She whined as she talked. “Like why do you want a calculator?”
“Because you’re supposed to be a schoolgirl. You remember school, don’t you?”
“Like ha-ha, I’m laughing.”
“You be polite,” Donatti growled. “We have company.”
His voice was menacing, putting fear in the girl’s eyes. In a toe tap, she was all business.
“That’s good,” Donatti complimented. “That’s really good, Tina. C’mon, give me those luscious lips, baby!”
The girl gave him a wide smile that made her look around twelve. Donatti was pleased. “You got it, baby.” Snap, snap. “Do the camera, honey, do it hard and nasty. Man, you are fucking good.” Snap, snap, snap. “You got the look, sugar, the perfect wet dream for all old farts who can’t get it up.”
She leered at Decker. “Old farts like him.”
Donatti stopped and followed her gaze. He had been so distracted, he’d forgotten about Decker’s presence. His eyes went dead. “Yeah, old farts like him.” Snap, snap. “Not him specifically.” Back at the model. “I’ve seen his wife.” Snap, snap, snap. “Getting it up probably isn’t one of his more significant problems.”
After fifteen minutes, he stood up straight and shook out his shoulders.
“That’s the roll.” He took several fifties out of his wallet and gave them to Richie. “Take an hour break. Bring Amber and Justin with you. Be back by noon. If you’re late, I’ll be pissed.”
Richie nodded.
“I expect change.”
“Yes, sir.”
Donatti grinned, then tousled the young Latino’s hair. The boy smiled shyly. The girl slipped on a pair of sloppy sweats and threw a knapsack over her back, making her appear even younger.
“Tina,” Donatti called out.
She turned around.
Donatti gave her a thumbs-up. Her face instantly lit up… like turning on a switch. After everyone left, Donatti said, “I’ve got to look at the rolls. Help yourself to some more coffee. I’ll be out in about a half hour.”
The loft held four interior doors. He walked through one of them and was gone from sight. Thirty-two minutes later, he reappeared, a timer in his hands.
“This way.” He motioned to Decker, taking him through a different door. As soon as Decker stepped across the threshold, Donatti flipped several switches-including the light-then locked the door with two solid dead bolts. The office was spacious but had no windows. The illumination was muted, the ventilation provided by an overhead fan. Again there was very little furniture. A thirty-by-sixty table surrounded by four chairs probably served as a desk. Donatti had a lamp, a phone, and a fax machine, but nothing else sat on the table’s surface. There was a single file cabinet against the wall, a clock above it. The wall also had a half-dozen video monitors that gave Donatti a view of the lobby, his own front door, and several other sites around the building’s exterior. Next to the monitors was a wall panel containing ten lights-some were green, some red. Decker figured that they represented various security zones.
Donatti sat on one side of the table; Decker took a seat opposite him. No one spoke. Then Decker laid the crime-scene photos on Donatti’s desk, along with the picture of Ephraim and Shaynda.
Donatti didn’t look at them. “Why in the world do you think I would talk to you? You ruined my life.”
“That’s a very negative spin on it, Chris. I think of it as saving Terry’s life instead.”
“Did she give you my address?”
“No, the cops did.”
“The cops?”
“Yeah, the cops.”
Donatti let out a laugh. “It’s nice to be thought of as the bullet behind every single whack in this city.” His eyes darkened. “You know, after I found out that Terry was pregnant, I kept waiting for her to tell me. Six months after the kid was born, I finally figured out that she had other things in mind… things like denying me my son. And that angered me. I decided to give Terry a little time to get it together. If I didn’t hear boo from her by the time the kid was a year old, she was going to meet with a very unfortunate accident. Three weeks before the target date, I get a letter from her. It starts off like this.
“ ‘Dear Chris.
“ ‘I wasn’t going to tell you, but Lieutenant Decker prevailed upon me.’ ”
He paused.
“ ‘I wasn’t going to tell you, but Lieutenant Decker prevailed upon me.’
“Now that really angered me. It angered me that she wasn’t going to tell me. It angered me that she only told me because you told her to do it, and it really pissed me off that you made lieutenant.”
“Sounds like you were angry, Chris.”
“Yes, I was, and it’s Mr. Donatti to you.”
“You already told me that.”
“Well, you seem to have forgotten. I’ll chalk it up to old age.”
“Fair enough.” Decker rubbed his eyes. They felt hot and itchy. “Terry tells me you two have been in contact for several years now.”
“Minimal contact.”
“What does that mean?”
“Ask her.”
“She says you come out to see her and your son a half-dozen times a year.”
“So she still writes to you.”
“Occasionally.”
Chris rolled his eyes.
Decker said, “Yeah, she told me you don’t approve.”
“No, that’s not what I said. I told her that she shouldn’t put anything down in writing. If she wants to talk to you, she should call you. I know that Terry has some kind of father fixation with you. It’s harmless. It’s probably healthy in light of the fact that her old man is a raging alcoholic. I just don’t want any connection to me in writing. It’s not healthy for her or the kid.”
Decker thought a moment. “Cops don’t know about Terry or the kid, do they, Chris?”
Donatti gave Decker a hard stare.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Decker answered. “So who does know about them other than me? Joey?”
Donatti closed his eyes, then opened them. A harmless gesture, except it was one that Decker knew very well. It meant that Decker had touched on something. It meant that Chris was edgy.
Decker smiled. “Joey has no idea that you’re in contact with Terry. He thinks you broke it off with her eight years ago, and that was that.” The smile widened. “Joey doesn’t know dick about her or the kid, does he?”
“Am I reading this right, Decker?” Donatti’s nostrils flared. “Are you actually using Terry as a bargaining chip?”
“God forbid! You know I don’t work that way.” He exhaled. “Be hell of a lot easier if I did.” He pointed to the pictures. This time, Chris finally looked at them. “I’m a stranger here, Mr. Donatti. I need help. I’m interested in any information about the hit and what this guy did to get bumped. But more important, he was with a fifteen-year-old girl. This girl, here.” Decker pointed to the one picture he had of Shaynda. “She’s gone, and the parents are frantic. Any ideas?”
Donatti answered with another shrug.
“Is that a yes or a no?”
Donatti didn’t answer. A timer dinged. “Excuse me, I have work to do.” He stood up and waited for Decker to do the same.
Decker paused.
“That means you’ve gotta go,” Donatti said.
Reluctantly, Decker got up and left the room. Chris locked the door and put the keys in his pants. “You can let yourself out the same way you came in.”
Again Donatti disappeared behind one of the doors. Decker waited, deciding what to do. He knew if he left now, he’d never get another chance. Donatti would think him a gutless jerk. Yet if he pushed Donatti, that wouldn’t work, either.
C.D. don’t talk.
But back then-eight years ago-Chris did talk, having told Decker lots of things in his time of need. In some perverse way, Decker had been a kind of father figure to Donatti as well as Terry. While Chris was serving time, Decker had been his link to Terry. More important, Decker had been C.D.’s passkey out of prison. Yes, it was Decker who had put him in the hole, but when certain forensic irregularities came to light, it had been Decker who had bought Donatti his freedom. If anything were to work with the kid, it would be the old roles, not the new ones.