Seconds later I was on the site’s home page. The background was a graphic of an open Torah scroll. I entered a screen name—ToraTora— and my usual password. After reading the conditions set by the site, I clicked I AGREE. A moment later I was in.
ToraTora has entered the room.
There were eight people in the chat room, including me and Birch2— Sara Mellon’s screen name. They were discussing Thanksgiving plans.
Aleph36: I’m going to see National Treasure next Friday.
M&M: Me, too. I don’t like turkey. It’s fowl.
Sinai: Groan.
Lucky7: I have to work on my term paper.
Jewcy: Bummer.
M&M: You can buy one online.
DJ2440: That’s cheating.
Lucky7: Duh.
M&M: Only if they catch you. ☺
Lucky7: Have you ever done it?
M&M: I don’t have to. I’m naturally brilliant.
Jewcy: And modest. ☺
M&M: LOL
Lucky7: ROFL
LOL, I knew, was “laugh out loud.” ROFL, “rolling on the floor laughing.”
Sinai: Hey, ToraTora. First time?
ToraTora: Hi. Yeah, first time.
M&M: Shavuah tov. Gut voch. Have a good week.
Sinai: Welcome to our humble spite. ☺
M&M: LOL
DJ2440: LOL
Jewcy: Hi, ToraTora.
M&M: Jew or Jewess, ToraTora?
The sound of rolling thunder accompanied the appearance of an instant message in a box in the upper left-hand corner of my screen. Lucky7.
I accepted the message.
Never give your gender or any personal information.
I responded with “Okay, thanks!”
Lucky7 signed off from Instant Message.
I typed “Shavuah tov to you, too” and pressed SEND.
M&M: We’re talking about buying term papers.
Sinai: Thou shalt not . . .
Jewcy: Spend too much. On one site they’re charging twelve bucks
a page. Twice that if you’re in a rush. Not that I’d ever do it.
M&M: Yeah, sure.
Jewcy: No, really.
Sinai: Schools can find out now, M&M.
M&M: Shrek! And I don’t mean the movie.
Jewcy: LOL
Lucky7: ROFL
Sinai: They use TurnItIn.
M&M: Turn it off!
Jewcy: RUK?
Sinai: My teacher was fired for cheating.
M&M: ?
Sinai: I heard he changed answers on AP exams.
Aleph36: OMG
Jewcy: POS
M&M: ABC
OMG, I assumed, was “oh my God.” I was clueless about the others. RUK. POS. ABC. And I thought French was tough. I Googled INTERNET ACRONYMS AND TEENAGERS.
Lucky7: So how about those Mets?
M&M: I love all my classes, don’t you?
I clicked on ACRONYMFINDER, typed in R-U-K. “Are you kidding.” Obvious, once you knew it.
Sinai: LOL
M&M: Where do you live, ToraTora?
Another roll of thunder. Another warning from Lucky7.
I responded, “Got it, thanks,” and returned to ACRONYMFINDER. P-O-S produced a list of possibilities, including “parent over shoulder.” That one fit.
A-B-C, I learned, was “always be cool.”
I was trying.
M&M: ToraTora, are you there?
Sinai: ToraTora went to Bora Bora.
Lucky7: LOL
ToraTora: LOL. I live on the west coast.
Sinai: Me, too. L.A.
Jewcy: Coast is clear. I’d love to go to L.A.
M&M: Be careful, Jewcy! L.A. is sin city.
Jewcy: Always am. ☺ L2M, Sinai, if I ever come to L.A. Just say
where and when.
Sinai: You’re all talk, Jewcy. You’re going to yeshiva next year, not
L.A.
I typed L2M. “Listening to music,” or “love to meet.”
Sinai: What brings you here, ToraTora?
ToraTora: A friend. She said J Spot rocks.
M&M: Which friend?
ToraTora: ST613.
M&M: ST hasn’t been here in, like, days.
DJ2440: Maybe she’s tired of you hitting on her.
Aleph36: She’s really frum. She said her dad’s a rabbi.
Jewcy: She’s just not into you, M&M. ☺
Sinai: LOL
Lucky7: ROFL
M&M: w/e, man.
“Whatever.”
Birch2, I saw, had left the room.
ToraTora: ST told me about a guy who chats here, too. For JU?
Something like that.
Jewcy: For JU?
DJ2440: I only have eyes for ju. ☺
M&M: Justforju!
Aleph36: Right. He’s been here.
M&M: I haven’t seen him lately.
DJ2440: He’s a lurker. I don’t like his vibe.
Aleph36: Maybe they ran off together. ☺
M&M: Yeah, to Bora Bora. ☺ j/k
ToraTora: Do you guys know anything about him? My friend says
he’s kind of mysterious.
No response. I’d committed a breach of chat room ethics. The virtual silence was deafening.
M&M: So, ToraTora. What kind of yeshiva do you go to? Coed?
Another sound of rolling thunder.
Don’t give out personal details! Be careful!
I typed “Thanks again for the warning!” but Lucky7 had signed off from Instant Message. I wondered whether he was an adult.
ToraTora: Yeah.
Sinai: Me, too. We get off two days for Chanukah.
Aleph36: It’s early this year.
DJ2440: All the stores have Christmas decorations up.
M&M: Lord & Taylor is the best.
Jewcy: Macy’s.
Sinai: Sometimes I feel a little left out.
Aleph36: It’s easier when Chanukah and Christmas are around the
same time.
Sinai: I don’t think so.
The conversation segued into a discussion of the holidays.
ToraTora: Gotta go.
Sinai: Later, TT.
Lucky7: Later.
M&M: Come back soon. If Justforju shows, I’ll tell him you’re
looking for him.
You do that, I thought, as I signed off.
An hour had passed since I’d phoned Andy. I tried him again. He wasn’t home, but I didn’t leave another message.
A few minutes later Zack returned from shul.
“Sorry it took me so long,” he said. “Someone needed to talk to me.” He took off his coat. “You look tense. Did you talk to Connors?”
“He wasn’t in when I phoned. I left a message.”
While Zack hung his coat in the closet, I gathered a silver cup and plate, a braided blue-and-white candle, and a silver box filled with cloves and allspice. I placed everything on the kitchen counter. Then Zack filled the cup with wine, lit the candle, and recited the havdalah, the blessing that officially separates the Sabbath from the rest of the week.
“Shavuah tov,” he said after he doused the flame in the wine that had spilled onto the plate beneath the cup.
“Shavuah tov.” I hoped it would be a good week.
“Do you want to go out, Molly, get something to eat?”
“I’d love to, but I’m waiting to hear from Connors.”
“He may not call you back tonight, Molly.”
“Or he’ll call soon. But you’re right,” I said, seeing Zack’s disappointment. “How about pizza?”
Zack changed into Dockers and a navy sweater that brought out the blue in his eyes. I put on a skirt and sweater and a baseball cap. We drove to a kosher pizza store on Fairfax crowded with teenagers who all seemed to be talking and laughing at a high pitch. I recognized a few of them—Torat Tzion kids. Adam Prosser wasn’t among them.
“I feel ancient,” Zack said.
“We are ancie
nt.”
We placed our order and chatted with people we knew while we waited twenty minutes for a table. Soon after we were finally sitting in a booth, the cashier called our name. I glanced at my watch.
“You want to phone him, go ahead,” Zack said.
“Sorry.” I laughed, embarrassed. “I’m that obvious, huh?”
“Let’s just say spook work isn’t your calling.”
Zack left the booth and walked to the counter to pick up our order. I took my cell phone out of my purse and phoned Connors. I got his answering machine again.
“Andy, this is Molly. Give me a call when—”
“Hey, Mrs. Abrams. Nothing better to do on a Saturday night?”
“You’re home.”
“Apparently.”
“Did you find the name of the car owner, Andy?”
“I left you a message yesterday. Didn’t you get it?”
I could barely hear over the din. “Just the part where you said you wouldn’t know until tomorrow. Meaning today. I didn’t play the beginning.”
Zack returned with our slices and set them on the table. “Connors?”
I nodded. “I’m in a pizza shop, Andy, and it’s too noisy. Hold on.”
After gesturing to Zack that I’d be right back, I slid out of the booth and worked through the crowd until I was outside. “Okay. You were saying?”
“I meant I wouldn’t have information about this guy till today,” Connors said. “I ran the license plate.”
My heart thudded. “You have his name?”
“Can you hear me now?” Connors said, imitating the cell phone commercial. “Isn’t that what I said? The guy’s name is Greg Shankman.”
Chapter 24
It took me a moment to respond. “Greg Shankman,” I repeated, trying to keep all inflection from my voice.
“You don’t sound surprised. Is that the name you were expecting?”
“I wasn’t expecting any name. Thanks, Andy. I really appreciate this.” It was chilly, and I had left my jacket inside. I hugged my free arm across my chest.
“Do you know the guy?”
Not a question I wanted to answer. “I’ve never met him, no.”
“Not what I asked, Miss Molly.”
I couldn’t afford to lie to Connors. “He was the girl’s teacher.”
“A little extracurricular activity, huh? Kids and their teachers—seems to be the latest craze. Look at Mary Kay Letourneau. Can you believe they’re getting married now that she’s out of jail? Next thing you know, that’ll be the next reality show: teachers and their teen lovers. At least Shankman and the girl waited until she was eighteen.”
“I don’t know about Mary Kay Letourneau, but based on what Shankman said to the girl’s parents, he isn’t in love with their daughter.”
“Maybe not. Have you talked to him?”
“No. His name came up when I asked my friend about people his daughter might have confided in.”
Connors snorted. “That’s rich.”
“Actually, my friend told me not to bother talking to Shankman. This will stun him.”
“You can’t tell him, Molly,” Connors warned.
“I mean eventually, when he finds out.”
Zack came out. He was holding my jacket and a cup of hot chocolate.
“So what are you planning to do with this information?” Connors asked.
Zack handed me the cup and draped the jacket over my shoulders. I smiled and mouthed a thank-you. He went back inside.
“What do you think I should do, Andy?”
“Nothing. Nada. Zip.”
“Is that your final answer?”
“I’m not joking, Molly.”
“Then why did you tell me?”
“To see if you knew anything about this guy. Which you do. I’m working on an angle, Molly.”
“What angle?”
“Two months ago Shankman’s girlfriend filed a restraining order against him. The order applies to their four-year-old daughter.”
“So Shankman lost two loves that departed,” I said, referring to the song. I took a sip of the chocolate.
“Whatever. I’m going to talk to the girlfriend. Maybe she’ll give me a reason to have a conversation with Mr. Shankman.”
“Tonight?” I felt a wave of relief.
“She’s not home. I left a message on her voice mail. I’ll call her again tomorrow.”
“I think he’s going to kill himself, and the girl,” I said.
“Romeo and Juliet. We’re talking life, not Shakespeare, Molly.”
“He’s separated. He can’t see his girlfriend or daughter because the girlfriend filed a restraining order two months ago.” I debated, then said, “That was either right before or right after he lost his job.”
“He lost his job?” Connors’s tone had sharpened.
“In September. He was fired—I don’t know why.”
“What does that have to do with your friend?”
Again, I deliberated before answering. “My friend is the principal at the school where Shankman taught.”
“So Shankman is taking revenge?”
“He had nothing to do with firing Shankman. But Shankman isn’t being logical. He’s obviously lashing out at the easiest victim. The point is, Shankman may think he has nothing to live for.”
Connors must have been pondering what I’d said, because he didn’t answer right away. “We have till Monday night, right? That’s when she’ll go to this mikvah?”
“Unless Shankman decides not to wait.”
There was silence on the phone. I listened to the cars driving by.
“Shankman’s apartment is in West L.A.’s jurisdiction,” Connors said. “I’d have to come up with a reason for my handling it.”
“Can you talk to someone in West L.A.? Explain the urgency?”
“We don’t know that it’s urgent. For all we know, Shankman and your friend’s daughter don’t want to be disturbed.”
“We can’t wait till Monday, Andy.”
“You promised not to tell her parents, Molly. If you tell them—”
“I won’t.” I could picture Connors’s scowl.
“Because there’s no telling what the father might do.”
“I said I won’t tell him, Andy.”
“As long as we’re clear. Don’t make up a reason to ask your friend for Shankman’s address.”
The address was in an envelope in my purse. “I won’t. Are you done?”
“And don’t bother trying to look up Shankman’s address,” Connors said. “It’s unlisted.”
Shankman lived in Mar Vista, a mixed-income neighborhood south-west of Culver City within tantalizing proximity of Venice Beach. It was after nine when we pulled up in front of the house, a small one-story that was completely dark. There was no Altima in the driveway.
I rang the bell several times. Then, ignoring Zack’s protest, I rang the bell on the house next door and told the woman who opened the door that I was Greg Shankman’s cousin, visiting from Denver.
“Melissa left with Kaitlin this morning for Seattle,” the neighbor said. “They’re staying with her parents through Thanksgiving weekend. And Greg doesn’t live here anymore. I guess you didn’t hear, but he moved out a few months ago. Sad for the little girl,” she added.
Connors had said that the girlfriend had filed a restraining order. I should have figured that the address Rabbi Bailor had given me was no longer valid.
“Do you happen to know where I can reach Greg?” I asked.
“He left his new address with me, and a phone number. Hold on, I’ll get it for you.”
When she returned she handed me a slip of paper with an address on South Manning.
“That’s in West L.A. Greg didn’t want to live far from Kaitlin. Tell him hello from Diane when you see him. I hope he’s doing okay. He took the breakup real bad. But things seem better, and I’m hoping they can work things out.”
The West L.A. address was a five-mi
nute drive from Mar Vista. We found the building, located Shankman’s name on the bank of mailboxes, and took the stairs to his second-floor apartment. There was no light coming from under his door, no sounds of occupancy.
I rang the bell. When no one answered, I rang again and pounded on the door.
“No one’s home,” Zack said. “Give it up.”
“Then where is he? And where’s Hadassah?”
“Maybe they went out.”
“He wouldn’t do that. I’m going to find the manager and ask him to check Shankman’s apartment.”
“Molly,” Zack said, but I was already knocking on the door of the adjoining apartment.
Minutes later I was talking to Milt LaSalle, the overweight gray-haired building manager. He didn’t seem overly concerned when I told him Shankman hadn’t showed up two days ago for a family dinner.
“It’s not like Greg not to call,” I said. “We’re really worried.”
“He talked about going away for a few days,” LaSalle said, but he took a huge ring of master keys and waddled up the stairs to Shankman’s apartment.
Zack and I followed.
LaSalle rang the bell, then knocked. “Mr. Shankman?” he called. “Are you in there?”
He rang the bell again, called Shankman’s name again. Knocked on the door. He found the key he wanted and inserted it into the lock.
“Door’s not even locked,” he said. He turned the knob and opened the door. “Mr. Shankman? Anybody home?”
LaSalle stepped inside and flipped up a switch on the wall that flooded the apartment with light.
It was empty. The living room, dining ell, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom. The dream had made me jittery. I don’t know what I’d expected, but I was almost weak with relief.
“Looks okay,” LaSalle said. “So maybe he forgot about your get-together.”
“Where did he take her?” I said to Zack, my relief having quickly turned to alarm.
“Take who?” LaSalle frowned.
“Can I look around?” I asked. “Maybe he left a note to say where he went.”
LaSalle looked dubious.
“Please,” I said.
“Oh, all right. But don’t break anything.”
The place was immaculate. No trash in the kitchen or bathroom, no perishables in the refrigerator.
Now You See Me... Page 14
