“You forgot your father.”
“I stand by the original statement, Chris!”
He jerked his head up, taking in my eyes. “What? When?”
I waved him off. “Before I met you. He wasn’t insistent. He wound up not doing anything.” My eyes watered. “He couldn’t. He was too drunk.”
“What else is new?”
“Jean caught us-him. To her credit, she didn’t blame me. Didn’t support me, but didn’t…” I wiped the tears away. “Melissa’s that age now. I call her nearly every day. I tell her over and over that if he tries something…” I didn’t dare finish my thought.
“You never told me.” He pulled me back onto his lap. “You should have said something, angel. I could have sympathized. I was molested, you know. Joey, right after my mom died, he used to comb out my hair and make me give him blow jobs.”
“That’s horrible!” I meant it. I touched his face and kissed his lips. “Poor Chris.”
“Yeah, poor me.” He shook his head. “You know, I keep my mouth shut for years. Then I wind up telling two people about it within twenty-four hours. What the hell is wrong with me?”
“Who was the other person?”
“Rina Decker. I don’t know why I brought it up. She has this way of getting stuff out of you. She and the lieutenant are suited to one another.”
“I’m sure that’s true.”
“Jesus, I can’t believe your old man actually-”
“It was over before it started.”
“I should pop him.”
“Chris-”
“I won’t, but I should.”
“Can we switch the subject? It’s so painful! Especially after making love.”
He brought me close to his chest. “Is that what you consider it? Making love?”
“Yes, of course.” I looked at him. “What do you consider it?”
“Making beautiful love.”
“So we’re in agreement.” I leaned against him, my head to his heart. “Does he know what he’s doing? Lieutenant Decker?”
“He’s no dummy, but New York’s different from Los Angeles. He’s in foreign territory, doesn’t really know what or who he’s dealing with. On top of that, he’s not packing.”
I looked up. “He doesn’t have a gun?”
“I tried to give him one. He refused. The man is stubborn.”
“Who’s he up against?”
“I’ve got some definite ideas-amateurs trying to look like some pros we both know. That means they’re stupid. And stupid is dangerous. If I were his wife, I’d start looking at his life-insurance policy.” He took another gulp of water. “It probably would be easier if someone popped him. More elbowroom for me. This problem has got to be taken care of.”
My heart started skipping. He must have picked up on it. He stroked my back. His voice was low and soothing. “Baby doll, I tried. But he told me to butt out. So I’m out. Tell you the truth, I haven’t been feeling well enough to do much of anything. If he wants to duke it out solo, he can be my effing guest. I’m not the man’s nanny.”
Gently, I put my arms around his waist, being careful to avoid his gunshot wound. I barely spoke above a whisper. “Don’t let him sink, Chris. Even if he doesn’t want it, help him.”
He was silent.
“Please?”
Again he didn’t answer me. But he didn’t push me away. Instead, he drew me closer… nuzzling the top of my head with his lips… stroking my back… his fingers up and down my spine… playing me like an instrument. His touch could be so incredible. I gave off a little shudder.
“Cold?”
“No, just… mmm, feels good.”
“I know what my baby doll likes.”
“Yes, you do.” And by now, I could read him pretty well also. Affection meant he was listening. Affection meant he’d be cooperative. Affection was a very good sign.
28
If there were any answers, they’d lie in Quinton. Decker knew the Jewish sector of the town was a lost cause-he’d be as welcome as ham and Swiss on rye-but he held faint hopes that maybe he could salvage something with Virgil Merrin, ascribing his rude behavior to his own embarrassment at being seen at Tattlers. Then maybe he’d play out some of the good-ol’-boy routine, knowing he could make it work if he could just get the sneer out of his voice. With Merrin as an ally, he could possibly get names of some Quinton teens Shayndie might have known.
But he’d have to tread lightly.
Because there was this possible worst-case, politics-and-money-corrupts, trust-no-one scenario: Merrin was involved in ecstasy distribution, using erotic dancers as couriers for the Israeli Mafia members. There was also the unholy missing trio of Weiss, Harabi, and Ibn Dod. They could be back in Israel, camped out in a Jewish community incognito, or they could even be dead.
And even if this product of Decker’s overactive imagination were somehow borne out, if the loose bits of facts that Randy had given him did weave into a fanciful but cohesive story, how, if at all, would it relate to the Lieber murders?
Which brought him back to the original dilemma.
He needed to penetrate Quinton’s Jewish side and that meant he needed someone trusted by the locals. More important, he needed someone he could trust. Decker required a mole with a firsthand knowledge of Jewish traditions, mores, and rituals-an insider who could point out the outsiders, but who would be loyal to him.
Since Rina was gone, there was only one person who could possibly pull that off.
How well did Decker know his half brother?
He supposed that he was about to find out.
It was a small but growing synagogue in the Morningside Heights district, within walking distance of Columbia University. The daily morning minyan, held at eight o’clock, often included college students, and because it was Conservative in denomination, the service included men and women in equal proportions doing equal duty. By the time Decker drove uptown and found a parking space, it was almost eleven, well past Sha’chris, and he figured maybe his brother could use a coffee break.
Jonathan’s secretary, a twenty-something African American named Arista, informed him that Rabbi Levine was in conference with several members of his congregation and wouldn’t be available until twelve-thirty. If it was a true emergency, she could intercom him, but short of that, he had asked not to be disturbed.
It wasn’t a true emergency.
In that case, he was welcome to wait in the library if he wanted or perhaps he should go grab an early lunch. She’d tell the rabbi that he had come by. He thanked her and told her he’d be back at half past twelve and could she please ask the rabbi to wait for him.
He went out of the shul and began walking down Broadway, a whiff of garlic hitting his face because the shul was next door to Tito’s Pizza Joint. He turned up the collar of his overcoat and stuck his hands in his pockets. He should have called before he came. Cursing under his breath, Decker found a ubiquitous Starbucks and bought himself a large cup of black coffee. There wasn’t anywhere to sit, so he leaned against a wall, looking like a dealer waiting to score. He thought about his options, mentally thumbing through his notepad, which, by now, was thick with his chicken scratches.
There were ways he could fill the time; people he could interview again. There were Luisa and Marta, the ladies he had met at the funeral. They worked inventory with Ephraim, maybe they had thought of something important since he had last seen them. And Luisa still had his gloves-a perfect excuse to call on her.
Except by now, she was at work at one of the Liebers’ stores, and Decker’s presence would be noticed. Maybe he’d try her tonight, in the privacy of her own residence.
There was Leon Hershfield. If anyone would know anything about hanky-panky within the religious Jewish community, it would be him. The attorney was aware of lots of things, but asking him questions wouldn’t help because of confidentiality. Usually, Decker could gauge reactions from his interviewees even as they pleaded the Fifth. A lot was conveyed through facial expressions and eye contact. But Hershfield was way too savvy to give anything away, even through nonverbal methods. Talking to him would not only be futile, but detrimental as well. It would give him Decker’s insights with nothing in return.