Decker massaged his temples just as Gabe walked into the kitchen. He was still wearing pajamas. His face was pale and pasty and his forehead, despite the cream he had slathered on it, was still broken out. “Bad time?”

“Not at all.” Decker smiled forcefully. “Have a seat. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to let you know that I called up my father’s main secretary. She told me that he wasn’t there, but she’d let him know that I called. So I guess we wait.”

“Okay. Just tell me when he calls back. I’d still like to talk to him.”

“I will.” He scratched his forehead. “So…is Chris like off the hook? I mean if Mom’s alive, he obviously didn’t kill her.” Gabe scratched his forehead again and it began to bleed. He mopped it up with a napkin. “God, I must look like garbage.”

“You’re a good-looking guy and you come by your looks honestly. You could, however, use a little more rest. I’m going to work and Rina and the kids are going to visit their grandparents in an hour. You’ll have the house all to yourself. Put on some shades and go to sleep. How’s your hand?”

“I’ll be okay for my first lesson with Nicholas Mark. That’s all I care about.”

Decker drummed the table. “I just got off the phone with the attorney who prepared your mother’s papers. He couldn’t tell me anything because of attorney–client privileges, but between the lines, I think those papers are legit. I think your mother wrote the letter. So in answer to your question, Chris is off the hook. And you can tell him I said so. I’d still like to talk to him, find out what he knows. I’m a curious guy.”

Gabe looked away. “I mean, this isn’t like a trap or anything.”

“No, Gabe, it isn’t a trap. I believe your mother is alive and is probably in India.”

“Her and a billion other people. A billion and one counting her new baby. But, hell, I’m not bitter.” Gabe stood up. “Thank you, Lieutenant, for taking me in—you and Rina. I really, really mean that. I promise you I’ll be an easy tenant.”

“You’re not paying rent, so you’re not a tenant. You’re just a mooch.”

Gabe smiled, but it was laced with sadness. “I’ll be a good mooch.”

“You call my wife Rina. You can call me Peter.”

“Thank you, but I prefer to call you lieutenant, if you don’t mind.”

“No, I don’t mind.” Decker shrugged. “Can I ask why?”

“I still don’t feel comfortable calling you by your first name. Also…this is going to sound a little wacky. But calling you lieutenant. I don’t know…the sound of the word. It makes me feel safe.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE