and maybe he called 911.”
“It was the maid who found the surviving son lying on the floor,” Oliver said. “She thought he was dead.”
“Who is the off-duty bodyguard that she supposedly called?” Decker asked.
“Piet Kotsky,” Marge told him. “I spoke to him on the phone. He’s coming in from Palm Springs. It works like this…I think. The bodyguards stay on-site only when they’re working. They work in twenty-four-hour shifts, rotating through eight people. There are always two bodyguards in the main house and two men manning the guardhouse located at the entrance gate of the property. Both of those guys are dead. Gunshot wounds to the head and chest. All the camera equipment and closed-circuit TVs are smashed and destroyed.”
“Names?” Decker asked.
“Kotsky doesn’t know who was on duty tonight, but he said once he sees them, he can identify them.”
“What about the two guards in the main house?”
“They appear to be missing,” Marge said.
“So two guards missing and two guards murdered.”
Marge and Oliver nodded.
“Oliver mentioned a murdered maid?”
“In the servant’s bedroom downstairs.”
“And how did Ana Mendez manage to dodge the bullet?”
“She was off tonight,” Oliver said. “Her story is that she had returned to the ranch around one in the morning.”
“How’d she get back? No public transportation for miles.”
“She has a car.”
“She didn’t notice the lack of guards in the guardhouse?”
Marge said, “She went around through the back gate at the service entrance. No guards are routinely stationed there. Ana has a gate access card. She gets in, parks her car, and goes into her room. She sees the body and starts screaming for help. At this point, it gets a little muddy. She apparently went upstairs and found the other bodies.”
“She went upstairs without knowing if there were still people in the house?” Decker asked.
“I told you, her story’s a little confusing. Once she saw the bodies, she called Kotsky and he reported the crime…I think.”
“I’ll talk to her again. She’s Spanish speaking?”
“She is, although her English is pretty good.”
Decker said, “On to the guards. Do you know who arranges their schedules?”
Oliver said, “Kotsky makes the assignments but doesn’t arrange them. That’s done by a man named Neptune Brady who is the Kaffeys’ head bodyguard. Brady has his own bungalow on the grounds, but for the past few days, he’s been visiting his sick father in Oakland.”
“Has anyone contacted him?”
“Kotsky called him up and told us that Brady chartered a jet and should be here soon.” Marge paused. “We did take a brief peek inside his bungalow just to make sure no one else was dead. I didn’t rifle through his room. We’ll need a warrant to do that.”
“Let’s put in for one in case Brady’s uncooperative.” Decker looked around the room. “Ideas on how this played out?”
Oliver said, “Gilliam was sitting in front of the fireplace, sipping wine and reading. Marge and I think that she went down first. She’s still slumped on the couch, her book is a few feet away, covered in blood. See for yourself.”
Decker walked over to the scene. Sprawled on the couch were the remnants of a beautiful woman. Her blue eyes were open and blank, and her blond hair was matted with caked blood. The woman’s torso had been nearly bisected at the waist by several shotgun blasts. It was sickening, and Decker involuntarily averted his eyes. There were some things he’d never get used to.
“This is carnage,” he said. “We’ll need lots of photographs because our memories aren’t going to be able to process all of this information.”
Marge continued, “The disturbance of someone entering the room must have drawn the attention of the father and son. We figured they went down next.”
Oliver said, “There are two Kaffey sons. The one who was shot was the older one, Gil.”
“Does he have immediate family who need to be notified?” Decker asked.
“We’re working on it,” Oliver said. “No one’s called any police station to ask about him.”
“What about the younger brother?” Decker asked.
Marge said, “Piet Kotsky told me that the younger son’s name is Grant and he lives in New York. So does Guy’s younger brother, Mace Kaffey.”
“Who is also in the business,” Oliver pointed out. “Both of them have been notified.”
“By who? Kotsky? Brady?”
Marge and Oliver shrugged ignorance.
“Back to the crime scene,” Decker said. “Any idea what Guy and Gil were doing?”
Oliver said, “They could have been talking business, but we didn’t find papers.”
Marge said, “Guy Kaffey probably stood up and saw what was happening to his wife. Then he was blown backward. The son was a little quicker and started running away when the bullets caught him. He went down a few feet away from one of the doors out of here.”
“And the shooters didn’t bother to check to make sure he was dead?”
Marge shrugged. “Maybe something distracted the shooters and they fled.”
Decker said, “We have one, two, three…six doors in the room. So we could have a band of shooters with each one coming in from a different door and overwhelming the couple. Any idea of what could have sent a posse of murderers out of the ranch without finishing off the son?”
Oliver shrugged. “Maybe an alarm, although we haven’t decoded the system yet. Maybe the maid coming into the house. But she didn’t see anyone leave.”
Decker thought a moment. “If everyone was drinking and relaxing, it probably wasn’t too late: after dinner but early enough for a nightcap—around ten or eleven.”
“Around,” Marge said.
“And the groomer and the groundskeeper,” Decker said, “were they in the house when you arrived?”
“Yes.”
“You said that they live here?”
Oliver said, “In the bungalows on the grounds.”
“So how did they find out about the murders? Did someone get them
