why?”
Gabe was prepared for the question. “I’m all caught up at school. I felt that I could use the extra few days to unwind before I go into fully operational mode. I’m much more relaxed here than at school.”
“That’s really nice. I want you to feel like this is your home, too.” Rina finished her coffee. “The Loo wants to go out for breakfast. You’re invited.”
“I’d love to come. Can I change first?”
“Although you look adorable in a suit, I’m sure jeans and a T-shirt would be much more comfortable.”
The smile on his face was wide and bright. Gabe headed off to his room, not feeling the least bit guilty about stretching the truth. He loved Rina for what she had done for him, but certainly she didn’t have to know everything about his personal business.
It was his life to live
It was his life to love.
It was his life to crash and burn.
CHAPTER FIVE
R EVIVED BY CALORIES, caffeine, and several hours of sleep, Decker read about the night’s activities on the front page of the
Daily News,
a picture of the cage being carted out of the apartment building. When he was done, he started sorting through the pile of pink phone slips that had amassed during his three-hour absence. He had finished the majority of the callbacks when Marge and Oliver knocked on his open office door. The clock read one in the afternoon.
“That was just about the worst crime scene I’ve ever been to from a forensics’ point of view,” Oliver groused. “It was so contaminated by animal blood and shit that it was impossible to tell what I was looking at.”
Marge said, “The good news is we found another twenty-two bullet and a couple of casings . . . I won’t tell you where. Okay, I will tell you where.” When she did, Decker made a face.
Oliver said, “I also bagged a couple of tools that
might
have made the depression in the skull, but I’m not loving any of them.”
“Like what?” Decker asked.
“A broom handle, a soup ladle, the back of a cleaver.” A pause. “I’m thinking what’s an old guy doing with a cleaver? Then I’m thinking that someone had to cut up the meat for kitty.”
Marge was paging through her notes. “Okay, from the canvassing, we didn’t get too much. Hardly anyone remembers seeing the old man.”
“What about noises coming from his apartment?”
“Yeah, we got a few of ‘I might have heard something’ or ‘I thought I heard something.’ The people I spoke to didn’t call it in. He did get a lot of deliveries. Not unusual for a shut-in.”
“Meat for the cat?” Decker asked.
“Deliveries from the local Albertsons and Ralphs. I’ll find out the specifics,” Marge said. “As far as phone records, he had a landline but no cell phone. That’s pretty much in keeping for a recluse and a guy his age. Did you by any chance receive a phone call from Ryan Wilner?”
“Regarding?”
“I wanted to find out where they took the tiger and if she was shot. It might make a difference in how we approach the case if she was harmed. If she wasn’t, maybe the perpetrator knew the beast.”
“I’ll call him,” Decker said. “But who uses a twenty-two to take out a tiger.”
“Not on her skull, but soft tissue is soft tissue.”
Decker acknowledged the point.
Marge said, “What about Penny’s kin?”
“The rich ones are always protected, but using charm, the Internet, and a phone book, I did get some numbers.” Decker flipped his phone messages. “Here’s a contact for the daughter: Baroness Graciela Johannesbourgh. When you call up, ask for Hollie Hanson. I believe she is the executive secretary of the baroness’s foundation.” He handed Marge a piece of paper with the information.
“Foundation for what?”
“Cervical dystonia,” Decker said. “I looked it up. It’s when your head rotates to the side of your neck and freezes in that position. The medical name is torticollis. It’s treated with botulinum toxin torelax the muscles. It can be