it for you. Everything—everything will be put on hold until I see Lilah. Do we have an understanding?”
Again fingers drummed across the telephone wire.
“I’m hanging up, Mother.”
“King, let’s talk this—”
“Everything’s on hold until I can see her. Am I making myself clear?”
“Not to worry, King. You’re making yourself quite clear.”
The door opened a crack, a small Spanish voice asking who was there. Decker said who it was and the door opened all the way. To Decker, the maid was still shaken. But she told him she was doing better. She led him through a spotless kitchen to the back door and told him Lilah was outside in the stable, grooming her horses. That seemed like a healthy thing for her to be doing. Painstaking tasks occupied the brain, preventing morbid thoughts from taking over. He thanked Mercedes and walked over to the stalls, but was blocked at the entrance.
“Hello, Mr. Totes,” Decker said. “Lilah asked me to come down and talk to her.”
“It’s okay, Carl,” Lilah called out. “He can come in.”
The skinny man didn’t move right away but stayed fixed in a military position—arms crossed, legs apart, chest extended, and brow furrowed over distrusting eyes. Totes was obliged to move out of the way. But he took his good, sweet time about it.
Decker walked inside the stable, finding Lilah with Apollo—the palomino that Totes had been riding that first day. She was combing the horse’s golden mane, talking sweetly in his ear as she smoothed out the tangles. The animal had on reins and bit, but no saddle. Lilah’s garb was part good ole girl, part vamp. She wore skintight jeans tucked into two-tone elephant-hide boots, and her chest was wrapped in a black tube top. Somehow she pulled the whole thing off without looking cheap. She didn’t acknowledge his presence and Decker knew she was toying with him. But he wasn’t bothered by the silence. There was something serene about watching one golden-haired beauty groom another. Finally, Lilah patted the horse’s neck and turned to him. Her face was still bruised but healing nicely.
“I was about to go for a ride, Peter. See if I can still function. Please join me.”
“A ride?”
“A ride will relax me. And when I’m relaxed, my power is more focused. In the long run, it will benefit both of us. And don’t be frightened by the horses, Peter. They’re very well trained.”
Lilah might know his home phone number, but she certainly didn’t know jack about his hobbies—all six of them sitting in his own stable. He wasn’t about to tell her anything personal. Slipping his hands in his pocket, he thought: no problem, amiga. He could play the slick as easily as the hick.
“I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion, Miss Brecht.”
She smiled seductively. “You know, Peter, I’ve noticed that when you get nervous, you call me Miss Brecht. Don’t worry so much.”
Outwardly, Decker was impassive, but internally he was wired—angry and sexually charged at the same time. He felt like a jerk but couldn’t turn around and walk away without losing face.
Just cut the losses, Deck. Ride the damn horse and get out of her way.
“I’ve got about forty-five minutes, Lilah. You want to spend it riding, it’s fine with me. But I’m not coming out here again.”
“Oh, yes, the ground rules.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, ran her fingers over her cheeks. “I tried to cover the … bruises with makeup. Can you tell?”
Decker appraised her beautiful face and told her she looked fine. Which was the truth. There was still some bluing underneath her eyes. Other than that, she appeared good enough for the cover of Vogue … or Playboy. He felt his face go hot. If she noticed his embarrassment, she didn’t remark on it.
Lilah said, “Carl, saddle up High Time for Sergeant Decker.”
“Which one’s that?” Decker asked.
“The Appaloosa. The spotted horse, Peter. You’d better take your jacket off. It’s hot. You can ride shirtless if you want.”
“No, thanks.”
“That’s right, you’re a redhead. You’ll burn rather than tan. I don’t see why Mother pictured you as a cowboy. Redheads can’t be cowboys.”
“Your mother told you about our little chat?”
“No. Just that she thought you’d make a marvelous cowboy. Much better than a detective. Frankly, I don’t see you as either one.”
Decker shrugged and looked away. He took his jacket off and draped it over a saddle peg, watching Totes throw a western saddle on High Time. Totes’s face wasn’t registering any hostility; it wasn’t registering much of anything. He was just doing his job with trained efficiency. When the stable hand was done, Decker walked over to the horse and eyed him carefully.
“She doesn’t bite, Peter,” Lilah said. “Just don’t sneak up behind her.” She turned to Totes. “Carl, walk High Time out and show Sergeant Decker how to mount.”
His mounting was fine, thank you very much. But he followed Totes out and didn’t say anything.
Totes touched the stirrup. “Put one foot in here. Then put your other leg all the way over the horse and just set up. You don’t gotta do nothin’ else but set. You ken hold the reins but don’t go pullin’ on them. Horse’ll follow the Miss. You start pullin’ the reins, you gonna confuse her.”
“Got it,” Decker said.
Totes walked away unceremoniously. Decker mounted as the horse stood passively, her tail swatting at flies. Lilah came up to his left. He noticed she seemed tight and asked her if she was in pain. She told him she was much better—at least physically—tugged on High Time’s bit and the two of them were off. She rode sans saddle, sitting on some kind of Indian blanket.
Immediately, he felt the sun burning down on his scalp. Sweat filled his brow, his cheeks, and his armpits. The sky was smogless blue, the air stagnant and filled with flies and gnats and other things that buzzed. The mountaintops seemed to shimmer in the heat. About a minute into the ride, he realized he was actually grateful for this turn of events. Riding not only made him feel good, it made him feel in control.
Lilah said, “Thank you for accommodating me.”
“This one time.”
“Ye olde ground rules.” Lilah lowered her head. “I’m sorry if I upset your wife.”
Decker didn’t answer her. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves and took out a pen and notepad.
“I don’t believe it!” Lilah said. “You can’t take notes and ride at the same time.”
“Hey, Carl said I wasn’t supposed to do anything except sit on the horse. Besides, I’ve got an excellent sense of balance.”
“Your writing is going to look like scribbling.”
“It
