“It’s about Marie Bellson.”

Decker looked at Marge, then at Pomerantz, but said nothing.

Beltran said, “Lawrence, if you were involved in any way with Marie’s demise—”

“Marie’s not dead!” McKay said. “At least so far as I know. I certainly didn’t kill her. You want to hear what I have to say?”

“Give me more of a hint,” Pomerantz said.

“C’mon, Mr. Pomerantz!”

Marge said, “Leek, we’re trying to help—”

“Okay. I think I know where she might be.”

“Good Lord,” Decker said. “Where?”

“All charges dropped,” Leek said.

Decker looked at Pomerantz. Pomerantz said, “If it pans out—”

“Uh-uh,” McKay said. “She may have split from where I think she is. I can’t be sure of that.”

“How about this, Counselor?” Decker said. “How about…if it can be shown that Marie was where Mr. McKay thought she was, we’ll drop charges against him.”

Pomerantz was quiet. Decker kept a neutral expression, starved for information on Marie. They needed something! Tandy had to be locked up. She was dangerous!

Finally, Pomerantz said, “All right. If we can show that Marie Bellson was at any time at the location pinpointed by Mr. McKay, I’ll drop all charges pending against Mr. McKay.”

“Right on!” McKay clapped his hands. “Could you have done any better, Mr. Beltran?”

Beltran smiled wearily.

“Spit it out, Leek,” Decker said.

“Two days after the kidnapping, Tandy cornered me at the gym. She wanted me to write a letter of recommendation for Marie Bellson, using the home’s stationery. Tandy wanted me to write it and sign it, because if this clinic called and asked for Mr. McKay at the home, there’d be a real person there to take the call. Turns out that it was unnecessary. No one called. At least to my knowledge, no one called.”

“Did you write the letter?” Decker asked.

“Of course!” McKay asserted. “I still thought I was an accessory to murder—the abortion murder, not the black lady, Booker.”

“Where’d you address the letter, Leek?”

“To a clinic in central California, not far from Berkeley but more inland. Where all the immigrants work on the farms. I wrote this wonderful letter saying what a saint Mary Whitson was. She was using the name Mary Whitson.”

“Whitson’s her mother’s maiden name,” Marge said.

“Do you remember the location of the clinic?” Decker asked.

“Spanish-sounding town. Tecale or Tecome or Tecate. Something like that. It had a rural route address. That much I remember.”

“Do you have the exact number?”

“Not on me. But I can retrieve it.”

“Retrieve it!” Decker said.

“You bet, Sergeant!” McKay broke into a smile. “Anything to help Tandy fry.”

37

Marge slammed down the receiver and clapped her hands. “They got Bellson!”

The entire squad room broke into cheers. She stood up and gave Decker a high-five. “The bastard was right on the money. McKay’s going to walk, the lucky little sucker!”