Peter Decker 3-Book Thriller Collection: False Prophet, Grievous Sin, Sanctuary. Faye Kellerman

      “I’m Sergeant Peter Decker of the LAPD.” He showed the woman his badge. “I’d like to speak with Dr. Brecht.”

      “Dr. Brecht is not in today. Would you like to leave a message?”

      Tinkle, tinkle.

      Decker said, “Where is Dr. Brecht?”

      “I don’t know.”

      “Has he checked in today?”

      Suddenly the light voice was as sharp as broken glass.

      “I don’t know if I should answer your questions.”

      “Why? Are you hiding something?”

      “Of course n—”

      “So why wouldn’t you want to answer a simple question? Has Dr. Brecht phoned in today?”

      She was flustered. “Uh, I’m sure he will soon.”

      “But he hasn’t come in yet?”

      “No.” She sighed. “He left a message on the machine. ‘Althea, cancel all my patients today. An emergency came up.’ So I canceled his patients.” She played with a beaded earring. “No big deal. Today would have been a light day—three stress consultations, two deep-body massages, one biofeedback.”

      “What time did he leave the message?”

      “It was on the machine when I arrived at eight this morning. His first appointment wasn’t until ten so I had lots of time to cancel.”

      “Does your answering machine record the time that the call was made?”

      “No.”

      “You’re sure?”

      “Yes.”

      “All right. Dr. Brecht has another office at his sister’s spa, is that correct?”

      Something malevolent clouded Althea’s eyes. “It’s not an official office. You can’t make an appointment to see him there unless you’re a registered guest. Freddy helps his sister out. Which is more than I can say for her.”

      “How often does he help out at the spa?”

      “Too often.”

      “Give me an estimate.”

      “Maybe once or twice a week. Which may not seem like a lot to you, but it really does cut the efficiency of a practice. You know, Freddy is a very unique doctor. It was his treatment that cured my backaches and I really believe in him. So do a lot of people. He works very hard for his patients. I resent his jumping whenever his sister calls. He’s just too nice and she takes advantage of him.”

      “How about his mother?” Decker asked.

      “The great Davida Eversong? She and his sister are two of a kind. You think she’d ever help him out? To her, everything is Lilah, Lilah, Lilah. Of course whenever she needs a massage, she calls him and he comes running. Do you think she even pays him?”

      “No?”

      “Not a dime.” Althea sighed. “Well, I’ve just talked too much.”

      “Do you think Dr. Brecht might be with his mother?”

      She sighed again. “I didn’t lie, but I didn’t tell you the whole truth. I don’t know where he is but I do know he’s not at the spa. I’ve also called his house and his mother’s apartments. No one answered.” She suddenly blushed. “I wasn’t checking up on him. It’s just there are a few business matters I need to tell him about.”

      “Business matters?”

      “It’s of no concern to the police.”

      Decker paused a moment, letting her know that at the moment everything was of concern to the police. “Why don’t you give me the addresses and phone numbers of Ms. Eversong’s and Dr. Brecht’s residences. I can get it myself, but you’d be saving me a few steps. And time may be of the essence here.”

      “Why? What do you mean?”

      “There was an incident last night concerning Dr. Brecht’s sister.”

      “An incident?”

      “She was attacked.”

      “My God! What happ—”

      “I know Dr. Brecht met her last night for supper,” Decker broke in. “Now you tell me he hasn’t shown up for work. I’m wondering if something might have happened to him.”

      “Oh, my God!”

      “Not that I have any reason to believe that something did happen—”

      “Oh, dear Lord!” Althea tugged at her earring. “Omigod, omigod. Of course I’ll give you those numbers.” She yanked on a drawer and shakily drew out a piece of paper and a pen. “Why didn’t you tell me your business in the first place?”

      She was scolding him. But she was giving him what he wanted so Decker let it pass.

      6

      A split second to decide how to handle it. Act surprised, resigned, indignant or cooperative or maybe even friendly. No, scratch friendly. Cops were wary of anyone too congenial. If she was good—inquisitive like Kelley had said—she’d probably heard his name paged over the loud speaker and would wonder what that was all about. Ness knew he could probably pull off playing dumb, but now was not the time to audition for the Oscar. Keep it simple and keep her off guard. At least Kelley’s call had prepared him. No weak knees or sweaty hands.

      “Hi,” Ness said. “I’m assuming you’re the detective since you’re not dressed for yoga.”

      Marge paused a moment, surprised he knew who she was, surprised at how smooth he was around her. Most people were jumpy around cops. “Did you just talk to your sister?”

      “Yeah. She’s totally freaked out, wasn’t making a lot of sense to tell you the truth. Something about Lilah being attacked and you’re here looking into it? Whenever Kelley gets freaked, she calls big brother. What happened?”

      “You’ve got some time to talk?”

      “Now?”

      “Yes, now.”

      “I’ve got ’bout half an hour before my next class.” Ness swallowed hard, stepped back inside the Jazzarena, and gently placed his camcorder onto a mat. “I’m all dehydrated. You mind if I grab a cup of broth? We can talk in here. Hard to find privacy around this place.”

      “Your sister tells me you live on the premises. We can talk in your place.”

      “Nah, too far of a walk. I’ll be back in a jiff. Hang tight.”

      He was out the door before Marge could protest. She paced around the gym. Against the side wall, there were a pile of fresh towels, a large wicker basket filled with dirty towels, and stacked blue exercise mats. In front of the mirrors was a CD player resting on the floor. With no chairs available, Marge leaned against the ballet barre.

      Physically, Mike Ness wasn’t at all what Marge had expected. She’d figured on a muscle man and wasn’t prepared for someone on the slight side. He was sort of androgynous-looking, actually, except for the well-trimmed two-day stubble that covered his face. Shiny black hair that fell over big blue eyes. Truth be told he was almost as pretty as his sister. Though his muscles weren’t over-inflated, they had been worked on. He had the wiry kind of definition in his biceps and calves.

      He came back a moment later, carrying two steaming cups, and kicked the door shut with his foot. If the guy was guilty of anything, good old sister Kelley had taken away the key element of surprise.

      “I brought an extra cup for you, Detective.”

      “Thanks,