The hunt, p.9
The Hunt, page 9
“Gambling commissioner for the county … you said you wanted to set something up with him? When should I do that?”
“Any time.”
“You haven’t been around much. Is one time better than another?”
“Talia, just set something up and I’ll work around it. Jesus!”
She stared at him. Then she said, “She’s been in your life less than a month and already you’re miserable.”
Donatti jerked his head up. “She … is none of your fucking business.”
“It’s just because I care—”
“You’re skating on very thin ice. I’m about thirty seconds away from blowing.” Talia was silent. Donatti said, “Anything else that needs my immediate attention?”
“At some point, we should go over the employee list and payroll. It’s been over two weeks.”
“Give me about an hour and we’ll do that.”
“Okay.” Talia paused, brushed blond curls from her eyes. Calmly, she said, “Are you going to fire me?”
Donatti stared at her. “What?”
“Is she going to take my place?”
“Terry’s a doctor, not a secretary. Last thing she’d want to do is work for me. At the moment, she doesn’t even like me.” He exhaled again. “But she’ll get over it. She always does.” He shook his head. “What else?”
“Nothing for now,” Talia said. “I’ll set up those appointments.”
When she started to leave, Donatti said, “Talia?” The woman turned around and he pointed to the chair in front of his desk.
She sat.
Donatti said, “I have no intention of firing you. You’re good at what you do and this is your job for as long as you want, okay?”
“Thank you.” A small smile. “I appreciate it.”
“But …” Donatti ran his fingers through his hair. “She isn’t going away. She’s my wife—”
“Ex-wife—”
“We’re Catholic. We got married in a church, and before the eyes of God, she still is my wife. More important than God, before my eyes, she’s still my wife. She will always be my wife. You’ve got to be able to handle that.”
She slowly nodded. “No problem.”
“Anything she wants, you do with a smile on your face.”
“Of course.” Talia looked at him. “Is she demanding or something?”
“Terry?” He shook his head. “I don’t think she ever asked me for a penny beyond what I gave her. Once she started working, she only used my money for Gabe. Even during the divorce, she didn’t ask for anything other than her freedom. She’s a good girl.” He looked at his secretary. “I’m just saying there’s a pecking order and she’s at the top. If I tell you something and she tells you something different, you listen to her, not me. We’ll sort it out later.”
“Understood.” A forced smile. “Anything she wants.”
Donatti’s phone rang. Blocked number. “I’ve got to take this. Close the door on your way out.”
“Of course.” She got up and shut the door as she left.
He slid the green icon and said, “I think you have something that I want.”
“That could be.” A gruff voice crackled over static.
“I need to know what I’m buying.”
“I need to know what you’re paying.”
“I’m not making any offers without seeing the merchandise.”
“I’m not showing you anything until I know what you’re paying.”
“Look,” Donatti said. “You’re a businessman, I’m a businessman. Everything starts by negotiation. You’re not willing to do that, go find your money elsewhere. I’m not even interested in what I’m purchasing. I’m doing a favor for a friend.”
“A very close friend,” the voice said. When Donatti didn’t answer, he said, “You can tell your friend that it’s going to cost dearly. And if someone doesn’t buy it, I’ll have no choice but to destroy unclaimed property.”
“If you’re not going to negotiate, do whatever you want,” Donatti said. “And take out the old man while you’re at it. You’d be doing us both a big favor.” A pause. “You know, I deal with these kinds of situations all the time: people who don’t know how to stop and end up owing a lot of money to the wrong type of men. This is my bread and butter. If you’re going to demand full price, I’m out. Like I said, I’m just doing a favor.”
There was no response.
Donatti said, “I’m counting to three, then I’m hanging up. One …”
“What will you pay?” the voice said.
“We’re not even close to that. I need to see the goods.”
“I don’t have the goods with me right now.”
“Then call me back when you do.”
“I need a guarantee before I show you anything.” A pause. “Something that shows me you are acting in good faith.”
“Okay.” Donatti exhaled. “I can deal with that. Give me the account numbers and something will be there tomorrow.”
“How much?”
“Why don’t you wait and see?”
“Do you know how much he owes?”
“Yep. It’s still not going to happen. I’m not saying this is the end point. But that’s all you’re getting at this stage. I give you earnest money, you show me the goods, and we go from there. Yes or no?”
“How much?” he asked again.
“I haven’t decided. Whatever it is, it’s found money. But I do expect negotiations once you take anything from me. Otherwise, I’ll be pissed. You don’t want to get me pissed.”
The voice paused. “How do I know you aren’t working with the police?”
Donatti laughed. “Do you know a fucking thing about me?”
No answer.
“I know you’ve looked me up. Account numbers? Yes or no?”
“I have to think about it.”
“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
Donatti hung up. He exhaled again and shook his head. She was positively the most expensive whore he had ever owned.
CHAPTER 6
WHEN WILL YOU be back?” McAdams was talking over the station house phone.
Decker checked his watch. It was almost seven in the evening, but there was still plenty of daylight. At least he and his partner were in the same time zone. “Probably three days. I’m itching to come home, but I can’t skip out on my mother.”
“How old is she?”
“Ninety-seven.”
“No, you can’t get out of that one. We’ll hold the fort. Nothing’s urgent.”
“You must have the coroner’s report by now.”
“It came in a week ago. She sustained around three stab wounds. None of them got a major vessel but they were deep. She probably bled out.”
“Any evidence at the grave site?”
“No knife, if that’s what you’re asking. This area is filled with rivers and woodlands and creeks. Plenty of places to jettison the knife. We’re going to Corbett’s place tomorrow. We’ll see if we can find anything incriminating. Maybe evidence of animosity or a fight between Corbett and Schulung. Something that would give us a motive for Elsie wanting Pauline dead. We’re also back to looking at CCTV for Pauline’s car. Anything else we should be looking at?”
“Tyler, do we have any evidence that Lanz is back in Germany?”
“No. We could send someone over to see if we can get visual contact.”
“We might have to do that,” Decker said. “It would help if you had something to justify the trip—like an airline reservation.”
“We’re attempting to find airline tickets. The most direct route for them is JFK to Frankfurt nonstop. But if you want to cover your tracks, maybe you’d fly to some other airport in Europe and go home by car or train. It’s going to take a while.”
“Keep at it. Thanks for taking this on while I’m away.”
“No problem, boss. Just invite me over to dinner when you get back. I haven’t eaten a decent meal in two weeks.”
CHRIS HAD CONFISCATED my phone, so I had no way to communicate with my daughter. He had taken my purse and, with that, any money that I had accumulated, but he did leave a digital clock on the nightstand so I didn’t lose all sense of reality. It was around four-thirty in the afternoon, still light outside with a strong mountain sun shining in through the bedroom window. He’d been gone about five hours. In that time, I managed to find several towels to dry my body and my hair as best I could. I got dressed in one of the three or four loose-fitting dresses I had packed. They were all short-sleeved, and if I forced the issue, I could accommodate my cast through the armhole. After that, I was exhausted. I napped for a few hours, and when I woke up, I woke up with resolve. I had made a total mess of my life. It seemed at every turn, I had chosen the road less traveled and had wound up lost. But while I was still breathing, I cracked on.
I removed my clothes from the closet and the drawers. I tried to be neat about it. He came in right when I started folding my dresses. He was saying something, but I couldn’t make out the words. As soon as he reached the bedroom, he stopped talking. I glanced at him. He was leaning against the doorjamb, staring at me.
“What are you doing?”
Another quick glance. His face, as expected, was angry. I said, “I’m not anyone’s whipping boy.”
“Whipping boy?” His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? I didn’t beat you. We had sex.”
“You raped me.”
“I didn’t rape you—”
“Yes, you did rape me.” I paused for a breath. “I told you to stop. You just ignored me.”
“Aw, c’mon!”
“You hurt me, Christopher. As if I wasn’t in enough pain.”
“Jesus!” He came over to me, put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay. I’m out of here.” I shook his hand off.
He didn’t speak, but I could sense that he was close. Then he spoke in a low, menacing voice that I knew usually preceded something violent.
He said, “You have an affair, you get pregnant by some … motherfucker you’ve known for two months and run off with him. And then after a decade plus—after you refused to even have the decency to answer my calls and at least speak to me—Gabe calls me out of the blue and tells me you’re in trouble. And I stop my entire life to rescue you and nurse you back to the living. And you have the fucking nerve to bail on me because the sex got a little rough?”
“I’m not your punching bag!”
“It was just fucking sex!” he yelled.
“Do you have a suitcase?” I asked.
He was momentarily perplexed. “What?”
“A suitcase. Something small. I don’t have hardly anything to pack.” I continued folding clothing. “I would use a garbage bag, but I really don’t want to appear in public like a homeless woman.”
“Why not?” he said. “It’s what you are.”
I ignored him and kept folding.
He reached toward the top of his closet, opened a cabinet door, pulled down a valise, and shoved it into my chest. “Take it.”
I winced with pain as it hit my broken ribs. It was a beautiful, burnished leather case with his initials in gold. “This looks nice,” I told him. “I don’t want to ruin it. Do you have anything cheaper?”
“I don’t do cheap … only in wives.”
Again, I ignored him. “I’ll send it back when I get to where I’m going. Thank you.”
He said, “And where are you headed?”
Sarcastic tone. “Well …” I stopped for a moment. “I can’t go back to L.A. And I can’t go to New York because Devek knows the city. I figured I’d try Chicago since I went to school there—”
“Which I paid for.”
“You did. Thank you.” I resumed my packing.
“Terry, this is ridiculous,” he said. “C’mon. I know things got a little out of hand—”
“You raped me, Chris.” I looked into his eyes. “Then you threatened to beat me.”
“Terry, you know how I am when I’m mad. I was blowing off hot air.”
“And sometimes you do more than just blow hot air.”
“I told you it will never happen again!” He was breathing hard. “You’re not even well enough to take a shower by yourself, let alone settle yourself and your daughter into a new city.”
“I was hoping to leave Juleen here.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He was incredulous. “You’re abandoning your child? Again?”
“I’m not abandoning her!” I was defensive. “I just want to be settled before I come get her.”
“You’re leaving your bastard daughter with me? At a brothel?”
“I figure she’s safe here with you … unless you decide to pimp her.”
“I hadn’t thought about it, but now that you mention it, men would pay big time for those young little luscious lips.”
My stomach turned. “You’re positively vile.”
“And you’re no better than a common whore, using me for money,” he snapped back. “Speaking of which, you have none.”
“Unless you intend to steal from me, I came here with about eight hundred dollars.”
“Oh, that’ll get you far. Then again, I suppose your food bill won’t be too high since your fucking jaw is wired.”
I didn’t answer him. What was the point?
“You want money?” When I remained silent, he said, “You want fucking money, Terry?” He grabbed my left arm.
“Let go of me!”
“You want money?”
He yanked me out of the room, and holding my left arm in a viselike grip, he opened his vault with a passcode and pupil recognition sensor.
“You’re hurting me!”
“I’ll give you money!”
Still gripping my arm, he shoved me inside and I hit a wall comprising a steel bank of drawers. He closed the door. We both knew I could die here and no one would know. All he’d have to do was say I left once again, and no one would doubt it.
He was breathing fire. “Open it.” When I didn’t answer, he yelled, “Open the drawer!”
I rubbed my arm and pulled out a drawer. It was filled with bank teller packets fronted with hundred-dollar bills. Neatly stacked—five wide and two across. I couldn’t tell how thick the packets were or how deep they were, but it was safe to say there was a lot of money.
“Open another one!”
“Chris—”
“Open it.” He jerked a drawer open. “You want money?” He threw a packet at me. “Here! Take my money, bitch. Here.” Another missile flew at me. “Here.” Another. “Here.”
The last one hit my face like a bullet. Pain exploded in my head as I grabbed my cheek. My vision went blurry, I dropped to my knees, and I covered my face.
“Shit!” He was panting. “Damn it!” A pause. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I uncovered my face, tried to steady my breathing. An attempt to stand, but again, I buckled.
“C’mon.” He walked over and took my good arm.
“Get away from me!” I screamed as I yanked my arm back.
“Jesus!” A pause. “I’m just trying to help you up.”
“I don’t need your help!” I shot back. “I don’t need your help, I don’t need your money, and I don’t need you. You raped me—”
“Terry—”
“You raped me, Christopher, and it wasn’t the first time. Or the second or the third or the fourth, and so on and so on. But I never said a thing. I always made excuses for you in my head: He’s tired, he’s stressed, he’s worried, he’s drunk, he’s stoned, he isn’t thinking clearly. And you know what? I wouldn’t have said anything this time, either, except look at me!” I was trying to stanch tears. “I’ve got two black eyes, a purple face, a wired jaw, three broken ribs, a broken arm, and I’m still pissing blood. But none of my injuries—none of them—compare to the pain and heartache I feel over losing my little boy. I don’t know where he is. I assume he’s with Devek, but I don’t know. I don’t even know if he’s safe!” My voice stuck in my throat. “He’s only five, and God only knows what he’s thinking. He must be so scared!”
Tears streamed down my red cheeks.
“I know you’re furious at me, Chris. And some part of me realizes it’s justified. But for God’s sake! I’m forty-two years old, destitute, and ravaged. I had nothing left except a shred of dignity that you ripped away from me. I mean, what kind of monster does that?!”
I was gasping for air. I tried to stand, but my head went light and I fell back down. Without asking, he scooped me off the floor, opened the vault door, and took me back into the bedroom, laying me on the bed. It was at that time that we both noticed a big red stain at the back of my dress.
“Shit!” he said. “I’ll call the doctor—”
“I don’t need a doctor!”
“You’re pissing blood—”
“It’s my period—”
“Just let me call to make sure—”
“Chris, I know the difference between my urethra and my vagina. I don’t need a doctor!” I was so completely spent I could barely breathe. I was struggling to get my dress off. My whole body was shaking. My teeth would have been chattering, but my jaw was wired. “Can you help me, please?”
He pulled the dress over my head. I balled it up and threw it across the room. Same with my dirty panties. “You wouldn’t have anything for this, would you?”
“What do you mean? Like an aspirin?”
“No, like a Kotex.” I wiped tears from my eyes. “Never mind. Could you get me a wad of toilet paper?”
He got up from my bedside and came back with a bright white washcloth.
“I can’t use that!” I barked. “I’ll stain it.”
“I don’t care—”
“You won’t be able to wash it out.”
“Terry, I don’t fucking care. Just take it, okay?”
I took the cloth and stuffed it between my legs. I generally had light periods. Maybe it would work until he could get me something better. I reached over the bed and pulled the valise he had given me to my side. I retrieved a dress. I undid my bra from the front, threw that across the room. “Help me put this on.” Once he did, I lay down and threw the bedcovers over my face.
