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She hadn’t gotten very far when Myron Berger walked into the waiting room. From the look on his face, it was clear she needn’t have bothered to start.
She closed the book and recited, “Baruch atah adonai elohenu melech haolam dayan haemet.”
“Blessed are you, Hashem, our God, King of the universe, the true judge.”
The Jewish blessing upon hearing distressing news.
Decker closed his eyes and opened them, dread in his stomach. Berger’s blue gown was soaked with blood, his mask dangling over his scrubs like a pinafore. His eyes skittered across the sea of beaten faces as he tried to find the right words.
“I’m sorry…” The surgeon averted his eyes. “I did what I could…but he was too far gone…”
The silence was crashing.
Berger said, “Maybe, if I had been your father…with his skills, I could have…I’m terribly sorry.”
Paul got up, walked over to Berger, and placed his hand on the surgeon’s shoulder. He retreated a few steps, then erupted into silent tears. Michael reached out to him, the two brothers fell upon each other’s necks, choking back sobs. The sisters embraced and cried out loud.
Luke remained by himself. Bram’s twin, covering his face with his hands, wails emanating from the heart, deep moans of despair. His wife held him in her arms, rocking him while he wept. But Dana was ill-equipped to console his bitter misery.
And so it was that Decker saw the sorrow-the unbridled grief he had expected to find when he had originally come to them a
Because, in fact, with Azor being a punitive, unapproachable figure in their lives, and Dolores, a fragile, imbalanced mother, they had turned to Bram for nurturance and guidance.
Abram Sparks-the golden boy.
Decker looked at Rina.
Stoically, she took his hand. “We need to take care of your arm, Peter.”
Decker nodded, leaving the family alone to grieve. Out of deference to their needs for privacy and more than a little of his own fear. Because witnessing such abject pain was a very hard thing to do.
33
“Are you sure you want to be here?” Marge asked.
Decker flexed his elbow, wriggled his fingers, and winced. “I’m not saying I feel great. But since I can write, I might as well work.” He shook his head. “Better here than being at home. It’s been hell this past week.”
“How’s Rina?”
Decker thought about the question. “She’s…functioning.”
“Should I send her a condolence card or something?”
“I think she’d appreciate a call. You go to Polinski’s arraignment yesterday?”
“No, I didn’t go. Tom and Bert went. Scott and I spent the day going over Waterson’s confession tape.”
“Everything okay?”
“Seems to be pretty clean,” Marge said. “I think he’ll be a very credible witness for the state. I think the DA’s going for the death penalty for Polinski.”
“Fine.”
“My opinion? Waterson and Dolores deserve it as much as Polinski does. Maybe even more.”
“Maybe.”
“They might not have pulled the trigger physically, but they arranged the murder…murders. At least, Waterson did. Calling up Polinski, telling him to meet Azor in the back alley of Tracadero’s. Asshole set the whole thing up.”
“True.”
“And Dolores…” Marge shook her head. “What a cold-blooded bitch. Sets up her husband and his colleague, then literally shoots her own son. Two guns on her, mind you. An extra in case the first one jams, the psycho. The kids have hired some hotshot psychiatrist to the tune of God knows how much money…” She paused. “I guess they can afford it. Anyway, the court sends her to a hospital. I say, in lieu of electroshock, how about the electric chair.”
Decker ran his left hand through his hair. “She might agree with you.”
“Bullshit. They all start off remorseful. Within a very short period of time, it’s ‘I don’t want to die. Save my fucking ass!’ I wouldn’t lose any sleep if they fried her.”
Decker nodded.
“Fried her big time.”
“Whatever.”
Marge paused. “You’re being rather mysterious.”
“I’m in pain.”
No one spoke for a moment.
“Why don’t you call it a day?” Marge said.
“No, I’ll slug it out. I’m a man. I can’t admit weakness.”
Marge smiled.
Decker said, “When’s Berger going before the grand jury?”
“Originally, they had him down for next week. But the FBI keeps finding stuff. Apparently, Fisher/Tyne has not only been monkeying around with data-which is federal offense because they’ve been hacking into computer data banks cross-country-but the company’s also been covering up dubious results and negative side effects of their test drugs.”
“How?”
“They discount side effects as anomalies or just plain disregard the data. Ignore it. If a doctor says anything about the outrageous practice, the company hits the MD with a slander suit. Keeps the doc tied up with expensive litigation that encourages others to keep their mouths shut.”
“That’s not illegal?”
“Nope. But bribing is. FBI’s uncovered incentive bribes for looking the other way. Shockley is up to his ears. Scott has had the last laugh.”
She paused.
“Course that doesn’t bring Ke
“Ironic,” Decker said. “Whole thing might never have been discovered if Azor hadn’t been murdered.” He exhaled forcefully. “And his murder had nothing at all to do with Fisher/Tyne.”
“It always boils down to a personal thing, doesn’t it?”
“Usually.”
Marge’s eyes met his. “Are you mad at me, Pete?”
“Mad at you?”
“For crapping out on you.”
“What are you talking about?”
Marge sat down at Decker’s desk across from him. “When you called me over to help Bram, I hesitated. I didn’t want to do it.”
“It’s understandable. You weren’t gloved.”
“Neither were you.”
Decker shrugged. “Thinking about it later on, I wondered if I did the right thing by yelling at you to come over. There’d been rumors that he was gay. Suppose he was HIV positive.”
“Yet you didn’t think twice about it, did you?”
“Rightly or wrongly, no, I didn’t.”
“I really admire you.”
“Nothing to admire. Like I told Michael Sparks, I didn’t think, I just did what I’d been trained to do.”
“I don’t believe that.”
Decker smiled. “You’re imparting undeserved nobility to my character.”
Marge said, “His blood was clean.”
“Thank God,” Decker said. “I’m not saying Bram’s death has a silver lining. In fact, the whole thing is simply an ugly, useless tragedy. But…”
He swallowed.
“But it does give you pause for thought. Life is short. When Rina feels like joining the human race again, I’m going to take a few days off.”
“Don’t be too radical, Pete.”
“Nah, never. I’m Joe American Dad, Margie. Mr. Straitlaced, Middle-Aged Fart.”
“You’re not that bad.”
“No, actually, I’m not. But I gotta act the part.” He gri
Ginger’s barking woke Decker up from a luxurious Sunday nap. He arose from his living room couch, rolling his shoulders to relieve them of stiffness. Stretched a moment. It hurt. He gave his hair a cursory comb with his fingers, then answered the knock on the door.
Eerie seeing Luke. At present, garbed in black, his weight loss, his longer hair, and his glasses, he looked indistinguishable from Bram. As if that entire ordeal had been just a terrible nightmare.
“Did I wake you, Lieutenant?”
“Uh…no; the dog did.” Decker smiled. “It’s okay.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Not too bad.”
“Sorry to bother you at home.”