Gun Games - Faye Kellerman [121]
“Look up Olivia Garden,” Decker said.
“Okay here we . . . Dr. Olivia Garden . . . went to UCLA Medical School . . . board certified . . . married . . . aha! She has two sons, Maurice and Jonas, both of them lawyers.” Marge grinned. “I think we have a love connection, guys.”
“Both the divorce and the theft happened around six years ago,” Decker said.
Oliver said, “Maybe little Dylan went to Grandma for support.”
“And guns,” Marge said.
“He would have been around twelve,” Decker said.
“Right around puberty,” Marge noted. “When all that testosterone kicks in, turning snips and snails and puppy dog tails into snarling pit bulls.”
Darla’s long hair hid most of her face, but the part that Decker did see was mottled and streaked with tears. Her blue eyes were swollen and red. She favored her father, Dominick, with his round ruddy face and blue eyes. Her mother, Marie, had dark eyes, high cheekbones, and short clipped gray hair. No jewelry, no makeup for Mom. Dad was dressed in a black suit, a pressed white shirt, and blue tie, almost identically to Cecil Quiller, Darla’s legal representation.
After introducing himself and explaining the situation, Decker was sure that the lawyer would jump on the bias angle to get his client out of her jam. But it was Marie Holbein who spoke up.
“The boy who was attacked is your foster son?”
Decker said, “Not technically. I don’t receive any money from the state. The kid needed a place to live, and my wife and I decided to provide him a home until he was able to go out on his own.”
“So you are also a servant of God,” Marie said.
Now that was a good sign. Decker said, “Just doing the boy a favor.”
The lawyer said, “But you do have a personal involvement with the boy.”
Decker said, “Absolutely.”
“And you’re probably more willing to believe his account of the events than the others.”
“Counselor, I’ve recused myself from the active part of the investigation. That’s why you’re with Detective Pratt and not with me.”
“What do you mean by the active part?” Quiller asked.
Wynona piped in. “He’s been acting as a traffic cop. Put this one in room one, get a photo array, pull a warrant. Things like that.”
Decker said, “I haven’t been actively interviewing any of the teenagers unless someone has specifically wanted to talk to me.”
“Has that happened?”
“Yes, that has happened.”
Marie held up her hand. “We are not here to absolve Darla on some kind of technicality, Lieutenant. That may work with other parents . . . they think they are protecting their children. In fact, they are making matters worse because what they are doing is morally wrong. Dominick and I do not defend our children at all cost. If we do that, we’re not helping Darla.”
“And I’m in absolute agreement with my wife,” Dominick said.
The two of them were a cop’s dream: they were also Darla’s worst nightmare.
Marie turned to her daughter, her eyes shining with fervor. “Darla, if you possibly hope to live a moral life, you must clear your conscience before God.”
The lawyer spoke up. “I agree with you, Marie, from the standpoint of a practicing Christian. But I do believe that I must also function as a lawyer and do what I can for Darla legally.” Quiller turned to Decker. “She’s a minor. I want her records sealed. Absolutely no jail time even in a juvenile facility. No probation, no community service. The church will make sure she pays back for her sins. But she walks away from the horrendous fiasco without a blemish.”
“Do you want me to function in my official capacity even though I’m involved with Gabriel and he lives with me?” Decker asked.
Quiller said, “If you have the capacity to help Darla out, I will be happy to work with you.”
Decker sat down. “Charges are pretty serious. It depends on what she has to say.”
“I know what she has to say, because she’s already spoken to me. Darla has never been in any kind of trouble.”
“When she