“You have David’s interest at heart. Where the lawyer’s interests are remains to be seen.”

Klinghoffner smiled. “Hold on. I’ll get you the address.”

He returned a few minutes later and handed me a slip of paper— Raymond Paxton, with a Century City address for his business. “I understand your suspicion, Officer Decker. But I must say that Mr. Paxton paid faithfully for David’s care for six years. I don’t see it, but …” He threw up his hands.

“Probably he’s as concerned as you are. I just want to talk to him.”

“I must attend to other matters now, Officer Decker. I must say I’m glad that the police are finally taking David’s disappearance seriously. But of course, it’s a bit late in the game, isn’t it?”

I answered with an enigmatic smile.

“I hope you pay more attention to the hit-and-run. As I said, I’m sure it was an accident, but since the driver didn’t stop, he must be apprehended. It’s been a very big blow.”

“I know. I was there.”

Klinghoffner turned red. “Of course … I am so sorry—”

“It’s fine, sir. I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

“It must have been a terrible shock to witness something so terrible.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, but I do have to go.”

“Of course.”

“Not that I mean to dismiss you—”

“No, no, I understand.”

But it seemed that everyone was dismissing me these days.

24

If there were D.T.’s from too much food, Decker was experiencing the phenomenon. Rina had learned cooking from a pro, but over the years, she had lightened the cuisine. Her sauces weren’t as heavy, her side vegetables barely blanched and often served plain except for a little salt. Mama was still in the old country, serving mass quantities of heavy food. But that didn’t stop Decker from stuffing his face. If he had eaten any more chicken paprikash, his face would have turned red and blotchy. But self-loathing had an upside: His mother-in-law was very pleased with his gustatory enthusiasm.

“It’s always a pleasure to serve you,” she told him. It came out: Eets alvays a pleasurrrre to serrrrve you. Her Hungarian accent was light and lilting.

Magda Elias was wearing a blue pullover sweater and white jeans. She was still beautiful and trim—a woman who took pride in her appearance. Her dyed black hair was always coiffed and she always wore makeup. Rina was a simpler, younger version of her mother.

They were eating in the formal dining room—a paean to porcelain. Magda’s breakfront was filled with her good dinner china, figurines, decorative plates, and vases. There were also a dozen pieces of expensive European silver. The woman could have opened up an antique shop.

“It’s always a pleasure to eat your cooking, Magda,” Decker parried.

Magda smiled. “You are being very charming tonight.”

“I’ve been practicing.”

She hit his shoulder. He and Rina’s parents got along well, although it hadn’t always been that way. It had taken a dozen years and the production of a granddaughter to get to this level of congeniality. He thought about that as Cindy came to mind. Decker had slipped up with Koby. He was still smoldering from her relationship with Scott Oliver and maybe that was the problem. He was too involved. Black, white, purple, old, young, female, whatever—he should have done better with her date. He made a pledge to mind his manners in the future, regardless of whom she brought home.