Peter Decker 3-Book Thriller Collection: False Prophet, Grievous Sin, Sanctuary

Davida Eversong was making her entrance.

9

She walked past him without so much as a curious glance. Decker followed her into Lilah’s room.

It was a one-sided tearful reunion.

“Dear God, what happened to my baaaaby!” Davida hugged her daughter. “My poor sweet baaaaby.”

A husky voice, Decker thought. And loud. As they say in the business, it projected.

“My poor sweet darling little girl! How awful!”

“Mother, sit—”

“Dear God! Dear, dear, dear God!”

“Mother! Sit! Down!”

Davida ignored her, pulled out a black lace handkerchief and wiped her eyes under her veil. Lilah regarded her.

“You didn’t have to dress for mourning, Mother. I didn’t die.”

Davida broke into a sudden smile. “Do you like my gown? It’s a Vilantano. Size six. Isn’t that incredible?”

Lilah looked at Decker. “I was attacked and she talks about her dress. This is so typical—”

“Oh, don’t be angry with me, Delilah dear. Of course, I care about your welfare! When Freddy told me, I just about died.”

“I specifically asked him not to tell you.”

Davida glanced at Decker. “She didn’t want to worry me. That’s my daughter … so considerate.”

Lilah closed her eyes and lowered her head to her pillow. “I’m very tired. I need rest.”

“Don’t be mad at Freddy, sweetheart.” Davida dismissed her daughter’s emotions with a wave of the hand. “I could tell he was so very bothered. I just wouldn’t let him go until I wangled it out of him.”

She opened a black beaded evening bag and began putting some flesh-colored bottles on the hospital bed tray.

“I brought you some makeup—a light moisturizing base, a little mascara and eye shadow, some blush and a little cover-up. Freddy told me how you were slapped around during the robbery! How awful!” She took a long appraising look. “My goodness, Lilah, you look as if they did more than slap you.”

“Mother, I truly am tired.”

Davida brought her hand to her chest. “Those … those … bastards! Are you all right, Lilah?”

“Yes.”

“Truly, dear. Don’t hold back.”

“I don’t think I’m up for my five-mile jog, but I’ll recover.”

“You’ve always had such a positive spirit! I so admire that quality, dear.”

“What I need more than anything is rest, Mother.”

“Darling … did those bastards … did they …”

Lilah looked at Decker. “No.”

Davida followed her daughter’s eyes, noticing Decker’s presence for the first time. “Darling, who’s this man?”

“He’s the police, Mother.”

Davida walked in measured steps over to Decker and lifted her veil. Her skin was ghostly white, but stretched tight over large cheekbones. She had broad features—a wide nose, wide-set eyes that were round and bright and very dark. Her mouth seemed to stretch from ear to ear. Her hair was pulled back over a high-set forehead and dyed blue-black. She’d need another rinse soon—a hint of white at the root line.

Up close, Decker found Davida Eversong a little simian-looking, but he could imagine that her strong features had come across well on the big screen. In the beauty department, Lilah had it over Mom hands down. But daughter’s delicate features just might blur when magnified.

Decker knew Mom was studying him, her eyes boring into his without so much as a twitch of discomfort. No wonder Morrison had been pestering him on the progress of the case. Decker didn’t know if it was acting or what, but Davida reeked with wealth and power. Offscreen, she was more formidable than any part she had ever played on-screen.

“So you’re the police,” Davida said.

“Yes, ma’am. Sergeant Decker.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Sergeant. We need to talk. Although the jewelry wasn’t as valuable as the pieces I keep in the bank vault, some of the items were highly sentimental. I trust you’ll do everything possible to find the criminals who took them from me.”

Decker looked at Lilah. “You had jewelry in your safe?”

In a bored voice, she said, “Mother kept some jewelry there. That wasn’t what they were after, Peter.”

“I suppose you’ll need a description, Sergeant,” Davida said. “I’ll give you the name of my insurance broker. He has written descriptions and Polaroids of each item. I’d like all my jewelry back but there’s an emerald brooch of particular interest for me. It was a gift. Well, all the pieces were gifts … that’s another story.” She turned to Lilah. “Really, darling, you should have told me right away. Those bastards might have already fenced the larger stones.”

“They weren’t after your jewelry, Mother. They were after Father’s memoirs.”

“Lilah, dear—”

“The jewelry is garbage in comparison to the real treasure.”

“Darling, a five-carat Colombian emerald isn’t garbage by anyone’s standards.”

“Garbage!” Lilah was red-faced. “It’s all garbage! They weren’t after something as common as your jewelry. They were after Father’s memoirs. Your jewelry is GARBAGE!”

“Dear me, Lilah, I know you’ve been through a terrible ordeal, but do control your temper.” She turned to Decker. “Lilah was always a highly emotional child. Like me. But I directed my emotions into acting. Don’t you think Lilah would have made a wonderful actress—”

“Mother, this is not a role I’m playing. This is real life. I was hurt, damn it—”

“Delilah Francine, do try and calm down.” Davida slithered down into a seated position at her daughter’s bedside and kissed her forehead. “It can’t be good for you to work yourself up into a lather.” She brought her hand to her chest. “Lord knows, it’s not good for me.” She kissed Lilah again, then looked up at Decker. “Why aren’t you out looking for my jewelry?”

“I’m not done interviewing Lilah, Ms. Eversong. Would it be possible for you to step outside for a moment until I’ve finished up?”