Free Prayers for the Dead by Faye Kellerman Page B

borrowed money from Dad. We all did from time to time.”
    Nobody spoke.
    Decker looked at Paul.
    Paul’s eyes worked like strobe lights. “I called to ask him for a small loan—”
    Michael let out a small laugh. Bram threw him a razor-sharp glance that shut him up.
    Paul said, “Anything else?”
    Decker said, “You asked him for money. What did he say?”
    “He said, yes, of course. My father was a generous man.”
    “Did you make the call from home?” Decker asked.
    “From work. I work at Levy, Critchen, and Goldberg. I’m a stockbroker.”
    “You were at work the entire evening, then?”
    Paul’s eyes worked furiously. “No.” A meaningful pause. “After I made the call, I took a ride… by myself.”
    “Must have been a long ride,” Decker said. “You made the call at seven-thirty. Your brother-in-law didn’t get hold of you until around ten-thirty.”
    Silence.
    Paul looked upward again. “Well, there goes any semblance of my privacy.”
    “If you’d like, Mr. Sparks, I can ask you these questions one on one.”
    Paul was quiet, his hand mowing through his pile of black curls. “Oh what the hell!” His smile was bitter. “I had words with my wife over asking my father for money. I was angry and didn’t feel like going home.”
    More silence.
    Paul said, “I had just asked my father for money about four months before. I didn’t feel like hitting on him again. My wife didn’t understand that.”
    “What was the last loan about?” Decker asked.
    Paul glared at Bram. “Why don’t you tell him. I know Dad tells you everything.”
    Bram’s face was flat.
    Paul blinked hard. “I had a margin call and didn’t have enough cash to cover it. Dad footed me a loan, one that I’m currently in the process of paying back rapidly because my stocks have since shot up. Tonight’s phone call had to do with the kids’ tuitions. You have no idea how expensive private schools can be. I didn’t want to do it, but my wife practically accused me of being a negligent and rotten father if I didn’t.”
    Paul fell into the empty overstuffed chair.
    “So those were my last words to my father. Asking him for money.” He dammed back tears. “Wonderful.”
    Again, the house turned quiet.
    Eva said, “Well, while we’re on the subject of loans, I guess you’re going to find out anyway. We borrowed… my husband and I… borrowed money about a year ago. My dad co-signed the loan. We’re also in the process of paying it back.”
    Paul threw his sister a grateful look.
    “Can I ask what the loan was for?” Decker said.
    “My husband owns a chain of discount clothing stores.” Eva pronounced the word
discount
with disdain. “He took over the family business, thank you very much. Retail apparel took a dip. He had to close up some of the smaller boutiques and with the leases and mismanagement, he accrued some debt.” Her face grew tense as she talked. “
I
didn’t want to ask him. But my husband put me in a bind. Because he got caught in an interest crunch and had already taken out a second loan on the house to expand two years before. Rather than get stuck with exorbitant rates, David asked Dad to co-sign a secured loan based on
his
assets.”
    “Which are many,” Luke added.
    “It seemed easier at the time,” Eva said. “And it hasn’t cost Dad a
penny
. David’s paying it back.”
    “Where were you this evening?” Decker asked Eva.
    “At home until I heard…” She looked down and turned away.
    Decker’s eyes went to Luke.
    “I was at work,” he said. “I finished up with a client around eight and was in my office doing paperwork until Bram called me.”
    “You work at the Bomb Shelter?” Decker asked.
    Luke rolled his eyes. “Yes, I work at the Bomb Shelter. Yes, I was an addict. Yes, I no doubt ingested thousands of dollars up my nose. Yes, I am now flat broke. Yes, I am now also sober. Yes, I’ve been sober for three years. Yes, I was alone for two hours in my office. No, nobody