LITMIR.BIZ

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the jacker make any attempt to kidnap her?”

      “No.” Marge picked a speck of lint off her black pants. “According to Stacy’s story, he told her to hit the ground and expressed regrets that he didn’t have more time, because she was nice.”

      “Nice, as in he’d like to have raped her?”

      “That was the implication,” Oliver said. “Agreed, Crayton and Mills aren’t mirror images of each other. But I think there’s a connection. Especially given Stacy’s reaction.”

      “The crime sounds more like the Elizabeth Tarkum case,” Decker said.

      “So maybe they’re all connected.”

      Decker said, “And the common thread is …”

      Oliver shrugged. “Crayton made enemies. There could be lots of reasons for people wanting him dead. Maybe he was associated with these ladies. Because these cases don’t fit in with the other jackings. The women weren’t carting kids, and the vies weren’t forced inside, their vehicles.”

      “So why jack the women now when the Crayton case is old?”

      Oliver said, “First off, Elizabeth Tarkum was jacked around six months ago. Second, maybe he figured now was a good time to do Mills because the police might lump her jacking with the ones that have been making the news.”

      Marge added, “Stacy also said the perp sounded American. Some of our women with kids said the perp sounded foreign.”

      “But Stacy didn’t see him.”

      “No.” Marge regarded Decker—her former partner who was now her superior. Instead of being excited about the information, he looked stressed by it. “Crayton’s an open case. I think we should root through the case files again and see if Stacy Mills or Elizabeth Tarkum fit in somewhere.”

      Decker sat back in his chair. “Let’s do this. Compile a list of Crayton’s former friends and associates, then go check out if any of them have been threatened or robbed or received any strange phone calls … or been shot at.”

      The room fell silent. Oliver tried to hide his apprehension. But Decker wasn’t paying attention to him. He looked up at the ceiling. “This means I’ve got to talk to my daughter.”

      Marge widened her eyes. “Cindy? Whatever for?”

      “She knew Crayton,” he said.

      In a heartbeat, Oliver felt enormous relief. But he played along with it and acted confused. “What? How?”

      “They used to go to the same gym,” Decker admitted. “They struck up a casual friendship.”

      “A casual friendship?” Marge repeated.

      “That’s her version.” Decker was pained. “What she told me was this. One day they walked out to the gym’s parking lot together. Someone took potshots at them—”

      “Jesus!” Oliver emoted. “When was this?”

      Decker made a face. “Around a year-plus ago. Just before Crayton was murdered.”

      “And you’re just telling us now?” Oliver tried to add outrage in his tone of voice.

      “That’s correct.” Decker’s face was flat. “I’m just telling you now. She didn’t tell me until after Crayton was whacked. When she finally did fess up, I questioned her extensively. She claims she didn’t see the shooter, and had no suspicion as to who might have done it. It didn’t appear like she was holding back, so I took it for the obvious. That Crayton was the intended target and she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

      “She must have been petrified,” Marge said. “Poor thing.”

      “I’m sure at the time, she was very shaken.” Decker took out a cigarette and played with it, rolling it between his fingers. “When she told me, she seemed to be handling it well.”

      His office fell quiet.

      Decker bit the ends of his mustache. “I told her to keep her mouth shut. I also told her to call me immediately if anything remotely threatening pops up. So far, she hasn’t said anything to me, but Cindy keeps her private life … well, private.”

      Oliver shook his leg. “She needs to be told what’s going on for her own protection. Also, we’ve got to talk to her to make sure she’s leveled with you.”

      “I’ll talk to her,” Decker said.

      Oliver said, “Let Marge and me interview her. We can be objective. You can’t. Plus, she’ll talk more openly to us—”

      “I don’t know about that.”

      Marge said, “Pete, she might be embarrassed to tell you if she had a thing with this guy.”

      Decker winced. “I don’t know if she was having an affair with him.”

      “So let Marge and me find out.” Oliver attempted to be helpful. “Look, I’ll call her, okay? She’s in Hollywood, right?” He spoke glibly. “I had wanted to go over the Tarkum case with Rolf Osmondson anyway. Him and this other Dee named Craig Barrows, who had mentioned to some of the guys that Tarkum had some similarities to Crayton—”

      “What kind of similarities?” Decker asked.

      “Offhand, I don’t know. As long as I’m out there, I’ll set up an interview with Cindy.”

      Decker didn’t say anything. Oliver took his silence for approval. “I’m not busy tonight. Let’s get this over with for Deck’s peace of mind.” He looked at Marge. “How about you?”

      “I’ll have to make a couple of phone calls … rearrange some appointments.”

      Oliver said, “She should be interviewed pronto. If you can’t do it, I’ll do it myself.”

      Decker’s eyes slowly shifted from his desktop to Oliver’s face. Scott was smart enough to catch the implication. He didn’t jump. Instead he shrugged. “Hey, you can come with us, boss, but it might inhibit her.”

      “What makes you think she’ll talk to you?”

      Oliver was frustrated. He really did want to warn Cindy. And he wanted to talk to her alone. But that had to do with personal reasons. He said, “I think I could get something out of her. But if you have doubts, I’ll wait for Margie. She’s your daughter. You call the shots.”

      Decker looked at Marge. “Rearrange your schedule.”

      “It shouldn’t be a problem,” Marge said.

      “Great!” Oliver feigned enthusiasm although he was a tad disappointed that Marge now had to play tagalong. Deep down, he knew it was best. He said, “Around eight, Margie?”

      “Actually that would work out perfectly,” Marge answered. “Where does she live?”

      “Near Culver City,” Decker said.

      Oliver said, “I was planning to go into Hollywood at around six. I’ll meet you at Cindy’s around eight.” He looked pointedly at Decker. “Is that okay with you?”

      Reluctantly, Decker agreed. Although he hated losing control, he knew Scott was right. He couldn’t be objective. He glanced at his watch. “I’ll call her … explain the situation and let her know you two are coming by at eight. In the meantime, you two reacquaint yourselves with the Crayton file. Divide up the search and interview as you see fit. Also, you should ask Korman if there’s been a proliferation of other luxury red car thefts.”

      Oliver stood. “Sounds like a plan.”

      “One more thing.” Decker got up and opened his door. “In Stacy Mills’s case, the perp ordered her to hit the ground. Now, he could have picked out the phrase from the movies or from those

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