“I shredded them to little strips. About a quarter of the pieces are in my mulch pile at home. You’re welcome to dig through it, but I must warn you it’s a bit stinky and about four feet high.”

“A mulch pile.” Decker chuckled. “My wife has one. She’s into gardening in a big way.”

“Flowers?”

“Everything.”

“Tell her they have a new variety of tea rose: lemon kiss. It’s bright yellow and has a pungent citrus smell. It’s gorgeous.”

“I’ll pass it on to her. And, no, I don’t want to dig through your mulch pile. But if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to go through the demo CDs and old tapes just to see if I can find something by Travis Martel.”

“Be my guest. Lots of them have photo pictures on the covers so that may help.”

“Thank you very much for being so cooperative.” Decker gave her a closed-mouth smile. “It’ll probably take me a while. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Nah, just close the door when you leave.” She stubbed out her cigarette. “Why don’t I do this? I’ll bring out some boxes. After you’re finished with the cases that you don’t need, instead of putting them back on the shelves, just pack them up. As long as I’m being so cooperative, you might as well help me clean up.”

CHAPTER 32

BY THE TIME Decker arrived home, Rina was dressed in flannel pajamas and in bed, the duvet’s pattern obscured by dozens of brochures and travel books. She looked up from her makeshift desk and smiled. “Don’t mind me. I’m just having a fantasy.”

“A fantasy without me?” Decker said.

“Not that kind of fantasy, although I suppose that in my fantasy I can include that kind of fantasy.”

Decker laughed. “I found a turkey sandwich with coleslaw and potato salad on a plate wrapped with Saran in the refrigerator. Is that for me?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I am starving. I’m also dirty. Do I shower first or do I eat?”

“You shower, I’ll set your dinner up on a tray and you can eat it in bed while I read and pretend.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Twenty minutes later, the bed had been cleared, the books and brochures stacked on Rina’s nightstand. A tray held his dinner and two cans of diet root beer. Decker bit into the juiciest turkey sandwich he had ever tasted. The rye bread was very fresh and Rina had slathered it with mustard and mayo. She also added some cranberry sauce. He was in heaven.

Rina gave him a few minutes of peace to eat his dinner. Then she said, “Good day?”

“Long day?”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“You’re right. It was a long day and a pretty good day. It ended better than it started.”

Rina brightened. “You found Rudy Banks?”

Decker gave a sad smile. “See, that’s why I said it was a pretty good day. Finding Rudy would be a very good day.” He polished off one can of soda and opened the other. “No, I didn’t find Rudy, but I found a connection, albeit a weak one, between Primo Ekerling and his alleged murderer, Travis Martel.”

“That’s good.” Rina paused. “What’s the link?”

“Martel had sent several demos to Primo Ekerling. One actually included a note that said: ‘Yo. Here’s more. Let me know when it’s happening.’”

“What’s happening? A record deal?”

“That’s what I took out of it.” After finishing his sandwich, he methodically devoured the potato salad, washing it down with the second soda. “Primo dated every song demo he got.”

“Compulsive guy.”

“Thank goodness. The date on this particular jewel box was over a year ago. I don’t think a record deal ever happened.”

“So you think Travis Martel murdered Primo because he couldn’t get a record deal?”

“Maybe. Or maybe somebody put him up to murder. Somebody who didn’t like Primo anyway and took advantage of Travis’s own anger at Ekerling.”

“Rudy Banks hired Travis Martel to murder Primo Ekerling?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you have a link between Travis Martel and Rudy Banks?”

Decker took another swig of root beer. “No. My next step is to talk to Martel. See if I can squeeze something out of him…if Hollywood will even let me near him.”

“Didn’t you initially have your doubts that Travis did the murder?”

“I did. I thought that Martel and Diaz just boosted the car not knowing that Ekerling was in the trunk. Because who would drive around the city in a stolen Mercedes with a body in the car? Only somebody very stupid, right?”

“Right.”

“Now I’m thinking it might have been a murder for hire. It’s possible that Hollywood has the right kids sitting in jail. So if I’m now on the same page as Garrett and Diaz, maybe they’ll give me a chance with Martel.” He finished the coleslaw and his root beer. “Enough about me. What did you do today besides conspire with my elder daughter about how to spend our money?”

“No conspiracy, we just talked.” She handed Decker a brochure. “I normally wouldn’t have thought of a cruise…especially one that isn’t kosher specifically, but I talked to the office directly. They’ve made accommodations for kosher clients umpteen times before.”

“Where does the number umpteen fall in the ordinal scale?”

Rina ignored him. “Food is not going to be a problem. Even if we had to eat cold, there’s plenty of cottage cheese, lox, tuna salad, and egg salad for protein and a vast cornucopia of fruits and veggies. I could always bring some cold cuts for those needing a meat fix.”

“Sign me up for the turkey. The sandwich was delicious.”

“I suppose I could cook a turkey, freeze it, then have the kitchen warm it up in tinfoil.”

“We’re not going to schlep a turkey on vacation. That’s ridiculous.”

Rina smiled. “Anyway, even if we don’t feel comfortable with their food, we can always catch our own. One of the side excursions is salmon fishing.”

“Call me Papa Hemingway.” Decker wiped his mouth. “All teasing aside, I think it might be fun, albeit expensive.”

“What else is money for?”

“Food, clothes, education, car insurance, house insurance, property tax, health coverage-”

She hit him. “When was the last time we actually took a real vacation, not a trip back east to see the boys?”

“The last time was maybe…very long ago.”

“Or maybe never.”

“We went to Hawaii.”

“That was before Hannah was born.”

Gads, had it been that long? Decker told her, “Call up Cindy, call up the boys, arrange everything, do all the packing, and don’t tell me how much it cost. Just put me on the boat, and I promise I won’t jump off.”

“You also have to promise that you won’t say a word about money, not even a hint of a word. We can afford this, Peter, without breaking the bank. That’s all you need to know.”

“Fair enough. You arrange everything-the food, the transportation, the side excursions-and I’ll show up and won’t complain the entire trip. Just point me in the right direction.”

“I’ll lead you in the right direction,” Rina told him. “I’ll even hold your hand.”

EACH CD WAS encased in its own plastic bag, both of them sitting on top of Decker’s desk with the same photo of Martel’s sneering visage gracing the front of the jewel boxes. Marge picked one up by the corner and read the name. “You get these from Marilyn Eustis?”

“I found them on the shelves in Primo Ekerling’s office. Eustis told me I could keep them.”

“Better still. A direct chain between Ekerling and Martel.” She yawned. “You’re having the lab dust them for prints?”

“Yes.”

“Hoping to find Travis’s print so he can’t say that someone else sent them in without his knowing or that you planted the boxes.”

“Exactly.”

“Although even if they had Martel’s prints, he could still say that.”

“Maybe with one jewel box, but it’s harder to explain away two of them. Plus in one of the jewel boxes, there’s a note. I’ve called in a handwriting expert to try and match the note to Martel.”