his ex-partner, Arnold Lamar.”
“He sounds like someone I should talk to.”
Decker gave Shirley Redkin his phone number. She said, “How close are the two of them?”
“I think they were very close once, but they each went their separate ways. But he needs to be told. I’d like to call him up after you’re done with me. Do you mind if I break the news to him?”
“Go ahead. What I’d like is for him to come down to the station for a chat.”
“I’ll set it up. This afternoon sound okay, Detective?”
“That sounds fine, Lieutenant.”
“Mind if I sit in?”
“Fine with me. Maybe we’ll both learn something.” Shirley closed her notebook. “The cold case must be very important for a detective lieutenant to devote so much time to it.”
Decker smiled enigmatically. “I do my job; I’ve got no complaints. Life is good for some of us. Then there are guys like Cal Vitton who harbor different opinions.”
CHAPTER 9
“
W
HAT
?” MARGE SHRIEKED.
“You heard right.” Decker was sitting in the cruiser, parked two blocks away from the crime/suicide scene. The air-conditioning was going full blast, but because the car wasn’t in motion, it wasn’t as cool as it could be. He was sweating under the collar. Talking to Marge over the line, he was trying to keep his voice even, cop style, and then he wondered why. The tragedy of the situation demanded emotion, yet after all these years on the job, it was somehow respectable to be blunted.
“Oh my!” Marge was still registering shock. “And it looks like suicide to you?”
“The gun was fired at close range. He dulled his senses with drugs and booze. The big question is how and if it’s related to the Bennett Little case. I’m meeting with Arnie Lamar at Simi Valley headquarters this afternoon to get a better feel for Vitton.”
“Well, this certainly changes the complexion of the investigation.”
“It adds another layer. What’s on your agenda?”
“Oliver and I have arranged a lunchtime meeting with Phil Shriner. That way it doesn’t take too much out of our working day.”
“Was he cooperative?”
“Not bad. We’ll know more once we talk to him. I do have a question for you. I’ve located the correct Darnell Arlington and he’s willing to talk to me about his high school experiences and Bennett Little. Now I can do a phone interview, but it would probably be better to do it in person. Since I’m not supposed to officially be working on the case, is there a way that you can get funding for the trip?”
Decker said, “Set it up, Marge, and I’ll figure something out.”
“You’re sure?”
“Not a problem. One of Rina’s inherited paintings recently sold at auction for big bucks. We’re feeling flush.”
“You shouldn’t be spending your good luck on departmental obligations.”
“I have no intention of doing that. I’m just saying having the extra money has made us feel a little cockier. Rina teaches because she wants to, and I work because I want to. If Strapp starts to protest too much, I’m outta here. That’s what money does. It allows me to pass the buck and let some other schmuck squirm in front of the brass.”
PHIL SHRINER LIVED with his wife of fifty years in a retirement home called Golden Estates, not too far from where Calvin Vitton blew his head off. The acreage was beautifully planted, with living quarters consisting of an apartment complex and public areas. There were also small, detached bungalows set around winding walkways.
The community had an on-site cafeteria, two restaurants, a recreation room, a gym, and a movie theater. The grounds included two swimming pools with accompanying Jacuzzis, two tennis courts, a nine-hole golf course, and a massage room. It could have been a resort, but most hotels didn’t include a wing of hospital rooms as well as an emergency facility that was manned 24/7 by a rotating team of doctors, EMTs, and nurses.
Shriner and his wife lived in
“He sounds like someone I should talk to.”
Decker gave Shirley Redkin his phone number. She said, “How close are the two of them?”
“I think they were very close once, but they each went their separate ways. But he needs to be told. I’d like to call him up after you’re done with me. Do you mind if I break the news to him?”
“Go ahead. What I’d like is for him to come down to the station for a chat.”
“I’ll set it up. This afternoon sound okay, Detective?”
“That sounds fine, Lieutenant.”
“Mind if I sit in?”
“Fine with me. Maybe we’ll both learn something.” Shirley closed her notebook. “The cold case must be very important for a detective lieutenant to devote so much time to it.”
Decker smiled enigmatically. “I do my job; I’ve got no complaints. Life is good for some of us. Then there are guys like Cal Vitton who harbor different opinions.”
CHAPTER 9
“
W
HAT
?” MARGE SHRIEKED.
“You heard right.” Decker was sitting in the cruiser, parked two blocks away from the crime/suicide scene. The air-conditioning was going full blast, but because the car wasn’t in motion, it wasn’t as cool as it could be. He was sweating under the collar. Talking to Marge over the line, he was trying to keep his voice even, cop style, and then he wondered why. The tragedy of the situation demanded emotion, yet after all these years on the job, it was somehow respectable to be blunted.
“Oh my!” Marge was still registering shock. “And it looks like suicide to you?”
“The gun was fired at close range. He dulled his senses with drugs and booze. The big question is how and if it’s related to the Bennett Little case. I’m meeting with Arnie Lamar at Simi Valley headquarters this afternoon to get a better feel for Vitton.”
“Well, this certainly changes the complexion of the investigation.”
“It adds another layer. What’s on your agenda?”
“Oliver and I have arranged a lunchtime meeting with Phil Shriner. That way it doesn’t take too much out of our working day.”
“Was he cooperative?”
“Not bad. We’ll know more once we talk to him. I do have a question for you. I’ve located the correct Darnell Arlington and he’s willing to talk to me about his high school experiences and Bennett Little. Now I can do a phone interview, but it would probably be better to do it in person. Since I’m not supposed to officially be working on the case, is there a way that you can get funding for the trip?”
Decker said, “Set it up, Marge, and I’ll figure something out.”
“You’re sure?”
“Not a problem. One of Rina’s inherited paintings recently sold at auction for big bucks. We’re feeling flush.”
“You shouldn’t be spending your good luck on departmental obligations.”
“I have no intention of doing that. I’m just saying having the extra money has made us feel a little cockier. Rina teaches because she wants to, and I work because I want to. If Strapp starts to protest too much, I’m outta here. That’s what money does. It allows me to pass the buck and let some other schmuck squirm in front of the brass.”
PHIL SHRINER LIVED with his wife of fifty years in a retirement home called Golden Estates, not too far from where Calvin Vitton blew his head off. The acreage was beautifully planted, with living quarters consisting of an apartment complex and public areas. There were also small, detached bungalows set around winding walkways.
The community had an on-site cafeteria, two restaurants, a recreation room, a gym, and a movie theater. The grounds included two swimming pools with accompanying Jacuzzis, two tennis courts, a nine-hole golf course, and a massage room. It could have been a resort, but most hotels didn’t include a wing of hospital rooms as well as an emergency facility that was manned 24/7 by a rotating team of doctors, EMTs, and nurses.
Shriner and his wife lived in
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