Faye Kellerman

Prayers for the Dead


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Decker asked.

      “From work. I work at Levy, Critchen, and Goldberg. I’m a stockbroker.”

      “You were at work the entire evening, then?”

      Paul’s eyes worked furiously. “No.” A meaningful pause. “After I made the call, I took a ride … by myself.”

      “Must have been a long ride,” Decker said. “You made the call at seven-thirty. Your brother-in-law didn’t get hold of you until around ten-thirty.”

      Silence.

      Paul looked upward again. “Well, there goes any semblance of my privacy.”

      “If you’d like, Mr. Sparks, I can ask you these questions one on one.”

      Paul was quiet, his hand mowing through his pile of black curls. “Oh what the hell!” His smile was bitter. “I had words with my wife over asking my father for money. I was angry and didn’t feel like going home.”

      More silence.

      Paul said, “I had just asked my father for money about four months before. I didn’t feel like hitting on him again. My wife didn’t understand that.”

      “What was the last loan about?” Decker asked.

      Paul glared at Bram. “Why don’t you tell him. I know Dad tells you everything.”

      Bram’s face was flat.

      Paul blinked hard. “I had a margin call and didn’t have enough cash to cover it. Dad footed me a loan, one that I’m currently in the process of paying back rapidly because my stocks have since shot up. Tonight’s phone call had to do with the kids’ tuitions. You have no idea how expensive private schools can be. I didn’t want to do it, but my wife practically accused me of being a negligent and rotten father if I didn’t.”

      Paul fell into the empty overstuffed chair.

      “So those were my last words to my father. Asking him for money.” He dammed back tears. “Wonderful.”

      Again, the house turned quiet.

      Eva said, “Well, while we’re on the subject of loans, I guess you’re going to find out anyway. We borrowed … my husband and I … borrowed money about a year ago. My dad co-signed the loan. We’re also in the process of paying it back.”

      Paul threw his sister a grateful look.

      “Can I ask what the loan was for?” Decker said.

      “My husband owns a chain of discount clothing stores.” Eva pronounced the word discount with disdain. “He took over the family business, thank you very much. Retail apparel took a dip. He had to close up some of the smaller boutiques and with the leases and mismanagement, he accrued some debt.” Her face grew tense as she talked. “I didn’t want to ask him. But my husband put me in a bind. Because he got caught in an interest crunch and had already taken out a second loan on the house to expand two years before. Rather than get stuck with exorbitant rates, David asked Dad to cosign a secured loan based on his assets.”

      “Which are many,” Luke added.

      “It seemed easier at the time,” Eva said. “And it hasn’t cost Dad a penny. David’s paying it back.”

      “Where were you this evening?” Decker asked Eva.

      “At home until I heard …” She looked down and turned away.

      Decker’s eyes went to Luke.

      “I was at work,” he said. “I finished up with a client around eight and was in my office doing paperwork until Bram called me.”

      “You work at the Bomb Shelter?” Decker asked.

      Luke rolled his eyes. “Yes, I work at the Bomb Shelter. Yes, I was an addict. Yes, I no doubt ingested thousands of dollars up my nose. Yes, I am now flat broke. Yes, I am now also sober. Yes, I’ve been sober for three years. Yes, I was alone for two hours in my office. No, nobody saw me. And no, I didn’t kill my father.”

      Bram stifled a smile. Luke caught it and smiled back. Paul said, “I’m glad you two can find humor at a time like this.”

      Luke said, “My dad is … was a wealthy man, Lieutenant. He and my mom hardly spent a dime. They, unlike me, are simple, modest people. I also went to him when I needed something especially in my glorious drug days. We all borrowed from Dad … well, not Bram. He’s the golden boy—”

      Paul said, “Guy made a vow of poverty, and he’s the only one of us with money in the bank.”

      “Church gives him everything,” Luke said to Decker.

      Quietly, Bram said, “Can we change the subject?”

      Luke said, “All I know is you’ve upward of fifty grand—”

      “Luke!” Maggie said.

      “What would you like me to do with my stipend, Lucas?” Bram said.

      “Give it to me,” Luke said.

      “Speaking of money,” Bram said, “did Dad have a will?”

      No one answered.

      Michael said, “I know Dad has a lawyer. The guy from the church.”

      “Which guy, Michael?” Luke asked. “There are lots of guys—”

      Michael glared at Luke. “With the white hair and the veiny, red nose.”

      Luke said, “Well, that narrows it to about three thousand—”

      “He’s an elder on the council,” Michael tried again. “He lost his wife a couple of years ago. Gosh, I can’t think of his name!”

      “I know who you mean,” Maggie said. “Waterman.”

      “Waterson,” Luke and Paul said simultaneously.

      “William Waterson,” Bram said. “Paul, you take care of the funeral arrangements so Mom doesn’t have to be bothered with them.”

      Paul’s eyelids twitched. “You expect me to pay?”

      Bram was patient. “No. If need be, I’ll pay. But if Dad had a will and left us anything, maybe we can borrow against some of the funds to pay for the funeral. Save Mom some unnecessary heartache. And since you know about finance, it makes the most sense for you to call up Waterson and ask the questions.”

      Paul’s voice was tight. “I have no problem with that, Abram. I just didn’t know what you meant.”

      “So, now you know,” Bram said. “I’ll handle the service tomorrow. I’ll do as much of the calling as I can tonight, then I’ll finish up in the morning. I’m not going to sleep anyway. Any objections?”

      No one spoke.

      “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get started. Dad had lots of friends and admirers, and it’s going to take me a while.” Bram turned to Decker. “Can you drive me back to St. Thomas’s?”

      “I’d be happy to,” Decker said. “I just need a little bit more information.” He turned to Eva. “Can I get your last name, ma’am?”

      “Shapiro.”

      Decker’s pause was fractional before he wrote it down. Suddenly, Eva burst into tears. “It was all so stupid!” She looked at Bram with wet eyes. “Why is life so stupid!”

      “I don’t know why.” Bram turned to Paul. “Maybe you should take her home.”

      “Everything is so meaningless!” Eva opened a Gucci bag, pulled out a silk handkerchief, and dabbed her eyes. “I didn’t even have a chance to say good-bye. Or to say I love you. And just when we were starting to get along!”

      Maggie broke