Decker made some final scratches in his pad, notes reminding him to check out certain things. He finished his scribblings, tucked the pad into his jacket. Then he looked up and scanned the crowd. Paul was conversing with a bunch of white-haired church ladies. And the man with the thick lips and veiny nose had disappeared from sight.
16
The captain was in. Phone in hand, he pointed to a seat and continued talking into the receiver. Decker sat and waited. Strapp’s office wasn’t much bigger than his lieutenant’s cubicle, wasn’t any better decorated, either. Standard-issue desk and chairs, file cabinets, a separate work station with the computer. He had a phone, a fax machine, and a slotted paper holder overflowing with multicolored police forms. The desk held the pictures of the wife and kids, the walls were hung with photographs of the professional man. A smiling Strapp showing lots of teeth standing next to the mayor, Strapp with the Guv, Strapp in uniform between the president and first lady. Other snapshots, among them a photo of the Captain standing next to a little girl holding a teddy bear. The man who stood at her other side wore a white coat.
Dr. Sparks.
Decker remembered the four-year-old headline. The girl had been given a new heart and life from the tragedy of another child’s untimely death.
Strapp hung up the phone, folded his hands on his desk. He was about to speak, then noticed where Decker had focused his attention.
“Patty Harrison. Cute little thing, isn’t she?”
“Adorable. Do you know how she’s doing?”
“No, I don’t.” Strapp grew tense. “I hope they’re coping with the news of Sparks’s death. This could be devastating. How’s the investigation going?”
“Still gathering information. Dr. Craine should be getting back with an initial autopsy report, Farrell Gaynor’s been doing paper trail for the last eight hours, the others are asking questions, sorting through physical evidence. The investigation’s proceeding nicely, sir. But I’ve got a problem.”
“What?”
“My wife knows one of Dr. Sparks’s sons. The priest, Abram Sparks.”
Strapp pondered the words. Slowly, he asked, “Does she know him well?”
“Well enough to be at Azor Sparks’s memorial service.”
“She went at the priest’s behest?”
“Yes, although they haven’t been in contact for years. At one time, they were good friends.”
“Romantically involved?”
Decker started to smile because the thought struck him as ludicrous. An Orthodox woman like Rina with anyone, let alone a priest. Instead, he thought a moment and decided to frown instead. There had been an intimacy between them-that swift glance. Decker knew a strong bond had been forged because Bram had moved into her life at a very crucial time. But how strong?
A good-looking man selflessly nursing his dying friend through the terminal stages of his illness, comforting the friend’s beautiful wife with perfect words: about how there were reasons for everything and having faith in God…
An adulterous relationship was out of the question. Rina would never have permitted it no matter what the circumstances might have been. But what had happened between them after Yitzchak had died…well, Decker wasn’t as certain as he should have been. Because gentile or no gentile, passionate feelings often superseded convention. His memory tape did an instant rewind as he thought about how willingly Rina had accepted the raised eyebrows in her own community when she had dated and married him.
Which was probably why Decker had reacted so strongly to Rina at the Sparkses’ reception. Yes, his wife’s involvement could mess up his case. But equally as upsetting to Decker was his lack of knowledge about Rina’s relationship with the priest. The whole thing made him feel squeamish.
He said, “I don’t think so. But I don’t know.”
“Did you ask her?”
“No.”
“Are you going to ask her?”
“No.” Decker glanced at a smiling Azor Sparks, then returned his eyes to Strapp. “As much as I want to continue on this case, I do have my priorities. I’m not about to create tension in my marriage. There are rumors that the priest might be gay. I don’t know if that’s true, either. That’s all irrelevant right now. What is important is simply…there was a personal connection between my wife and Sparks ’s son. What do you want me to do?”
Strapp sighed heavily. “Is he a suspect?”
“Not yet.”
“Any indication that he’d make a good suspect?”
“None so far.”
Strapp rested his elbows on the desk, made a teepee with his hands. “You’re a lieutenant one temporarily acting as a two. So your role in this homicide, as with all your Dees cases, is supervisory, right?”
“Yes. But occasionally I do get involved. Usually in the beginning when cases aren’t cut-and-dried.”
“Like this one.”
“Yes.”
“But once the case starts gathering its own momentum, you back off.”
“I leave the nuts and bolts to my detectives unless they have a specific problem, yes.”
Strapp considered the problem in silence. Then he said, “At the moment, I see no reason to yank you off. Tell you what. You make sure to run everything by me. And I’ll back you up if this should become an issue.”
“Sounds fair.”
“Also, we should set up regular meetings so something will be on the books. Let’s try to talk on a daily basis sometime in the afternoon.”
“Fine.”
“It’s good you told me.”
“Absolutely.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“Call me with updates then.” Strapp picked up the phone. “We’ll talk later.”
The exit line. Decker stood up and left.
“Paul was in debt,” Gaynor said. “I’m not talking a home mortgage or car payments. I’m referring to debt from personal bank loans.”
Decker ran his hand through perspiration-soaked red hair. Man, he was tired, his iron will demanding that his eyes stay open and his mind stay alert. But he knew he only had a few hours left before the brain shut down. Though it was only six in the evening, it felt two in the morning. “How deep was he in?”
“Three hundred fifty-thou give or take a few bucks.”
Oliver shot back in his seat and whistled. “My oh my!” He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. “Is it my imagination or is it suddenly hot in here?”
“No, it’s hot.” Decker leaned back in his desk chair. “We’re a little cramped. Tom, you want to turn down the thermostat?”
Closest to the dials, Webster adjusted the temperature. A blast of cold air shot through Decker’s office. He leaned against the wall, slapped his notebook against his palm. “I wouldn’t even know how to start spending that kind of money.”
“Oh, I would,” Oliver said. “Spending is never the problem. It’s getting it. How’d Paul weasel a heavy bank loan like that?”
Gaynor shuffled through his stack of computer printouts. “One guess.”
Marge shifted her rear on a hard seat of plastic. “Dad co-signed.”
“Right.”
“How long has Paul had the loan?”
“Two years. At this point, it’s more like a revolving line of credit.”
“Secured loan?” Decker asked.
“Unsecured,” Gaynor said. “Higher interest but neither had to put up any collateral. Sparks’s credit and word were good enough.”
Martinez fanned himself with his notepad. “What’s the doctor worth?”
Gaynor consulted his papers. “He has over six accounts-three money markets with three different brokerage houses, one savings account, two checking accounts. By the rises and falls in the balances, the savings account is probably for household expenses. Balance around ten grand. Checking accounts…uh, first one looks like household expenses again. A balance of about two grand. Then he has one for business with a balance of around twenty grand.”