“The boy has skills. He had two years in Berkeley. Not to mention the fact that he is highly manipulative. I don’t fret for him.”

“Do you know if he held down any kind of a job?”

“No, I do not.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Ah, the tea.” He reached around and pushed the buzzer. The double doors opened. “Just in time. Can you pour for us, George?”

“Certainly, sir.”

“George, maybe you can help the lieutenant out. He wants to know about Darrell.”

The old man stopped pouring for a moment, then continued. “Yes, sir?”

“Have you seen him lately?”

“No, sir.”

But the hesitation told Decker a different story.

“Any calls from the lad?” Holt asked his butler.

“No, sir.”

Holt held up his hands. “If George isn’t aware of Darrell’s whereabouts, then no one is. Darrell always liked George, isn’t that so?”

“I would hope so, sir.” George handed Holt a gold-rimmed china teacup, then served an identical one to Decker. As soon as he was relieved of the cups, he passed around a tray of butter cookies. Holt took two, but Decker declined.

“Oh, do take a cookie, Lieutenant,” Holt advised. “Life needs to be sweetened from time to time.”

“The tea is fine, sir. What else can you tell me about Darrell?”

“I told you everything I know about him.” He smiled. “He’s a psychopath. There is nothing else to tell. George, do you have anything to add?”

“No, sir.”

“When was the last time you talked to him?” Decker asked.

“Years ago.”

“How many years?”

“I believe I stopped talking to him when he got involved with that crazy group.”

“Preservers of Ethnic Integrity?” Decker said.

George made a face. “Nothin’ but a bunch of lunatics.”

“Well spoken,” Holt agreed.

“Anything else I can get you, sir?” George asked.

“No, George, I’m fine, thank you.”

George left. Decker waited a few moments, then rose from the bed, still holding the teacup. He took a card out of his pocket. “You will phone if he contacts you?”

“Of course.” Holt looked up from one of his laptops. “What did he do, by the way?”

“I can’t say, Mr. Holt. It’s an ongoing investigation.”

“Then remain tight-lipped if you please.” Holt typed away. “Whatever you think he did”—type, type, type—“I’m sure he did it.”

Decker waited. Then he said, “I’ll just close the door behind me.”

“Fine, fine. Take a butter cookie on the way out.”