The Beast by Faye Kellerman Page A

know I was seventeen. How many kids my age have enough pocket change to give away to charity? Sounds like the place is hard up.”
    Consistent with Vignette harping away on a will. “Did Everett mention anything about a mortgage on the property?”
    “I don’t remember him talking about that, but I kinda tuned him out when he talked numbers.”
    “What do you mean by numbers?”
    “I dunno. How much they had to spend on food versus care versus this or that. It felt like one big math word problem. I nodded and smiled a lot.”
    “Did you pick up any hint that something funny might be going on, like the place was cooking the books?”
    Gabe said, “What do you mean ‘cooking the books’?”
    Decker slowed down. “‘Cooking the books’ means impropriety in the accounting practices. Did he mention anything about embezzlement or fraud?”
    “Nah, nothing like that.” Gabe’s face was one of concentration. “Everett said Penny’s money was important. He said that Global Earth often had to take out short loans to buy food and medicine for the animals until miracle money came in. A specific type of loan . . . what did he call it?”
    “A bridge loan?”
    “Yeah, that’s it. I’m impressed.”
    “What kind of miracle money is he talking about?”
    “Money from unexpected donors.”
    “Did he mention names?”
    “Well, Penny, of course. Sometimes it was a foundation or organization. Not PETA. He specifically told me that PETA didn’t like that Global Earth kept the animals in enclosures. Sorry . . . I don’t remember. Next time I’ll take notes.”
    Again, Decker gently whacked him on the back of his head.
    “Can I come back to the station house with you?”
    “No.”
    “I’m bored.”
    “Then go back to New York.” When Gabe turned sullen, Decker said, “If I get a phone call from an irate Persian mother, I’m not going to be happy.”
    “For Chrissakes, we’re just friends okay? We went through a trauma together. We’ve got a bond that no one else understands. We’re just gonna talk!”
    “Do you also have a bridge to sell me?” Gabe crossed his arms across his chest and stared out the window. Decker said, “Guess I’m not so cool after all.”
    The boy fiddled with his iPhone and pretended not to hear.
    Decker continued speaking. “Gabriel, listen to me. I know it’s hard for you. I know you care for this girl. I don’t doubt your feelings. But Yasmine is a minor, and her parents don’t want you around. You’ve got to respect their wishes until she’s eighteen. That, my boy, is the long and the short of it.”
    The kid huffed.
    Decker said, “You’ve got to call her up. You can tell her you love her, because you do. But you also need to tell her that it’s not a good idea to get together until she’s older. And then go back to New York and concentrate on your studies and let her concentrate on her studies.”
    “We’re just going to talk. What’s the crime in that?”
    “Gabe—”
    “Fine. Okay. You’re right. I’ll do everything you say, okay. Just let me do it in person.”
    “That’s a mistake, son.”
    “She
asked
to see me, Peter. I can’t tell her no. Yasmine was involved in that sadistic mess because of me. And she stood by me when she could have run away from those thugs. She put her own safety at risk. Yes, I love her, but I also prize loyalty and commitment: two things that neither of my parents understands. I know that the trial is over, but that doesn’t mean that all the shit suddenly evaporates.”
    “I’m not making the rules, Gabe. I’m just telling you that it’s going to be bad if you’re caught. And I don’t want to have to deal with it.”
    “Peter, we’re just going to play catch-up. I swear that’s it.”
    Decker sighed. “Where are you two lovebirds planning on meeting?”
    “At the Beverly Hills library,” he lied. “There’s a little place right next door. We’re just gonna get a cup of coffee. That’s it.”
    “How long