Read Online Serpent's Tooth by Faye Kellerman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Faye Kellerman
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other end of the line. She hung up, reopened the window.
“Can I take your name and number and have someone call you back this afternoon?”
Decker smiled. “Why don’t you get back on the phone and tell your boss that I’m getting pushy.”
She closed the window a second time. Reopened it, told him that someone would be coming and he should take a seat. Decker glanced at the satin-covered French-style benches. Looked way too small and very uncomfortable. He elected to stand.
Within minutes, a man jogged through the hallway. Short, stocky, a head of curls and a shadowed face even though he’d recently shaved. He was built like a tank—barrel chest, thick legs creasing his gray slacks, muscle-packed forearms. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled to his elbows. He stuck out a meaty hand but kept walking.
“Barry Fine. Follow me.”
Fine never broke step. Decker kept pace with him through the hallway, into the club’s library/reading room—as big as an arena. More leather here than at a rodeo. Hard to notice any people in the soft lighting. Perhaps it was because they were hidden in the corners or behind the backs of wing chairs. But Decker could ascertain signs of life—the clearing of a throat, the rustle of a newspaper, a hushed conversation between a man and his cellular phone. A uniformed waiter traversed the furniture maze, a tray of drinks balanced on the palm of his hand.
“This way,” Fine said.
Steering him away from the room. The message being: no fraternizing with the elite.
Fine unlocked a piece of paneling which turned out to be a door. He held it open for Decker, who crossed the threshold.
The business offices. No luxury here. Just working space and cramped at that. As Decker’s eyes adjusted to the glare of bright, fluorescent lighting, he noticed stark-white walls, linoleum flooring. A phone was ringing, lots of clicking computer keys. Fine led Decker into his cubicle, shut the glass door. He sat back in his desk chair, thick sausage fingers folded together, resting in his lap.
“Mind if I have a look at your identification?”
Decker showed him his badge, flipped the cover back, and pocketed the billfold after Fine had nodded.
“Please.” Fine pointed to a folding chair and Decker sat. “Must be important to send out a lieutenant.”
“Thanks for seeing me. I have a few questions. Thought that you might be able to help me.”
“Questions about…”
“Harlan Manz.”
Fine’s face remained stoic. “The monster who shot up Estelle’s.”
Decker said, “I understand he worked here for a while.”
Fine said, “You’ve been misinformed.”
Decker rolled his tongue in his mouth. “How long have you worked here, Mr. Fine?”
“Seven years.”
“And you’re saying that Harlan Manz never worked here?”
“To the best of my recollection, that is correct.”
“To the best of your recollection?” Decker waited a beat. “Sir, this isn’t a grand jury.”
Fine didn’t flinch. “I always try to be as specific as possible.”
“Perhaps you knew him under a different name—”
“Don’t think so.” Fine stood. “I’ll walk you out.”
Decker remained seated. “Mr. Fine, are you honestlytelling me that Harlan Manz never worked in this country club?”
“Never heard of the man until he hit the news,” Fine said. “Not that I’m about to do it, but if push came to shove, I’d open my books and show you. Never had a Harlan Manz on the payroll.”
“Ah…” Decker licked his lips. “You paid him in cash.”
Fine’s smile turned hard. “Lieutenant, I don’t have to talk to you. You get pushy, I call the owners. The owners get upset and they call their lawyers. The lawyers get upset, they call your captain. Gets you a black mark on your record.”
Decker stared him down. “Are you threatening me, sir?”
The tip of Fine’s nose turned red. He stammered, “No, I’m just pointing out a logical chain of events.”
Decker lied straight-faced.
“Can I take your name and number and have someone call you back this afternoon?”
Decker smiled. “Why don’t you get back on the phone and tell your boss that I’m getting pushy.”
She closed the window a second time. Reopened it, told him that someone would be coming and he should take a seat. Decker glanced at the satin-covered French-style benches. Looked way too small and very uncomfortable. He elected to stand.
Within minutes, a man jogged through the hallway. Short, stocky, a head of curls and a shadowed face even though he’d recently shaved. He was built like a tank—barrel chest, thick legs creasing his gray slacks, muscle-packed forearms. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled to his elbows. He stuck out a meaty hand but kept walking.
“Barry Fine. Follow me.”
Fine never broke step. Decker kept pace with him through the hallway, into the club’s library/reading room—as big as an arena. More leather here than at a rodeo. Hard to notice any people in the soft lighting. Perhaps it was because they were hidden in the corners or behind the backs of wing chairs. But Decker could ascertain signs of life—the clearing of a throat, the rustle of a newspaper, a hushed conversation between a man and his cellular phone. A uniformed waiter traversed the furniture maze, a tray of drinks balanced on the palm of his hand.
“This way,” Fine said.
Steering him away from the room. The message being: no fraternizing with the elite.
Fine unlocked a piece of paneling which turned out to be a door. He held it open for Decker, who crossed the threshold.
The business offices. No luxury here. Just working space and cramped at that. As Decker’s eyes adjusted to the glare of bright, fluorescent lighting, he noticed stark-white walls, linoleum flooring. A phone was ringing, lots of clicking computer keys. Fine led Decker into his cubicle, shut the glass door. He sat back in his desk chair, thick sausage fingers folded together, resting in his lap.
“Mind if I have a look at your identification?”
Decker showed him his badge, flipped the cover back, and pocketed the billfold after Fine had nodded.
“Please.” Fine pointed to a folding chair and Decker sat. “Must be important to send out a lieutenant.”
“Thanks for seeing me. I have a few questions. Thought that you might be able to help me.”
“Questions about…”
“Harlan Manz.”
Fine’s face remained stoic. “The monster who shot up Estelle’s.”
Decker said, “I understand he worked here for a while.”
Fine said, “You’ve been misinformed.”
Decker rolled his tongue in his mouth. “How long have you worked here, Mr. Fine?”
“Seven years.”
“And you’re saying that Harlan Manz never worked here?”
“To the best of my recollection, that is correct.”
“To the best of your recollection?” Decker waited a beat. “Sir, this isn’t a grand jury.”
Fine didn’t flinch. “I always try to be as specific as possible.”
“Perhaps you knew him under a different name—”
“Don’t think so.” Fine stood. “I’ll walk you out.”
Decker remained seated. “Mr. Fine, are you honestlytelling me that Harlan Manz never worked in this country club?”
“Never heard of the man until he hit the news,” Fine said. “Not that I’m about to do it, but if push came to shove, I’d open my books and show you. Never had a Harlan Manz on the payroll.”
“Ah…” Decker licked his lips. “You paid him in cash.”
Fine’s smile turned hard. “Lieutenant, I don’t have to talk to you. You get pushy, I call the owners. The owners get upset and they call their lawyers. The lawyers get upset, they call your captain. Gets you a black mark on your record.”
Decker stared him down. “Are you threatening me, sir?”
The tip of Fine’s nose turned red. He stammered, “No, I’m just pointing out a logical chain of events.”
Decker lied straight-faced.
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