”
“Decker—”
“You call up her legal eagle, tell him that
if
she admits she was lying, I won’t bring her up on assault charges. Charges on which I-unlike her—have witnesses—”
Strapp broke in. “Pete,
listen
to me. Jeanine is not going to admit that she was lying. Yes, it’s unfair. But look at the positive. This is a great chance to rid yourself of an albatross around your neck. Don’t be an idiot.”
“No dice.”
Strapp flung himself against the back of his desk chair, looked up at the ceiling. “Would it help if I ordered you to do it?”
“You can’t order away my civil rights.”
The captain gazed intensely at Decker. “Don’t you think you owe it to Rina to consult her before you make such a blanket decision?”
“Charges are against
me
, not her.”
But even as Decker said it, he knew Strapp had him. No way he’d chance going to trial, making it public…becoming an embarrassment to Rina and the kids. Backed into a corner like a circus lion, seething with rage…lashing out in vain as the devil snapped the whip.
Quietly, Decker said, “Tell her lawyer I’ll think about it.”
Strapp cleared his throat. “Peter, we both know that Jeanine is unstable. She’s giving you a bargain…now…at this moment. Tomorrow she may change her mind. If I call now, her lawyer will have the papers ready tomorrow morning. I’ll have them reviewed by our legal staff, have them sitting on your desk before lunch. You sign them. And when you return from your break, you’ll be rid of this whole fucking mess. What do you say?”
“I’ll talk to Rina.”
Strapp didn’t push it. “I’ll call the lawyer anyway. You can always change your mind. Be here in my office by eight tomorrow.”
Decker forced himself to unclench his jaw. “Okay.”
“For what it’s worth, it stinks.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes, there is something else.” Strapp averted his gaze. “She wants to make amends…Jeanine.”
“Oh, Christ—”
“Not with you necessarily…with the LAPD. You’ve been reading about this wheelchair tennis tournament?”
“Yes.”
“I heard it was your idea.”
“Go on.”
“Anyway…if you’ve been following the articles—which I’m sure you have—you know that the proceeds are going to the Estelle’s victims—”
“Robbing Peter to pay Paul—”
“Decker, the massacre made widows. Not all of them were rich women.”
“Unlike others who became millionaires overnight—”
“Didn’t your friend Wetzel lose her husband?” Strapp broke in. “And she has kids?”
“Yes, she did lose a husband, and yes, she does have kids,” Decker snapped back. “So what’s the point? Jeanine been elevated to hero status?”
“No. But the tournament is for a good cause.”
The captain’s voice turned soft.
“She hit upon a real winner, rabbi. A grand a ticket for the courtside boxes. And they’re selling like hotcakes because big names in the tennis world are going to be there. And that attracts the press. Major publicity. The mayor’s ordered a box. So has the governor.”
Strapp pointed to his chest.
“Me, I couldn’t care less about that. But I do care about the people I serve.”
Once again, Decker felt anger race through his veins. He knew too clearly what was happening.
Strapp said, “Jeanine has a box reserved for us—for the police. Because she has rightly assumed that we’d want to be there to show our support. As the captain at Devonshire, it’s my duty to be there as an agent of the community I serve.”
Heart and head pounding, Decker glared at him. Slowly he said, “Jeanine whacks me across the face and you cut off my balls in front of her—”
“Decker—”
“Out of respect for
your
authority, I say nothing. I
do
nothing. You tell me to deal with her lawyer, I deal with her lawyer. And you repay me by giving the bitch the honor of your presence—”
“It’s not for her, dammit!” Strapp pounded the table. “If you’d get down off your self-righteous high horse for
one goddamn second, you’d realize the position I’m in. I’ve
got
to be there.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Decker, what do I say when the victims’ families question why their police captain was absent at their benefit?”
“You tell them the
truth
. That you think Jeanine Garrison is a lying scumbag—”
“That’s called slander.”
“It’s called integrity.”
Strapp started to speak, but stopped. He refused to meet Decker’s eyes. “I’ve got nothing more to say. Be here tomorrow. Eight o’clock sharp. That’s all. You can go.”
Decker rose, stood in place for a moment. “Sir, I’m not as self-righteous as you believe…nor am I as righteous as I’d like to believe. I know how things work. So take my words as one political animal talking to another.”
Strapp waited.
“Jeanine Garrison was involved in that massacre. And Jeanine Garrison
is
going to fall. Anyone associated with her and her causes—no matter how worthy they are—is going to wind up looking like a dupe.”
“I’ll take my chances, Lieutenant. Good night.”
Decker walked over to the door, opened it, then turned around. “Do yourself a favor, Captain. On the day of the tournament, come down with the flu.”