The Burnt House

“Not at all.”

“I’m ru

“You’re perfectly articulate. Go on. I’m listening.”

“Thank you. You see we have Ma

“I agree.”

“Anyway, we took the X-ray over to the police in Nevada. Right now they are trying to use it to positively identify the bones.”

“I see.” A kitchen timer went off. “Excuse me, one second.” Rina opened the oven door and took out two broccoli quiches. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh, please. I’m sorry for interrupting you.”

“It’s no problem. So what’s going to happen to the bones if they are Ma

“That’s the problem.” She sighed. “We are the closest of kin other than that person locked up in prison and his father, who doesn’t want anything to do with his dead son. It’s up to us to decide what to do with the remains.”

“Yes, that is a problem.”

“We can leave them with the police and let them keep them or dispose of them. That’s an option.” She paused. “But I seem to recall…that the last time we spoke to your husband, Lieutenant Decker seemed to be convinced that Ma

“Okay.”

“Do you think he was telling us the truth or was he just trying to make us feel better?”

“If Peter thinks Ma

Sandra looked intently at Rina. “You said the case made the news. What do you think? Was your husband just being nice or do you think Ma

Rina gave the question some thought. She sat down at the kitchen table and so did Sandra. Finally, she said. “All right. This is what I think. Sometimes Lieutenant Decker does say things that may soften a blow. But in this case, everyone who knew Beth and Ma

Rina got up and stirred a pot of curried chicken soup.

“Actually, Beth was way ahead of the time. Or maybe she just grew up with a mother who knew all about food that was nutritious as well as delicious.”

Sandra rose and started chopping red peppers. “So you don’t think he did it…Ma

“I know, Mrs. Devargas, that nice people can do bad things. But from what my husband has said, from what the newspapers have said, and from what the people who were there have said, I think Ma

“But of course we’ll never know unless he confesses and that’s not likely unless he’s on his deathbed.” Her face became troubled. “And that’s not going to be in my lifetime!” She gasped and stuck her finger in her mouth. She had cut herself with the paring knife. “I’m such a klutz.”

“If you cook a lot, you cut yourself. I do that all the time.” Rina opened the cupboard and took out a bandage. “Here you go.”

Sandra put on the bandage and continued to work in silence. A few minutes later, she said, “I think what we’ll do is take home the remains and give my son-in-law a proper burial.” She nodded. “We’ll bury him next to Beth. That’s where he should go.”

Rina felt her throat clog. “A husband and wife should be buried next to one another.”

“I think so, too.”

Rina heard male voices coming from the living room. Moments later, the two Peters came into the kitchen. She felt instant relief.

Decker said, “Thanks for inviting them, Rina. We had to do something to pay Tía Sandy back for all the meals she gave me in Santa Fe.”

“Please!” Sandra protested.

“My wife is an excellent cook. So is her mother. You’ll meet her in about…five minutes. How long before Shabbos?”

“A half hour.”

“So I’d better shower and shave-”

Devargas cleared his throat. Everyone looked at him. “First, before you do anything, I want to apologize for us barging in like this.”

“It’s absolutely fine, Peter,” Decker said. “Really.”

“No, it isn’t fine. It’s not proper and we both know it. But you also must know me a little by now, Lieutenant Decker. I wouldn’t have done it to be friendly. Unfortunately, we’ve come here because we have a problem.”

Sandra elbowed him in the ribs. “No, we don’t have a problem.”

“Yes, we do have a problem,” Devargas insisted.

Sandra gave him an intense “hush-up” look. “No, we don’t have a problem.”

No one spoke.

“I thought we had a problem.” Devargas regarded his wife, a confused expression on his face. “I guess we don’t.”

“No, we don’t!” Sandra said firmly. “We don’t have any problem at all.”

Again there was silence. The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Decker said.

Devargas said, “No, I’ll get it. That’s my job.” He looked at Rina. “Right?”

“Right.”

“Then I’ll get it.” He walked out of the kitchen, shaking his head.

Rina said, “Peter, why don’t you see if that’s my parents. I think Mr. Devargas would get along great with Papa.”

“They probably would.” Decker left.

To Sandra, Rina said, “Thanks for the fruit plate. We’ll use it for dessert.”

“I would have baked a cake, but it doesn’t travel well.”

Rina laughed. “Cake baking is my mother’s department. I’m sure she brought several of them. You’ll like her.”

“You’re close to your mother?”

“Very close.”

“That’s nice,” Sandra said, dry-eyed. “Mothers and daughters…that’s very, very nice.”

About the Author

FAYE KELLERMAN introduced L.A. cop Peter Decker and his wife, Rina Lazarus, to the mystery world eleven years ago. Since that time she has written nine Peter Decker/Rina Lazarus novels as well as a historical novel, The Quality of Mercy. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, author Jonathan Kellerman. There are close to three million copies of her books in print.