Blindman’s Bluff

Brady paused. “Sometimes he felt vulnerable. When he was in those kinds of moods, I’d have as many as a dozen men roaming the property.”

“What about on the night of the murders?”

“Four guards were contracted to work. If Kaffey had asked for more guards, he didn’t call me up and tell me to arrange it.”

“Maybe he knew you were busy with a sick father and didn’t want to disturb you.”

Brady’s laugh was bitter. “You think that consideration for his employees was ever a factor with Kaffey?”

“He let you go to Oakland to nurse your father back to health.”

“At the time, my father was an inch away from dying. He had no choice. I was going even if it cost me my job.”

“Yet he let you stay up in Oakland an extra week.”

“That wasn’t Guy Kaffey, that was Gil Kaffey. Not that Gil isn’t a shark, but he can be human. Guy was loud, abrasive, and demanding. Then like that”—he snapped his fingers—“he’d be the nicest, most generous man on earth. I never knew which Guy would show up. His moods were random.”

“I’ve pulled up a few of the most recent articles on Gil. As of nine months ago, he wasn’t married. Is that still the case?”

“Gil is gay.”

“Okay.” Decker flipped through some of the articles and skimmed the text. “Doesn’t mention anything about that in anything I’ve read.”

“Where’d you get the articles from?”

“Wall Street Journal…Newsweek…U.S. News & World Report.”

“Why should they mention Gil being gay? He’s a hard-nosed businessman, not head of the Gay and Lesbian Alliance. He keeps a low personal profile.”

Decker said, “Does he have a partner?”

“No. He had a partner for about five years, but they broke up about six months ago.”

“Name?”

“Antoine Resseur. He used to live in West Hollywood. I don’t know what he’s doing now.”

“Why’d they break up?”

“I don’t know. That wasn’t my business.”

“Let’s get back to your business. Did you do security for Gil as well as Guy?”

“No, because Gil didn’t want me to. He owns a seven-thousand-square-foot midcentury house in Trousdale and had it outfitted with a state-of-the-art security system. Occasionally, I’ve seen him with a bodyguard, but most of the time he flies below the radar.”

“Were Guy and Gilliam Kaffey your only employers?”

“Yes. It’s a full-time job and then some. For as little sleep as I got, I should have been a doctor.” Brady rubbed his forehead and shook his head. “I was always asking Guy for more money, not for myself but in order to hire a better caliber of guys. I must have told Kaffey a thousand times that a little bit more money can go a long way. All those millions…what else is money for?”

“Maybe he took a hit in the market.”

“The unemployment rate has skyrocketed. He could have had his pick of the litter in legitimate guards. Why choose losers on purpose?”

“Hard to understand,” Decker said.

“Impossible to understand, but that was Guy. One minute he was totally cavalier about his personal safety, then he’d suddenly become totally paranoid. I could understand the paranoia. What I didn’t get was the laissez-faire attitude. You’re a target. Why skimp on your own safety?”

A thought came into Decker’s head. “Was he on any psychiatric medication?”

Brady said, “Talk to his doctor.”

“He was manic-depressive?”

“It’s called bipolar disorder.” Brady tapped his toe. “This could get me fired…” Then he laughed. “Like I’m not in deep shit already?”

Decker waited.

Brady said, “It’s like this. When Guy was in one of his…expansive moods, he’d talk about his condition to anyone who’d listen. About how his wife wanted him to take his lithium and he didn’t want to do it.”

“Why not?”

“Guy claimed that when he was on lithium, it did stabilize him. It lifted him out of his lows. The problem was it also sliced the tops off his highs. He said he couldn’t afford to have his highs chopped off. His highs allowed him to take chances. His highs were what made him a billionaire.”

NINE (#ulink_76835a32-806a-57c9-a42d-cc681f08469d)

THE PRESS DEBRIEFING had gone well, although Strapp had little time to spend basking in his close-up. He came into Decker’s office without knocking and shut the door with more force than needed. Decker looked up from his desk while Strapp kicked out a chair and sat down.

“Upstairs has decided that this is too big for a single Homicide unit.”

“I agree.”

Strapp narrowed his eyes. “You agree?”

“We need a task force.” Decker regarded Strapp in his navy suit, light blue oxford shirt, and red tie. The man’s face was all angles, his body language tense—a cork waiting to pop. “What’s the problem? They want to kick this downtown and have one of their own guys lead it?”

“That was the idea. I fought for you. I thought you’d want it that way.”

Meaning Strapp wanted it that way. The station house had received a great deal of attention a few months ago when Decker and his Homicide detectives had solved a cold case reopened by a billionaire’s promise of funds. Strapp was smelling money again from the remaining Kaffeys if his Homicide unit came up with the solve.

“I appreciate it, Captain, and I’d be happy to lead a full-time team.”

“What’s the minimum you can work with and still keep the department running?”

“Something this scope and size, I’d say eight people. Big enough to work the angles, but not too big to control.”

“Start with six. If you need more, come to me.” Strapp drummed Decker’s desktop. “I got the commander to agree to have the case worked from West Valley. But you’ll need to report daily to me so I can report back to the commander. How many detectives do we have on Homicide detail?”

“Seven full-time Homicide detectives, including Marge Dunn and Scott Oliver who are already involved. If I could have Marge, Oliver, and Lee Wang on it full-time, that would be a good start.”