Gun Games - Faye Kellerman [84]
She hit his shoulder, and then kissed his cheek. “You know, I’d rather die than to have you die. But let’s not talk about that. It’s a little morbid.”
“So . . .” He smiled at her. “What should we talk about, girlfriend?”
“I dunno . . .” She shrugged. “Music is always safe.”
“Okay. What are you singing these days beside ‘Der Hölle Rache’?”
She started talking about her lessons. Even with a cold, her voice was rhythmic and musical. Her pitch rose as she warmed to her subject, her enthusiasm infectious and just plain cute. After a few minutes of a nonstop soliloquy, she blew her nose and looked at him. “God, I love you. I can’t talk to anyone about my singing except you.”
Gabe kissed the top of her head. “We are very well matched.”
Yasmine smoothed his hair still damp from rain. “Well . . . as long as you’re in your underwear, do you want me to do something?”
He gave her a dopey smile. “Are you up to it?”
“I think so.” She climbed onto his lap and brushed her lips against his. “Although you know if you keep kissing me, you’re gonna get my cold.”
He slipped his arms around her waist and bit her lower lip gently. “Hmmm . . . I think”—a soft swipe against her lips—“that the thrill of kissing you”—his tongue grazing hers—“is definitely worth the risk of a few nonlethal microbes.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Los Angeles was subtropical, mild temperatures with wet winters and dry summers. For nearly a week running, the skies cracked open, drowning L.A. and its environs in water and mudslides. Marge was going over the day’s assignments with the Loo. They were sitting in Decker’s office. It was ten o’clock on Thursday morning in mid-April and the sky was overcast, the clouds dark and heavy.
“Drop in overall crime this week. Even felons don’t like getting their feet wet. Burglaries are way down . . . what else?” Marge continued to flip through her notes. “Okay . . . this is regarding the Gregory Hesse/Myra Gelb suicides. Remember a couple of weeks ago, we were scrolling down Myra Gelb’s phone calls and there were a few unknown numbers. One of them was disconnected?”
“Sounds familiar.”
“We finally got hold of Wendy Hesse. She’d been out of town visiting her sister. The number was Gregory Hesse’s cell phone.” She closed the notebook. “So obviously Greg and Myra did know each other.”
Decker sat up. “How many calls did she make to him?”
“Only one in her most recent calls. It was placed a few days before Greg killed himself. We asked Udonis for a copy of Myra’s old phone records. She didn’t have anything on hand. After Myra died, she paid off the phone company and canceled the number. She did agree to contact the phone company for Myra’s records.”
“Great. It’s easier for her to do it than for us.”
“I talked to her on . . . Tuesday.” She reread her handwriting. “I’ll call and see if she did it yet. If so, it’ll take a couple of weeks for the records to come in. And even if there were a couple of calls between them and they knew each other, it doesn’t mean the suicides are related.”
Decker said, “I can understand Myra killing herself after Greg died if there was something between them. But why did Greg do it?”
“Lord only knows but this might be a clue. Wendy Hesse saw images of Greg on his computer fooling around with a gun. Teenaged boys do stupid stuff. Maybe Gregory accidentally shot himself.” She thought a moment. “Would it make Wendy Hesse feel better if the M.E. ruled it an accidental death?”
Decker shrugged. “Maybe a scintilla.”
“Maybe we can get the M.E. to consider accidental death.” She looked at the Loo. “And maybe it’s time to stop treating the deaths like foul play. Without any evidence, we can’t draw any conclusions. We’re trying to fit a square peg in a round hole.”
“There’s truth to that. And I’m willing to let it all go as soon as I find out where the kids got the guns.”
“Yeah, that’s a sticking point,” Marge admitted. “Gregory was way too young to steal the gun from Olivia Garden. Myra’s gun was from Lisbeth Holly’s burglary. That was only